#but i swear to god... if anyone wants to partner in starting a News presence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nctsworld · 4 years

Text

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

7K notes · View notes

whiteqnn · 4 years

Text

PURE [3] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

A/N: Over 1 thousand notes. You guys are insane. I can’t see any other explanation.

Thank you so much for all the love and support under the previous parts, all those comments just absolutely made my day! I would never expect this story to receive such a positive feedback, which I’m extremely grateful for!

Anyway, I decided to add some additional plot to this story - mainly, the sudden criticism and hate directed on Y/N after the last Among Us stream. I thought it would make things more interesting.

That being said, I hope you enjoy the third part ^^

part 1

part 2

part 4

part 5

PURE [3]

Y/N stared at her phone screen, reading through the latest tweets of her friends inviting their fans to watch their streams. It was Thursday evening and just as it was planned, everyone was getting ready for another game of Among Us. Just as she would do if it wasn’t for all those comments...

The last stream caused sudden, unexpected amounts of attention on her social media. She probably shouldn’t be that surprised by it, given the fact that by appearing in Sean’s and Felix’s videos she wasn’t all that strange to their fans. But people who watched Rae, Toast, or Corpse’s streams didn’t know her. And apparently, some of them weren’t that happy to see a new face among the group of well-known gamers.

She always tried to avoid the unnecessary spotlight as much as she could, preferring to stay hidden somewhere behind other, much more popular streamers. And it never bothered her. She was never one to enjoy too much attention anyway.

That’s why when she discovered how upset, or even angry, some people were when she played with all those famous streamers, she was quite shocked, to say the least.

Like all those comments under Poki’s tweet, in which she mentioned who’s gonna be playing this time...

“Duh, why’s that Y/N chick supposed to play with them again? There are at least hundreds of other, much more popular streamers I can think of who would be better than her.”

“Who the fuck is she anyway? Why’s she there?”

“lmao, some random girl who got lucky enough to know jacksepticeye. Don’t get why she’s playing with them though.”

“NOT HER AGAIN. I SWEAR TO GOD SHE WAS SO FUCKING ANNOYING LAST TIME”

Sure, she wasn’t as famous as Felix, or Sean, or Rae, or anyone else for that matter. Her audience wasn’t very small, but it was nothing compared to the number of fans other YouTubers had. It was understandable that most people didn’t know who she was, and didn’t understand why she was there in the first place.

She was, in fact, just some random girl who was lucky to have Sean as her friend. But in a group of such great and well-known streamers, she definitely stood out like a sore thumb.

Y/N almost jumped in her seat when her phone beeped with a new message, Sean’s nickname showing up at the top of her screen.

Jackaboy: We’re starting in a few kiddo

Jackaboy: But join the call now so we can both make fun of Felix

After the last game, she was so excited and couldn’t wait for this evening. She looked forward to cooperating with Sykkuno again, to arguing with Toast, to laughing with Sean and Felix, to murdering other people with Corpse... Yet now, all this excitement seemed to vanish just like the mood to play, let alone talk with other people. They would surely see right through her and try to make her spill the beans, which would ruin the stream. And the last thing she wanted was to ruin their game.

Jackaboy: You there Y/N??

She sighed, thinking of some believable excuse that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, but her mind was flooded with all those comments and DMs she received over those past days, which expressed nothing but hatred towards her.

Y/N: I’m really sorry Sean, but I don’t think I will be joining you today... I don’t feel very well.

She waited for Sean’s reply impatiently, expecting him to send her some angry emoji or tell her to move her ass and join the discord call. What she didn’t expect though, was that he would facetime her.

Her first instinct was to throw her phone across the room as if it would make Sean stop calling. He wouldn’t stop unless she’d tell him the truth.

So she cleared her throat and plastered the widest smile on her face, before answering his call.

“Alright, what is going on?” Sean asked right away, staring at her with his brows furrowed. He wasn’t in his recording room, but in his kitchen, which meant that he left his stream to call her. “And please don’t tell me you’re sick cause I won’t believe it anyway. And neither will Pewds.”

“I’m tired, Sean... I was working late again and I really need to rest.” she lied, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. She really didn’t want Sean to interrogate her now, not when his fans were waiting for him. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else though. Please tell the guys that I’m sorry”

“Y/N, c’mon, cut this bullshit. What’s wrong?” he asked softly, moving his phone closer to his face. “You know you’re a terrible liar, just tell me what happened. If you don’t wanna play then neither do I.”

“Sean, please don’t do it” she shook her head with a sigh. “Your fans are waiting for you, I’ll be fine.”

“Well they’re waiting for you too you dummy, I already promised them you’ll be playing with us tonight” he stated matter of factly, rolling his eyes. Y/N remained silent for a moment, and Sean suddenly furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes at her in a suspicious look. “Did someone tell you something rude last time we played? Who and what?”

“What? No, Sean, oh my God. Everyone was super nice, it has nothing to do with the last stream... not with you guys, at least.” she mumbled under her breath, dropping her eyes from Sean’s confused face.

“What do you mean not with you guys? Y/N, what the hell happened?” he demanded, slowly getting more and more worried. She wouldn’t tell him though, too scared that Sean would just laugh it off, even though he also sometimes had problems with dealing with hate. And just as if he was reading her mind, Sean sighed, his face softening in a sad smile. “You’ve read the comments, didn’t you?”

She felt so stupid for being so easily offended by comments of some random people on the Internet, that she just nodded her head meekly, still looking anywhere but at the man.

“Look kiddo... I’m not gonna tell you to get yourself together and just ignore them, cause it won’t help, and I know cause I’ve been there. Hell, I’m still there.” he chuckled to himself and continued “Anyway, you really shouldn’t be worrying yourself about people who don’t even know you. They don’t know you, Y/N, why would some complete stranger’s opinion matter to you?”

“They said I shouldn’t be playing with you guys... that I’m nothing but a burden and you should be playing with someone who’s at least recognizable.”

“Well excuse me Miss, last time I checked I could choose who the fuck I want to play with.” Sean scoffed, clearly irritated by such comments “You’re one of my best friends Y/N and I don’t give a fuck what some haters say. And neither should you.”

“Maybe you should just invite someone else... It would make everyone happy.” she muttered almost inaudibly, but Sean almost barked at her when he heard her words.

“I told you to cut that bullshit, Y/N! Everyone couldn’t wait for this game and now you wanna back out? C’mon, kid. Do you have any idea how heartbroken Sykkuno’s gonna be? When you left so quickly last time, he kept complaining that he has no one to team up with.” she couldn’t help but smile at that, letting out a tiny giggle. “And Corpse? Have you even seen his last tweet?”

“What? No, I- I don’t follow him...” she said, wondering what Sean was talking about. She quickly searched for Corpse on Twitter, still being on facetime with Sean, and her heart almost dropped when she saw the last tweet.

@.Corpse_Husband Really excited for tonight’s Among Us stream, 8PM PST.

Jacksepticeye

Valkyrae

Pewdiepie

Pokimane

Sykkuno

Disguised Toast

Logic

Mr Beast

and, hopefully, my partner in crime - Little Y/N

She stared at the screen with her eyes widened, and her lips corners curling up in a small, bashful smile. It was so nice of Corpse to mention her as well, especially with the nickname that he seemed to like so much since their last game.

“God, if you could see yourself right now. How’s it that my pep talk didn’t do shit, but Corpse’s tweet magically made you smile, ugh.” Sean reminded her of his presence, and she quickly returned to the call, trying to somehow control her burning cheeks.

“It’s not like that, Sean, I really appreciate that you’re trying to cheer me up... I just didn’t expect your friends to like me...” she admitted quietly, and if Sean could, he would probably strangle her at that moment.

“I JUST TOLD YOU THAT SYKKUNO KEPT BUGGING ME ABOUT YOU FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS. YOU THINK HE WOULD TALK ABOUT YOU IF HE DIDN’T LIKE YOU?!”

“I just... what if they’re just being nice, but they don’t actually want me to play with them?”

“I’m done.” Sean groaned, shaking his head furiously. “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do. You stay away from your phone, join the discord call, say hi to everyone, and we’re all gonna have fun, okay? If not, Pewds is gonna murder you, cause he was already growing impatient even before I called you.”

“I’m still not sure if that’s a good idea, Sean...”

“But I am sure, Y/N! Now come on, we’re playing in five. I’m telling everyone you’re joining as well.”

And before she could even reply, he hung up. Y/N groaned, rushing to her computer to turn it on. Now it would just be plain rude not to join the game, especially after Sean wasted his time talking with her, while he should be talking to his fans. Just as he suggested, she kept her phone far away from her desk, deciding to stay away from Twitter and all those comments for a bit. Maybe it would help her clear her mind and at least try to have some fun.

An invite to the group call was already waiting for her, along with a message from Sean with a code to the game. Y/N put her headphones on before joining the call and quickly typing in the code.

“... so let me repeat myself. I ALWAYS sound guilty, no matter what. Please, guys, don’t vote me out!”

Y/N shook her head with a smile on her lips when the first thing she heard after joining the call was Felix’s pleading voice. Clearly, he was already trying to save his own ass even before the game began.

Y/N could hear Sean’s loud voice as he commented on Felix’s plea with some snarky remark, later also catching the sounds of Rae’s laughter. Everyone was already there, they’ve been clearly waiting for her to join.

“Hey, look who’s finally here! Hi Y/N!” Poki noticed her presence first.

“Hello everyone” Y/N said, as shy and quiet as usual.

“Oh, Y/N! It’s so great to see you again, I was worried you weren’t joining us tonight” Sykkuno said, a pout clear in his voice.

“WELL ABOUT DAMN TIME” Felix all but yelled, making her roll her eyes with a smile. “What did I tell you about being late?!”

“Give her a break Felix, her mic wasn’t working again... Luckily, I was there to save the damsel in distress” Sean said, and even though she couldn’t see him, Y/N was almost certain that he was smirking.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry guys to have kept you waiting so long...” Y/N said, feeling genuinely bad. Maybe Sean was right after all? They could have just invited someone else, and yet they decided to wait for her.

“It’s okay, you’re here now and it’s all that matters” a deep voice sounded out, and whether she liked it or not, Y/N grinned like an idiot with a blush rising up her cheeks.

“Shit, here we go again...” Felix sighed, making everyone else laugh. Y/N bit at her lower lip, feeling her heart thump in her chest as she felt a sudden wave of courage, deciding to speak up despite her initial shyness:

“Well... I couldn’t just leave my partner in crime alone, right?” she asked, and she could swear she heard Corpse stutter as if he completely didn’t expect her to say that.

“Ah yes, after all, killing wouldn’t be the same without her, right Corpse?” Toast teased, repeating Corpse’s words from the last stream. Everyone in the call laughed, Y/N included. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, even though just mere minutes ago she was on the verge of crying. “It’s good to have you here, Y/N/N. Maybe I’ll actually get a chance to finally kill you this time.”

“Jesus Christ, Toast. You sound like a psychopath. Hey, I’m happy you’re here, lemme stab you in the back, please?” someone whose nickname was MrBeast spoke up with a chuckle, before directing his next words to Y/N “I believe we haven’t played together before, I’m Mr Beast, it’s really nice to meet you Y/N”

“Yeah, pleased to meet you!” another player, Logic, spoke up “I also didn’t have a chance to play with you yet, but I’ve seen Sean’s last stream... Let me just say, that Toast murder was absolutely perfect!”

“Wow. And here I almost managed to block it out. I’m fucking traumatized Y/N, you should be ashamed of yourself” Toast scoffed over Felix’s laughter.

“You should be proud of yourself!” Sean interfered “Just so you know lads, Y/N may seem like a little angel, but she’s a little demon. You’ve been warned.”

“Yeah, she’ll charm you with her voice only to snap your neck next second.” Felix scoffed.

“Just like she did with Corpse!”

“Charm?!” Y/N gasped, her cheeks burning.

“I don’t recall Y/N killing me...” Corpse said in his low voice.

“I love how that’s the only thing he denied” Poki pointed out in a teasing voice, which only made Y/N sink further into her chair.

“Can we please start the game now?” she asked in a pleading voice, hoping that everyone would stop making fun of Corpse and her. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he felt, for some reason being the target of their jokes... They must’ve made him feel awkward, right?

“Jack, did you tell Y/N how we’re playing tonight?” Sykkuno asked, and she sighed in relief that they dropped the jokes.

“Oh, right! So there’s this mod called proximity chat, where we’re able to hear each other as we pass by another person, and it seems quite fun so that’s what we decided to try out tonight.” Sean explained to Y/N, and before she could ask another question, he added “I’ve just sent you the link, it’ll take a minute to install it.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you Sean” Y/N said, before downloading the mod and quickly installing it. When everything was set and ready, she pulled up Among Us again and typed in the code, and the game finally began.

“Woah”

“Holy shit!”

“Guys this is so cool!” Sykkuno exclaimed, his voice so happy and excited that Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Okay, I’m scared now. I feel like encounters with Imposter are just gonna be perfectly cut screams” Felix chuckled, as they left the dropship and moved down the map. That’s when Y/N gasped in surprise, upon seeing the locations completely different than those she was used to.

“Wait- is that a different map?” she asked through her mic, hearing Toast’s distanced, devilish laugh. There was only Rae and Sykkuno beside her, as everyone else have already split up to do their tasks.

“Oh yeah, that’s Polus, it’s much more fun than the one we were playing in last time.” Rae explained happily and Y/N groaned. She didn’t know that map.

“Great. I don’t even know how am I supposed to do tasks in here...”

“Oh, it’s not that hard. They’re in most cases similar to those you already know, they only look a little bit different.” Sykkuno said in his kind voice, before asking “Do you want to team up again, Y/N?”

“I thought you would never ask Sykkuno” Rae chuckled under her breath.

“Yeah, that would be great! I need someone to show me around” she smiled. The trio finally moved from their spot beside the dropship and went to the left where, as Y/N later realized, was electrical. She quickly did her task in there, being under the watchful eyes of both Sykkuno and Rae.

Before the latter could do his own task, the first body was reported.

“The body is in the lab” Felix said, and Y/N couldn’t help but smirk as she saw that it was Toast who was murdered first. One less person to accuse her or try to frame her, if he was the Imposter.

“I just ran towards the lab from the left side, I only saw Poki on my way there” Corpse said right away, and the accused girl was quick to try and defend herself:

“Okay, I wasn’t in the lab, I was doing that engines task which is next to the lab.”

“Did you see someone else there?” Jack questioned.

“Nope, just me and the engines.”

“Okay. Sykkuno, where are you?” the lime astronaut was next on Jack’s list of suspects, which made Sykkuno groan.

“Why do you sound so suspicious right away?” he asked in disbelief, causing the rest to giggle “I was with Y/N and Rae all this time, we were all doing our tasks in electrical.”

“Is that true Y/N?”

“Yes Sean, that is true” she rolled her eyes with a laugh “I don’t even know this map, I have to stick with someone so I don’t end up like Toast.”

“Alright, what about rest? Logic? I think I saw you in admin but then you disappeared somewhere.” Felix said.

“Yeah I’m with Mr Beast in the office”

“That’s right” Mr Beast confirmed, which didn’t bring anything new to the investigation, so everyone decided to skip.

“Wo- Okay where are we now?” Y/N asked in surprise, when the new round began in some completely new place Sykkuno didn’t manage to show her yet. She could hear as Corpse laughed at her shocked voice, which made her smile widely.

“Yeah, I’m also not used to this new map yet” he admitted, his black astronaut walking up to her white one “Hey, wanna see something cool?”

“Sure!”

*Meanwhile Sykkuno*

“Okay this is bad guys, we lost Y/N” Sykkuno said to his mic, running around the map to find the girl he was earlier teamed up with. “I thought she followed us when the new round began, but she must’ve gone the other way... What if she’s dead already? Not good, not good...”

"Woah! This looks amazing! Is there some task here as well?”

“Yes, there’s temperature recording right here” Corpse said, standing by the lava pit, watching as Y/N’s character ran back and forth over the pool of lava.

“I wonder if you could jump into it. What do you think, Corpse?” she asked curiously, standing close to the edge.

“Not that I’m aware of it...” he mumbled coming closer to the edge as well “Why would you jump into it?” he asked with a half-smile on his face.

“So Felix can’t stab me in the back.” she whispered, even though there was no one around them.

“You think it’s him?” Corpse mirrored her voice, and she hummed in response “Why?”

“He’s constantly suspicious of everyone, last time we played he also kept interrogating us all, without even telling his own location.” she stated as if it was very obvious. Corpse couldn’t help but let out a laugh “What? Why are you laughing at me?”

“Not at you, Y/N. I’m just impressed by your investigation skills” he admitted “In that case, we better both jump in. Felix likes to frame other people.”

“You wanna jump into the lava with me?”

“Sure I do.”

“There you are!” Sykkuno’s lime astronaut came out of nowhere, followed by Mr Beast. Two of them walked up to Y/N and Corpse, and before the latter could even say anything, Mr Beast snapped Y/N’s neck.

“WAIT, NO-”

“OH GOD, OH GOD” Sykkuno yelled in panic.

“KILL HIM CORPSE” Mr Beast screamed, frantically running around.

“What the heck?” Y/N stared at her screen in shock, her dead body laying over the lava pit. Mr Beast had already fled to the left, leaving her, Sykkuno and Corpse standing between two of them. None of them said anything for a moment before the black astronaut finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N” he kept repeating, regret clear in his voice. “And Sykkuno, I- I can’t even express how-”

He was cut off by Felix’s scream, who reported the bodies before Corpse could kill him as well.

“IT’S CORPSE ALRIGHT” Felix yelled right away “HE’S STANDING OVER Y/N AND SYKKUNO, HE HAS THEIR BLOOD ON HIS HANDS”

“That is- I did not kill them” Corpse replied, calm as ever, as opposed to his frantic apologies.

“Then why were you standing there?! Without reporting the bodies?!”

“I was... mourning their death.” he replied, which caused the whole group to burst out laughing. “Seriously guys, you think I would murder Sykkuno? And Y/N? I would never even think of hurting them.”

“The simp is strong, we get it, but it doesn’t really save your situation” Rae laughed.

“Let’s kick him out guys, he can’t even defend himself” Sean chuckled, and everyone else didn’t need to be told twice. Soon enough, Y/N watched as Corpse’s black astronaut was thrown into the lava pit... Oh, the irony...

The game continued with her wandering around the map, doing the rest of her tasks to at least support somehow her fellow crewmates. She stumbled upon Corpse’s ghost at some point and laughed wholeheartedly when he started circling her little character in something she read as an attempt to apologize.

A little while later another body was reported, this time it was Felix who lost his life. Y/N didn’t really focus on the conversation this time, glancing at her phone instead. There was this urge to reach for it and check how people reacted to her joining the game, but she kept repeating Sean’s words in her head. There was no point in worrying about the opinion of somebody who doesn’t even know her... or at least that’s what she tried to convince herself to think.

Her attention was brought back to the game when she heard the sound of a new message from someone who was also dead. She clicked on the chat, seeing that it was one of the Impostors.

Corpse: :(

Corpse: I’m sorry

Y/N thought it was sweet of him to apologize for it, even though it was his main goal to murder everyone after all. She believed he was genuinely sorry for it, just like she was each time she was an Impostor and had to kill somebody.

Sykkuno: Welcome to the afterlife, Corpse!

She laughed at Sykkuno’s constant happiness, which was evident even in his messages, before typing one as well:

Y/N: We’re all corpse here

Sykkuno: Oh, so it means we’re all really cool then ^^

Y/N: Fair point

Corpse: See Y/N

Corpse: I told you I would jump into the lava for you

Y/N: You didn’t exactly jump...

Corpse: :(

Y/N: But let’s say it counts as well :)

Corpse: :)

Before they knew, the voting ended. Mr Beast was thrown into the lava, which ultimately lead to the victory of crewmates. Y/N cheered happily, when the blue sign appeared on her screen, right above everyone else who was innocent.

“Yaaay, the first time I wasn’t killed in the first game!” Sean announced enthusiastically, his astronaut running around the dropship.

“Yeah, and the first time it went so fast...”

“Right? Corpse, I’m disappointed in you. What happened to the King of Impostors?” Rae asked.

“Well.. no matter how good you are, you can’t always win, right?” Corpse replied calmly.

“Hmm, you seemed kinda absent-minded during the game, though...” Poki suggested with a smirk hiding in her voice, and Rae was very quick to pick on it.

“Oh, you’ve noticed that too? Almost as if he was distracted by something”

“I don’t know what are you talking about” he chuckled nervously, and Y/N just sat in her chair confused about what was going on. “Anyway, who’s up for another round?”

“Yeah, I have an idea” Sean said, effectively shutting everyone up “What if we play something along the lines of hide and seek? Let’s have one impostor, and everyone else needs to get their tasks done before he finds them.”

“That is...” Felix took in a dramatic breath “THE BEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD ABOUT”

“Yeah, I think it will be fun” Sykkuno replied.

“It sounds really cool, but let’s maybe tell who’s the impostor? I think it would be more fair” Rae suggested.

“I think it’s a good idea” Sean concluded, before changing the settings for one impostor only. Y/N waited patiently for the game to begin, and when she saw that she was a crewmate again, she sighed in relief. Only to gasp in a panic a second later...

“It’s me.”

Everyone stumbled out of the dropship as Corpse admitted that he’s the impostor. It seemed that knowing exactly who can murder everyone made the whole game a little bit terrifying...

“I don’t know where the heck I’m going” Y/N mumbled to herself with a nervous laugh when instead of doing her tasks, she searched for the perfect place to hide. When she entered security, she spotted Mr Beast fixing the wires, so she decided to join him.

“OH SHIT- god damn it, you scared me to death!” he all but yelled when she appeared next to him, doing her tasks.

“Sorry” she giggled, quickly finishing the wires, before speeding out of the room. On her way to weapons, she stumbled across Felix’s dead body, and could hear some screaming in the background... but didn’t recognize who was murdered next.

Y/N managed to do most of her tasks without meeting Corpse, whom she hoped not to see probably for the first time since they played together. She was just leaving decontamination when she heard Sean’s panicked laughter:

“...tee, bitches love me?”

“Wrong.” Corpse’s voice almost made her squeak in surprise, only to really scream when he suddenly snapped Sean’s neck.

“Retreat, retreat!” Y/N laughed as she sped past oblivious Rae and Logic, Corpse hot on her tail. She quickly returned to the decontamination room, hoping to flee from her inevitable death, when Corpse’s black astronaut walked in, and the door closed.

“Please don’t kill me” she chuckled, even though there was no hope for her.

“Finish my lyrics, and I’ll let you live...” he began, and Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion “ I spilt wine...”

“Wait- what lyrics? You sing?” she asked, completely dumbfounded. Corpse was silent for a moment as if he didn’t understand her, before bursting out laughing “What’s so funny again? Corpse, come on!”

“Yes, Y/N, I do sing, I was actually hoping you’ve heard some of my songs...” he admitted, still chuckling to himself. She felt a blush rising up her cheeks.

“Oh- I- I didn’t, I-... but I will, okay? I’ll do it right away!” she promised, quickly jumping up to grab her phone and listen to Corpse’s song. She was genuinely shocked, she would never expect him to sing!

She unlocked her phone with a wide, somehow nervous smile on her face, which, however, dropped the moment she saw her notifications. Hundreds of notifications.

“You there, Y/N?” Corpse’s voice reached her after a moment, when she still didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her screen. “I hope my music isn’t so bad that you passed out from listening to it...”

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, her phone gripped tightly in her shaking hands.

“Um, Y/N?” his voice became more worried now “Is everything okay?”

Y/N cleared her throat and quickly wiped her eyes, closing them for a moment to steady her breathing.

“Yeah, all good Corpse” she forced herself to smile, so her voice wouldn’t sound weird. “Look, um, I need to leave, can you tell the others bye from me?”

“Is something wrong?” Corpse asked confused.

“No, of course not!” she laughed through her tears “Something just came up and I really need to leave.”

“You sure you’re-”

“Bye Corpse. It was nice playing with you.”

A/N: I hope you guys are not too disappointed in me... It didn’t turn out as I initially thought it would. Isn’t it too dramatic? And is this hate plot fine? Or is it not? What do guys you think?

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!

@slytherin-chan @pillowjj @afuckingunicornn @love-and-virtues @ignooynim @crapimahuman @hannahjsworld @laugh-like-the-moon @fallengoddess772 @kingric03 @dolphinpink310 @paigeyisme @bunnychano3o @dxrtygxrl28 @z-nyx @baby-iyania @trashygeek

#corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #fanfiction #youtubers #corpse husband imagine #writing #imagine

3K notes · View notes

roniscloud · 3 years

Text

psh - love affair

park sunghoon [f. 8516 words] love affair

so when i’m gonna know what to feel inside, baby?

maybe it’s just all in my head, so

don’t overthink, this is love

maybe it’s just a crush

baby, is this your love affair, your love affair?

synopsis: what happens when two childhood best friends make a deal to help each other’s reputations? an unforeseen circumstance prompts sunghoon to approach you, intriguing not just you but practically every other student at your college. you believe your reunion with him can only end in one of two ways: you resort back to being friends and go on with your lives, or you use each other and once you’re both done, you fall out and never talk again. how will you two navigate your companionship? is it just the nostalgia coming up? a revival of feelings? a new crush? could it possibly be actual love?

genre + tropes : fluff. comedy. the slightest angst. childhoodbestfriends!au. enemiestolovers!au. college!au. fakedating!au.

warnings: fem reader. a little swearing. slightly suggestive themes, sorta. a few cliches. mentions of underage drinking. the american collegiate school calendar. does them geeking out over fantasy/sci-fi sagas need a warning? unknown mutual pining. they’re so helplessly clueless of their feelings. also appearances of the rest of enha plus txt.

i. prologue

if someone told you that you would reconnect with your childhood best friend—let alone date him, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them to fuck off. park sunghoon is bad news. well, at least to you he is. one of the infamous campus playboys, you can spot him around the quad flirting with a different girl practically every day.

but to you, he couldn’t have been anymore unlike the sunghoon you grew up with. you grew up with the sunghoon who couldn’t stand being around others, mind always focused on his own interests. you knew him as the little shy boy who would hide behind his mom whenever new people came around. the first person he opened up to was you. you can blame your mom for that. you can vaguely remember her words, something along the lines of mrs. park and i have been friends for longer than you have been alive. when we found out we were both expecting, we knew you two were destined to be besties.

she was right. everyone thought you were two peas in a pod. wherever one of you went, the other followed. always stuck together, like true partners in crime. your close bond stuck for years. if anyone needed you, you’d most likely be found in the seats of sunghoon’s ice skating practices and competitions, cheering him on and being obnoxiously loud. likewise, he always attended your showcases, spending hours complimenting your artwork.

but then the villain of everyone’s lifetime eventually appeared. puberty.

alas, your friendship did what anyone could predict of a couple of preteens entering high school. the usual “no matter what we’re gonna stick together!” leading to “sorry for blowing you off, got really busy,” to the imminent “what happened to us? we used to be so close,” and eventually the end of it all. senior year, the two of you attempted to leave on a good note. by that, you mean your parents made both of you apply to the same colleges to have a chance at sticking together. well, it worked, you got into the same university. funny how the universe does things.

back to present day, you’re now in your second year at hybe university. let’s just say, sunghoon isn’t the only one who went through a personality change. sunghoon traded his late night practices on the ice to one-night stands at frat parties. you, on the other hand, traded your once outgoing and fun-loving persona for a more… cold grunge meets artsy introvert. overall, let’s just say you both have reputations for not being the most approachable people. well at least you still have one thing in common.

ii. the cafe

the busy campus cafe was roaring with study groups filling every table. the aroma of fresh coffee and tea being brewed filling the air, creating a warm atmosphere—contrast to the cold winter weather just outside the walls. the college students scattered around, just like their minds scattered as they prepare for finals. not immune to the dreaded time of year, a group of four boys enter, immediately grabbing the attention of those already nestled inside.

a quick roll call of the four known by the student body as en-4, a combination of the dance crew name enhypen and the notorious f4. lee heeseung—the campus heartthrob, captain of the dance crew, center of the basketball team, and an unknown hopeless romantic. park jongseong, although everyone calls him jay—the resident bad boy and party animal, but those close to him know that he’s actually the responsible one. sim jaeyun, otherwise referred to as jake—the friendly and flirty frat boy who you can catch playing soccer in the quad almost every day. finally, park sunghoon—the handsome heartbreaker. he doesn’t need more of an introduction.

the four of them make their way to the counter, placing their orders. of course jake doesn’t miss his chance to sound extra sweet and send a quick wink to the barista, getting elbowed by heeseung in the process. after getting their drinks, they look around to see almost no where to sit. not a single table to fit all of them was available.

in one of the tucked away areas, sunghoon spots an empty seat at a smaller table. the only catch was there was someone sitting across from it, hunched forward over her laptop. he can’t see much of her figure but he immediately recognizes her features. it’s you. well, a more mature and grown up you, but he couldn’t forget that face for the life of him.

sunghoon’s feet drag himself across the crowded room, catching the attention from the neighboring groups he passed but sneaking away quiet enough to not alarm his own friends. the three are too caught up arguing about what to do. sunghoon can hear the faint voice of jay suggesting going somewhere else while the other two shoot him down as he walks further away. he makes his way all the way up to your side. you look up, scanning him, confused but unamused. “this seat taken?” the first words he said in a year and half to you. still not not giving him any emotion, you hesitantly shake your head once, immediately bringing your focus back to your essay.

ignoring him only works for so long, his gaze not leaving the top of your head. you can feel his stare piercing into you, finally meeting his eyes. “what’s your deal?” the irritation and bluntness in your tone is all too evident.

he shrugs and answers nonchalantly, “nothing, just go along with it.” his answer is hushed, almost as if he’s a bit embarrassed.

“what are you trying to pull here, park?”

“can i not just sit here and peacefully drink my latte? am i that disturbing to you?”

“considering that the second you started walking in this direction, everyone had their eyes on us, then yes, you are that disturbing.”

“they’re not looking at us.” he pauses before continuing with his rant, “they’re looking at you.”

“and why the hell do you think that is?”

“they’re all trying to figure out what could possibly be so interesting about you that i would choose this seat.” he says it like it’s the most obvious answer.

you scoff and turn to see the lingering stares of the others in the cafe. “well, if it isn’t the god park sunghoon being as humble as ever, gracing me with his presence and having mercy on a peasant like me.” the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom.

he smiles warmly at your animosity and chuckles. “i’ve always loved your sense of humor.”

“funny cause i’ve always despised yours. i’m gonna ask one more time. what do you want, park?”

he only shrugs. hesitating before responding again, “i like it here. i like talking to you. it’s familiar… comfortable.” he sees your expression change subtly. it’s only for a second before you regain the prior look. he tries to read you. he caught you off guard and his pride brings a smirk to his face.

by now, he finally tunes back into the situation around him and can feel his phone going off in his jean pocket. he pulls out the phone to see dozens of notifications, quickly stealing a glance back up at you to see that you’re already back to typing away on the previously forgotten assignment. he laughs as he sees the boys blowing up their group chat asking what he was doing. he looks up, finding the three sitting at a cramped booth with shock and confusion written all over them.

“enjoying the attention?” your turn to break the silence. when he turns back to you, you continue, “you’re no stranger to it but you’ve always loved it.” he gives you a slow nod, turning the question back to you. you answer him, “you know that it’s not my forte.”

“and why is that? scared people will get to know the real you?”

“oh please, like you aren’t afraid of me exposing all the dirt i have on you. imagine the buzz i could create with all of your old baby pics.”

he jolts up from his relaxed position, eyebrows raised, and completely on edge, “you wouldn’t dare.”

you lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on the table, cheek resting in your palm, and chuckle, “try me.” the words leaving your mouth quickly and a smile immediately replacing it.

“you’re finally smiling at me. good to know you still have emotions.” he gets you to laugh again. you spend the next 20 minutes catching up. looks like you two kept more in common than you thought. things run smoothly between the two of you, some of your old memories and inside jokes being brought up. “why didn’t this happen sooner?”

“what, us talking? i mean, you and i stopped running in the same crowd and school got the best of us. i will admit, though, freshman year sucked without you.”

he sighs when he hears your admission. “how about this? a proposition. i’m sure you’re aware that i don’t have the best reputation.”

you cut him off, “you can say that again.”

“haha, very funny,” he throws in another sarcastic comment. “you know you’re not exactly the most approachable either. hate to be the one to break it to you but you’re pretty intimidating.” he notices the expression on your face turned into one of annoyance at his last statement, “don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true.”

you dismiss the slight jab, telling him to continue. what you don’t expect is the next four words to come out of his mouth. “go out with me.” he sees your face drop, “oh come on, stop looking at me like that.”

“so i see, a little bit of time without me and you go insane.”

“look, i don’t mean actually date me, i mean… pretend to.”

again, you stare at him like he grew another head. “you want me to fake-date you? what are we, in a k-drama now? sorry hoon, you’re attractive but i would’ve preferred hwang in-youp or song kang.”

now he’s a bit annoyed, answering cockily, “i am so much better looking than them.”

“you wish.”

his jaw drops for a few seconds and then he chuckles. “i’m serious, think about it. we go out and spend time with each other like old times. i don’t look like i’m so incapable of being in a committed relationship and you don’t look like such a loner. no offense.”

“offense taken… but i see your point.”

“see, look at you using that smart brain of yours. this would be no strings attached. just two friends helping each other out while simultaneously deceiving everyone else. i know how much you love tricking others.”

you sit quietly, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “deal.”

iii. bro code

a few days later, sunghoon sits in his shared apartment with the boys, slumped on the couch as they eat dinner. “why are you guys so against it? i thought you wanted to see me in a relationship and now that i’m in one, you guys don’t approve. make it make sense. i should be free to date whoever i want.”

“yeah dude,” pausing to take a bite of his burger, “we get that.” jay answers, seeing how defensive his friend is getting.

jake interejects, “we respect your choices, but like… her? of all the girls that are falling at your feet, you chose her? the one that has no interest in you at all? i know you’re powerful but i don’t get how you managed to pull that off.”

“i feel like you could’ve consulted us about it first. bro code, man.” heeseung says as he shrugs his shoulders and sips on his soda.

“that’s kinda why i like her, because she isn’t all over me like the others. she’s cute and fun to hang out with. just give her a chance. honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? we go out and it doesn’t work. no harm in trying….”

that seems to do the trick as the boys lay off from the topic, going back to their own dinners and watching the latest episode of the penthouse.

later that night, sunghoon leaves their dorm to meet up with you. you agreed earlier that if you needed to meet up and talk that you’d go to the art department. perks of being an art major allows you a studio to spend your time in, secluded from the outside world. in this case, you and sunghoon don’t have to worry about nosy roommates.

when he arrives, he makes sure to take the back entrance like you mentioned. he makes his way through the deserted halls, glancing at each room he passes, and taking note of the various pieces framed along the corridor walls. he gets to the end of the building, finding a studio decorated with your name on the door. he silently enters. you don’t notice him at first with your back against the entrance and the music playing too loud through your airpods, focused on molding the clay on the pottery wheel. he grabs an empty stool, propping it beside you and taking a seat. he takes off one of your airpods, putting it in his own ear.

you finally turn your head towards him, “how long ago did you get here?”

“just now. how long were you waiting?”

you sit up, facing his direction. “i had a couple of classes today and came here to finish some stuff, been here for… what time is it?”

“um… almost 11.”

“then like four hours.”

“you’ve been working on that for four hours? what even is it, and when did you start doing pottery?” he points at the unfinished ceramic.

“not just that. i had some paintings that i needed to finish for my portfolio and those are in a separate room to dry. this,” you refer to the clay, “is just something i’m working on for fun. i got into it cause one of my profs suggested i try another medium.”

he nods along while you explain. “you can keep working on it while we talk.”

you hum in confirmation and turn back to the wheel, rewetting your wands. “so how do we make this believable? seems like people already know. word spreads quick when it comes to you.”

“we just need to act like a couple. so hanging out, going on dates, posting each other here and there, and being affectionate.”

“wow you finally found an excuse to kiss me,” you laugh as you joke with him, him following suit. “sounds reasonable, not much different from how we were as kids, just now we have to call them dates.”

“shouldn’t cause too many problems. just don’t fall in love with me, babe.”

you smile at the new nickname, “likewise, hoon.” you continue throwing the clay, molding it to your desired shape. you hyperfocus on the sculpture, tuning out the boy sitting next to you as he watches—he catches on that you still have the habit of pouting whenever you work on your art. you hunch forward, letting some of your hair fall in front of your face. too caught up, you don’t notice that sunghoon left his seat to stand behind you. he takes your locks and ties it into a messy ponytail. you snap out of your tunnel vision to ask, “why do you just have a hair tie handy?”

“i always had to carry some around for you because you always lost them. i never grew out of it, i guess.” he grins warmly, “do you remember how many times you had complained when you would get paint in your hair and i would have to clean it up for you?”

“how could i forget?” the night ends with more laughs and reminiscing on your childhood. time really does fly faster than you think.

iv. rated pg

the bell rings as you and sunghoon enter the convenience store. you two are discussing the movie you two just watched as you walk through the aisles.

you split up agreeing to meet back at the register. you make your way to the drinks in the back while sunghoon goes to get snacks. you grab an iced jasmine tea for yourself and an iced vanilla latte for hoon. sunghoon yells over the stands as he browses, “hey, what should i caption for my insta post?”

you respond loudly, “i don’t know, something related to movies.”

sunghoon looks at the picture on his phone: a photo of you two snuggled up in the theater, most of your face hidden in his hoodie. he types in quickly “rated pg for park’s girl <3”, hits post, and goes back to browsing. he goes to grab bento boxes, honey butter chips, candy jellies, and practically everything his eyes landed on.

when you make it to the cashier, you see sunghoon with his arms full. “you good there, park?”

a muffled “yup” is heard behind all the food.

you look around, walking away when you find what you needed. going closer to him, “why didn’t you just grab a basket?” you start to take some things from his arms, lightening his load.

“i… uh… didn’t think of it.” he pauses in between, an embarrassed expression adorning his face. you giggle as you take everything to be rung up, missing how his ears turned red. you catch the worker’s name on his tag, jungwon. before you can take out your wallet to pay, sunghoon’s already entering his card into the machine. you whip your head around, ready to tell him off. “nope, do not look at me like that.” you roll your eyes at him as you grab the bag with what you just bought.

“oh come on… you can’t seriously be mad at me.” no response from you. “really? the silent treatment?” he scoffs jokingly when you cross your arms against your chest. he comes closer to bend down and wrap his arms around your waist. “it’s snacks. it’s not that big of a deal.”

you release yourself from his grasp and walk out of the store, still faking being mad. you mumble, “whatever,” under your beath but still loud enough for him to hear.

he bids jungwon a quick “have a nice night”, not missing him calling the two of you a cute couple. sunghoon meets up with you outside, already sitting on the curb of the parking lot.

v. pretty boy

the start of a new semester. en-4 are sitting out on the grass of the quad. surrounding them are various groups of students, typical for the buzzing campus on a crisp spring day.

“you need to cook the noodles first. end of discussion.” jake says sternly. he and heeseung are in a heated argument over the proper order of cooking ramen.

heeseung defends himself, “you are so wrong. you make the broth first to build the flavor.”

jay brings his attention up from his phone, “neither of you should be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

out of nowhere, a loud car horn is heard, drawing the attention of every student in the area. sunghoon looks up to find you leaning against the passenger door of your car and yelling, “hey, pretty boy! get in.” he chuckles at both the label and how bossy you sound, turning to his friends to grab his things. the three of them are stunned at him.

jake breaks first, “wait, what?”

heeseung lets go of his argument with the australian, “dude, are you seriously leaving?”

sunghoon only nods as he walks away, not letting them ask any more questions. he notices all the watching eyes and decides why not put on a show? he shouts out to you, “thought i was picking you up later, babe.” he makes sure to emphasize the nickname as his infamous smirk tells you exactly what his intentions are.

“lecture ended early, love. prof had some emergency. thought why not surprise you…” you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he reaches you and let him lay a quick peck on your cheek. “now come on, i’m taking you out on a date so either hop in or lose your chance. your choice but i don’t have that much patience so hurry up.”

“yes, ma’am,” he leans in closer and guides his hands lower from your waist. “but i’m driving,” he says as he sneakily takes your keys from your back pocket,

“you sly fox.” he laughs at the new nickname as he opens the door, letting you sit down before closing it. he makes his way around the hood, noting that all attention is still on you two. he meets eyes with his friends again, the three looking much like the faces he saw in the cafe almost six weeks ago. as he buckles in and starts the car, you rest your hand on top of his on the gear shift. he raises his eyebrows and gives you a charming smile. “by the way, why’s your friend looking at me like that?”

he looks back up to face the boys, “which one?”

“jay. since we started doing this, he keeps looking at me weird—like weirder than the others.”

he tilts his head to the side when he realizes that jay is indeed looking in your direction, but his eyes are focused solely on you. “jay is… how should i put this? you know what i’ll tell you later. for now, tell me where to?”

vi. jukebox

the hazy red glow of the neon lights and checkered tiled floors welcomed you as you led sunghoon into the local diner. this place was a staple in your childhood, your go-to hangout spot with the aforementioned boy when you were still in your youth.

“i will say, this is a nice surprise.”

you look up to sunghoon as he sits across from you in the vinyl booth seat, “i knew you would love it.” you laugh with each other as you get situated, seeing a young but tall—why is he so tall? he looks like he’s only a teenager—server coming towards your table.

“hey, i’m niki and i’ll be taking care of you guys today,” the giant says cheerfully. “anything i can start you guys with?”

sunghoon looks up at the boy to take your order swiftly, “two strawberry milkshakes, please.” you watch as niki nods and walks back to the counter.

“well, well, well, park… you remembered?” you question teasingly with a cocked eyebrow.

“you’ve always had a sweet tooth. no wonder you loved me so much,” his turn to turn up the typical park sunghoon charm.

you scrunch your face in annoyance, “you should become a comedian.”

“i will never get tired of your sarcasm. it really just… keeps me going.” his way of joking back. “stay here. i’ll be right back,” he says quickly as he looks behind you and gets out of his seat.

you wait patiently for him, assuming he’s just going to the restroom. unbeknownst to you, sunghoon is making his way to the jukebox on the other side of the restaurant. he flips through the song list, finally finding the one he wants. he quickly puts in the coins and sets it in the queue. as he turns to go back to you, he sees an engraving on the side. he runs his fingers along it as he inspects the writing. property of sunghoon and y/n. he thinks back to your last day of eighth grade when you two etched the label onto the wood. he joyfully walks back to your table, ready to let you know about the memory. he sits next to you now, resting his arm behind you and around your back,

“what took you so long, park?”

right as he’s about to explain, niki comes to your table, “two strawberry milkshakes. anything else i can get you two?”

you turn your head quickly to the boy sitting next to you, seeing his eyes are already focused on yours. “um… no, i, uh, think we’re good.” you stumble and stutter a bit. you watch him as he nods his head and walks away. regaining your composure, you ask sunghoon again, “so what did take you so long?”

once again, he gets interrupted. the sound of “purpose” by justin bieber playing over the speakers makes him stop. he gives you a second to register the song, “that’s why.”

you tilt your head down and look at him quizzically, “really? this is why?” you reach to your drink, sipping on the straw as you wait for his answer.

he mirrors your movement, nodding his head in confirmation. he too drinks from the tall glass, contrary to your use of a straw, he opts to drink straight from the rim. he pulls the milkshake away, leaving some on his upper lip.

you burst into quiet laughter, turning your gaze away to not spit out your own shake.

sunghoon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “what’s so funny?”

you turn back to him, “you got a little something there, park.” you wipe away the liquid from his face with your thumb, popping into your own mouth to clean it up.”there, all good now.”

sunghoon freezes in his spot, trying to comprehend what just happened. it’s quick but he feels something. trying to shake off the foreign feeling, he turns to face forward again. he feels you lean into him, head resting on his chest. a small grin appears on his face, humming along to the justin bieber tune still playing.

“i missed hearing you sing.”

sunghoon looks down at the crown of your head, “really? you used to always tease me about it, though.”

you shake your head with a light laugh, “i never meant it. whenever you sang, it always calmed me. i used to think… if you didn’t pursue skating, you could’ve been a singer.”

“and then what? i would bring you around on tour everywhere and sneak you in backstage?”

“that could’ve been fun.” you now laugh louder than before, him along with you.

there it is again. sunghoon’s not sure what it is, trying to suppress the odd emotion. he sits there, cuddling up to you in the booth, finishing the strawberry milkshakes, just hoping you can’t hear the way his heart starts to beat faster.

sitting at the bar, snacking on fries, and trying to not be seen by you two are heeseung, jay, and jake. they ask themselves would they really be considered sunghoon’s friends if they didn’t follow them and stake out their date.

vii. nerds

sunghoon picked you up from the art department today. he showed up about ten minutes too early, and he got permission from your instructor to monitor your class from the back. he waited outside the door while you cleaned up, earning a few prying looks from your peers as they exited. as you drove back to his place, you agreed to have a movie marathon.

opening the door to his dorm, you say “we are watching star wars. luke, leia, and han solo are a way better trio than three child magicians.”

sunghoon defends his choice, “first of all, they’re wizards. second, i’m offended. harry, ron, and hermione use magic with their wands. all star wars has is weird weapons and robots.”

“they’re literally in space and excuse you, but does something called—oh, i don’t know—the force ring any bells? they’re jedis, duh.” you rolls your eyes, making your annoyance clear.

sunghoon stops in the hall, “harry potter has spells and potions.”

“star wars has chewbacca.” you stand next to him with your arms crossed.

definitively and matter-of-factly, sunghoon says, “quidditch.”

“you can’t seriously believe quidditch is praiseworthy?” you look at him crazily.

“you two are such nerds.”

you both freeze, turning to see the rest of en-4 sitting in the living room. in the midst of your argument, you both failed to notice the others were home. you realize that jay was the one to stop you two. you also realize it’s the dreaded time for the best friends to finally meet the “girlfriend”. sunghoon seems to realize it as well, reaching to intertwine your hands to both sell the act to his roomates and to calm you down.

he leads you into the living room, meeting eyes with the boys. “so… guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

“it’s so nice to finally meet you! i’m jake. sunghoon here has been holding out on us. i mean, come on, it’s been like two months and he still hasn’t introduced you to us.” the australian continues on with his energetic and positive ramble, asking you questions about your relationship.

heeseung butts in to tell jake to slow down. “i’m heeseung. jake’s right though, you two started dating before winter break and we’re barely meeting you now. sunghoon is always hanging out with you and telling us everything about it. honestly, all i can tell you is to run while you still can.” the others all laugh at his antics.

sunghoon scoffs, “hey, i’m not that bad.”

you excuse yourself to get a drink from the kitchen. you can hear jake spitting out more questions like rapid fire to sunghoon as you walk away. you reach into the fridge, fishing out a water bottle.

behind you, jay enters quietly. “you two are cute together.”

you flinch at his voice, “geez, dude. almost gave me a heart attack.”

he chuckles under his breath and leans against the counter, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. i met sunghoon at freshman orientation and we immediately became friends, but i’ve never seen him like this.”

“really hoping you mean that in a good way.”

“don’t worry, it is. you know… he only has a soft spot for you. the three of us are his best friends but he only ever smiles like that with you.” he sways his head back and forth as he rambles, taking a pause between his words. “stay with him. it’ll be good for everyone.”

you smile at his approval, “you wanna know something? he actually said you would be the hardest to win over. he said something about you being super protective over your friends… yet, at the same time you trust their judgement. he told me that when he and i got together, he wasn’t scared to tell you but more worried as to if you would like me.”

he smiles with you now, “that all he said about me?” he asks while raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“he also mentioned that you’re a good cook.”

viii. proud

a professor of yours is holding their annual spring showcase for contemporary art. every year, a handful of students are chosen to join and display their art amongst other renowned artists. you happen to be one of the few, a top contender chosen for your abilities.

you’ve invited your friends, including en-4 to come by the studio and see your work—albeit a bit nervous for their reactions. you stand on watch by your section, greeting the patrons and waiting for the boys to arrive.

thankfully, they show up within the first hour of the gallery opening. they each show up looking professional and chic, sporting all-black fits—most likely at the hands of jay. sunghoon immediately finding you and leading the way for the rest. you welcome them in, explaining your collection, the concentration being “vulnerability.” the works are a mix of several mediums, majority being oil paint, each displaying a closeup of various people. the paintings show their bare faces, imperfections and blemishes with nothing to hide.

the night continues with more and more passing by, complimenting your collection. by the time the exhibition ends, you and sunghoon are the only ones left in the studio. he’s stayed in the same spot, eyeing one piece incredibly closely. throughout the entire showcase, he had kept going back to the one canvas. you join his side, linking your arm with his. “this one is my favorite,” you hear him say.

you look up to meet his eyes, “why this one?”

“because… it’s you.” you takes your arm out and moves to stand behind you, now wrapping himself around you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. he holds your hands in his, “i am so proud of you. times like this, i am proud to call you my best friend.” he turns his head, kissing you once on your jaw, and then pulling slightly back to kiss you again on the cheek.

you turn around, hugging him closer with your arms around his shoulders, “thank you.” you hold each other for a few minutes. when you pull away, you lock eyes. you feel your heart beating against your chest and your breathing getting faster. you snap back to reality when you feel sunghoon’s lips on yours. you’re not sure why you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him back or why he grabs onto your waist while backing you into the wall. he continues placing pecks on the corner of you lips, creating a trail down to your neck. when you let out a sigh and say his name, he stops. there he stands, a few feet in front of you, awkward and unsure of what to do next.

he breaks the silence, “it’s late. i should drive you back home.” he watches as you slowly nod your head. the drive back to your apartment was dead silent. you tried to occupy yourself by looking out the window.

when he drops you off, he bids you a quick goodnight. “um… text me when you get back home.” sunghoon just looks forward, muttering “ok” before leaving.

in the elevator, you look at your reflection on the metal doors. you make your way inside your place and take a seat on your bed. your mind is too busy reliving the moments with sunghoon before. you try to comprehend what you should do but find yourself too tired, instead falling asleep and missing his text.

ix. spring break

it’s currently the middle of april and the boys have made you an honorary member of en-4. you and sunghoon have been pretending to be a couple and successfully tricking everyone for the last four months.

everyone has the week off for spring break. jay, being the generous guy he is, rented out a cabin in the mountains for the now five members of your friend group. you all rode in one car on the way up, and you totally didn’t fall asleep in the middle seat while cuddling into sunghoon’s side.

you all decide to settle into your rooms once you arrive. “so there are four rooms, two downstairs and two upstairs.” jay pauses, looking towards you and sunghoon, “i assume that you’ll be fine sharing one.”

you immediately answer, “yeah, for sure.” you look to see sunghoon avoiding your gaze, sensing knowing looks from the others. sunghoon and you already guessed that they would make the two of you share a room and truthfully, neither of you minded. growing up together meant a lot of sleepovers and sharing beds so this was no problem.

he continues on, “great, you guys can take the master bedroom on the second floor cause it has the most space. i’ll take the room next to you, heeseung and jake can take the two down here.”

everyone agrees and sets off to their assigned rooms. you and sunghoon drop your bags onto the mattress, starting to unpack. the interior is spacious, the tall glass sliding doors allow lots of natural light to come in. the room itself is cozy, king size bed with matching bedside tables, and a big fluffy area rug. you’re too distracted to notice that sunghoon has gone outside to the balcony. he leans against the railing, taking in the scenic views and the breeze, basking in the setting rust-colored sun. when you finally realize that he’s not next to you anymore, you silently make you way onto the balcony, wrapping your arms around sunghoon from behind.

he tenses up at the sudden contact, relaxing when he realizes it’s you. there it is again, his heart is acting up like at the diner. he’s noticed it more often—the way that whenever he sees you, his heart beats differently. this weird feeling in his chest, this warmth that only shows up around you. he gets lost in his thoughts, envisioning what could become of your situation.

“what’s got you so lost?”

your voice snaps him back to reality. he turns around to face you, “uh… nothing, just thinking.”

just when you want to question him further and talk about what happened at the showcase, a knock is heard on the door. sunghoon walks away, going to open the door. both of you can feel the awkward tension when he leaves his spot.

“hey, we’re kinda hungry so we’re gonna order some food and watch a movie downstairs,” jake informs you two when the door opens. “feel free to come down and join whenever.”

“yeah, we’ll be down in a bit,” sunghoon tells him as heeseung nods before leaving you two alone again. you both finish getting settled before heading downstairs. you gather around the couch as ponyo plays on the tv and you reach for a tray of sushi.

the night continues, the moon sitting high amongst the stars. after the movie, dinner, and some drinking games, everyone retires to their respective rooms. you plop yourself onto the bed, tired after the day’s activities. you hear sunghoon getting something from his bag along with the rustling of some plastic. you crane your head up to see him approaching you. he sits on the edge of the bed, now with fluffy headbands and face masks in hand.

you scoot back a bit, “nope. no way you are getting me to do that.”

he laughs lightly at your antics, “oh come on… let me take care of you, at least just for tonight. please.” he gives you a pleading look with pursed lips, dragging out the “please” to show how desperate he is.

that was the deciding point that led to a spa night. you both changed into comfier clothes, you borrowed one of his hoodies and sweatpants. sunghoon got settled in closer to you and you reached for his wrist to grab one of the elastic bands. you adjusted your position to sit on your knees, reaching up to tie his hair back. he, on the other hand, took one of the headbands to bring your hair back and away from your face.

by the time midnight rolled around, you two were snuggled under the comforter with face masks, surrounded by junk food, and on the fourth episode of some random netflix show. as the night continues, a wave of sleep starts to overtake both of you. you help each other take off the masks and clean up, getting distracted every few minutes because one of you would start messing around. the boys had stopped by to say goodnight, catching you two in the middle of a mild pillow fight. after sending them off, you fall asleep in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of your shared embrace. heeseung had snuck in at one point and stole a few quick pictures to tease you two with.

the dawn breaking through the sheer curtains causes you to stir in bed. you turn to see the alarm clock on the nightstand say 6:02. untangling yourself from sunghoon’s grasp, you sneak outside. you climb up to sit on the rooftop, feeling the cool chill of the dewy morning. the time alone gives you a sense of serenity.

meanwhile, sunghoon moves under the covers, confused why he can’t feel you. his eyes open and he doesn’t find a trace of you in the room. worried, he gets up and quietly searches the house, making sure to not wake the others. he goes into the backyard, seeing a shadow on the ground with an unusual shape. he looks up to find you perched on the roof, facing the opposite direction. he eventually climbs up to sit next to you. he hesitates before getting closer and putting his arm around you. you sigh as you lean into him. there you both stay, watching the sun come over the horizon in a comfortable silence.

x. disaster averted

the following week, you all return to campus. needless to say, the break was well used—the days at the cabin mostly being spent at the lake or around the campfire. another day spent hanging out at en-4’s dorm after classes. sunghoon went out to pick up food for everyone. you are in his room, trying to cram for an upcoming test and failing miserably because the other three are all playing fifa way too loud.

while the boys are playing, the doorbell rings. jay gets up to check who it is, seeing a young girl and immediately recognizing her. he lets in yeji, sunghoon’s little sister. she casually joins the boys around the tv, catching up on whatever has been happening in their lives. sunghoon arrives back home within twenty minutes.

“i’m back with the food,” he shouts out loud enough for everyone to hear including you behind his closed bedroom door. he places the plastic bags on the table, looking up to see another face. “yeji? what are you doing here?”

she gets up to greet her brother, giving him a hug, “it’s my spring break and i wanted to stop by.” sunghoon then realizes that his family doesn’t know about him becoming friends with you again or about your current situation. he drags her into the kitchen hurriedly, “ok so here’s the thing… you remember y/n?”

“of course! she’s like my big sister.”

his breath gets caught in his throat for a second, “yeah, don’t call her that. anyways, her and i are friends again,” he sees yeji’s eyes widen with excitement and continues with his explanation before she can cut him off, “and she’s my girlfriend.”

“what?!”

sunghoon panics and covers her mouth with his palm, “fake girlfriend!” he rushes out the whisper. “the guys don’t know that our relationship isn’t real and i’d like to keep it that way. they don’t even know that we were friends beforehand. yeji, i’m begging you to go along with it. please do this for me.” he clasps his hands together in front of him with a pleading expression.

the young girl crosses her arms in front of her and pretends to think about it, “hmm… fine.”

sunghoon blurts out a chant of “thank you’s” not knowing that his sister only agreed cause she always thought that you and sunghoon would’ve been a good couple. he tells her to help the others set the table while he goes to you. he quickly explains what’s happening and you’re just excited that you get to see yeji again. you both leave his room and you make your own way to the living room, spotting the other girl and exchanging glances.

yeji stops what she’s doing to turn and face you, “who’s this?”

you answer back casually, “y/n. i’m a friend of the boys, and you are?”

“yeji, sunghoon’s younger sister.” she says it proudly, bringing a grin to the aforementioned boy.

“oh, you’re yeji? hoon was right… you are pretty.”

she tilts her head and cocks an eyebrow, questioning you “why would he tell you about me?”

jake chimes in like it’s second nature, “i mean, why wouldn’t he tell his girlfriend about his sister?” he states like it’s so obvious. “they’ve been together since december.”

“girlfriend?” she takes a step back in false shock, “since december? why didn’t i know about this?”

“what? i don’t seem like your brother’s type?”

“it’s not that. i’m just surprised he managed to get and keep a girlfriend. you’re like, way out of his league and he’s a loser.” one thing to know about yeji is that as much as she loves him, she will never miss a chance to tease her brother.

with a scoff, you finally hear sunghoon join in beside you, “not gonna lie, that one hurt a little.”

“i’m so telling mom,” she says with a mischievous smirk.

you laugh at sunghoon’s shocked face and smile at the younger park, “i like you, i think we’ll get along just fine.”

“i like you, too.” she looks at sunghoon, “keep her.”

everyone laughs at the interaction as they settle in to eat. sunghoon sits to your right while yeji sits on your left, wondering how his two favorite girls learned to be such good actresses.

xi. returning the favor

fast forward another month, the end of the semester means the dreaded finals week again. sunghoon has been, for lack of a better word, slacking on some of his classes and is now juggling to prepare for exams and revisions. couple that with yeji telling his mom about your “relationship” and her nonstop questions, all of this stress has been piled on. this all amounting to him getting sick.

now, sunghoon being sunghoon means that he pushed everyone away and hasn’t told you about his condition. luckily for him, you’ve been cooped up in your studio trying to finish your portfolio and also prepare for your exams. unluckily for him, the boys have gotten worried and heeseung called you.

which brings us to the present, sunghoon stuck in bed with a fever, congestion, and neglected notes. a knock on his door does nothing to help his headache but seeing your face meekly peek in makes him relax. “what are you doing here?” he asks hoarsely.

“did you really think i wouldn’t find out?”

he avoids your glare, “i didn’t want you to worry.”

“honestly i’m not upset that you’re sick, but that i had to hear it from your roommates.” you come closer to him, clearing out the scattered papers and textbooks from atop his bed. you sit on the edge, taking out some medicine and cooling packs that you picked up from the convenience store.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he twiddles his fingers in embarrassment.

you tie back his hair and place one of the packs on his forehead, “you’ve always been the one taking care of me, so i might as well return the favor.”

you busy yourself with getting the cough medicine ready and sunghoon takes an actual look at you. he notices that you’re wearing his old skating jacket, the same one he gave you at your high school graduation. he makes more room under the covers, allowing you to come closer and lay next to him. he drapes one arm over you and holds onto the end of the jacket sleeve, “i can’t believe you kept this.”

“we stopped hanging out and we weren’t in each other’s lives for a year and a half after being together basically since birth,” you pause, a little saddened thinking back. “this was the last thing i ever got from you. it’s all i had left.”

he brings you closer, neither of you caring if you got sick. “well… now you have me again. for good.”

xii. the party

the end of the school year has finally arrived. some seniors from the txt frat are hosting a big party to celebrate. of course, en-4 was invited—mostly thanks to heeseung being close with them. although you have made more friends and now have a more active social life, parties are still not your thing.

yet, much to your dismay, being friends with designated party people means that you’re getting bombarded with pleas to go regardless. sunghoon took the lead on convincing you, “please, i promise that it’ll be fun.” the boys join in, their voices overlapping. sunghoon practically tackles you onto your couch while pouting and furrowing his eyebrows in desperation.

“stop looking at me like that. i can’t think properly when you do that.”

right on cue, the boys start to tease you. jay clears his throat and jake makes kissing noises, meanwhile heeseung starts singing y/n and sunghoon sitting in a tree… while you just glare at them.

“if i say i’ll go, will you all leave me alone?”

they all shout “yes” in unison. which is how you ended up at the crowded frat house. although they had begged you to come, they practically abandon you and sunghoon when you get there. jake had yelled back to you that his friend sunoo from his econ class called them over for beer pong.

you and sunghoon find a big bean bag in the corner and stay there for a bit. he offers to get you both some drinks and leaves to the kitchen. you’re not sure how long he’s gone but you eventually get uncomfortable. you start wandering the house for some space to get some air. you find an empty room and make your way into the connected bathroom to wash your face. you take some deep breaths, then realizing that you didn’t tell sunghoon. as you’re about to step out, he enters the room.

“i figured you would want some space.”

“how’d you know where i was?”

he comes up closer to you, “in the sea of people, in this mess, in this frenzy… i will always find you. no matter what happens or who comes into my life, i always find my way back to you.”

“what the hell is that even supposed to mean, park?”

“i mean…” he stops to compose himself, “oh for fucks sake, i’m tired of this being pretend. i’m tired of being allowed to call you my girlfriend in public but not treat you like it in private. when i kissed you at the showcase, i had wanted to do that for so long, and i’ve been wanting to do even more.”

“sunghoon, look-”

“wait, i’m not done. what i’m trying to say is that i want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time—not as a joke, not as a trick. i want us to be together as an actual couple because i like you, a lot more than you could believe-”

you cut him off this time, kissing him like he did all those weeks ago. you kissed him in the way that you weren’t sure what words to say other than, “i would love to be your girlfriend.”

sunghoon shines with the biggest smile, picking you up and spinning around. when he lets you down, he incessantly leaves pecks all over your face. he holds you close, “now, how about we go enjoy the party?”

you nod and lead him hand in hand towards the door. you turn the nob, only to have the three remaining members of your friend group fall at your feet. heeseung landing on top, shouting out, “i fucking knew it!”

#sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagine #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fic #sunghoon fics #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen fics #enhypen fluff #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon fics #enhypen sunghoon fluff

365 notes · View notes

hollandsmushroom · 3 years

Note

could i request a boyfriend!peter fic where reader comes out to him as bi and genderfluid, but they're so nervous to do so cos they havent told anyone else and he is rlly supportive? and helps them get new clothes and cut their hair? and its fluffy and hugs and stuff?

if u dont feel comfy writing this, its ok i totally understand :) i just love ur writing so much <3

Be True To Yourself || P.P.

Peter Parker x afab(previously using she/her pronouns)Genderfluid!Reader

Word Count: 1375(I am pretty sure this is my fave thing I have every written)

Warnings: Fluff, the pain of coming out, fear, anxiety, brief mentions of break up(in passing not with intent) and I swear to fucking god, if anyone comes in my inbox angry that I didn’t trigger tag this for lgbtq content i will scream so loud your ear drums burst.

A/N: So I don’t really talk about this much on here but I am a mostly gender nonconforming They/she, I come from a very very lgbtg family, I am a safe place, I promise!

♡✩♡✩♡✩♡✩♡

It was something about yourself that caused turmoil, it turned in your stomach as you tried to grapple with who and what you are, you knew that there was nothing wrong with your feelings, how certain forms of gender expression didn't feel right at certain times. Your mind floods with anxious thoughts as you sit on Peter’s bed, waiting for him to get back from patrol, to finally share your true self with the person that you love. Your hands twisting around each other, ringing out in a corporeal demonstration of your gut wrenching worry.

“Y/n?” Peter’s voice breaking through the metaphysical walls of your disquietude. Your eyes drawing upwards, trailing up the black webs of his red spandex, reaching his face in time to catch as his gloved hand tug at his mask, the eye lens blinking as he pulls off his face covering. The moment seems to soften as you glance at his hair, soft locks expanding from the confines of his secret identity. “What are you doing here?” His speaking again brought you back the reveries of your hands in his hair as you laugh giddily, his body holding yours tight to his as you ignore a movie you were supposed to be watching together.

“Hi Petey” you smile at him, tenderness in your gaze as you pat the bed next to you, signalling for him to take a seat next to you, a silent queue that he followed with much complacity. “Um, I need to talk to you about something” your eyes ducking down, an action that made Peter’s heart stop, a nervousness spreading through him rapidly as he began to feel much as you did, off kilter, as if his world was tilting beneath him.

“Y/n, you’re kinda of scaring me” he utters, reaching out for your hand only to find it already entangled, fingers linking with fingers in a never ending exhibition of unease.

“It’s nothing to be scared of, Petey, well I might need to be scared but it's something, well it’s something about me that I need to tell you and I haven’t told anyone and- well, Peter I am scared, I am really fucking scared” you let a tear you didn’t know you had spill, letting it fall down your cheek as you contemplate your words, silently reeling through every option you have on how to voice your being and identity to the person you love with the possibility that it could change how he loves you.

“My sweet, you know you can tell me anything” he assures, desperately trying to get a grip on the conversation.

“Peter, I...I can’t be your girlfriend” you murmur, quickly realizing you had chosen your words wrong as you see him freeze out of the corner of your eye, his body going rigid as the beautiful dusted rose drains from his cheeks.

“Wha-” he starts but you cut him off immediately.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I want to be with you, I want to be yours but I can’t be your girlfriend because I-I’m not a girl, well I am sometimes and I can be your girlfriend at those times but I’m not that all the time, honestly I am whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it and well, I don’t just like boys, I like girls too, but not just girls and boys, I like everyone but not now obviously because I am with you and I would never ever do anything unfaithful to you no matter how many genders or orientations I am attracted to. Peter I can’t keep pretending to be something that I am not and I don’t want that to change us but I understand if it do-” you start giving him the spiel about how it was okay if he didn’t know how to be with you now that you have become fully yourself but his lips didn’t give you the chance, cutting you off before you could manage to put into words how easy it would be for him to leave when that was the last thing that he wants, no matter what your pronouns or who you found attractive because that didn’t change who he fell in love with, he fell in love with you, not how you expressed yourself, you, his partner, his love. Pulling away your eyes remain closed, processing the amount of emotional knowledge had been lifted from your shoulder, your chest still tightened with the love at the amount of lack lecher passion Peter had let flow into your lips.

“Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Y/n, nothing in this world” he assures, lips still ghosting over yours as you finally manage to pry your eyes open to meet his chocolate honeyed gaze. “Is there anything that I can do to help you feel more comfortable in your own skin?” He was soft, so gentle a presence that you felt like warm milk on a cold night, he was calming your soul of your innermost turmoil.

“I was,” you drop your eyes, examining Peter's fluttering pulse that beats at the juncture of his collar bones. “Well I was hoping to go shopping and get a haircut cause how I currently have my hair and how I currently dress doesn’t always make me feel the best” he watches you with an attentive adoration, wanting to learn how to best be your partner and ally while you learn and grow into being fully and comfortably you. “Sometimes I don’t mind it but sometimes isn’t always and in the times its not I feel like my own existence makes me itch”

“Well we can’t have you being itchy” Peter squeezes your hips softly, tugging you closer to him as you fall back on the bed. “So I guess we shall have to go to the mall this weekend, get you a haircut, some new clothes, sound like a plan?” Peter offers and you smile unabashedly.

“The best plan” you nod sleepily into his chest, forehead grazing the emblem on his suit as you let your eyes fall shut, absolutely exhausted from the emotional strain of baring your soul to the person you love most with a possibility of getting it spat back at you, but Peter would never, he loved you more than he could understand, more than he cared to, not wanting to taint the complexities of his adoration for you with the binary idea that he could ever understand something so powerful and all encompassing.

---------------

You stood in front of a rack of t-shirts, hangers dawned with fun patterned graphic tees as you, searching for something new to complete your style, something that felt more true to you when you didn’t feel like wearing any of the clothes that you already owned, something that would go along well with the way your hair was now styled. Peter was not standing with you, having wandered off minutes before to go find something that he thought you would enjoy. The feeling of someone near you making you turn to face where the sensation was coming from, your eyes finding your grinning boyfriend. I

"I have an idea!" Peter smiles excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he fiddles with a pack of bracelets in his hand. "So um, I was thinking we could assign each bracelet pronouns so I know which ones to use when to use which pronoun" you felt like you were glowing, fully understood for the first time in your life and there is nothing more valuable than that, than feeling totally and completely seen and accepted for who and what you were. Tears flood your eyes without your consent as you smile stupidly back at Peter whose face was falling, hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "Baby, did I say something wrong?" you shook your head, nuzzling deeper into his palm.

"No, no Petey, I just feel good in my own skin for once in my life" you blubber.

"I just want my partner to be happy" his thumb brushes over your orbital bone, wiping away a fallen tear. "Because I love them with everything I have”

“I love you too Petey, so much”

let me know what you thought

♡Taglist♡

@iluvdeja @quaksonhehe @lovehollandy12 @thollandneedy @prancerrparkerr @parkerpeter24 @hollandsour @evermoreholland @harmqnia @thehumanistsdiary @samaraaaaa @itscaminow @alinastarkrovs @marvelsbitch8 @celestialholland @kasidy409 @parkerdarling @scarletspideyy @capital-koreasofia @marvelhasmyheart235 @hackerholland @tom-softie @hollandsjen @tomhollandsbitch8 @bi-lmg07 @reawritesthings @tomsholland2412 @lowkey-holland @cocoamoonmalfoy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker request #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader oneshot #peter parker x reader one shot #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x genderfluid!reader #peter parker x bi!reader #lgbtq #peter parker x lgbtq!reader

166 notes · View notes

omg-imagine · 4 years

Text

Loopy

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is a little loopy from her anesthesia, and Johnny finds it amusing.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Requested by @thescorpionrodriguez. Hope you enjoy!

“Come on, V, wake the fuck up already.”

Silence. Johnny swears he could hear a pin drop.

V’s body remains lax on the bed; her eyes wound shut as if she were sound asleep. Slow and rhythmic, the rise and fall of her chest were calming, lulling. For once, she looks to be in peace, a rare moment for those who live and breathe in Night City.

She had been lucky. Extremely lucky. Two or three millimeters more to the right and the bullet that pierced her abdomen would have hit an organ. By some miracle, it missed anything vital and had exited out cleanly. It did fucking hurt judging by the sound of her agonizing groans, but here she was—still kicking, still alive.

And Johnny’s relieved that she was. They may not get along at times, but he genuinely cares for V. Hell, he would even consider her a good friend. She could call him a snarky asshole as often as she wants (and she does), yet he knows that deep down, she too has grown a soft spot for the rocker boy.

It’s been hours since the mission that went awry, and Johnny was getting pretty antsy. Vik had to put V down while he worked on repairing her cyberware. Nothing major, though the anesthesia should have certainly worn out by now. Much to Silverhand’s surprise, the ripperdoc wasn’t acting all too worried about it. He thinks V could use the sleep since he’s aware of how little she’s been getting.

Unfortunately, Johnny was all but a patient man. Bored out of his damn mind, he’s tired of roaming around the operating room, waiting and waiting for V to regain consciousness. Johnny’s more than ready to leave, perhaps grab a smoke afterward. He hasn’t gone this long without one lately, and he can’t enjoy one if V’s lying here, knocked out cold.

Nearly the rest of the day flies by, and the sun begins to set. That’s when he feels it; a spark—a familiar jolt of electricity emitting in the depths of V’s mind. Johnny manifests by her bedside, watching as her body finally stirs awake. That’s my girl, he silently praises, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. V’s eyes flutter open, taking a minute to survey her surroundings before her line of sight lands on him.

“Well, look who decided to come back to life,” Johnny quips, leaning closer. “You doing alright, kid?”

V doesn’t respond. Rather, she bursts into a fit of giggles out of nowhere.

What the fuck?

Bewildered, Johnny glances everywhere but notices nothing amusing of the sort. “Care to share what you find so funny?”

“You’re too good looking to be my nurse,” V drawls, no doubt experiencing side effects from the anesthesia.

“I’m no nurse, princess, but thanks,” he corrects her. Then, it dawns on him. “You recognize me?”

She blinks at him blearily, the gears in her head turning as she tries to put a name to the face. “I dunno, should I?”

“It’s Johnny. Johnny Silverhand. Ring any bells?”

Again, V chuckles, a light-hearted tone that Johnny rarely hears, but they were sweet music to his ears when he does.

“Nope, zero bells. Are you like my husband or something?”

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Husband? Oh, no, honey. We ain’t even gone on a date yet. I’d say, think of us as partners-in-crime.”

“Wait!” V blurts out, gasping. “I remember you. You’re from that band—Samurai, right? God, I used to listen to your songs a lot as a kid.”

“Huh, you told me you’d never heard of Samurai,” Johnny recalls, slightly entertained at this point. “Didn’t peg you as a fangirl, V. I’m flattered.”

“So, can I… y’know, get your autograph?”

Just before Johnny could continue playing around with a loopy V, Viktor strolls in with Misty in tow, both delighted to find the merc out of her prolonged slumber. He lingers by the foot of her bed as Vik explains to V what happened, but she doesn’t seem to be processing it. She stares at him, dazed, and Johnny wonders when she’ll be back to normal.

“The effects should go away in a few hours,” Vik informs Misty once he’s examined V. She’s healing nicely and isn’t complaining much, yet that could be because of all the painkillers she was jacked with. “I’d say watch over V until she can stand on her own two feet without tripping. Other than that, she’s good to go.”

“Where are we going?” a clueless V asks, looking back and forth between the two. “Is Johnny coming?”

Misty furrows her brow at her. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, mister sex on legs over there,” she points eagerly, and Johnny smirks at that. “I’m not done talking to him yet.”

Vik shakes his head before reminding Misty of the engram residing within V’s psyche. “Oh, yeah. Silverhand. Uh, I guess he could come, too. Don’t really have much of a choice there, doll.”

The walk back to V’s apartment was a journey in itself. Lucky for her, she was pushed in a wheelchair throughout it all as Johnny stays visible for her benefit. They reached the door just before the skies turned completely dark, the warmth and comfort of the room being somewhat familiar to V.

Misty carefully moves her onto the bed, propping her up with pillows behind her back before smoothing out the blankets covering her legs. Johnny observes from a distance, quiet in his pondering. He’s never seen V this vulnerable before. She’s always been incredibly independent, not to mention stubborn as hell. She won’t accept anyone’s help unless it’s dire, and even then, she’s reluctant to do so.

“You must be starving,” Misty comments once V is settled. “How about I get you somethin’ to eat downstairs. Better food than what’s here, if there’s any. Hang tight for a bit, ’kay?”

Nodding, Misty then heads out of the room, the front door sliding shut when she’s gone, leaving V in the presence of Johnny yet once again. He glitches to sit by the edge of the mattress as V stares at him incredulously. Her eyes shone what he could best describe as innocence; she truly has no clue of what they’ve gone through together in the previous months.

“Can you sing me a song?”

Johnny narrows his gaze, a small chuckle rumbling in his throat at her deliriousness. “I don’t do concerts anymore.”

“Oh, come on!” V pouts, almost child-like in her ways. “Pleeease?”

“No,” he refuses sternly before an idea comes to mind. “How about you sing to me? Said you were a fan. Give me a performance, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

V does not hesitate. On cue, she starts to serenade Johnny with one of Samurai’s greatest hits, going as far as imitating the gruffness of his voice. Off-beat and lyrics garbled, V belts out the tune confidently and loud enough that her irritated neighbors began banging on the wall, yelling at her to quit it.

She ignores them, of course.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s having the time of his life. It was quite endearing to him, although embarrassing for V if she later finds out about this. Yet, he doesn’t stop her. He encourages her even further by singing along, not giving a fuck in the world.

At the end of the song, Johnny laughs heartily along with V, who had crawled closer to him. Their eyes meet for a moment that seems to last longer than it actually did. His mouth quirks up in a smile, the kind of smile that was reserved for her and her alone.

“You’re pretty cool, Silverhand,” V mumbles sleepily, touching the cold surface of his chrome arm. Sighing, Johnny guides her drowsy self back under the covers, certain that she would crash in the next minute or two. “I think you should take me on a date. We’d be a hell of a couple together.”

“I think you’re going to regret everything that’s happened just now when you wake up in the morning,” he returns, and there was a slight pang in his chest.

V only hums in response, and he doubts he had even heard what he last said. It doesn’t matter, however. Johnny was sure she wouldn’t want to bring this up again.

---

“Fuck…” V exhales groggily, her blinking eyes wincing at the bright sunlight flooding into the room. She feels pain all over, her head throbbing immensely as she tries to gather memories of the day prior. It comes back in bits and pieces until suddenly, she remembers everything.

Everything.

“Good morning, princess,” Johnny greets after materializing before her, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “How ya feelin’? Still loopy or need a little more refreshing from ‘mister sex on legs?’”

V’s reflexes are quick; Johnny doesn’t even register the pillow being hurled at him at first. He only realizes it when the empty glass bottles on the center table falls to the floor, shattering and making a mess.

“You’re lucky you’re just a hologram, right now,” V muttered as she stands up unsteadily.

Johnny holds his hands up. “You were the one who said it.”

Rolling her eyes, V reaches for the painkillers Misty left on the side. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, but at least let me tell you that you’ve got a shitty voice.”

“That’s why I don’t do karaoke,” V snorts before swallowing the pills and heading to the couch. “So, what do you think?”

“What do you mean?” Johnny questions.

“You, me, dinner?”

V waits for his reaction, smiling coyly at his confusion. When Johnny finally understands what she was referring to, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“Wait, are you fucking serious?”

She lets out a chortle. “Yeah, I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mortified about last night, and I’m never going to let Vik knock me out with that stuff again. But hey, the truth came out. Might not have remembered you, but even while high as fuck, I knew I liked you.”

Briefly, they traded a look of longing, acknowledging at last this deeper connection they’ve felt for a while. It was much more than sharing a body, a mind. Something more profound than what Johnny and V have experienced before in their lives.

And though it was all entirely new to them, they both wanted it. They both wanted each other.

“Better get to it then,” Johnny flashes a grin, mirroring V’s own. “Wanna start with breakfast? Bet you’re hungry after skipping what Misty brought you, samurai.”

“Never going to live that one down, are ya?”

Shooting her a cheeky wink, Johnny throws on his stylish pair of aviators with ease.

“You bet your ass I’m not.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse @overheardatthecontinental @life-is-fuucked @ataraxydreams

#johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand fanfic

986 notes · View notes

apollostears · 4 years

Text

TEENAGE LOVE AFFAIR [ BTS ]

group: BTS

pairing: BTS x daughter!reader

warning(s): swearing

request: can you do BTS reacting to their 15 year old daughter having a boyfriend/girlfriend?

requested by: @mela3340

oomfggg this was so fun to make!! thanks for requesting the first request of 2021 :) hope you enjoy love <3

➝︎ jin

he’s literally dramatic af.

#dramaking

but no really, he’ll be shook to the gods.

like huh??? his child got a partner?!!!

my kid?!!! IN THESE STREETS?!

he would faint, then wake back up and shake her til she’s dizzy.

ok but on a more serious note, i think if he saw his daughter have genuine feelings for this person they’re with, he would support a 100%

definitely wants to meet them asap

would chaperone their dates but in a way that’s soooo cliché. i mean ugly ass disguises cliché.

will definitely have a heart attack if his daughters partner used the fake ‘yawn-over-the-shoulder’ move while at the movies.

all his daughter would hear is someone choking horrendously a few rooms behind them and instantly know it’s her dad.

will call the boys up every time she asks him to go on a date with their partner or if they can come over to hang and study.

“i’m at a lost here! it’s like i’m in the war!” jin exaggerates on the group call with his friends.

“hyung, i think you’re over exaggerating.” jungkook would say sheepishly.

with the straightest face, jin would hang up and contemplate his choice in friends.

after about the sixth month mark, i do think he’d let up a tremendous amount.

like he’s no longer breathing down her neck about them and allows them to go on dates without him, so long as she tells him where they’re going.

10/10 is the dramatic dad that goes through a midlife crisis when their daughter starts dating.

➝︎ yoongi

mans does not care.

ok lemme clarify, he doesn’t care to the extent that jin does. he trusts his daughter and her decisions and understands that this is an important part of her life. he’s gonna try his hardest to not overstep.

but deep down, he definitely is having a hard time coming to grasps that his daughter is in love and starting to enter the dating world.

he understands the pressures surrounding dating too, especially at fifteen. so he’s definitely giving a nice lil lecture about sex, safe sex, consensual sex, and commitment.

and yes, yoongi knows that most of these young love relationships don’t last long, but he wants his daughter to know that her relationship is legit to him. no matter how old she is.

will look intimidating af to their daughters bf or gf. he definitely overhears them discussing if yoongi likes them or not 💀

looks like he could kill you and will but is also such a sweetheart once you actually know him.

doesn’t do no undercover brother shit but will follow his daughter on their first few dates just because he’s worried. isn’t overbearing and keeps a good distance.

honestly, if anything it brings his daughter a lot of comfort to know her dad is there to back her up 🙂

100%!is the father that seems like they’re chill on the surface but on the inside is working overtime to not be overreactive when their child starts dating.

➝︎ namjoon

is literally the 😯 emoji

when his daughter tells him that she’s got a lover, he literally looks exactly like that emoji.

he’s like “love? what you know about that?”

is extremely confused the entire time. yes, he knows that at her age, children start experimenting with dating but he never actually thought he’d have to deal with it.

was definitely worried that he’d lose out on daddy-daughter time once she started dating.

that was his biggest fear. that his daughter wouldn’t need him anymore. she would no worries.

is deathly afraid of his daughter experiencing heartbreak. their s/o could be the perfect match for his kid, he still wouldn’t care. namjoon is going to be worried regardless.

constantly asks for updates on their relationship to see if he needs to give any advice on how to keep the relationship going.

he doesn’t see their love as something immature. namjoon values it the same way he would value an adult relationship.

which meansss giving them the birds n the bees. same as yoongi, a thorough talk on sexually transmitted diseases, birth control, safe sex, you name it.

was incredibly nervous to meet the person their daughter was dating 💀 like how you supposed to be the daddy but more scared than the actual date.

chaperones his daughter’s first couple of dates. doesn’t get in their way but definitely makes his presence known when does attend.

has a strict “have her home by 9 or else” policy.

won’t ground their child if they give them a heads up on why they would be late.

is 100% the type to be the “work in progress” dad that wishes there was a book on what to do when your teenage daughter starts dating.

➝︎ hobi

mans was like “awww my wittle baby likes somebody!”

was wayyy more excited about meeting their child’s s/o then what is deemed normal.

don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely protective of his kid but hobi understands that these things happen.

it was bound to happen that one day his daughter would start dating.

doesn’t hound his child with questions but is very curious to learn more about this bf/gf that their daughter has.

when he meets them, he’s very scary looking at first. switching into serious hobi, he intimidates the kid just a bit before breaking into a grin and letting them know he was kidding.

is the type of dad that would make their daughters’ s/o fall in love with him 💀

hobi gets along with virtually anyone so it wasn’t hard for him to bond with the s/o.

however, he does make it known that he is a father and while the kid seems to be an alright choice for his daughter, he still lets them know that he will go liam neeson on a motherfucker if necessary.

doesn’t follow his daughter on dates but somehow ends up attending some of them because they both want him around.

on the times he doesn’t go, there is a curfew in place and it’s 8 o’clock 😔

hobi is 100% the dad to become friends with their daughters’ bf/gf but still be a force to be reckon with when needed.

➝︎ jimin

probably the one who meddles in their daughters love life.

sees their daughter walkout of school with a guy and is asking fifty million questions on who he is and if she likes him.

all for her to turn around and be like “dad, i’m gay.”

and he’s like 🥺🥰 “good, boys are disgusting anyways.”

so now he’s scoping out girls that could be a potential match for his kid 💀

“what about her?”

“nah, she’s a little rude to me.”

“you know what they say! she likes you!”

“no dad. just...no.”

was not expecting the girl his daughter chooses but can totally see it once he actually gets to know her.

is constantly giving his daughter cute date ideas for her to do w her gf. definitely has a pintrest board of places for them.

will happily be a chauffeur for his daughter if necessary. this can be good and bad. good bc yayay free rides. bad because she has to deal with a jimin that wants to be on time or a jimin that makes them ten minutes late to a movie showing. there is no in between.

he doesn’t follow his daughter around. mainly because he’s always driving them but if he doesn’t, she still gives him a heads up on where they’re going.

doesn’t mind them hanging sleepovers or leaving the door closed but will totally pop up at random times to be nosey.

is definitely in his daughters corner anytime someone tries to give her and her gf a hard time for being together.

a 100% the dad that’s constantly involved in his child’s love life but not to an extreme point. is totally just excited to be there and apart of her world.

➝︎ taehyung

the motherfucker is all smug and shit talking about some “ i know ” 😏 when his daughter approaches him about her new partner.

lets be real; taehyung would know his daughter like the back of his hands. he would have suspicions that she’s seeing somebody but won’t pressure her to speak until she’s ready.

acts like the fbi when he finally meets their daughter’s partner.

is stalking all social media, finding where they work, who they guardians are, and where they grandma stay 💀🤣

but it’s really because he knows how dangerous people are and the last thing he wants is for his kids’ life to be in danger.

is definitely a hard ass to whoever his daughter ends up dating regardless of gender. will go major payne on a motherfucker real quick.

does not care if he gets caught watching out for his daughter while she’s on a date. will deadass sit there and stare them down as they look at him, completely unbothered.

after meeting their partner a few times, he’ll become a bit more loose in regards to their relationship but will still eye them wearily.

his daughter is very important to him and he’s just worried about any potential heartbreak she may experience.

“have you ever killed?”

“uh, no sir. i-i’m only fifteen...sir.”

kisses teeth, “would you kill for my daughter?”

*beat of silence, two horrified teenagers*

scoffs, “pathetic. d/n choose a new partner.”

“dad!”

seems like a hard ass and is a hard ass but it’s completely out of love.

is 100% the dad that gives their daughter’s partner a hard time and will hold such a passive face that they’ll never know if he likes them or not, but overtime will start loosening up and accept them for who they are.

➝︎ jungkook

he was thoroughly surprised.

like...she might as well had told him she was pregnant.

jk needed a moment to comprehend that his daughter...his precious jewel was dating.

just the thought sent chills down his spine with his dramatic ass.

immediately demanded to meet the person who stole his daughter from him. and when he found out it was the bad kid from school??!!! mans was heated.

i mean really? the juvenile delinquent of ALL people?

he feels this way mainly because he remembers how he was as a kid and he knows how anal teenagers can be. really just wants the best for his kid.

is present for their first date. why is that? because it was at their house with him sitting on the opposite couch, watching them like a hawk as they attempted to watch a movie.

after that, his daughter had a serious talk with him about personal space and independence.

jungkook didn’t like the fact that he had to have this talk, but he understands it’s importance. him and his daughter have a sacred bond with one another that he doesn’t wanna risk breaking all because of his overprotectiveness.

that overprotectiveness does come in handy though because their daughters’ partner is always on time when it comes to getting her and dropping her off. honestly, if his daughter ever tried to convince their partner to skip curfew, their partner would text jungkook to snitch 💀

“so...you tried to skip curfew, eh?”

“wha-? how do you know this?!”

smirks, “i see all d/n. besides, your partner knows not to cross that line with me.”

“i literally cannot stand either of you.”

this has definitely led the daughter to question if she has a relationship or if her dad has a relationship with her s/o.

after about three months of them dating, jungkook turns into a pretty chill dad to be real. at that point, he understands that he can’t protect her from pain. so, he might as well just try his best to support his daughter through everything she does.

is 100% that is overly dramatic at first and comes off as incredibly scary but eventually comes down to earth and becomes a big teddy bear 🥰

❧ join my taglist: @olamidey @knjkitten @pimpnameyannie @sweeneyblue1 @sunrayyellowhalo @exomama-random @simplyskz-maya @valkryienymph @supop @namjoonswifeyy @asparagusclifford

373 notes · View notes

jjfics · 4 years

Text

Room 19 ll 01

ship: Harry Potter x female!Reader

summary: Harry and the reader both work at the Ministry and are sent together on a mission. their feelings for each other start shifting as they arrive at the hotel.

author: Jane Jack aka your girl JJfics

word count: 2050

a/n: i usually like writing established relationships so this is something new to me but it is a trope i have always enjoyed so i hope you will too. i was on a phone call with my best friend while writing this and they said, and i quote, i dropped my french fry, on the couch

Dragging a suitcase full of clothes can be very exhausting when you are not allowed to do magic. While you could theoretically obliviate all the muggles that happen to see you two, it would be a waste of time. You and the oh-so-famous Harry James Potter were placed together for this mission by the Ministry of Magic, and so far it has been going great. If not talking to each other unless you had to is considered great.

You had expected him to be cockier and pretend to know everything. It’s what the Daily Prophet says anyway. But he has been very silent around you and even though you would never admit this to anyone, especially to him, you have been wondering if he is like this with everybody or if this is about you.

You were supposed to pretend to be a muggle couple who goes on vacation while investigating the activities of some suspicious wizards. Those wizards and witches you were assigned to keep an eye on live somewhere in the countryside of Scotland. No train and no bus could take you this far.

You were currently on a deserted road with Potter on your right checking a map as you did your best to not kick the suitcase that contained both of your clothes out of annoyance. You hated having agreed to take turns with it but at this point, you wanted to give up.

It has been an hour since you last turned left on this road. There was a village somewhere ahead but it seems so far away you might as well just sleep right here. Stargazing with Harry Potter did not sound like a bad story to tell your friends later, but you had to remind yourself how awkward that would turn soon as he refuses to talk to you at all.

“We should be there in about half an hour,” he said suddenly. Oh, so now he talked, good to know.

“Okay,” you sighed.

“What?” he looked up from the map in his hands to face you.

“I don’t even know… Can’t we take a break? We’ll get there eventually.”

“No, y/n. There is a perfect timing at which we have to be at the hotel. We have to arrive at the same time as the group. Is something you would have known if you actually read the instructions we were given before this trip,” he furrowed his brows and said with exasperation latched in his voice.

“You think you’re the only one who cares about this mission? Not everything is about you, Potter,” you said with a cold voice. Maybe he hasn’t been talking to you not because he doesn’t like you personally, which you would totally not even care about, never, but because he was too obsessed with himself to acknowledge anyone else.

“I never said everything is about me!” Harry shouted back at you. “I don’t even want it to be. But I do want this mission to go well, specifically.”

“Why?” you let the suitcase fall on the ground completely moved closer to him.

Potter looked over your head at the road, avoiding eye contact. “It doesn’t matter,” he said and he hated it because his voice sounded a bit unsure. “It doesn’t matter” he repeated.

You rolled your eyes and took a step even closer. “Then why do you care? I bet you didn’t even want to be placed with me, did you?” you shouted back with pain. “You think I’ll screw this up for you, don’t you, Potter?”

“No, y/n, God, just shut up!” he grabbed your arm and pulled you off the road. You were both so concentrated on getting the stress of the trip out on the other that you didn’t even hear a car coming down the street. Its speed slowed down as it approached you and the driver rolled down the window.

The man inside looked you up and down and then stuck out his hand. “Ben Nelson.” he introduced himself.

Potter shook his hand and gave him a small and awkward smile. “Harry Campbell,” he said. He nodded his head in your direction and added shortly “And y/n Campbell.”

The driver laughed stiffly and raised his eyebrows. “And what might you kids be doing here alone?”

“We were just trying to get to the village, not too far away from here,” Potter told him.

“Ah, that’s where I’m heading… yeah… well, come on, do you want me to help you put that trunk of yours in the back?” the man chuckled.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Yeah, I’m taking you there, come on.” he took his seatbelt off, but Harry held his hand up.

“Thank you, sir. We can put the suitcase ourselves.”

“Okay, but hurry up you. I don’t have all the time in the world like you young ones.”

Potter smirked at you, and you tried to hide the way you blushed by bringing your hands up to your hair to tie it back before dragging the suitcase once more and closing the trunk loudly. You and Potter got in the backseat together, just to make it clear that you were a couple, you thought; he probably wouldn’t sit next to you otherwise.

“You two have been together for long?” Nelson asks.

You are still very mad at your partner, but you have to put on an act. You are not y/n y/ln anymore. Now you are y/n Campbell. “One year,” you falsely giggle. “But it has been the best year of my life” you put your arm on Potter’s thigh, and you could swear he stopped breathing for a second.

“My wife and I have been together for 30 years. Met her when I was young like you… Good times, good times.”

You got to the hotel way faster than you had assumed at first, making your argument from earlier look stupid now. You didn’t apologize though, and neither did he. As you entered the hotel you left Potter in the hall with the suitcase and handed him your ugly muggle coat (you missed your soft travel robes a lot) and headed to a toilet.

After fixing yourself in the mirror, trying to delay having to talk to him again, you finally exited the restroom and looked for him in the cold entrance hallway. There he was in a corner, with your coat over his shoulder and his arms crossed, making you wonder how even women’s clothing looked this good on him. He had a frustrated expression on his face as if something was bothering him a great deal.

“Where are my clothes?” you asked.

“Our clothes are in room 19. A kind person offered to take them there for us while I waited for you. Let’s go.” It didn’t make sense. What was his problem now? You arrived early; everything went as planned.

He walked in front of you through the large lobby of the hotel to the stairs like he knew the way already. The woman must have shown him where the room is. He didn’t stop until you reached the second floor. There were many tall brown doors down the hall but you kept passing them. The numbers on the wall next to them kept increasing until, at last, there was 19.

Potter reached in the pocket of his pants for a small golden key to open the door. Inside it smelled like old wood and fresh air. It was truly a beautiful room that reminded you a bit of your own at home. Everything had a nostalgic feeling to it that made you feel welcome. But there was one small thing you didn’t realize at first. One small problem.

There was only one bed.

A big bed with white sheets stood in the corner with your suitcase underneath. Your tired feet begged you to jump on it and immediately fall asleep, but your brain would not let you. Because Potter must have wanted to do the same, but none of you moved.

“I will sleep on the floor,” you said quickly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it. You have to rest.”

“Listen, Potter, I know you want to be a gentleman for once, but I’m not that tired.” Lie. “You can take the bed."

“But you carried the suitcase; you deserve this more” he scratched the back of his head. Did he believe you to be weak?

“I will sleep on the floor” you hissed and walked over to the bed to take one of the pillows.

The watch on your hand told you it was 1 am when you woke up on the hard wooden floor. Your back and feet hurt like crazy and you regretted being the brave one more and more. All you wanted now was to lay on the soft bed next to Potter. His breathing was even as his chest rose and fell back slowly. His hair was messy, his lips parted as he slept. He looked peaceful like this, almost like someone you could suffer being around.

You didn’t bother to turn on the lights as you crossed the room to the bathroom. The moonlight which came through the window was enough to guide you.

You tried falling back asleep after, but woke up disappointed at 3 am again. You searched your entire memory for any Sleeping Spell but you couldn’t remember any. Perhaps Potter would not even know what had happened to you next morning when he couldn’t wake you up and worry.

You did not want him to be worried, ever, so you stopped trying. You sighed and looked over to the comfortable bed once again. He was still in the same position. Nothing was bothering his perfect sleep.

He would not mind, after all, would he? If you just got 3 hours of actual sleep and then moved back on the floor in the morning? He would not notice your presence. He did want you to take the bed, so why not do it?

You hugged your pillow close to your chest and watched him in case he woke up as you made your way next to him. Doing your best not to touch him you stood as far as possible on the bed. He rolled over and you could not tell if he was awake for his face was turned to the wall. Anxiety was flowing through your veins but only for a moment. Who cares if he woke up? He would say something if it really bothered him.

You fell asleep quite instantly. Even though it was more like a short nap it was the best sleep you had ever had in your life. So warm and comfortable. It was a refreshing dreamless night. You yawned softly before opening your eyes and you wanted to stretch your arms, but you found that you couldn’t. Something was restraining you.

And then you realized that it was a bit too sunny inside the room for it to only be 6 am as you had planned.

You opened your eyes slowly only to be met with Potter’s face very close to yours. His eyes were still closed and he looked very content with the position you two were in: cuddling with his hands around your waist and your head previously on his shoulder. You found yourself not wanting to move or disrupt him. You wanted to stay there forever. He was more than just sufferable like this.

But you did not want him to know about this, that is, if he still didn’t. So you attempted to get off the bed. It was almost painful, leaving him and the bed, but you had to get ready for the first part of the mission today. He smiled in his sleep as you sighed, wondering what he could have been dreaming about that made him happy.

He woke up 15 minutes later when you were already dressed. You made sure to return your pillow to the cold floor and hoped he didn’t realize what happened during the night. With the wands hidden in both of your coats you made your way to a cafe in the village for breakfast, where, according to the instructions from the Ministry, you should observe the group of wizards from afar.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fandom #hp imagine #hp fic #harry james potter #harry potter fandom #harry james potter x reader #harry potter golden era #harry x reader #harry fanfic #harry imagine

171 notes · View notes

bigfatjeebusblog · 3 years

Text

A Small Regret

CW: Dark, Gainer Fantasy, Heart Attack, Death

Dresden applied soap to a washcloth he was using to wash his face, rinsing the cloth then under the warm water. Feeling the warmth in his hands, he brought the cloth up to his face and gently rubbed his cheeks and his massive chin. Drying his face on the hand towel beside him, Dresden looked at his body and was not happy. Huge breasts, a massive gut that flopped in the sink, and giant jowls showed years of massive food blowouts due to his food addiction. Dresden pulled his belly out of the sink, which was slightly wet, and dried his belly off on his shorts. Moving over to his bathroom scale, Dresden waited for the sound of the scale to prompt him to step up on it. He did, and waited a few minutes…564 lbs. Dresden smiled, he lost 10 lbs since seeing Dr. Then at the weight loss clinic. He was going in for the “surgery” in 2 days. He waddled out of the bathroom and over to his bed, where he sat down, hearing creaking noises.

“God, I want McDonald’s so bad….”, Dresden wondered as he flipped through the food delivery apps on his phone. Taking heavy breaths, Dresden thought of how he had to lose weight for his job and for his family. Truth be told, Dresden was rather okay as a larger person, it was society that he disliked. He often raged at society, as he loved himself, however society wanted him to be something else entirely.

He flipped through the straight dating apps on his phone, however he would often, in secret, look at clothes shopping magazines at the models. As his clothes were often in the 8-9 XL bracket, usually he admired big men, their strength and of course, their drive to eat.

Eating was all Dresden could think about. From morning until night, thinking about recipes, new restaurants, different experiences, Dresden loved the feeling of anything in his mouth.

He even loved, secretly, to pleasure guys also, going down to the local truckstop on occasion. There was one experience that he liked, however had to always dismiss it due to the need to keep his job.

One night, 2 months ago, Dresden met up with a man known as “Zed”, who was looking to provide any big guy with a good time, providing that they put on a blindfold and would not allow anyone to see him. Zed-of course-was an alias. Zed met with Dresden in the dark, at 3AM in the morning, at a local truckstop. Upon meeting, Dresden hobbled out of his small car, struggling to get out. Zed watched him and smiled from a distance. He was going to have fun with this fatty.

Zed, wearing a ski mask, pulled Dresden aside, and told him not to look at him and to wear a blindfold. Dresden, wanting the ability to receive any release as a big guy (it was 3 years since he last had sex with anyone), obliged.

All Dresden remembers at that point is Zed pulled him into a van and kept feeding him fried chicken, and sucked him off.

It was the best experience Dresden ever had sexually, and he could not stop thinking about it.

Which is why this surgery sucked. Dresden looked for months, trying to find Zed again, however could not find him.

And so to keep his job and to possibly find a partner, Dresden begrudgingly was forced into gastric sleeve surgery.

Looking at his phone, Dresden realized he wanted to have his obesity go out with one “big bang” to end all binges. He would still be within the threshold of Dr. Then’s requirements and be ready for the surgery in 2 days.

Waddling over to the bedroom mirror, Dresden took a picture of himself with just his briefs on. He then called an erotic bakery and requested a special order - an entire sheet cake with his naked picture on it, made of buttercream and chocolate. They let him know, while it was a weird request, they would honor it and it would be ready tomorrow.

Dresden hung up the phone, put on his CPAP mask, and fell asleep, smiling and drifting off, thinking about his cake tomorrow.

Waking up, Dresden started his day, first by eating a small breakfast (god he hated this diet), then showering. Showering was really hard for Dresden since there was so much of him...he needed a special wand to get to all of his areas, especially those between his thighs and belly. His ass was huge, and he thankfully could get there with the wand. As he washed his body, his huge belly and moobs jiggled as he tried to move in the shower. He just wanted to sit down so bad, as all of the fat made him so tired. He got out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed.

He decided to put on a tight t-shirt to be proud that he was engaging in his last day of “obesity”. He was so happy he could eat this cake...it was all he could think of.

Getting in his small car, squeezing into it, Dresden drove to the bakery. Arriving at the bakery, he saw a familiar figure in the car behind him, however he couldn’t pinpoint where he saw this person.

Dresden parked his car and squeezed out. The other person in the car who was trailing him parked across the street, and he saw him get out.

He could swear this guy was watching him. Dresden walked into the bakery and picked up the cake.

“Are you the guy who ordered the fatty cake?”, the baker asked.

“Yup!”, Dresden happily exclaimed.

“God, damn, making that made me want to diet. This person is really fat, what a lardass.”, the baker joked.

Quickly realizing that the cake’s image was Dresden, the baker’s face went white. “I am so sorry sir. Here you go…”, the baker stammered, as he pushed the cake over to Dresden, taking the cash from the sweaty fat man’s hand.

Dresden pulled the Costco sized sheet cake up off of the counter, and going back outside, he waddled over to his car. He then took a deep breath and felt a presence behind him.

Everything went black.

Dresden woke up 3 hours later in a bed in a weird room. There were steel pipes around him and the cake was beside him. He wasn’t shackled and could use his hands and legs. He was laying on his left side.

“I know what you really, really want.”, uttered a familiar voice.

Rolling over in bed, Dresden saw the man who was waiting across the street.

“Are you….Zed??”, Dresden guessed.

The man smiled. “Yes. And you will eat this cake and so much more.”, he smirked. “Oh yeah, and I took the liberty of cancelling your appointment and your surgery with Dr. Then. You won’t be needing it anyway. Hogs don’t need their capacities restricted.”

Dresden was scared, but relieved. He could finally be free to eat!

Dresden moved to the table with the cake and started hamfisting it into his face. “Thats right, experience that re-gain. Get bigger and fatter. Eat more and more.”, Zed stated as he started bringing up the food delivery apps, placing order after order of Dresden’s favorite food.

As the orders started coming, Dresden put aside one piece of cake for later, and started eating all of the newly ordered burgers, fries, pizza, and Dresden’s favorite, fried chicken. Dresden was in heaven as he ate, he could see his lost weight starting to come back, his ass and belly ballooning. It was getting harder and harder to shift his weight around as he ate.

After his 8 family meal bingefest, Zed brought Dresden into a shower room. He used the proper equipment to clean Dresden.

“I want to live here”, Dresden stammered, between heaving breaths.

“Oh this is your new home. I have sold off your belongings already and this is your life now. You exist but to eat and be my pig. You will be my immobile hog.”, Zed calmly stated.

Dresden was so happy. His life could revolve around food. Zed helped the growing Dresden back to his bed, and brought him his 3rd and 4th meals for the day, all family size.

6 months later….

Dresden was trying to get out of bed to eat but couldn’t move. Zed helped him move over to a new bed, one with a scale, and as Dresden was wobbling around, Dresden injured his foot. Trying to put any pressure on it, Dresden was met with extreme pain. Zed put his leg up onto a pillow.

“It's hog. You're never walking again.”, Zed stated.

Moving the bariatric bed up so Dresden could eat, he heard Zed preparing the bed’s scale. A sound came out of it - 952 lbs.

Dresden was in shock. He realized that his life, any hope of living a normal life, was over. Zed laughed, “My hog, look at you.”

Massive stretch marks inflamed Dresden’s belly, his thighs covering any semblance of manhood he had. A huge fat pad covered his deeply buried cock, begging for any release. His moobs, so fat, had nipples stretched so far out that they touched his elbow. The last thing Zed noticed was Dresden’s side fat and his ass. It was covering the entire bed now. It was only 6 months, and Zed knew he was going to need to upgrade.

Dresden wanted Zed to suck him off so bad. His deeply buried cock needed it. “Please, can you, get me off?”, Dresden pleaded. He couldn’t reach his cock since about 3 weeks prior.

“Only if you eat.”, Zed stated.

Dresden ate and felt good as Zed helped locate his lost cock in all of his fat. Using the fat to lube up his dick, Dresden started to get off. As he was getting off, the world started to go blurry.

“Zed, maybe you should stop.”, Dresden stammered.

Zed began to push harder and harder knowing this was the end for Dresden. He pushed more and more.

Dresden felt his chest seizing up as he was getting off. Jiggling his belly one last time, and shoving in food one last time, his last thought as he gave one last orgasm was a regret. A small regret.

The regret was that he didn’t have that last piece of cake.

Dresden saw white as he took his final breath.

147 notes · View notes

effervescentslut · 4 years

Text

how you meet | edward cullen

A/N: wowowow after being on Tumblr for 6+ years I would have NEVER imagined my first published writing to this site being Twilight dnvjdfjaskdlmfkl enjoy!! requests are open :)) I will write for Twilight (mainly the Olympic Coven, except Jasper romantically), Star Wars, and Harry Potter

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Reader gets unsolicited attention from teenage boys, swear words

when you moved to forks after spring break because of your dad’s work, you’re unanimously nicknamed new girl™ by all of forks high school’s students

and consequently, you’re the new eye candy for your male peers

Forks boys are, well . . . neanderthals douchebags

the ones you’ve met are egotistical, super immature, and super HORNY

. . . you decide to keep your distance

aNyWaYs

you get smooshed into ap u.s. history

apush, baby, apush HAAAAA

the teacher points you to an empty seat next to some pale blonde dude

he gives off weird kid energy at first but then he politely speaks to you

“i’m jasper. welcome to forks” and gives you an acknowledging nod

his eyes are topaz!!!?? woooooooah that’s so cool is that like a genetic defect or smth??

aaaaand your teacher immediately assigns a PROJECT

a fuckin civil war project

you swear you see jasper’s pupils dilate

you hear a chuckle from behind you

and when you turn around you see a pale dude w a dark brown buzzcut and some blonde girl smirking beside him

you later find out that those are his siblings

his fuckin goofy ass siblings

anyways a few weeks pass

you pop in at your dad’s job @ forks hospital and see him chatting w a fellow physician

yet another pale dude with blonde hair

JESUS HOW FUCKING MANY ARE THERE

you approach them and your dad embraces you in a hug

“heeeeyyyy sweet pea! how’s it goin’!”

the doctor he was talking to looks at you fondly

“hello, i’m carlisle cullen” and offers you his hand to shake, which you do

“y/n, carlisle was just inviting us to his house later tonight for some dinner”

dr. hotpants puts his hands in his pockets and humbly grins

“my son jasper tells me you’re his classmate”

oh god he’s one of those pta dads, isn’t he??

“oh, yeah, he’s my partner in history”

he smiles, “that’s wonderful. my wife esme and i would love to have you both over as our guests. it’s not often we have company for dinner. and i’m sure the rest of my children would love to meet you, y/n”

jesus christ how many kids does this guy have?? he looks THIRTY

don’t worry, in the car your dad tells you they’re all adopted lmfao

✰✰later that night✰✰

their house is HUGE jesus fuckin christ

alice knows (well they all know) about you because of jasper

IMMEDIATELY loves you!!

“hi! i’m alice!!!”

WHOLESOME AS FUCK UGH

i’m EVAPORATING. i’m YODELLING. it’s fine :-)

you thought you weren’t gonna make any pals in forks bc of the weird horny teenage specimens but here we are ;-;

alice envelopes you into a tight hug and you, in shock, grasp her arms to acknowledge this affection

your dad’s chillin near carlisle and esme and he’s silently chuckling

oh . . . they all have black eyes now?? must be the weather

or the fluorescence

you wave at jasper, rosalie, and emmett

you notice the last sibling

he’s very handsome

to you, everything about him was attractive

his soft hair contrasted against his hardened facial features

you could tell he was socially reserved when it comes to new acquaintances, just like you

he physically isolates himself from his family once you and your dad arrived

he was standing alone near a corner away from everyone else

you make eye contact with him and his mental barrier breaks down

he loses his cool

his face contorts

his lips twist into puckered lines

he claps his hand over his mouth and vacates the room immediately, running up the stairs

everyone notices his sudden departure

his family is shocked but tbh not really

✰✰✰ eddy boy is a lil shy around girls sometimes ✰✰✰

carlisle breaks the impending doom of silence

“i apologize for edward leaving us so abruptly. he hasn’t been feeling well as of late; please excuse his absence. . .”

you awkwardly pretend like that never happened

you feel it in your gut that your presence disturbed him

and not only did you disturb him

but you disturbed him so bad that he had to leave

for why?? you don’t know

you then realize that everyone else in the room knows he left bc of you

. . . anyway you all sit down at the table but you and your dad are the only ones who have plates

your dad notices this too

“hey, aren’t you guys gonna eat too?”

esme grins warmly at him

“oh, don’t worry about us. we just wanted to welcome you to town!”

uhhh, ok ma’am

alice talks to you for almost the entire time you were eating ;-; i love her

you’re also talking to jasper, cracking some apush jokes

you, jasper, emmett, and rosalie talk shit about your classmates and teacher

“why the fuck -- *carlisle glares at emmett* -- heck did mr. whatshisface give us a project RIGHT AFTER BREAK???!!”

“and he paired y/n and jasper!! they’re civil war n e r d s!! they’re gonna get the best grade” rosalie chimes in

“not if we--”

alice ❀politely❀ tells them to stfu

you giggle

bonding with your new pals <33

allllllright so it’s a few days later

you’re walking home from school

it’s drizzling, as always, but you know that it’s gonna rain harder if you don’t get home fast enough

and some asshole

some persistent prick from your class

keeps flirting with you

he’s talking about how he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you since you came to forks

he’s insisting he has your phone number, that he’s gonna take you out on dates. . .

you hate it

you’re so uncomfortable but you can’t really do anything about it

s u d d e n l y

a car pulls up beside where you and the guy are walking on the sidewalk and screeches to a stop

the window is rolled down and you see a familiar face

it’s edward cullen

with one hand on the wheel, he looks at both of you and clenches his jaw

“get in”

even though he was undeniably weird a few weeks ago, you concede

you never got to speak to him, but you knew that edward was trustworthy

you practically launch yourself into his silver volvo c30™

he shoots a stone-cold glare to the jackass on the sidewalk and drives away

honestly, it wouldn’t take much for anyone (not just a mind-reading vampire) to know how uncomfortable you are after what just happened with that guy

your body language is tense

your arms are crossed tightly

your body is pointed towards the passenger window as your knees touch the door

tears are welling up in your eyes

it would be mere seconds until you fully broke down

you’re embarrassed, to say the least

you’re embarrassed that you were put in a vulnerable situation, like a damsel in distress

and of all people, the handsome and mysterious guy--

the handsome and mysterious guy you began crushing on

--who feels seemingly indifferent towards you swept you off your feet and helped you when you needed someone

that made things even more embarrassing

and the tears started streaming down your heated cheeks

edward immediately sensed your unease (hmm wonder why, but also who wouldn’t sense it???)

he’s pissed.

absolutely livid

that asshole had a d e a t h w i s h

he knew you didn’t want to address your unsolicited encounter, so . . .

*awkwardly clears throat* “are you enjoying the weather?”

you choked

you did not expect him to ask that

nor did you expect him to talk at. all.

you smile through your tears and laugh

you can’t help but laugh

he’s just so awkward and cute

his half-baked plan of indirectly distracting you definitely worked

you started to excitedly talk about the rain and how much you love gloomy, cloudy days

. . . and then the elephant in the room

the inevitable first impression from a few days ago

“i’m sorry for my behavior from our first meeting. i wasn’t feeling well, and i wouldn’t have wanted for you or your father to be affected by my illness”

you’re a little skeptical at first

buuuuut you give him the benefit of the doubt and dismiss his apology

“that’s okay. it’s allergy season, anyway. i’m glad you’re feeling better”

you have no idea how bad i wanted to make a spanish flu joke right there

a small, soft smile lifts the corners of his lips “i’m edward cullen”

you look at him and return the smile

t h e t e a s i n g e n e r g y

“i’m y/n”

the car approaches your house after time seems to have flown by

your dad looks at you both as he walks to his car to go to work

he waves at edward

edward smiles and waves back at him as he enters the car

you gratefully thank edward for the ride, careful not to dwell on the prior circumstances

as you open the passenger door, edward grabs your wrist

!!he grabs your wrist!!

he insists on being your ride to and from school from now on

you object and exit the car

but

b u t

edward smirks, leaning towards the open door

“i’ll see you in the morning, y/n”

your jaw drops

and then he closes the door and speeds off

you watch him drive away and your heartbeat becomes arrhythmic

a garden of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach

blood rushes to your cheeks once more

you smile to yourself before heading inside

secretly anticipating tomorrow morning :’)

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #twilight #twilight imagine #edward cullen headcanons #twilight headcanons #edward cullen imagines #headcanons

874 notes · View notes

fatgum-sugarplum · 3 years

Text

honey make this easy

For @natsuonii and @viixens Creature Feature Collab!

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Violence mention, death mention, murder mention, blood mention, choking, light condescension, bittersweet ending, smut

It was his eyes. Those dark eyes that held you in your sleep, following you through nightmare and dream alike, those dark eyes that belonged to a dead man.

“We killed you. You’re dead.” The words were barely a whisper in the dim light of the room. They trembled like your limbs.

“It didn’t take.”

18+ Only Minors DNI

It had been quite awhile since that fateful night, the night you’d chosen exactly whose side you were on. No going back from what you’d done. Nights like this it kept you awake, the images running through your mind like some movie you’d seen one too many times. You always revisited it somehow. You shouldn’t feel guilty for it, not with everything that’s come after, not with the lows you’d sunk to since, but somehow…

It was his eyes. They were dark enough to fall into and drown and if things had been different you could see yourself doing exactly that over and over again. Instead he was six feet under and you were absolutely the one who put him there whether you pulled the trigger yourself or not. You’d thrown your lot in with your current employer and hardly looked back. Everyone after him had been a breeze, some of them you even sent under entirely on your own. Their eyes didn’t haunt you, their voice a ghost in your ears. They didn’t make you wish you’d been different, not like he did.

Tonight it should have been something else keeping you awake. Bodies had been piling up, bodies of people you knew and worked with. Eviscerated brutally, but according to the whispers that was never the cause of death. No matter the cuts and lacerations, every last one had the telltale angry purple markings across their neck of strangulation. To hear your partner say it, it looked like a hell of a painful way to go. It should be thoughts of them coming for you next. Instead it was that long ago night that you just couldn’t seem to get away from.

A sound somewhere in the quiet of your apartment caught your attention. It was mundane enough, a sort of rustling sound that easily could have been the curtains or your cat, but some deep instinct inside of you awoke that said it was anything but the usual. Your hair stood on edge and all you could think of was danger. You sat up in bed staying stock still as you strained your ears to hear anything else. A heavy silence was all that hung, somehow a physical weight on your chest and shoulders, threatening to choke you with its presence. Something was wrong. Something was here. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the sensation made you feel distinctly prey-like.

Slowly you put your feet to the floor and started your way out of your bedroom, groping blindly for the first thing you could grab for a weapon as you kept your eyes up, scanning the room. You froze in your motions when your eyes finally landed on a figure in the corner of the room next to the now open window. It was tall, masculine as best you could tell in the darkness, wearing all black. Despite everything about your occupation as the right hand to a villain, dangerous in your own right, you found yourself shaking. You opened your mouth to ask him who he was when he moved, sliding the window closed and reaching next to him to flick on the light.

It was his eyes. Those dark eyes that held you in your sleep, following you through nightmare and dream alike, those dark eyes that belonged to a dead man.

“We killed you. You’re dead.” The words were barely a whisper in the dim light of the room. They trembled like your limbs.

“It didn’t take.” The voice was gruff, low. You remembered it well.

“Why are you here? How did you even find me?” You paused, a cold realization hitting you. The bodies. Quieter this time, “Are you going to kill me?”

He didn’t answer, moving from his place near the window to your couch where he lounged far too casually. He didn’t regard you fully, instead glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Clearly he wasn’t concerned about you attempting to fight him. “Where’s your boss?”

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked again, moving slightly closer to him on shaking legs.

“Are you going to answer?”

You swallowed. Did you want to live? Absolutely. Betraying your boss would kill you just as quickly as he would, though maybe less painfully. Maybe. He just as easily could torture you for hours for your insurrection, make you die begging and pleading for forgiveness because there’d be no point in begging for your life. But maybe…

“I find it hard to believe that none of us answered.” Your voice had more of its steel back now.

He sighed and ran a hand through a mess of black hair. For some reason the only thing you could think of was how soft it looked. How it might feel between your own fingers. You shook the thought away before it could take root any further. “Think so little of your colleagues?” The question had no actual interest in it.

“I just don’t think many of us are so blindly loyal that we’d rather die than turn in our employer. We can find other work.”

“Are you?”

“I’m deciding.” You moved to your arm chair across from the couch, closer than he seemed to expect by the raised eyebrow and quiet interest in your form.

“What is he to you?”

“Money.”

“You’d kill a stranger for money.”

“I didn’t kill you.”

“Funny how you thought I meant me.” He sat up then, leaning in. You noted how he seemed almost weary. Was it some sort of trick to make you feel more at ease before the kill? Or was it an unintentional slip of a mask? Maybe he just didn’t care what you saw. You didn’t care to question it much further.

“So what are you then?” You leaned back in the chair. “We buried you.”

“Like I said, it didn’t take.” He chuckled, the noise sending a heat through your limbs you didn’t expect. He spread his arms in a mock showmanship and in an exaggerated and exhausted tone, “I’ve returned for my vengeance.”

You snorted. “Been working your way up the chain? Half of these people weren’t even working with us when…” you swallowed.

“When your boss put a bullet between my eyes? I know. It’s the message that counts, I think,” He frowned. Definitely a slip.

“Do you...know what you’re doing?” You ventured.

“Most of the time.”

“He’s either at the base or his apartment.”

“Good girl.” He rumbled. That sent a shiver down your spine, the heat in your core growing worse. God, he had to know, didn’t he? He stood, patting your head twice before starting for the window again.

“Wait.” You didn’t turn but heard his footsteps stop. “What are you going to do?”

“I thought a smart thing like you would know.”

“I was there. Why only kill him?” Maybe it wasn’t the best question to ask a man who’d already murdered several of your colleagues, but thinking before you spoke was never your strong suit. You felt more than heard him turn to regard you, and then he was at your back, a hand on the chair as he leaned into your ear.

“It’s all purpose, drive. I want to sink a knife into him and let him see just how it feels. You…” he paused and you could swear you heard him growl, “I think I’ll sink something else into you.” And then he was gone.

The next two hours passed at a snail’s pace. You couldn’t get back to the comfort of your bed and so opted for returning to the armchair you’d previously been in, curling up as you turned on the television for background noise. You thumbed your phone and swallowed down a nervous lump. What did you just do? What if word got out, what if they all knew you’d done it? You could skip town. You’d done it before, you could do it again. Disappear, become a ghost--

No. No, no one would know. You had to believe that. No one would know, and this...man? Monster? Your own ghost? You knew his name, saw it in the news, why was it so damn hard to just think of him with his name. He--Aizawa--wouldn’t come back and you’d be left alone to follow the new boss or pack up and find your own. Hell, maybe it was all a dream. Dead men don’t walk.

But you wanted him to come back, didn’t you? Wanted to hear that growl in your ear again, the strangely alluring danger of his presence. Wanted to know what the strength he possessed that led so many of your colleagues to the grave could do when pinning you to your bed. They weren’t useful thoughts but god were they not going away any time soon.

Your eyes snapped to the window as a soft click reached your ears and broke through your thoughts. Sure enough there was the form you’d been half hoping and half dreading to see once more, crawling through with a predator’s ease. It set goosebumps dancing across your skin, a soft warmth radiating from your abdomen through the rest of your body. Your eyes met his and for a brief moment you imagined him a secret lover sneaking through your window at night against both of your better judgement. The metallic scent of blood threw you out of that fantasy fast enough, grounded you to the reality of the situation. He maybe hadn’t been before--no, he certainly hadn’t been before--but he was a killer now. A killer who had dispatched most of the crew you ran with. Could you have been so stupid as to believe he wasn’t viewing you as a loose end? So daft as to think the words he’d left you with earlier weren’t malice?

“You’re still here.” His deep voice broke the silence between you. You swallowed.

“Was I not supposed to be?”

“The smart thing would have been to run.” He crossed to you, slow and deliberate, “After all, what can I do to you? You must have thought it over, you’re an intelligent girl.” If anyone else had dared to call you a girl of all things you’d have put a bullet between their eyes. As it stood, hearing it rumble from his chest had you clenching around nothing.

“Maybe I wanted to see what you meant by ‘something else.’” You mused, swallowing down any fear. He chuckled at that, leaning in as he placed a hand on the back of the chair above you. He dwarfed you in this position. The smell of blood was stronger now with him so close, but you couldn’t make out any of it on him. It was almost as though he was the scent. Like the deed he’d just done marked him somehow. It thrilled you more than it should have.

He brought his face close to yours so his breath ghosted across your lips as he spoke, “You know, for a woman who stood by while her boss murdered me...you’re awful compelling.”

“Compelling?” The question was far quieter and breathier than you meant for it to be. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, so loud you could swear he could hear it. His soft chuff of amusement didn’t help with that notion.

He ran the back of his free hand slowly down your cheek, along your jaw, down your neck. His eyes never left yours, watching for every minute reaction. You were giving him a damn feast, your pupils dilated, your lips trembling, short, soft breaths leaving your slightly parted mouth. He wanted to eat you up, take everything you’d give him and then some, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to savor this last meal.

Aizawa had felt himself slipping the minute your boss’s body had crumpled to the floor in front of him. He didn’t question why the force that had pulled him from the grave decided you weren’t on his revenge list. He was more than happy to leave you alive, more than happy to use his last night on this earth absolutely ravaging your body. He’d left that place without his customary clean up, quite aware that even if there was evidence left behind it wouldn’t matter to him come morning. Besides, he had a different kind of prey to get back to.

Now here you were, trembling beneath him, so beautifully conflicted between if you should run or if you should give in. As his hand ghosted across the skin of your neck he turned it suddenly, pressing down ever so slightly. Your breath hitched as you involuntarily arched it into his grasp, a silent plea for more. A beat. Your eyes locked together. A beat.

All at once the tension snapped as his lips came crashing down on yours with a growl that was absolutely feral. You moaned into the kiss, hands coming up to tangle in that soft hair as you roughly tugged. He groaned in kind, pressing down harder against your neck, just enough to cut off your airway. The deprivation was absolutely delicious. His heated kisses started to trail along your jaw, mixed with rough nips and licks. You angled your body in an attempt to press it up against his and he chuckled.

“What a needy little mouse…” He let go of your neck and listened to you take that instinctive gasp of breath to fill your lungs once again. He replaced his fingers with his mouth, biting down hard. You whined, tugging hard at his hair again which earned you a growl in turn. Fuck you needed him in you.

“P-please…”

“Please what, little mouse?”

“Need more, please!” You whimpered out, squirming in that chair. He watched you with such a fierce hunger in his eyes you were certain you’d die on the spot.

“More what, little mouse? Be specific for me.”

God damnit. You squirmed more, movements desperate. “Need you against me, please...want you in me…” Some part of you registered that you were supposed to have more dignity than this. Maybe it was the danger or the regret or some fucked up mix of the two but he was making you absolutely dizzy with want in a way no one else had before.

“There we go. Was that so hard?” He practically purred into your ear just before yanking you up against his frame. You remembered how strong he’d been before, how difficult putting him down had been for you and your boss, but god it was like it had been enhanced tenfold. You pushed against him, hands feeling along the corded muscles beneath his clothes as he kissed you, walking you backwards toward your bedroom.

You managed somehow to not stumble, falling back the second you felt your legs hit your bed. You scrambled back up to the pillows, keeping your eyes on him the entire time as he followed you on hands and knees. He reminded you of a panther stalking its prey, gorgeous and so very lethal. You shivered, biting your lip at the thought. He brought his lips to yours again, tongue finding its way into your eager open mouth to taste you.

You started at his shirt, tugging it up as far as you could without his help. He broke the kiss long enough to tug it over his head and throw it to the side before diving back in, holding you close against him as your hands traveled along his bare skin. It didn’t take long for him to treat you in kind, hands fisting in the material of your flimsy tank top and wrenching it violently. The sound of ripping fabric sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You could get a new top later, right now all you cared about was getting the rest of these damn clothes out of the way.

You pushed your shorts and panties down your legs, impatiently kicking them off the second you could. He watched you, not bothering with his own further than moving them down enough to pull his hard cock out. You licked your lips as your eyes flicked between his face and that damn beautiful cock. You spread your legs for him and he smirked.

“Beg.”

You groaned, pressing your head back against the pillows. “I already did!”

“I could just go. Leave you soaked and wanting, poor little mouse. You and I both know your toys just won’t make you cum like I can.” The wicked, lopsided grin on his face made you want to punch him. You whined loudly.

“Please fuck me, Shota...” You squirmed your hips a little, giving him your best doe eyes, praying it would make him merciful, “Please...want you to make me cummm…”

He leaned in then, caging you in beneath him as he nipped your earlobe, “Aw, you do know my name, little mouse.” He pushed in then, using your slick to hilt himself entirely inside your warm cunt. You let out a ragged gasp, hands flying up to grip his back, digging your nails in. He groaned, resting his head against your shoulder for a brief moment, “Fuck you’re tight.”

He started moving in earnest then, hips snapping against yours as he drove his cock into your already sensitive hole over and over again. Little cries and curses left your mouth as he fucked you. God this was perfect, he was perfect. It felt like you were made just for him to break. If things had been different, maybe you could have had this every single night. The part of your mind that still clung to solid ground felt the pang of guilt. You pulled him down into a rough kiss, letting him swallow up your noises.

He gripped both your hands, holding them down against the mattress as he pushed up to get a better look at you, gaze ravenous as he took in your bouncing tits, the sweat sheening against your skin. They traveled to where his cock drove into your tight cunt, watching as he abused your soaking wet hole. Through gritted teeth, “Fuck baby you were made to take my cock.”

You whined again, tightening around his thick length at his words. The heat in your core grew worse, a coil threatening to snap if wound too tight, and damn was he doing his best to do just that. You panted out between moans, listening to the groans and growls he let out above you, no thought at all for how loud either of you were being. Fuck the neighbors, they could listen in and wish they were getting fucked this good.

“F-Fuck Sh..Sho gonna...gonna cummm~!” You managed, words clumsy on your tongue. He groaned, low and deep, fucking you harder into the mattress. You nearly screamed then, the pleasure too much to handle for your sensitive body.

“That’s it, little mouse, cum on my dick..” He groaned out, a primal growl in his voice. You moaned loud, reaching up to grapple at his back as he let you out of his grasp to once again cage you beneath him, picking up the pace as his own thrusts became erratic. You dug angry red lines down his back as you came undone around him, that coil snapping inside you as you screamed out your pleasure. The deep groan in your ear as he pumped your abused cunt full of his cum had you tightening around him, milking his cock for all he was worth.

You weren’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All notion of the passage of time was alien to you, the only thing keeping you grounded his hot skin against your own. The heat was almost suffocating. With it all still that scent of blood that you were certain now was just him. Slowly he pulled his cock from your dripping cunt, chuckling when you gasped in response.

“Doing okay there, little mouse?”

You snorted once you had your bearings, “Quiet.”

“Never.” He placed a kiss to your cheek, far more affectionate than you expected for the situation, before rolling off of you onto his back. He draped an arm across his sweat slicked forehead and looked to you with tired eyes.

“Planning on staying then?” You questioned. You didn’t understand the anxiety that twisted in your gut in the split second it took for him to respond.

“I’ve had a long night.”

“You have.”

“Let’s play pretend then. You let me hold you tonight.”

“And pretend you won’t kill me in the middle of the night?”

“And pretend I’m not the man you murdered.” He responded. There was an ice to the words that had your gut twisting again. You didn’t reply, just slotted your body against his, placing a hand on his chest that felt so cold to you now. You rested your head against his shoulder as he wound his free arm around you, pulling you in close. You waited a few beats, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing. Why it struck you as odd took a few moments. Normally at this angle you’d have heard your partner for the night’s heartbeat hammering against his chest, but Aizawa’s own body was so silent.

“Your heart--”

“Don’t.”

“Right.” You swallowed. He may be walking around and, at least, semi-functioning, but he was still dead. You still did that. “In the morning…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t be here.”

“Right.” You fell silent then, a deep guilt and anxiety taking over the post-orgasm glow. You didn’t want him gone in the morning. You wanted to fix what you’d done, you wanted to have him here, to give him a proper apology.

He let out a soft sigh. He expended more energy than he expected and already he could feel himself slipping away. You didn’t need to see it, should be asleep when he finally faded away. It was a few minutes before he spoke again. “Good night, little mouse.” Your soft breathing was his only response in the dark. Good, at least he tired you out properly. He pushed himself up slightly, looking down at your face. There was a troubled look on that sleeping face, one that some odd part of him wanted to soothe away.

These feelings were confusing, too much for him to unpack in the short time he had left. At least they weren’t something he had to unpack, really. Just something he had to “live” moment to moment with. He placed a soft kiss on your temple, carefully untangled himself from you, and started for the door to your room when he paused. He reached down, scooped his shirt up from the floor, and left, draping it across the chair in your living room.

In the morning you wandered bleary eyed from your cold bed to the soft light of the living room. The window was partially opened. You frowned, crossing to it to close it when your bare foot stepped into a soft pile of...something. You looked down, squinting. Ash. Next to the window was a small pile of ash. Your eyes scanned the room then, landing on the black shirt laying across the back of your chair and you knew.

Gone. He was gone. Mission complete, nothing tethering him to the world anymore. You pulled that shirt to your chest, cradling it against your heart. Your heart felt cold, that guilt writhing in you as you swallowed hard. You didn’t deserve what this meant, but you’d take it anyway. Forgiveness.

#shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #eraserhead imagine #gonna make this a nice banner tomorrow but for tonight I must sleep

75 notes · View notes

17tetsuro · 4 years

Note

could u do fake dating headcanons where they slowly fall for u w atsumu, kenma & oikawa,, gn pronounces are fine :)

haikyuu boys slowly falling for you (fake dating edition) (gn!reader)

feat: atsumu, kenma, oikawa

warnings: fake dating, abuse of cliche tropes and commas and question marks, timeskip setting because im anything but creative, swearing

requests are open!

a/n: thank you for requesting this!! i hope you like it :D

atsumu

* you’ve been friends with him ever since high school and you watched his career grow

* youre both equally proud of each other n your friendship is built on mutual respect, trust and love

* you basically live in his apartment, with how much time you spend over there

* he would complain 24/7 about not having anyone to go to events with

* at one point you wanted to strangle him for never shutting up about it so you propose you go with him from time to time

* atsumu: “yeah, that was a setup”

* he KNOWS you’re drop dead gorgeous and everyone will be jealous of him that you’re with him (and you also look very good in formalwear, which he very much enjoys)

* and you get to have free food and drinks and also wear immaculate expensive clothes

* so,, you became his regular date for sponsorship events and stuff

* and you never really outright said you were just friends?? so you’re used to the media portraying you two as lovers but your close circle is aware that your relationship is platonic

* everything was going great until one of his sponsor company’s heir started hitting on you

* atsumu saw you flirting with the person and his mind went blank

* he,, he didn’t understand why he wanted to commit multiple crimes on the spot

* bokuto conveniently showed up next to atsumu at that moment

“hey, atsumu? why is your date flirting with them?” bokuto asked, suddenly appearing next to atsumu, which startled the latter out of his thoughts.

a better question would be why atsumu saw red at the thought of you getting friendly with anyone but him that night. he tried his best to keep his composure, but it was hard when you rested a hand on the heir’s shoulder, leaning your head back while laughing.

“atsumu, are you not going to answer me? your lover is-“

“my what?” atsumu asked, attention now completely off you.

“your lover? is that a term you don’t like? i could say partner... significant other... or anything you want, really,” bokuto answered, apologizing.

“you- you think me and (y/n) are together?”

“aren’t you? what, with the way you look at each other i was convinced you two were like... high school sweethearts or something, who hate pda,” bokuto explained, while atsumu’s eyes trailed back to you.

“you think... you think they’d wan’ me?”

“are you blind, buddy?”

you must have sensed their gazes, because as soon as those words left bokuto’s mouth, your eyes snapped towards atsumu and bokuto. the latter started waving with a cheerful smile while the former just stood, entranced by you and your presence. atsumu noticed traces of confusion appearing on your face, and watched as you excused yourself from the conversation you were previously interested in.

“‘tsumu, are you alright?” you questioned, approaching the pair. bokuto grinned and left, which made you even more confused.

“yeah, i’m fi- fine. hey, uh, (y/n), say... do you- why did you offer to come to these events as my date?” atsumu asked, eyes dead set on yours. you cracked a confused smile. you seemed to be capable of nothing but confusion at the moment.

“because you’re my best friend and i hated to see you so down because of your loneliness at these gatherings,” you replied, holding his gaze. “why didn’t you oppose it?”

his eyes studied you and when he saw nothing but sincerity, he let out a loud sigh. this was all very new and confusing to him. it’s like bokuto calling you atsumu’s lover set off a bomb inside his head that instead of causing a mess, made everything fall into place; why his gaze seemed to linger on you more often than before, why he was so eager to choose your outfits for these events, why he went to parties he didn’t even have to attend, why he got so jealous and angry when he saw you with the cute heir.

“holy shit,” he breathed and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle and lowering his gaze to the ground. “holy shit.”

“you look like you’ve been enlightened, and i love that for you, but ‘tsumu, i’m still very confused.”

“i’m in love with you,” he said in disbelief, and quickly snapped his eyes back to your face when he realized he said it out loud. “i- i mean- i’m not in love with you, no way in hell, you’re- you’re my best friend, you- you smack my head whenever i say somethin’ inappropriate, you keep me from underminin’ myself, you always lift my spirits and for fuck’s sake, please, stop lookin’ at me like that because i will be getting hopeful and if you’re just joking, i will never hear the end of it and-“

you finally hd enough of his rambling and cut him off with a kiss. at first he froze, but seconds later he melted into your embrace, hands sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

when your lips separated, atsumu gasping for air after his word vomit and the long kiss you shared, you spoke up. “miya atsumu, you’re a real dumbass, you know that?”

his breath hitched and you kept quiet for a second to let him suffer a bit.

“but you’re my dumbass. i love you, you absolute piece of work.”

atsumu honest to god giggled and leaned in for another kiss, which you gave him without hesitation.

somewhere in the room, bokuto was collecting the money sakusa promised to give him if he got you two to kiss.

kenma

* kenma and you are both twitch streamers with similar content so you knew of each other but weren’t properly introduced

* until one of your mutual friends invited you both to stream among us with them

* you obv accepted

* so during the 3 hr stream, you and kenma were imposters together a lot and had the biggest, most twisted imp plays

* a friendly competition broke out at one point, too, trying to see who exposed the most impostors between the two of you

* your fans ate your dynamic up

* from then on, you two interacted more and started to appear in each others’ streams

* kenma even invited you to his minecraft smp

* you became besties basically

* SO

* all fun and games

* and then a huge sponsorship opportunity rolled in

* and the people at the company assumed you were dating

* uh oh

* you couldnt just tell them they have it wrong bc the whole thing depended on your relationship

* so

* big brain kenma suggest you two start to “date”

* you were against deceiving your followers but kenma assured you you could have a public breakup and tell everyone you were better off as friends

* so you reluctantly agreed

* it was only for two months anyways, what could go wrong?

* both of you, on week 3, in separate discord calls: uh oh, im in l*ve

* you both tried to cope (read: repress everything) but the realization on both of your parts threw your dynamic off a bit and fans have noticed

* so you had to do something abt it

* so kenma suggested you try your hand at a minecraft challenge together

* it was all fun and games until it wasnt

* you somehow ended up flirting back and forth ????

* chat was goin crazy, even in sub only mode

* both of you: ha ha im in danger

* when the stream ended, you stayed on call, because that was a routine you stuck to no matter what

“so... how are you doing?” you asked kenma, trying to clear the awkwardness from the air.

“good.”

maybe you should have taken kenma’s refusal to talk about anything into account when initiating conversation.

kenma, on the other end of the call was anxiously playing with his fingers, trying to figure out if his chat was right, and you were indeed flirting with him. and him with you. god.

“hey, y/n,” kenma said after a while, “were you flirting with me?”

his bluntness startled you and you had to mute yourself for a few seconds while you collected yourself.

“is there a correct answer?” you asked hesitantly.

“yes.”

“oh... uhm, maybe? it wasn’t intentional. or maybe it was, subconsciously, i don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

“good. it was intentional on my part, i think,” and okay, that was not the reply you expected to hear.

“really?”

“yeah, i- i like you i guess,” he said, sounding more confident by the minute. “do you like me too?”

“i- yeah. i do. i like you, kenma,” you replied, sighing a breath of relief. it felt good to admit it aloud to him.

“do you- would you maybe want to come over?” he asked sheepishly, which made absolutely no sense because he sounded so confident a second ago. “we could play mario kart?”

you let the beaming smile you were holding back take over your face. “i’ll be there in 10, kenma.”

“i’ll be waiting for you.”

oikawa

* on god mans hated your guts

* like,, okay, you were iwa’s close friend but you were so annoyingly honest all the time

* it drove him mad

* what also drove him mad is the fact that you loved to tease him

* no matter what the circumstance, whether he was in japan or in argentina, you always found a way to make him blush

* okay so maybe hate is a strong word, because he kind of thought you were pretty, but in a platonic way

* dumbass

* iwa always give both of you shit for not liking each other

* so you came up with a big brain idea

* you: ”oikawa! we should date!”

* oikawa: “what”

* after you explained the concept of fake dating to him and its benefits (which included a staged dramatic breakup, giving you both a reason to hate each other without iwa complaining)

* he was totally down

* iwa, when he first saw you holding hands: “i knew it”

* SO!! thus began weeks of pretending to be in love with each other for the sake of iwa

* which turned from pretending to not pretending real quick for your liking

* falling in love with oikawa was not a plan of yours

* (falling in love with you wasn’t his, either)

* with iwa’s constant nagging of “i knew it, you both were head over heels for each other from the moment you met”, the time for the breakup came quicker than expected (maybe you both had enough. so what.)

* you agreed to do it in front of iwa so he could see it happen

* you chose a mcdonalds parking lot, because then you could storm off and iwa would follow you to make sure you were ok and oikawa could go home and sleep

* maybe winging it was not the best idea

“babe,” you said with venom, “haven’t i told you a thousand times that i do not want to hear about your exes? seriously, it’s like the only thing you talk about,” you complained, as your fake-boyfriend took a sip from his drink.

“well, babe,” his tone matching yours, “i would shut up about them if took the hint sometimes. maybe i don’t like going to the movies as much as you seem to, it’s boring,” he rolled his eyes, subtly glancing at iwa, who looked very uncomfortable third wheeling your argument. good

“jerk. i don’t even want to go to the movies that much, asshole,” you spat, crushing your empty cup in your hand.

“oh, you want to go to the movies plenty. face it, (y/n), you’re boring. no wonder you didn’t have a boyfriend before me,” he replied and his words, even though you knew were fake, still hit hard and you couldn’t help the tears gathering in your eyes.

“okay, then, thanks for these wonderful past few weeks, so glad you decided to take pity on me.” you tried to keep acting, encouraging yourself with the fact that if oikwa meant what he said, you wouldn’t have to talk to him if iwaizumi finally saw you two break up.

you expected a lot of things, but genuineness in oikawa’s eyes was not one of them.

“(y/n), i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that,” oikawa pleaded, clearly forgetting about your mutual goal.

with a mumbled whatever, you started walking home, letting the sunset wash over your face. when you knew you were out of sight, you sat down on a bench and just started crying.

you don’t know how much time passed, but you heard a voice behind you speak up.

“hey (y/n).”

“what the fuck do you want, oikawa? to rub in the fact that my first boyfriend was just faking it so his best friend would get off his back? leave me alone, jerk,” you said, trying to wipe your tears away.

“i- i didn’t mean it like that, please, believe me,” he replied, taking a seat next to you. you scooted away from him. he sighed.

“why would i believe you? why do you want to make up, anyways? this fight was pretty real, no way iwaizumi didn’t believe it,” you sniffed.

“because maybe... maybe i was very happy about the fact that i could be your boyfriend, even if it was fake. maybe i’m in love with you,” he said softly, leaning towards you.

“please, stop playing games. it’s over,” you replied, trying very hard to ignore the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“i really am, (y/n). i wasn’t at first, i admit it, but now i am. i love you, please, believe me,” he begged and you finally made eye contact with him. eyes were mirrors of the soul, after all.

you studied his face for a few minutes, looking for anything that could indicate he was trying to pull a shit prank on you, but you found nothing.

“asshole. maybe i’m in love with you too, what would you do if i said that?” you asked, wiping your nose with your sleeves.

“kiss you.”

“do it, then, i guess. but you’re still not completely forgiven.”

“what do i have to do to earn your forgiveness, (y/n)?” he asked and you sent him a mischievous smile.

“take the blame for this whole fiasco with iwaizumi.” he froze at your words and visibly gulped, but nodded nonetheless.

“okay, i will. can i kiss you now?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah.”

and he did.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #kenma x reader

168 notes · View notes

wisherbysharlight · 4 years

Text

My God if I could only say, I'm holding every breath for you

Description: Patton Hart has been pining for his best friend's twin brother and his boyfriends for as long as he can remember. Word Count: 3067 Ships: Patton/Remus/Janus/Virgil, background Logince, established Remus/Janus/Virgil Warnings: Remus being Remus, twins squabbling AO3 This is a gift fic for @sunshineandteddybears for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange. The “summer romance” piece kinda got away from me, but this is definitely found family! I hope you enjoy!

Patton was wiping down the counters, about 15 minutes after closing, sunset shining through the windows as he hummed along to the radio, a sense of peace radiating through the store.

Of course, that’s when chaos erupted.

“Pattycakes, you gotta save me!” Remus cried as he threw the door open so roughly the windchimes actually smacked against the window above the door before falling back down and jingling merrily to announce his presence. He ran behind the counter with no hesitation, gripping onto Patton’s waist. (Patton only shivered because of the burst of adrenaline. That was the only reason. No other possibilities. Nope.) Remus angled them both towards the doorway just as Roman came bursting in with the same amount of urgency, fire in his eyes and shirt dripping wet and seemingly tinted a particularly garish shade of greenish-brown.

“Remus, you can’t hide behind Patton forever, you bastard!” he seethed, and Logan, Janus, and Virgil came through the door behind him, much more calm, almost to the point where Patton would call them bemused. Logan took a seat at one of the small tables along the wall, pulling out his phone with a very evident intention to simply wait the whole debacle out, while Janus and Virgil both leaned up against the glass case in front of Patton. “Get out here and face me, you coward!” Roman bellowed again, clearly not giving up anytime soon.

Patton grabbed an empty paper towel roll from next to him and turned at the waist to whack Remus in the head with it, “Remus you cannot use me as a human shield, go answer for your crimes.” “Kinky. I’d much rather have you issue my punishment,” Remus joked with an eyebrow wiggle, then cackled when Patton made a strangled noise and shoved him back to the other side of the counter. However, as soon as he was in range, Roman grabbed hold of him and pulled him into a headlock and his laughter turned swiftly into a shriek of “Oh shit!”

They were 12 years old, tearing through the woods in a dual-friend-group game of manhunt the summer before 7th grade. Virgil was hot on everyone’s heels and adrenaline was coursing through their veins. Patton leapt over a log and turned a corner, hunting for a good place to hide.

He heard a curse of “Oh shit!” echo through the woods before the sound of three branches breaking in succession, a huge crash, and a subsequent groan. He quickly pivoted and went sprinting back towards the house, and the sound, easily finding Remus splayed across the forest floor even in the dim light of the moon.

“Why would you climb a tree, silly goose? Don’t you know the branches are weak that high? Scared me half to death!” he chided as he fell to his knees beside him, already pulling band-aids out of his wallet in his pocket.

Remus grinned impishly up at him, and Patton felt his breath catch in his throat, fumbling with the wallet briefly in a way he prayed the other boy didn’t notice. “What’s a lil fear in the face of a bunch of excitement, Patty?” he crooned, and Patton shoved a handful of band-aids at him with little delicacy in his haste to move past the tease. “Besides, I have the best nurse in the world to patch me up when my fun does go south, apparently.”

Patton flushed and turned away, positive Remus could tell even in the weak light, but he couldn’t keep the earnestness out of his voice, “I’ll always patch you up, Ree. Promise.”

Remus didn’t get a chance to respond before Virgil burst through the bushes and tapped them both on the shoulder to get them out and a loud, extended debate began about the validity of the “injury time out”.

Janus leaned on the counter in front of Patton, jolting him out of his reverie. He pointed at the menu, with three shiny new additions at the bottom, “You finally manage to find a flavor sweeter than you, sugar?”

Virgil shoved him out of the way with an eye roll and a fond grin, thankfully distracting from how Patton felt his cheeks would melt the freezers. “He can’t stop flirting even for two seconds, I swear.”

Janus gasped dramatically, swooning against the counter and batting his eyes at Virgil like a starlet in an old black and white, “Maybe if you and Remus gave me the attention I deserve I wouldn’t need to hunt it down in beautiful, endearing ice cream shop owners.”

Remus snorted despite the way he was currently trying to claw his way out of his brother’s hold while being noogied like they were still teenagers and not fully grown and employed adults, “We could give you all the attention in the world, Janny, it would never stop you from flirting with Patton.”

Janus sniffed derisively at them, then cocked his head to the side as the song changed and smiled softly, “Hey, I know this song.”

Patton smiled brightly back, “Yeah of course, have it on all the playlists for the shop!”

“Simp!” Remus called over just as brightly, and Patton glared back at him, assuming it was aimed at him.

“Ok, you look miserable,” Janus said, making Patton jump from where he was staring down at his water glass watching the liquid swirl around the glass as he moved it in little circles and maybe lamenting his singledom a little bit in the face of a dance floor full of sappy teenagers in fancy clothes enjoying the crisp June night and each other as their last hurrah before graduation.

Patton plastered on a smile, “Oh Jan, I am perfectly hap-”

Janus arched a brow at him, tsking lightly and just loud enough for Patton to hear and stop speaking. “Don’t try to lie to me, I know what you look like when you are actually happy, Patton. And also you’re a god-awful liar.”

“...yeah ok. I’m a little bit lonely, maybe, with Ro and Lo gettin their dance on for the romantic stuff. But I’m not mad, they’re in love, and I told them to go hang on their own. We’ll hang out at the beach house after!” He couldn’t help but glance at the dance floor, where Logan was leading Roman in a waltz that was perfectly on time with the music, lost in their own little world.

“Well Ree and V bailed for the beach early. Not exactly their style of music or dancing, or my vibe to make them do something they don’t enjoy just to get my feet stepped on. Why don’t we be miserable together?” The song changed, to a song with a more Latin-inspired beat that Patton knew only one of every 10 words to, and Janus smirked, “Maybe you and I can even make the most of it and I can score a salsa partner.” Janus ended his proposition with an exaggerated wink and bow, and Patton took his offered hand with a genuine grin.

Janus didn’t miss a beat, switching eye contact to Roman on a dime, “Hey, did you know Remus was the one who’s been screwing with your guitar’s tuning?”

“NONONO HE’S LYING,” Remus cried as Roman tightened his hold and doubled down on his attack, this time poking at his ribs and making Remus shriek in laughter.

As Janus watched Roman wrestle Remus down to the floor of the shop, clearly satisfied with the reaction he managed to get, Virgil nudged him over with his hip to take his place leaning across the counter and whisper conspiratorially, “I bet it was actually Logan. Bastard can get away with murder, I just know it.”

Patton couldn’t help but giggle, with Virgil’s playful smile and dancing eyes across from him, so open and trusting in a way he never was unless it was just the group of them. He smirked a bit, nibbled at his lip in consideration, then leaned in to say in an equally conspiratorial style, “Logan’s only involved to see how long it’ll be before anyone catches on. My record stands.”

“You are a trickster Patton Hart,” Virgil gasped in mock-scandal. He wagged his finger with his hand on his hip in a not-half-bad impression of Patton during a lecture, though he was unable to match his Patton-ted Disappointed Frown while he was grinning, “I’d never expect my partner in crime to be doing something like this without telling me, shame on you. You know I always have your back.”

It was their last weekend of freedom before they started high school, and as per usual both twins had both their friends sleeping over. Patton woke before Logan and Roman, also as per usual, and snuck out of Roman’s room down to the kitchen, only to jolt as he found the light already on and Virgil sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Whatcha doin?” Virgil asked, legs kicking in the air in front of the cabinets lazily.

“Gonna try to make pancakes! I’m positive I won’t burn them this time, I just know it,” Patton enthused, then squinted suspiciously at Virgil, “What’re you doing?”

“Oh just hanging around, keeping an eye out in case anyone tries to burn the house down again so I can help out. Figured they might need a partner in arson crime, ya know, and I could let them know I’ve got their back,” Virgil teased, nudging Patton’s leg with a sock clad foot. He looked so precious with his sleep mussed hair and eyeliner from the night before smudged under his eyes that Patton couldn’t even bring himself to argue that he really didn’t need a babysitter. Honestly, he couldn’t even begin to pretend he didn’t want the excuse to spend more time with him.

The twins’ argument grew more heated, finally managing to distract Patton from where he was a bit lost in the way Virgil’s eyes lit up when he was amused.

“You fucked up one of my favorite shirts!” Roman screeched as he attempted to give his brother a wet willy.

“You put red koolaid in my shampoo two weeks ago, you baby!” Remus cried back, shoving at his shoulder to try to get him off, and succeeding rolling them only for Roman to roll them straight back.

“I know you were the one who put my script out of order,” Roman fired back.

“You should have been off book anyway! And you broke bro code and told Virgil I was the one who deleted his X-Files off the DVR. You are just as bad as me.”

“You gave mom’s computer a porn virus and blamed it on me!” Roman protested, and everyone else seemed to simultaneously sigh as they descended into their usual back and forth of dredged-up pettiness.

“Oh you're still - you squashed my bug collection.”

“You left me stranded in the yard after Remy’s homecoming party senior year.”

“That was absolutely justified, you made me listen to you wax poetic about Logan’s fucking lips for 3 hours.”

“You made me listen to you wax poetic about Patton’s EVERYTHING for 13 YEARS”

Everyone in the shop simultaneously went silent in a blink of an eye. Virgil went white as a sheet and swung to look at the twins with wide eyes, Janus gripped the counter white-knuckled and looked at Patton with a similarly stunned expression, and Remus turned nearly as red as the sash on Roman’s favorite Prince Charming costume. He shoved Roman off of him for real, a more severe growl to his voice as he seemed to realize there was no way to play it cool, “You are such a fucking dick!”

Roman stammered for a moment, clearly trying to digest the change in tone and the weight of what he’d said, before waving his arms above his head in apparent bafflement, “It’s not like he didn’t know you all were into him!”

“Roman,” Logan spoke up suddenly, gesturing at Patton and what Patton knew had to be a completely shell-shocked expression.

Roman looked up and went just as wide-eyed as the others, “Pat… did... did you not know?”

“...all of you?” Patton asked, then winced as his voice cracked in shock. He watched Virgil flinch and seem to retreat into his hoodie out of the corner of his eye, and Janus’ face smoothed over into a perfect mask of calm in the blink of an eye. He felt his heart break just a little bit at the disappointment in both of their eyes at what he was sure they saw as a rejection.

Logan grabbed Roman’s arm and yanked him away roughly, though Roman followed easily, “You all clearly need to communicate. I will handle this one.”

“Don’t wanna know about you handling my brother, poindexter,” Remus joked hollowly, sounding almost like it was a reflex with none of his usual cackle behind it.

Logan rolled eyes and headed out the door, tugging behind him a Roman who was fervently whispering, just barely audibly, “He didn't know, how did he not know,” to himself over and over again.

There’s silence in the shop for a while, just the sound of the radio faintly playing over the loudspeakers echoing off the walls as they all just stare at each other, not knowing how to start. Then Janus took a deep breath and spoke first, “Patton, I refuse to speak for these two clowns, but I will absolutely tell you that I, at the very least, have had feelings for you for many years, feelings which i was unaware I was not making perfectly clear, or that there was a chance of any sort of reciprocation.”

“Around 7 years for me, give or take. That first morning we made pancakes together,” Virgil added quietly, fiddling with the zipper on his sleeve.

Remus averted his gaze, looking nervous in the way Patton had only seen the day before he confessed to Virgil and Janus in high school, and admitted in the quietest voice Patton’d ever heard him use, “I don’t know exactly when, Pattycakes. You’ve always been there and as far as I’m concerned I’ve loved you just as long. And-and I just assumed it wasn’t returned.”

Patton swallowed thickly, trying to push back tears because he knew these boys and knew they would take them for disappointment rather than the joy they were. He dove at Remus first, vaulting the counter the way he always scolded Roman against and sliding to his knees next to the other man on the floor before crushing him in a hug. He flailed back at Janus and Virgil with one hand to pull them in as well, “Come here, all of you, we’ve lost so much valuable cuddle time!”

Patton was pretty sure Janus broke the sound barrier with how quickly he was plastered to his side and burying his face in his hair, and Virgil wasn’t far behind, wrapping an arm around his waist and burying his face in the crease of his neck and shoulder. Patton took that moment to be a bit daring himself and press a kiss to the corner of Remus’ lips, then giggled brightly when Remus grabbed hold of his cardigan and used it to pull him back in to kiss him full on the mouth with just as much passion and impulsiveness and laughter as Patton had always imagined. His mustache tickled Patton’s nose a bit but he leaned into it, humming happily in the back of his throat and feeling like a puzzle piece clicked into place.

Virgil only gave them a minute before he untucked his face from Patton’s neck and grouched that he wanted a turn. Remus let Patton go with a very put-upon sigh that didn’t match his playful grin, flicking Virgil on the nose lightly. “You gotta give him his kisses or he’ll never shut the fuck up,” he fake-whispered.

Patton grinned and turned readily to Virgil, and his lips met Patton’s in a much gentler dance. His kiss was no less deep or passionate for its caution, and his hands cupped his face like he feared Patton would float away if he didn’t hold tight. His fingers curled and twitched upwards like they wanted to bury themselves in his hair but didn’t want to overstep, so Patton took the initiative to grip the back of his neck and tilt his own head to encourage Virgil to do what he wished.

Janus was more patient, waiting for them to part for breath a few minutes later before taking hold of Patton’s chin from Virgil without a word and gently but firmly turning Patton towards him. Janus’ kiss could only be described as a caress, light and teasing and peppered with soft nips to his bottom lip before building up to something more solid. His warm hands rubbed calmingly up and down Patton’s spine and over his shoulders like he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to touch first.

Remus soon demanded he get another shot, then Virgil wanted another, then Janus again, leaving Patton so beyond cloud 9 he could barely think any more. They spent at least 20 minutes there on the floor, lost in each other, rotating kisses that were long overdue, letting their actions make the confessions their words hid from for years, not daring to move and break the spell of the moment.

Then a camera shutter sounded, paired with a bright flash of light that made them all jolt and look up in surprise.

“I said communicate you know, not make out on the floor,” Logan sighed, digging through his wallet to pull a 20 out to hand to Roman, who was grinning victoriously.

“I’m sorry for being a dick, but I had to do something and I told Logan the “accidental slip” would work,” Roman said as he pressed a triumphant kiss to Logan’s cheek and pocketed the 20, “But you have to admit it was a pretty great performance on my part.”

“Can’t believe I was betrayed by my best friends, I don’t know whether I owe you a scolding or a fruit basket,” Patton lamented playfully, cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling. Janus ruined what little remained of the facade even more as he shifted slightly and pulled him into his lap and Patton clung tight to Virgil and Remus’ hands, with no intention of disconnecting any time soon.

#IntruAnaMoCeit #patton/dark sides #patton/remus/janus/virgil #polyamsanders #ts fic #i had no idea how to tag this #all sides #remus mention

208 notes · View notes

lightlavenders · 4 years

Text

Time for my Entrapdak rant (a.k.a. why Hordak was better for her than literally anyone else, a.k.a. I’m not bias I swear)

as I read through Entrapta/Hordak/princess gang discourse on this site I started to realise the reason why I loved Entrapdak so much in the first place, and I will now talk about that here (some of these points are stolen from better posts). ALSO no matter how much I shit on other characters just know this isn’t an attack of any of them. This is gonna be VERY ENTRAPTA FOCUSED.

OK SO we get introduced to Entrapta pretty early in season 1 and we get to learn a lot about her. It also quickly becomes clear that she’s neurodivergent - something confirmed to be intentional by many of the creators. Entrapta has a passion for technology, science and inventing, and (same as the previous princesses) the best friend squad decide they need her in the alliance so she can build them weapons (whICH SHE NEVER ACTUALLY DOES i think BUT THATS NOT THE POINT).

Throughout the episode though, the squad (mostly Glimmer bc she’s the one who gets to closely interact with Entrapta the most... Adora being completely out of it and Bow with the kitchen staff) seems to slowly run out of patience for her - Glimmer very obviously puts up a front of tolerance despite her frustration. This is unlike the other episodes, where all the princesses get along in the end and become best friends oh boy! So... we have our only neurodivergent character so far who isn’t really welcomed into the group the same way as the others... and her autistic behaviour is only tolerated because they need her... okay, maybe that’ll change later.

Or not? When Entrapta joins the others on the quest to save Glimmer, she is constantly infantilised by the others and not taken seriously. She runs off to study Horde tech and actually helps rescue Sea Hawk, two very helpful things, but Perfuma talks down to her like a child and PUTS HER ON A LEASH? SHE’S 30!!! SHE WAS TRYING TO HELP! And no one tells Sea Hawk off for getting lost and alerting Scorpia to their presence, which wasn’t helpful at all. Then later, Mermista says she’ll keep an eye on her “in case she decides to befriend any more robots” like okay... she isn’t a child, and she didn’t run off because she wanted to play with robots or something?

Okay, so, Entrapta is left behind, which I won’t blame them for because it definitely looked like she died (they get over it pretty quickly but I digress), and she comes across Catra. Okay! Here’s a chance for Entrapta to make a true friend, right? Or not, because Entrapta and Catra’s friendship is built entirely on manipulation. At least Scorpia was sincere.

Here Entrapta is again, in a position where she’s being used for her skills and in a we’re-sort-of-friends-but-I-only-tolerate-you-because-you’re-useful situation, with Scorpia probably being her only true friend at the moment. She starts helping out the horde, because they actually let her do what she wants and at the very least don’t treat her like a child. Then, she stumbles into Hordak’s lab.

I’m gonna say this now because I’ll get murdered if I don’t - Hordak is a bad guy. He does bad guy stuff. But so does Entrapta sometimes (I’ll talk about that later) so good morals don’t need to play into their relationship I think. It’s about how they treat each other.

At first, Hordak is very defensive and angry towards Entrapta, as he would be to anyone coming in to his lab without permission and discovering his secret portal project. But then she fixes said portal and he immediately sees her as an intellectual equal. Again, Entrapta has had to prove herself to someone by making herself useful, but it actually goes further. ALSO can I say how Hordak is the ONLY person who interacts directly with Entrapta who doesn’t treat her like a child or emotionally manipulate her, with the exception of Wrong Hordak, Emily, and Imp of all characters... Even Scorpia is guilty of this later.

So, Entrapta and Hordak start working together, and Entrapta is obviously very excited to have someone treat her as an equal (they’re lab partners!!). On top of that, Hordak is also happy to have someone he can actually trust. Catra and Scorpia at separate times both remark on how Entrapta spends all of her time with him now, and who can fucking blame her when he’s the only one that has literally spent all this time growing close to her and understanding her as a person, not just using her, not just tolerating her, not talking down to her constantly. Hordak opens up his trauma to Entrapta and she responds by opening up a bit in return, literally saying that she doesn’t fit in and that Catra doesn’t even talk to her anymore. They are obviously comfortable around each other, and if Hordak was manipulating her, then why was he so distraught when she was taken away? Why did he CRY??? Why did he consider giving up on his life’s purpose and abandoning what is essentially his god for her???

Anyway, stuff happens, and Entrapta shows that she isn’t the irresponsible child everyone thinks she is by agreeing to shut off the portal. But of course, Catra betrays her and sends her away. To die. How nice. Catra tells Hordak that Entrapta betrayed him, and instead of flipping out and turning all Hal Stewart incel “if I can’t have you no one can” he just gets sad... and then later all he really wants is to see her again, even if it is on the battlefield. I’m not sure what he would’ve done so we can’t say for sure, but I seriously doubt he wanted to hurt her.

sidenote - I’m not gonna blame Scorpia for letting Catra doing this, Scorpia had her own shit going on and was essentially trapped in an abusive relationship and she also later makes up for letting Entrapta down by getting her rescued

SO then the best friend squad go to save her from Beast Island, and she’s literally completely given up. Gee, I wonder why. Could it be because it seems like every friend she’s ever had has abandoned her, scolded her, or outright zapped her unconscious and sent her to die in a monster filled island? But the squad save her and affirm to her that they didn’t give up on her and that they’re still her friends. Actions speak louder than words, guys, but okay, cool! To Bow and Adora’s credit, they were the least patronising and mean out of anyone... so, that’s something. Anyway! Affirmations! Some respect from her friends! I hope this lasts...

It didn’t! Season 5, Entrapta goes along with the others to help find out where Glimmer is. Here is where I quickly have to say something - Entrapta does indeed make some ‘evil’ and stupid decisions sometimes - hacking the black garnet, building robots that attack her old friends, walking out absentmindedly in front of a robot and compromising her team. Some of these things can be explained by her neurodivergence, but do not always justify it. That being said. Entrapta is not evil, she is not stupid, and her “weirdness” does not give her friends the excuse to treat her like a child.

Here’s where it gets bad!! Perfuma puts Entrapta on a leash AGAIN!!!!!! WHAT? Writers? Wyd?? Not only this, but the others talk about her behind her back, and then scold her without any consideration for how she, as a neurodivergent person, was interpreting the situation. They could’ve explained their feelings to her in a calm way, instead of shunning her and expecting her to pick up on their cues, then exploding at her when they didn’t. THEN THEY CALL HER A BAD FRIEND.... and I feel hypocrisy in this chili’s tonight... and then Scorpia... doesn’t say anything? Girl help. Ik we can’t totally blame her since she was new to the squad and probably didn’t wanna get kicked out or yelled at like with Catra, but please... that is your friend...say something. also why did mermista need to pull her hair and then later say “you’re still a weirdo” like what. why do people ship them? because mermista cried when entrapta ‘died’? Okay??

I think Entrapta actually goes through some character development after this which is pretty cool - she outwardly expresses her concern for Glimmer, which is affirming to her friends the squad, and later at the end of the series, intentionally keeps herself focused during the most high stakes moment instead of running off. I’m not qualified to talk about if these traits, which could be considered traits of autistic people, deserve to be treated as flaws to be fixed, that’s a whole other bag of worms, but yay character development.

Finally, at the end, Hordak properly reunites with Entrapta and he decides to rebel against his creator and his purpose to save her life, showing that Entrapta, and their connection, is his priority now. And once Adora saves Hordak from Prime (thanks Adora), the two finally reunite in a spinning hug - that is literally the most physical contact either of them have had with anyone, how could anyone not believe in their connection and mutual trust???

Mermista gives us one last jab, an understandable one considering Hordak was conquering their planet for years on end, but still - “so, are we all just like, okay with this?” yes girl, we are. He’s literally the only one who ever treated her with real respect and love, the only one who ever prioritised her.

I know some people are gonna be like “just ship her with wrong Hordak” and if you really like that... go ahead I guess? But do we need to force a clone who just got control of his own mind into a relationship, or a girl who is very much in love with someone else into a relationship with one of her friends? You can do what you want though, it’s literally fine, I’m the one who just spent over 1500 words talking about why a 30 year old science woman should go out with an alien warlord.

In conclusion - Hordak and Entrapta deserve each other, because Entrapta deserves someone who treats her right, and I love her.

#entrapdak #entrapta and hordak #entrapdak discourse #entrapta #hordak #i had to include a megamind reference #She Ra #SPOP #big ol post #she ra and the princesses of power #i spent so long on this

151 notes · View notes

dilfbane · 3 years

Text

Your Weeping(Your Need For His Touch)

Summary: When things go south on a mission, you have to confront more than just the sketchy town, cartoon villains, and one-bed hotel room you’re forced to share with Loki. You have to come to terms with not only the consequences of being captured, but also the God of Mischief’s feelings for you - Because for all that he might be an asshole, sometimes, he really does have a heart. Written for the Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words 6k Follower Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard

Pairing: Loki/(Female)Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and medical treatment, as well as discussions of the inevitable mindset around sacrificing oneself for the mission that I feel like being part of the Avengers would entail. Also swearing, because at its core, this story started out as a bit of a crack! fic.

Word Count: 7.8k.

A/N: So apparently when I have mental breakdowns they result in me writing crack-fic that takes a 180 veer into angst and fluff for absolutely no reason. For the sake of the crack-fic, in this timeline Loki was forced to help the Avengers take down bad guys directly after the end of the first Avengers movie, so… Is that a confusing plot hole I didn’t know how to account for except by making this AU? Maybe. Did I do it anyway?…. Yeah. This really was meant to be a crack-fic about Loki and the reader confessing their feelings set in the bizarre world of meme culture, I didn’t realize there were going to be feels in it until it was three in the morning and all of a sudden this happened. That being said, your girl went there, so enjoy!

“Oh, shit,” You say, as you take in the grimy hotel room. The walls all smeared in what looks like dried blood, the putrid smell of rotten eggs, a crack-screened television with a fine dusting of some suspiciously white powder. And, of course, “There’s one bed.”

“Hmm?” Asks Loki, turning towards you, briefly, from unpacking. He had dumped his suitcase(Magically plucked out of a chaotic liminal space) unceremoniously on the bed’s scratching, pilling coverlet without so much as a second glance at the rest of the room. And why do you need a suitcase, anyways?? You wonder. It isn’t like we’re planning to be here that long. In fact, you hoped with every fiber of your being that you’d be here for as little time as possible, because this town might actually be the sketchiest place you’ve ever seen in your life; no small feat, for a bona-fide member of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You’ve kicked alien ass on a mutated purple Mongolian death-worm three thousand feet over New York City. You’ve run reconnaissance to rescue debatably-magical items sequestered away in an ancient cave labyrinth plastered in paintings and untranslatable runes, gunfire and what could only be described as the baying of hellhounds in the near distance. You’ve fist-fought a gigantic hive-mind robot in a field of artificially sentient feral steel suits - You’ve even survived Tony’s parties.

Yet none of those scenarios hold a candle to this fucking town.

And Loki, the asshat, seems utterly, competently - no, maniacally - unfazed.

“There’s one bed,” You repeat, into the air.

“Ah,” Says Loki, straightening.

“You don’t see that problem with that?!”

“Should I?” He asks you, walking across the room in long, graceful strides to stand in front of you. He wears the same expression he always wears, amused and indifferent, but this time with the addition of a single, elegantly-arched eyebrow. You drop your head, refusing to meet his somewhat-curious gaze. It physically hurts, how attractive Loki is. Not for the first time, you curse whatever god decided that you and him would once again be mission partners - in this case, you belatedly realize, and choke back a thick laugh, said god is, unsurprisingly, Thor.

If you survive this, you make a note to beat his head in with Mjolnir. As it is, you are here in this room with Loki, with perhaps twenty IPP agents and a reckless poisoner dogging your every move, and there’s a high chance that you won’t live long enough to navigate whatever the hell sleeping with your crush-who-has-murdered-men. Ok, so ‘murdered men’ isn’t entirely accurate. More like ‘caused the murder of men inadvertently through his schemes’. It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, right now.

And what about Loki? He is still staring you down, like you’re some wind up toy moments away from going off. Funny, that, you think. If ever there were a time to not have a mental breakdown, it would be here, with him. You’ve crossed a lot of moral lines in your life, but you will be damned if you let Loki Laufeysson see you cry. Loki is graceful. Composed. Sarcastic. Lithe. Rolls his eyes at almost every statement that comes out of somebody’s mouth. But he is, also, beautiful. Shockingly comforting, in his own nihilistic way. You don’t know what it says about you that you find comfort in statements like, Try not to die, you know that I hate funerals. Part of you - most of you - doesn’t want to. But it gives you strength, somehow, to shrug off the day and ground your flailing mind in evading Loki’s calculated manipulation. I won’t show you my weakness, you think to yourself. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

“No,” You tell him - too quickly, he’ll pick up on that - “You’re right, you shouldn’t. It’s fine. We have - a lot to deal with, is all.”

Loki nods, seemingly accepting your answer, but his eyes are still narrowed, watching you like he’s calling your bluff. You talk right past that look - have to, to keep yourself sane, to not think about the one bed that looms large over this entire conversation. It doesn’t even look like a comfortable bed.

“We have two days,” You say, to stop yourself thinking of it. And, also, to talk your way through your disarmingly disjointed thoughts. Loki nods. It would really help if you said something, you think. Swallow the thought, hot and thick, down your throat. What’s the point of a mission partner if you can’t even soundboard off them? “The Pink Cobra could strike anyone, anytime. The IPP is planning something in New York - “

“Isn’t everyone, these days, planning something in New York?”

He sounds regretful, and for half a second you want to offer him the reassurance that his very presence offers you. But you are sure he doesn’t know what he does to you - with his words, with the sidelong glances that you’ve felt linger on your form far too long in the heat of a fight. If you didn’t know any better, you would say Loki worries about you.

“We have to shut him down,” You say. Focus on the Pink Cobra, because honestly, that’s easier. “Find out where he manufactures. Not get poisoned,” You add, at the end.

“Yes,” Loki says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “We should certainly try not to get ourselves killed. Failing that, I suppose, we can at least request that no one in H.Y.D.R.A gets autopsy access.”

“Loki?” You ask. Rhetorically. “You’re not helping.”

He smirks at you, then. He knows.

“What do you propose that we do then?” He asks, taking a step towards you, getting so close that you can feel his hot breath. “About the Pink Cobra?”

“Find him.” You say, fumbling, blush rising high on your cheeks.

Tonight?

One bed?

You are screwed.

***

When you were a kid - think really little, Capri Sun pouches and still believing that true love wasn’t complicated - your father told you that every story needed a good supervillain. You aren’t sure if the Pink Cobra counts as a good supervillain, but he’s the least confusing one that you have to deal with - and, as far as villains go, a fine enough challenge to face. He’s like a madman out of some high fantasy novel, with dark eyes and a sable-sewn cloak and a penchant for poisoning. He is adept in all the arts of the woman’s murder; he has a keen grasp on the side-effects of arsenic and camphor and tansy and cyanide and strychnine. He’s been found to have dropped crystal phials filled with belladonna and ricin while fleeing a scene. If all else fails, he’s more than practiced with daggers.

In other words, he’s the kind of villain that none of you, with your flying suits and telekinesis and super-strength, are anywhere near prepared to waylay.

The plan, as far as team Avengers is concerned, is easy:

You and Loki. This town, where the webs of his manufacturing production and the few glimpses of information that Thor has totally legally excavated out of his captured minions has led to. Two days until some undefined grand attack bears down on the city you live in. Two days to find the Pink Cobra and kill him. The more time passes with no headway, the more you think that this is an impossible task, but you know what Tony would say. We have our best minds on it.

The thing is, you aren’t sure that that’s true. The minds that have been set to this task are you and the God of Lies. It’s hardly the best they could have come up with, considering your track records. Actually, you take that back - Loki was a good choice for this mission, because, not three hours after arriving in this hellhole of a city, he seems to have somehow developed the ability to read minds. More specifically, yours. And that could prove stunningly useful.

The scene, as it stands: Loki, sprawled across the lumpy bed, three pairs of crisp white shirts, a plaid scarf, and a full set of Asgardian battle armor neatly hung in the mothball-infested closet, flicking through channels on the grain, cracked television with an apathetic expression and one arm thrown haphazardly over bent leg. Propped up in such a way that he could jump or spin or parry at a moment’s notice, yet perfectly, devastatingly languid, leafing through Nick Fury’s dossier on the Pink Cobra. He looks at you like a god, you think, and then remember. He is one.

You, on the floor, because on top of all the other things this hotel doesn’t have, like two beds, there isn’t anything even resembling a desk, shifting through a glowing, holographed file archive from headquarters that barely runs on your severely outdated laptop. It’s a point of pride to you, keeping the laptop - not because it’s good, but because it’s survived five years of being an Avenger, which is something not even all the Avengers can claim to have done. You’re also fairly certain that Tony’s attempts to update the firmware had infested it with some sort of renegade virus. Elevated above your screen, the files are split into two groups, the sum total of everything that you know about both of the groups that are avidly trying to kill you.

There’s the wealth of information containing the Pink Cobra’s poisoning sprees, but those aren’t the files that interest you, and you know that Loki’s not much interested in them either. That honor falls to the fanatics at the IPP, the Imminently Predictable Psyops organization, which you know even less about than you do about the Pink Cobra, chief among which the fact that they need a new name. Imminently Predictable Psyops?, Tony had said, when you’d finally apprehended one of their proxies. What do they think this is? Some type of ARG?

What you’ve gleaned, from months worth of studying the network, is that they operate as a sort of cringe-oriented death cult intent on ‘reshaping the universe through meme agents’. They’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar for a long time - upwards of a year - before anyone at team base learned they existed - which, you can almost hear Loki saying, was a failure in the extreme. Currently, it was your job to obsessively worry over whether they were going to send ‘meme agents’ to bust through the door of your seedy hotel room and off you both. You hated - truly loathed - how casually Loki was taking it all.

He’s acting like nothing was wrong with this situation, when, in fact, you’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that this night will end up with one or both of you dead. It is, to say the least, disconcerting.

Kill switch, the holograph files read. Cross-referential Neil Cicierega acoustic weaponry. Your mind sees the words, but doesn’t comprehend them, and you run a hand up to rub at your bleary eyes with annoyance. You risk a glance upwards; on the bed, Loki scans page after page after page with disinterested nonchalance, punctuating the flipping over of each document with a noncommittal hum; as if to say, I understand you. As it to say, This could be worse. You try to slip into that mindset. Certainly, things could be worse.

Actually, though? Not really.

Because, for all the world, the holo-file in front of you just said ‘Pepe The Frog Chaos Banking Laser Initiative’.

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“Sorry?”

You whip your head around. Loki, raising an eyebrow. Damn that - perfect - eyebrow.

“Sorry,” You echo back at him, rubbing your eyes again, perversely glad for the break, even if it is this awkward. “I … said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Marginally,” He tells you. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” You - well, it’s not a whine, not exactly. You’re tired, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, so you feel like your tone’s justified. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I’m just - this is. Completely nonsensical.”

“Show me?” He asks, and you snort. He could totally just look up, but -

“Do you have a P.h.d in memes?” You ask him, and, before he can answer, “Because unless you have a P.h.d in memes, I don’t think you’ll be able to help.”

“You’d be surprised,” Loki says. Vaults over the bed with the speed and grace of a panther, filling the air with a cringing wheeze as the rusty springs bend underneath him, and landing in front of the holo-file, pushing you aside slightly to get a better view. When his fingers brush against your side, cool and firm, you flinch.

“Tired,” You offer, when he shoots you a momentarily concerned look. “Just. Need to sleep, later, I think.”

But Loki is already scanning the file, and when he looks up, not five seconds later, you want to hit somebody. Preferably, you think, him.

“I would assume,” Loki says, “That they’re using time travel in order to obtain and store monetary value by way of a Pepe-the-frog inspired laser array.”

“Oh,” You say. You blink once. Blink twice. Still have no idea what that means. “Right.”

“Do you not know your memes, love?” He asks you, smirking. And oh, if you don’t feel things.

“I don’t go on the internet, much,” You tell him. “Too busy, you know, trying not to get killed.”

Loki shrugs. Sidles away from the file. The groan and squeak of those springs tells you he’s back on the bed, giving you some well-needed space, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

“You can sleep,” He says, “If you want.”

“Ha!” You yelp/choke/embarrassingly bleat out into the room’s stale silence. Underneath the rotten eggs, you catch a whiff of bong-water. “No.”

“There’s a bed,” Loki says, cocking his head pointedly and patting the lumpy covers.

“Yeah, that’s - kind of the problem.”

“Why?” He asks you.

“You - really?”

“I was only asking,” Says Loki, re-focusing his attention on whichever Pink Cobra document’s next in the folder. “If you aren’t comfortable telling me - I merely thought, seeing as you were tired, you might take this opportunity to rest.”

“Yeah,” You tell him, “Of course, that’s - nice of you.”

It comes out stilted. Patently off. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

“Are you going to - um. Do you need help, with the rest? The ones I have seem kind of hopeless. I mean,” You say, when he doesn’t look up, “I don’t think that we have to worry about getting demolished by trans-dimensional Agarthian wormholes.”

“Of course not,”” Loki says, scoffing and incredulous, gaze, you are sure, on his page. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d send someone with a gun.”

In reality, it’s several someones.

***

“You jinxed it,” Is the first thing you tell him, when the men leave you. They’ve thrown you into a one-room warehouse, rickety shelves stacked with cartoonish tubs of green goop and mildewing boxes filled with grenades and machine guns and what appears, at second-glance, to be twelve-fingered latex gloves. You’re tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and your throat feels uncharacteristically parched. Fear, you tell yourself. Apprehension. “Can’t you just - use your seidr to magic us out of this?”

If you could see him - which you can’t, because you’ve been tied back to back - you’d swear that Loki was glaring.

“Do you - do you have a plan?” You ask, after a moment.

“I’m working on it,” He says.

“That’s all?” You say. “We were dragged out of our drug-dealer’s hotel room by a bunch of robed men with guns and the only thing you have to say is ‘I’m working on it?’”

“I’d get it done faster,” Says Loki, “If you wouldn’t interrupt me.”

“Ok,” You tell him, “No interrupting you. Got it. That’s - Alright.”

Unfortunately, not interrupting him is easier said than done, because without the sound of your voice, you are left to your thoughts.

The men had broken in nearly immediately after Loki’s glib, sardonic retort to your worries, shooting the glass out of the room’s already half-smashed-in window and kicking the door in simultaneously. A bit much, isn’t it?, Loki’d asked, and you had wanted to smack yourself on the forehead. Really not the time, you had hissed, but Loki hadn’t seemed to hear you. Do you do this with everyone they send you to assassinate?, he had asked, instead. The men had been dressed in long, billowing cloaks of bright red, embroidered with orange snakes framing a picture of Beaker from the muppets with early 2000’s emo hair. Chaotic meme agents, you had thought to yourself. So that’s what they’re supposed to look like.

You hadn’t picked up, until now, on the snakes.

“They’re working together,” You say, when you can’t stand the playback of Loki being disarmed after spinning and tossing his silver daggers at the men, of the men kneeing him in the balls and twisting your arms behind your back, holding a gun to your head to stop you from trying to fight. Waking up in the back of a van that smelled like microwaved fish. Being tossed like garbage onto the floor of the warehouse, painted in bruises and cuts from the small pieces of glass that had dug their way into your skin. “The IPP and the Pink Cobra.”

“Obviously,” Loki says. Sharply.

“Did Tony not -“

“Stark,” Loki practically growls, and, ok, you’re not losing it but that did make you jump in your skin, “Is an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to connect the dots if they were presented to him in a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode.”

“That’s - You had that on Asgard?” You ask him, momentarily distracted. You wish that you could see Loki’s face, and are very glad that you can’t.

“That isn’t the point,” Loki says.

“I know,” You tell him. You’re scared that your voice is trembling. Scared that he can tell, even though he’s not facing you, how badly your fingers are shaking. Scared that he knows your worst, biggest secret -

That, despite being an Avenger, you are anxious. That, despite him being Loki, despite him being here, and wonderfully, infuriatingly himself, he cannot help you, this time.

You are going to die, covered in cuts and abrasions, on the floor of a meme network’s headquarters, at three a.m in the morning. They are going to come in with umbrellas that shoot poison darts or the ex-presidents Point Break masks and mow you down, and Loki has no fucking plan. You feel the ropes tighten where they’re knotted, itchy and fierce, and you have to fight to keep yourself from whining in terror and nerves. Whining isn’t what Loki needs right now. Whining’s not going to save you.

What is going to save you, you try and remind yourself, is Loki. If you can shut up. If you can let him decipher what needs to be done. If he can figure out some way to do it before the blowtorch-wielding robed vigilantes or some disincarnate meme god comes back and draws their electronically-sharpened fingernails across your throat hard enough to split skin and sinew, send waves of blood down the front of your shirt like a river of sweet, thick red honey and toss your corpse in a ditch by a highway and -

“Y/N?” It is foggy, barely-heard. Posh. “Y/N!” Louder, this time. There are fingers on your wrist, bent backwards to grip you. Squeezing, insistent and there. “Breathe.”

Fuck, you think. You’d started to hyperventilate. To shake, with a full-body tremor that forecasts a great, unstoppable wave of sobbing panic. And Loki had noticed. “I need you to trust me,” He says. “Trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that for me, darling?”

He has never called you darling before, but God how you’ve wanted him to. You feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart - because there is no way he means it, no way that this is anything other than a desperate and cruel attempt to get you to calm down. Something that belies how obvious you are. How needy you are. How pathetic. And yet -

And yet, he doesn’t say it meanly. He speaks like he cares about you, and in the face of your impending death, you want to think Loki cares. You’d let him say anything, do anything to you, right now. More than that, though, more than any of that - as you think back to meeting him, to your blossoming late-night friendship and twitchy banter and the quiet moments you’ve shared with him in-between battles -

“I trust you, Loki,” You tell him, and feel your breath quiet in you. Feel yourself growing still and calm with the certainty that Loki will do as he’s said.

That you will survive this.

That -

“Good,” Loki says. Not relieved, but determined. Leaving you no room to argue.

“So what do we do?” You ask him.

“Nothing,” Says Loki, and you can hear his wide grin.

“Nothing?” You ask him, gawking.

“Nothing,” Says Loki. He gives your hand a tight squeeze.

And then the Pink Cobra walks in.

***

This will end badly, you think. It’s about the only thing that you can think, preoccupied as you are with -

It might be easier not to -

Fuck.

The thing is - and you really do try not to move, not to groan, not to scream - the thing is, you thought that when Loki said he had a plan, that said plan wouldn’t involve you being collateral damage for a LARP-er who’d most likely broken out of an asylum. I wish that we could be back in that shitty one-bed hotel room, you think to yourself, and - alright, not the best timing, but it rips a laugh out of you, spiraling and unhinged, before you feel the Pink Cobra, resplendent in coral cloak and villainous swagger, slug you one in the jaw. It hurts worse than you’d thought it would - you’ve never really gotten injured on missions, you’re usually good at talking yourself out of things, which is why the Avengers keep you around. You can speak any language, as long as you’ve heard it once, and your customary daily awkwardness can shift into persuasion like flicking a light-switch on.

Usually, though, you had an opportunity to speak, and weren’t rendered speechless by -

Loki, if you’re being honest. How much you want to kiss him. How much of an asshole he is. Trust me, he’d asked you. Can you do that for me? The Pink Cobra’s grip is sharp and bruising on your side; he’s slipped his fingers up your shirt and is pressing the point on your side that threatens to make your knees buckle, making bile rise up in your throat, driving you wild with the aching need to flee. He has one hand clasped over your mouth, now that you’ve quieted, and you can feel something - pain, and a pill - pressed snugly into his palm. He will force it down you, you know, if Loki so much as sighs wrong.

You’ll never trust him again.

You wish that you knew what the time was. If you end up dying at 4:20, you’re going to throw fists with somebody in hell.

You wish, also, for aspirin. Avengers training has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of getting punched in the face. You can already feel your jaw starting to swell, taste an egregious amount of blood. You’re pretty sure that the force of the blow knocked a tooth out.

What strikes fear into you, though - a fear somehow deeper than the absolutely bone-chilling, blood-curdling knowledge of what the Pink Cobra might do to you - is the look you’d seen on Loki’s face in the seconds after he’d grabbed you, before it fell into practiced, amused apathy. He’d gone white, and his eyes had blown wide. His fingers had spasmed with anger.

He’d looked as scared as you feel.

And you have no idea why.

It isn’t like you’re anyone special. Not any more than the rest of the team. Less so than most of them. You aren’t a god, like Loki and Thor are. You don’t have stealth-assassin training, like Bucky, or super-strength like Steve. You can’t seamlessly pilot mechanical suits over the New York skyline like Tony, or use a crossbow like Clint, or beat thirty people in single-hand combat like Nat, or change into a nitro-fueled rage machine like Bruce.

You can’t do anything, much.

Except, apparently, die.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not letting yourself look at him. You won’t let Loki’s disinterested face be the last thing that you see. It makes the Pink Cobra’s words all the worse, when he speaks. His voice is dark and sick and timbered, and you feel maggots crawling over your skin as he slots you closer to his body, tightening his already painful grip on you so that you can’t move even an inch away from his tensed, coiled muscles.

“So,” He says, “You are superheroes? How long did it take me, to apprehend you? Ah - three and a half hours? Tell your boss-man, do better next time.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Loki says. His voice sounds different. You can’t place why. Still won’t look.

“You won’t,” The Pink Cobra says. You can feel his shoulders rise, then fall. Feel him smirk. You love Loki’s smirk - secretly delight in drawing it from him, sometimes - but the Pink Cobra’s only fills you with yet more terror. You’ve pursed your lips tightly shut against the intrusion of his hand, but when Loki speaks he forces your bruised, bleeding jaw open and shoves the pill into your mouth. The pain of your injury tears through you like white lightning and you thrash, trying to escape. A keening sound claws its way out of you, fevered and anguished, and you feel your hands, still bound up in ropes, trying in vain to push off and away. The man behind you sighs, and then aims a swift kick at the back of your knees, which sends you down before you can so much as yelp. Your knees hit the floor, and he’s holding you by your hair now, twisting it so hard that you’re almost sure he’ll scalp you. He’s pulled something - too big to be be a knife, some kind of shortsword?! - Out from beneath his cloak, and is pressing it up against the column of your throat. You feel the weight of the capsule between your teeth heavily now, and realize what it means in the split-second before the Pink Cobra bends and whispers, Your choice; stale and rancid into the shell of your ear.

Next, he addresses Loki.

“You’ll be wanting to know what our plan is,” He says. Our, you think. We were right. “Hmm? I know how you people are. Always wanting to know. Tell me this, Mischief Man. What will I get, if I tell you? What price are you willing to pay?”

You know what this is. You know it like the ache in your heart when Loki brushes you off. Like the safety you feel in his arms. You open your eyes. Take in Loki’s face - he’s trying to hide, but you know, you know how he feels. You know what he’s going to choose.

And you know that you can’t let him choose it.

“You’ll let her go,” Loki asks, “If we let you leave here?”

“The thing could be managed.”

No, you think. No, Loki, don’t! Whatever the Pink Cobra’s going to do, whatever the IPP’s planning, knowing’s worth more than your life.

“One thing I want to know,” Loki says. He’s twirling a knife of his own, a slim silver number he keeps on him at all times, and you feel the blade on your own throat start to dig in - not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. The threat of it. The promise of it, and the coldness of the gleaming metal. “You and the IPP? How does it fit?”

“You want information from me?” The Pink Cobra asks. Lets his blade bite you, just barely, and the strength it takes for you not to scream is more strength then you’d known you possess.

“Yes,” Says Loki. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

He meets your gaze. You meet his. You hope that he cannot read it. His eyes are so worried, so desperate, you nearly break down.

“I suppose,” The Pink Cobra says, “That you’ve earned it. Getting here - getting this far - it must have been no easy task. Fine. There is no Imminently Predictable Psyops organization. They were a - what do you call it? Red herring? A scent of blood for the shark.”

“You fabricated them,” Loki says. “Why would you fabricate them?”

He is losing his composure, you can tell. You will never be ready for this. He will never be ready for this. You hope that he will forgive you, and you know that he never will, and you swallow the pill in your mouth.

“Because it was fun,” The Pink Cobra says.

And then your body knows pain.

***

“He didn’t think I would do it,” You say. Your mouth feels thick, clotted with blood and shock, and your body is one raw, gaping wound, but the giddy feeling of victory has begun to course through your veins. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. You had waited for the moment of death to come, and it hadn’t. The pill is fake, your mind had screamed. But there’d been one thing left, that might work. You had breathed as slowly as you possibly could, forced every muscle of your scared, writhing body into single-minded limpness, rolled your eyes backwards into your head, drew one last breath in, and fallen. Twitched, for a few seconds, like a rag-doll. Then made yourself still.

Loki had slit the Pink Cobra ear to ear, beaten him within an inch of his life as he bled out, screaming like a man deranged. He’d left him a wet, bloody mess on the floor, and the blood had run down the not-quite-steady plane of it, pooling around you and mixing with the blood from your jaw, from the evening’s earlier glass cuts, from the deep, burning stab wound the Cobra had got on your arm.

You breathe, and your body knows pain.

You look at Loki, and your body knows pain.

He is shaking. Visibly shaking. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he looks as pale as bleached bones. His eyes are shot red - he had sobbed, when you fell, and a howl had torn through his body. You don’t know what to do, what it means, what the hell even to say to him. His cheeks are tear-stained, his breaths ragged.

You blink, and your body feels pain.

“We won,” You croak out. “Loki, we won.” It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. “I think he broke one of my ribs.”

You don’t mean to say that last part, but you do, and you are the one crying now, because it feels like he probably has, and you can barely even stay awake through this pain. It feels like the Hulk is pulling you limb from limb. Like all of those nightmares you’ve had where Loki decided to leave you - to go back to Asgard, and never speak to you again.

Stupid, you think. He won’t, again. Not after this.

Loki still hasn’t spoken. He’s looking at you, and his eyes are wild. Desperately, jaggedly roaming your body. His fists twitch with every new part of your body they land on.

“That bad, huh - Oh, fuck.”

And just like that, the tension leaves Loki’s body. The dam that had held him firmly in place is broken, and he’s running towards you with none of his usual grace. Dropping down by your side. He hoists you, and you hiss, and the tears won’t stop coming, so you bury your face in his shirt, nose pressed at the crisply ironed collar. Don’t care that it’s bleeding, because Loki’s here now. Holding you. Keeping you real. He’s got one hand stroking your hair and his touch feels right, nothing like the Pink Cobra’s, and he’s whispering: You brave, precious, idiot, how dare you, how dare you throw your life away like that?!

“It worked,” You exhale - it’s the most you can manage. You would laugh, if it wouldn’t shred you to pieces. Loki cradles you fiercely, hands grasping at the sweat-and-blood soaked fabric of your shirt, running over you as if he doesn’t believe you’re alive. “It - hurts,” You get out. Barely. “Loki, it - I can’t -“

“Don’t,” He tells you. His voice has gone brittle, choked with thorns. “Don’t talk. Don’t - Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me? You will never do that again.”

If I need to, I will, you think. And you wonder if that’s why you’re here. Wonder if that’s why you’re strong. You wonder, and hurt, and believe. Feel the strength of him, clutching you like you’re the only thing in the world, taking in greedy lungfuls of your weeping, your need for his touch.

You can’t talk, anymore. It hurts too badly. But you surge, upwards, up into where he’s holding the back of your head, pressing your forehead into the dark, warm space under his jaw that smells like smoke and peppermint. Loki is taller than you are - you fit right into the curve of his neck, and his long curls curtain you in a bubble of warmth and content.

“Promise,” You say, but it comes out unintelligible, and Loki’s hands are running, so gently, over your skin.

“What was your plan?” You ask him, forcing it out of your body.

“Hush,” Loki says, “Later.”

There might not be any later, you think. Not like this.

***

In the hotel room, an ocean of scattered pages and ceiling mold and blessed privacy, you balance, cross-legged, on the bed. The wind blows wet and cold from an earlier rain through the busted out window. You have managed this out of sheer stubborn-ness, because it is the most that Loki allowed you to do. You’d passed out, twice, on the journey back - he had magicked you there, though it had taken a considerable amount of effort that you weren’t sure you really deserved - and had immediately propped you up on the pillows and stooped to ruffle through his suitcase, emerging not long after with binding tape, cat-gut thread, and a needle so sharp you could feel it slicing your flesh. You had opened your mouth to protest, but Loki had silenced you with a glare that could fell Director Fury. So you had gone quiet, and caved, letting him kneel over you on the distinctly lumpy mattress and begin inspecting your wounds. It had taken a few tries and a Please to convince him to let you sit on your own, and it hurt much more than the manner in which he’d arranged you. You were starting to, slightly, regret it.

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, pulling it from bleeding lips. He shushes you with a harsh, stern tut. “You’re not my mother,” You tell him.

“You could have died,” Loki says. There’s a snarling undercurrent to it that you can’t even start dissecting. “What were you thinking?” He asks. It is easier, though still painful, for you to answer him - he had used nearly half of his Thor-limited magic reserve to perform a basic stasis spell on your injuries, but the spell wouldn’t last forever. You’ll need stitches, he’d said, choking it out like he was the hurt one when he’d seen the number the Cobra’s blade had done to your arm.

“I’ve had worse,” You say, grinning weakly.

“Are you lying to me?” He asks you, with the tone of someone who’s distinctly not in the mood for joking.

“I thought,” You say. Steel yourself. “I thought you weren’t going to do what needed to be done. So I - Did it myself.”

“What needed to be done.” Loki says, enunciating every word.

“We couldn’t let him walk away,” You say, meeting his eyes. Emerald, clouded with fury. You don’t let yourself flinch from that anger. You don’t let yourself run from your choice. “You know what he would have done.”

“I don’t,” Loki says. “I know nothing. I know - I know that you think that your life means so little I wouldn’t care if you were gone. That I could - Live, without you.”

That’s… different.

“And I know,” Loki continues, “That I told you to trust me, and I meant it.”

“I do,” You say. There is no hesitation. “I trust you - Loki. Of course I trust you. It’s not - it wasn’t -“

“Stop talking,” He snaps. Gentles, when you jerk your head away, blink back a fresh wave of tears. “You need rest,” He says. “And - This is. This is going to hurt.”

You nod.

“Best get it over with, then.”

“You should keep your eyes closed,” He says.

“No! I want - I need to look.” You bring your eyes up to your arm, which he’s settled onto bed’s chewed, scratchy quilt without you realizing, but Loki tilts your head up with a barely-there graze of his fingers, achingly gentle to avoid aggravating your swollen jaw. He holds your gaze for a long time. Doesn’t look mad, anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asks you. Like all of this could be over with, if you wanted.

“How bad it could it be?” You ask back.

The injury is horrendous. You’d thought - honest-to-God, you’d thought the pain was terrible, but you weren’t ready for what your arm has become. The line of the wound runs in a craggy jigsaw from just under your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Small wonder you can’t move it, can barely think through it at all.

“Y/N?” Loki asks, “Are you -“

“Fine,” You say. Blink, and your body knows pain. Try not to let how scared you are show, when you look back up at Loki. The Pink Cobra’s dead. You shouldn’t be scared, anymore. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Loki sighs. Long and low and sad.

“Will I have to - “

“Bite,” Loki says, and shoves something - the sleeve of his shirt, crusted in blood which you realize, sickeningly, is yours - into your mouth. “It’ll help.”

It doesn’t, but he holds your hand through it, hushing you through the pain with furrowed eyebrows, thread and needle flying deftly through skin, air, skin again. His fingers move precisely, deliberate, quick, and when, on one stitch, you audibly whimper, he pauses to lean down and press a soft, utterly unexpected kiss to your hairline. You are unable to fully express how much it means to you, so you do the next best thing and kiss him yourself, pressing him back once he’s finished the last of his stitches and breathing all the the words you can’t say into him. You press every fear and gratitude and lingering nerve into the warmth of his lips, wending your fingers through his dark hair despite the pangs of agony still thrumming through every inch of your body. Your face hurts, but the kiss is all you’ve ever needed and more, and Loki is so, so gentle with you, pulling away with creased eyebrows and a look of genuine concern.

“I wanted to,” You tell him, mustering all of your strength. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Stop,” He tells you, voice cracking, “Stop lying.”

“I’m not,” You say. “I wanted to, Loki, I did.”

“And you wanted to -“

“No.” You are vehement about it, for a broken-ribbed, broken-jawed, freshly-stitched person coming off the high of his teeth and his tongue. “Not that, I swear, never that.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Loki asks. He has steepled his fingers under his chin, and his narrowed eyes pierce through you to the soul. You couldn’t lie to this man, you think, if your life depended on it.

You know that you have to tell him, this time. Really tell him. You don’t.

“”Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“You know why,” He says, and you do. You’d remembered it as the white pill turned to white powder in your gums, as the Pink Cobra’s knife had carved its way into your flesh. Thor had put a set limit on it, as condition of Loki’s release - Proof, he had said, We can trust you. Loki had thought to save it for later, that you wouldn’t need him right then. He had thought you’d talk them out, to safety.

You’d failed him.

“You didn’t,” He tells you, voice raw. He goes to grip your chin, to force you to listen to him, but with a glance and ill-concealed wince at your purpled jaw he thinks better of it. “You think that you failed me? You let yourself be - be beaten and stabbed - just so people you’ve never met in your life wouldn’t die, and you call that a failure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Bites back a snarl. Drops your arm. “I need you to listen to me,” Loki says, “Very, very carefully. You’re going to tell me why now, love. And then we’re going to fix it.”

You raise an eyebrow. Worse than he does, you’re aware.

“Sleep,” He amends, with a pointed look at the bed underneath you, “And then we’re going to fix it.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, “And I feel like I just got run over by a truck.”

Loki huffs, a puff of warm air that you feel, from how close he still is. A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. It sets off sparks inside you.

“I thought -“ You say. Shake your head, and restart. “You would have let the Pink Cobra attack. You would have let him just walk away, and I couldn’t just - let that happen.”

“Enlightening.”

“No,” You tell him, “I mean it. I couldn’t - I’m not - I’m not worth more than anyone else. We’re the Avengers. It’s our job to save people, Loki.”

He’s regarding you carefully, eyes still narrowed, all vestiges of softness gone from his face. When he opens his mouth, it’s to close it. Form thoughts. Discard them. Exhale.

“My mother once told me,” He finally says, “That I would never know what it meant to be human until I found the person who made me want to bleed the world dry. Take all of its’ suffering, all of its’ cruelty, and leech it out of the very fabric of time, just to keep that person from anguish, from harm.”

“I don’t -“

He holds a hand up. You still.

“She never said they would infuriate me,” Loki says. “She never said they would make me laugh, or smile, or question my sanity on a regular basis. She never said that they’d try and get themselves killed, and that I’d have to watch, and that I would feel like my heart was being ripped from my body and torn to a bloody pulp; that I would make the sky rain blood and fire at the sight of it alone. But she was right about one thing - Many things, but also this. She told me that it wouldn’t matter. That I would - love you - anyway.”

“You don’t,” You say, not daring to hope. It’s an automatic retort.

“Foolish girl,” Loki chides, and you blink back fresh, stinging tears. How long have you wanted to hear Loki say that to you? How many sneaky looks have you stolen in the heat of your missions, just to see his smart mind and tricky magic at work? How many nights have you sat up together, sequestered from your insomnia in a bubble of hard-earned banter and peppermint tea, fighting the tight, coiling urge to push aside your steaming mugs and pull him into your needing?

He could not - he can’t - feel the same.

“Loki,” You say, stumbling over the words, “You can’t - This is - This is me we’re talking about.”

“Is there anyone else here,” Loki asks you, “That I could be talking about?” He seems nonchalant, now, as if this - this cruel fucking joke, when you already feel you’re on fire - is merely a fact of his life. “We’re going to leave this excuse of a town, and get you - proper care. Fix it. Because I will not, on my honor, watch you suffer in pain. But first, you’re going to sleep.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, and feel your resolve as it shatters. You cling to the statement like it’s the last remnant of the girl you were and the woman that you’ll never be, “And the shower doesn’t work. And I’m covered in blood.”

But when you look at Loki, his eyes twinkle, mischievous.

“Will you stay with me?,” You ask him, biting your lip.

“You astound me,” He tells you, and rolls his eyes, and it feels - it feels normal. Good. A tender heat unfurls in your heart like orchid petals in the sun, numbing the persistent ache in your ribcage. “To even think that I would do anything else.”

Later, you will ask him why. Why do you love me?, you will ask, and Loki will hum, low in his throat, curled around you just like this first night; your back pressed into his chest, your legs tangled up hopelessly, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns onto your spine in the dawn-light’s syrupy gold. Because, he will tell you, trailing a line of soft kisses up the scar on your arm - an ugly thing, but it functions, mostly, and only ever seems to hurt on the days when he isn’t there - I was given no choice.

But if you’d had one?”, You will ask, and spin around, propping yourself on your elbow.

You tempt me, He’ll tell you, baring his sharp teeth. Shouldn’t you know better than that?

You will lie there, next to each other, not needing a single word. Because you will know. Because he will have told you, a thousand times, a thousand ways, exactly how he feels about you.

Tonight, though, isn’t that night. It takes a moment to get settled in his hold, and the rain spits and drums against what glass remains in your window, slicking the carpet with dark, greasy splotches. It figures, you think, that even the rain in this city has the smell and the texture of oil. You feel like a bag of bones, stretched too thin. But safe, in his arms, in a way that you’ve never felt, before now. Loki is with you, you realize. Wrapped around you like a traveler’s cloak, the comforting weight of a slim, balanced blade at your side in a fight. He is cool, around your afraid. Warm, where his clever fingers whine and needle their way through your skin to your heart.

“I hate you,” You tell him, “You know that?”

Loki laughs, a deep, rumbling purr.

“Go to sleep.”

#picture1000wordswc #pic 4 #loki/reader #female reader #crack #so much crack #just a lot of references to bad memes and cringe movies that turns into all the angst #because for some reason i’m like this #guess which character from another popular franchise i based my crack villain off #soundtrack to this was 800 percent mouth moods #in all seriousness though huge congrats to @startrekkingaroundasgard #you deserve all the love #unfortunately i showed my love by writing insane crack fic but HEY #loki is in it so hopefully that makes up for the c r i n g e

42 notes · View notes