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seita · 4 years

Text

— don’t ask | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟷𝟹𝟻𝟿𝟶

cw: roommate!au, sugar baby!au

tags: heavy pining, arguments, briefly ft.kaminari, rejection, possessiveness, jealousy, crying, dirty talk, pet names, dom!shinsou, fingering, riding, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, praise (?), marking, creampie, angst with a happy ending.

note: this is a thank you for 5k followers! i can’t believe i hit such a milestone in only like a month and a half! i appreciate the love and support everyone has given me and i promise to put out more quality content going forwarad!

— you thought it was strange a guy your age made such good money by seemingly doing nothing. whenever you would question him about his income, he’d grow defensive. once a month, a left the house for a few days; leaving to perform a mysterious job he didn’t want you to know about.

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When you saw the flier for someone looking for a new roommate, you honestly thought it was one big scam. You assumed that the second you set up a meeting, you would be kidnapped and never seen again.

Being a lowly college kid meant you didn’t have your sea legs in the adult world quite yet. Swamped with studies, horrible at managing your time and your stress levels, you were left a constant mess. So, your solution was to stick to studying for the most part and work part-time so the job didn’t take up too much of your time.

Another genius idea you had was the age-old roommate situation. You started out looking for listings online for preferably Musutafu or Tokyo. Alas, you came up with nothing after a handful of weeks and were intending to give up.

However, a stop by the grocery store changed everything. It was a flyer for someone looking for a roommate in an area of Tokyo that you knew to be pretty pricey.

It was close enough to your college campus so you wouldn’t have to worry about a stupid commute. You thought it was too good to be true as you looked at the information stating you wouldn’t even need to pay rent. You’d simply have to split some bills and buy your own groceries.

The idea of not having to shell out hundreds of dollars a month was appealing on its own; you’d definitely be able to save with a living situation like that.

The logical side of you was weary, however. The entire thing could be a ploy to trick some unsuspecting victim, like yourself, into who knows what.

Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to contact the person just in case it wasn’t a trick. No harm in checking, you supposed.

Tugging the flyer down from where it was pinned up on the bulletin board, you folded it up and tucked it away in the front pocket of your purse to take care of when you got home from classes.

All of that led you to meeting one Hitoshi Shinsou. He was a tall, tired looking guy around your age. His most prominent feature was the fluffy mess of purple hair that was atop his head. When you first met him, he fixed you with a cold gaze ― his purple irises burning holes into you. And for a second you were sure that you were right on your hunch and you were never going to return home.

Nothing of consequence happened, naturally, and instead he showed you the bedroom you would be using and handed you a key before sitting down on the couch to watch TV. The whole exchange was unlike anything you expected. When you questioned him he simply told you he’d get everything straight for you and that you could begin to move in whenever.

So you did.

As expected of such an expensive apartment, the room you were given was great. It was roomy and nothing like you assumed you would wind up with. Most college students wind up with a shitty roommate, a one-bedroom apartment, and instant ramen for dinner every night.

Instead you got the chillest roommate known to mankind. Shinsou barely even made a peep. Most of the time you found him relaxing in front of the TV watching murder documentaries. You did learn that the poor guy had insomnia and as a result was up almost every night. Sometimes you would catch him snoozing on the couch but that rarely lasted more than 2 or 3 hours before he was up and about once again.

You did learn that the man was a lousy cook so he mostly lived on instant ramen before you moved in. Luckily for him, you enjoyed cooking and decided to be the one to make meals for the two of you. To say Shinsou was appreciative was an understatement.

Simply put, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

And so bloomed an easy friendship with him. Shinsou made it easy to befriend, although he was a quiet guy he was funny and charismatic; the type of guy who probably had a lot of friends.

You lived there for about a month when you noticed the first weird disappearance.

You had been laying in bed, eyes closed as you slowly began to drift off to the white noise of your overhead fan.

What lulled you from your daze was the beep of the alarm at the front door. Sitting up, you listened carefully only to hear a couple beeps and the click of the door shutting.

Frowning, you got out of the bed and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to shield yourself from the chilled apartment air. Your footsteps were silent as you padded your way to the entryway. You immediately noticed that Shinsou’s shoes were gone from where they should have been sitting beside the front door.

You checked his bedroom to find that he was, indeed, not there. You simply assumed he had gone for a walk or to a convenience store or something since he couldn’t sleep and went back to bed. That was certainly not something uncommon for the insomniac you called a roommate.

When you got up in the morning, however, you noticed he was still gone.

You wandered into the kitchen, intending to open the fridge to start something for breakfast only to find a cute cat-themed sticky note plastered to the front of it. Written in your roommates sloppy handwriting was “I won’t be home for a few days.”

Short and to the point but still causing questions to arise in response.

You had no choice but to carry on. You could text him and question him but you had a feeling you wouldn’t actually get any information.

Two days was how long he was gone for. He turned on the second night, looking as tired as usual.

“I’m home,” he called with a heavy sigh, kicking his shoes off before dropping the heavy duffle bag he carried to the floor.

“Hey,” you greeted over the back of the couch, “I uh...made dinner but I didn’t make any for you. I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“It’s fine, I already ate anyway,” he hummed, dropping his full weight onto the empty cushion beside you. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

You eyed him and decided to simply not ask about the hickey on his pale skin.

The time ticked past midnight and you stood up, yawning as you stretched, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, finally stealing the remote from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey…” you paused at the entrance to the hallway, deciding to chance it, “Where did you go anyway?”

“...To work,” he replied, simply.

His tone held a sense of finality to it, leaving no room for you to inquire exactly what that meant. So, with a final bid, you went to your bedroom.

It was almost like deja vu, laying in bed as you fell asleep only to hear the beeping of that alarm. You sat up and climbed out of bed, intending to catch Shinsou before he was gone but as you reached the living room, you heard the front door click shut and he was gone.

Sighing, you wandered to the kitchen to find another note like you’d seen last time stuck to the fridge.

As you glanced at the calendar on the wall, you realized it was almost exactly a month since the last time he did this ― you remembered because he left on the 23rd and it was currently the 22nd. You could practically feel the dots forming but you had absolutely no way of connecting them.

Deciding to retire to bed, you attempted to sleep but found yourself thinking of Shinsou.

Two months in a row he vanished around the same time, in the middle of the night leaving only a note. Now that you thought about it, he didn’t seem to have a job ― he only said his disappearance was part of his job. But he came back with a hickey.

Sighing, you rolled over and attempted to fall asleep.

Two days later, he came home.

“I’m back,” he grumbled.

Immediately, you noted the aggravated tone to his voice. Sitting up from where you were sprawled out on the couch, you eyed him. Instead of just dropping his duffle bag like he had last time, he took it straight to the laundry room.

As he disappeared into the kitchen, you got up and followed him. He was squatting on the floor, rummaging through the bag as he tossed out pieces of clothing. You leaned on the door jam with your arms folded on your chest. Whether or not he knew you were there, you didn’t know.

“There’s some dinner left for you,” you said softly, watching him pause and look over his shoulder at you.

“I already ate,” he replied, voice cold.

You frowned, standing up straight, “Alright, well…” you sighed, “I’ll wrap it up and put it in the fridge in case you get hungry tonight.”

He didn’t reply but you kept watching him. He moved to fully sit on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him with a grunt. You noticed that he was separating the clothes into two piles. Closer inspection brought your attention to the price tags attached to the clothes in one pile.

You found yourself wondering where he got those clothes from but you decided not to ask. He seemed to be in a rather sour mood.

He left the new clothes on the floor and dumped the others into the washing machine. With quick efficiency, he started the cycle and stuffed the remaining clothes back into his bag.

You backed up to allow him to leave the laundry room. His shoulders were stiff and his posture was tense. It was a complete 180 from how you usually saw him.

“You um...you alright?” you finally asked when he sat down on the couch.

He barely spared you a glance before propping his feet up on the coffee table, turning the TV on. Realizing you weren’t getting a response, you attempted to brush off the brief anger that flashed through you and instead went to the kitchen to clean everything up.

You didn’t know why he was being so rude to you ― it’s not like you did anything to him. Deciding to just head to your bedroom to study, you shut off the kitchen light and skirted behind the couch to avoid getting in his way of the TV.

He didn’t say a word as you disappeared down the hallway.

As opposed to last time, his ‘work’ seemed to have not gone too well this time around. At least the last time, he was just tired and feeling lazy.

You could still hear the TV going when you put all your stuff away and crawled into bed.

The next morning, you awoke with a sigh. Sitting up, you stretched until you felt your joints pop.

As you wandered out of your bedroom, you heard the shower going, indicating Shinsou was still around. Not that you were expecting any different.

You fixed a quick, simple breakfast for you and Shinsou, hearing the shower turn off as you finished. Wiping your washed hands on your pants, you made your way to the bathroom.

You only got to knock on the door once before it was yanked open. Suddenly, your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

He stood there, his usual fluffy hair flattened and hanging haphazardly around his face. He wore his usual bored expression despite the fact he was standing there, dripping wet with only a towel around his waist. Immediately, you got a whiff of his body wash and shampoo, making you swallow thickly.

Fuck, he smelled really good. You always thought so, when he sat on the couch beside you, you could always smell that delicious, musky scent of his body wash mixed with the spice of his cologne. But freshly washed with it, you were nearly salivating at the smell.

“Um…” you swallowed thickly, tearing your gaze away from the well built muscles under those baggy clothes he always wore, “B-Breakfast is ready…”

“Okay,” he mumbled, moving to skirt around you.

You sighed, assuming he was still in a shit mood again. Running a hand through your hair, you shook the delectable sight of him fresh out of the shower from your mind. As you went to go back to the kitchen, a large hand grappled around your wrist.

“Hey,” he mumbled. You looked over your shoulder to see him nervously rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you’d seen numerous times before, “I’m sorry...about yesterday.”

“Huh?” you raised a brow, trying to ignore how big his hand was around your wrist.

“I was in a shit mood and I took it out on you,” he explained, “So I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you relaxed slightly and smiled, realizing he was actually in a decent mood today, “It’s okay.”

He gave you his own relieved smile, making your heart lurch in your chest at the sight. It was rare to see any other expression beyond that tired, bored look he always wore. Finally releasing his hold on your wrist, he spoke again, “Let me get dressed and I’ll come eat.”

“Alright,” you nodded, biting your lip as he turned his back to you. As he walked you could see the way the muscles flexed under the skin.

When he finally vanished through his bedroom door, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Shaking your head you moved back to the kitchen intending to stuff your face to forget about how hot Hitoshi Shinsou really was.

Before, you thought he was good looking. Usually dark circles were unbecoming but they looked almost at home on his face. His skin was nearly flawless and looked soft to the touch ― you’d seen the skincare products housed in his cabinet. It was expensive shit too. Seriously, what was the guy's job?

That thought had your mind wandering back to the monthly disappearances.

The chair scraped against the floor as he came back ― wearing a baggy t-shirt and black sweats. He immediately dug in and began to eat.

“So...I have to ask,” he paused, brows coming together in a scowl as you uttered those words.

“Don’t ask,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“I just wanted to ask...if this is a monthly thing. I’ve only been here for 2 so...I just wanted to make sure,” you clarified, watching his shoulder relax. He seemed extremely defensive over any questions related to his ‘job’, you noted.

“Yeah. Once at the end of the month I leave for two days to work,” he answered simply, obviously avoiding giving any more information that you could feed off of.

He was smart at least.

The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the two of you were sitting on the couch watching TV. He had some documentary on but truthfully you weren’t paying a whole lot of attention to it.

For some reason, your mind kept bringing you back to the sight that morning of Shinsou. As you looked at him sitting beside you, arm tossed casually over the back of the couch as he slouched with his legs spread, you found yourself admiring him.

He had a sharp jaw and pretty lips. A look lower, your eyes landed on his hands ― long, pretty fingers with prominent veins beneath the pale skin.

Suddenly, his sharp gaze cut from the TV to you and you found yourself locked in a gaze with him for a split second before you broke away to look at the TV once more. In your peripheral, you swear you saw a smirk crossing his face.

But he didn’t comment and for that, you were thankful.

You bid him goodnight and as usual, he stayed up. You began to wonder if the man even tried to sleep anymore.

You stepped into the bathroom, warning your roommate that you were taking a shower. He shouted back a simple ‘okay’ before you shut the door.

You stepped under the stream of water after stripping, the steam of the hot water filling the bathroom and relaxing your muscles. You tipped your head back to wet your hair, humming to yourself.

You eyed Shinsou’s body wash sitting in the purple caddy handing on a hook on the wall. It brought you back to how nice he smelled when he was close to you. When you could feel his body warmth radiating off of him. You would look at him, his shoulders broad and his body warm and inviting. It was nearly impossible to resist the urge to cuddle yourself into his chest.

You wondered what it would be like to lay against him, his arms wrapped around you as he softly stroked your skin. Maybe he would press a soft kiss to your forehead ― the idea alone made you melt.

Realizing you had lost yourself in thought, you hurried to finish your shower and get to bed.

You fell asleep with Shinsou on your mind that night.

Shinsou’s third monthly work time finally rolled around once again. This time, you stayed up late so Shinsou had no choice but the interact before he left. You were hoping to maybe get more hints about what it is he did.

He shut his bedroom door, hoisting his duffle bag over his shoulder with a grunt. You were surprised to see him in actual clothes ― rather nice ones as well.

His jeans fit him perfectly and the button down shirt he wore was tucked in, showing off his lean figure. The belt buckle on his jeans indicated it was name brand and you found yourself wondering how much his job even paid.

“I’ll be home same as usual,” he mumbled, bending down to slide his shoes on at the door. He looked so good doing just a simple task and you found your heart racing in your chest. His shoulders were accented so well by his shirt. The sleeves were rolled up halfway on his forearms and there was an expensive looking watch on one of his wrists.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he opened the door ― suddenly finding that you didn’t want him to leave.

“Um…” you called, making him pause in the open door, looking over his shoulder with a brow raised in question, “You...uh…” you struggled to find something to say but he waited patiently for you to form your next words, “Have a nice time...come home soon.”

Your heart thudded painfully as you watched his gaze soften, a smile forming on his lips as he nodded, “I’ll see you later, ______.”

Your ears were ringing as he shut the door, the sound of your name coming from his lips echoing in your head. You sunk down onto the couch, hand on your chest as you came to a startling realization.

You had a crush on your roommate.

Living with Shinsou after coming to terms that you had a crush on him was...difficult to say the least. Simple things he did that you used to pay no mind to, you now found yourself getting jittery at the sight.

Like the way he rubbed his eyes with a fist when he woke up from a nap on the couch, a sound you could only describe as a whine coming from his throat as he sat up.

The day your kitchen sink stopped working and he had to fix it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. He was leaning beneath the sink, in the cabinet on his back as he fiddled with some tools on the pipes. His white t-shirt became see-through as he sweat from the hard work, his biceps flexing with every movement he made. His shirt rode up a bit over his stomach, exposing his abs that moved and rippled with every movement. His sweats were riding low on his hips, exposing that delicious v-line and happy trail that vanished beneath the band.

The worst part was the way you could see everything in those gray sweatpants he wore. You were pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

You had to leave the room and hide in your bedroom with the window open until he finally finished fixing it.

You definitely didn’t let your hand slide down your panties to the mental image of him that night.

Despite living together for nearly four months, you knew close to nothing personal about Shinsou. Putting aside his weird, shady two-day job once a month, you didn’t have anything else to go off of on who he was.

He was a quiet guy who liked documentaries, video games, and had insomnia. He really loved to eat breakfast foods and cats. Although you hadn’t been in his room even once, only had a couple peeks inside, you knew he owned some cat-themed stationary at the very least.

Despite his cold appearance, he was actually quite kindhearted and gentle but seemed to have no desire to show it unless necessary. One time, you cut your finger while cooking and you swear you’d never seen him run faster to get a bandaid from the bathroom ― one with a cat on it, no less.

You still remember the feeling of his hand holding yours and how close his face was as he inspected the cut. You could have leaned in and kissed him so easily then.

And god was that tempting.

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the glass you were holding in your hand slipped free until it shattered in a million pieces across the linoleum floor. You gasped, startled as you looked around for a way to escape but a single step in an area you thought was clear brought a cry from your lips as you stepped on the tiny shards.

You heard a loud thump from the living room where he had been playing a video game before the thundering footsteps raced into the kitchen. Shinsou’s eyes were wide, like he was terrified of what he would find.

“Don’t move,” he snapped, noting the way you leaned against the counter to take your injured foot off of the ground. He opened the storage cabinet and pulled out the broom and dust pan.

It took only a few minutes for him to clean it up enough to get to you safely on his own bare feet. Instead of you limping your way to the living room however, you found yourself swept off your feet.

Your heart raced so hard, you could hear it pounding in your ears. You were cradled against his chest, so warm and firm with his strong arms beneath your knees and shoulders. His heavenly scent surrounded you ― more intense than you’d even smelt it before. As you finally got a close look, you took notice of how his long lashes framed his pretty eyes.

All too soon, you were placed on the couch and he was disappearing down the hall with quick efficiency. You were still stunned from being in his arms that you barely noticed he had returned until he was on his knees in front of you.

Immediately, your cheeks bloomed hot with a blush. The image of him on his knees like that immediately sent your mind to a wicked place.

Luckily your dirty mind was stopped in its tracks when he began pulling glass from your foot.

You gasped in pain, attempting to pull away on reflex but he held strong, sharp gaze burning holes into you.

“Sit still,” he growled, sending a shiver down your spine.

His voice was so low, so commanding that you found yourself immediately doing what he said. You always were weak to a dominant man.

Soon enough, your foot was cleaned and he deemed that the bleeding had stopped.

“It’ll probably hurt like hell for a little while when you walk on it,” he warned, packing the first aid away.

“Thanks Hitoshi,” you smiled, earning a soft nod of acknowledgement from the man.

The memory of being in his arms, even for that brief moment, was imprinted in your mind. As you laid in bed, you thought about it. It made your stomach flutter in excitement as you fell asleep.

The fourth monthly job for Shinsou came and unfortunately, you missed him leaving. You had stayed up studying and as a result fell asleep earlier than usual. When you woke up he was already gone and you were left with a painful throb in your heart.

You missed him.

As you lazed on the couch, you found your mind wandering to him again. Like always. It was like your mind was cursed.

You wondered if he thought about you at all. The idea made you feel giddy and you had to bite back a smile. You felt like a silly schoolgirl with your crush ― the way he made your stomach flutter, your heart race, and your cheeks burn was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t like you could confess, he hadn’t given much of a hint that he even thought of you as a friend. Plus, you weren’t sure if you were willing to give up the killer apartment and perfect roommate gig you currently had with a foolish confession.

You heaved a sigh, sitting up with a new idea in mind.

A way that you could learn more about him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the...most noble means.

Standing outside his bedroom door, you bit your lip. It felt wrong to go into his room without permission. It wasn’t like he went into your room ― as far as you knew, who knows what he did while you were at school or working.

The metal doorknob was cold in your palm as you turned it and pushed it open with a soft click.

You’d seen his room in quick glances before when he opened it but you’d never gotten to fully inspect it. He had a large bed that took up the most space in his room. Situated on a dresser at the end of the bed was a TV, a Playstation set up beside it. Against the opposite wall was a desk with a gaming computer setup and a red and black gaming chair pushed in neatly.

There were a few articles of clothing littering the floor around his laundry basket and his closet was partly open to reveal his primarily monochromatic wardrobe choices.

Walking into the bedroom, you immediately got a whiff of his cologne, making you smile at the addictive scent. You took a seat on the edge of his bed, the black comforter incredibly soft beneath your hands.

You leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer, finding nothing too interesting ― a picture of him standing with a smiling boy with crazy green hair, a pink-skinned girl, and a beaming red-haired guy.

You hadn’t really given it much thought ― that he had friends. He didn’t really talk about anyone, in fact you never heard him mention anyone in his life besides his mom a few times. You did note that he texted on his phone quite a lot and sometimes you could hear him laughing and cursing from his bedroom as he played a video game. You wondered what his friends' names were, what they were like ― what it was like to be friends with Shinsou.

What you wouldn’t give to be someone...important in his life.

Sighing, you closed the drawer and moved to his dresser. Your own thoughts caused your heart to ache and you tried to brush it off by looking through the drawers for something interesting.

Fortunately, you got what you wished for.

The last drawer to the right contained a little black metal box buried beneath some clothes. You pulled it out and took a seat on the floor, pressing the button to open it. It popped open and you gaped at what you saw.

It was filled with money. More money than you’d probably ever seen in your whole life. The bills were wrapped together with rubber bands ― there had to be thousands of dollars in even a single stack. As you pulled out the bundles, you found that there were things located beneath them.

Jewels; all types. Diamond rings, necklaces, bracelets, ruby and emerald gems decorating them. You pulled out a ring and held it up, watching as he gleamed under the light.

You tucked everything back inside the box and hid it back the way you found it, shutting the drawer before standing up.

You had no idea what to think as you shut his door once again, moving to your own room. How could he have all that money hidden away like that? It was certainly shady.

Perhaps it was counterfeit? Or maybe he stole it!

And what about those jewels? Did he steal those too? Why were they hidden instead of sold off somewhere?

You had so many questions and absolutely no answers.

Suddenly you were regretting going snooping in his room.

The fifth month of living with him would have to be where things started to go downhill.

He came home from his weekend away, tired and grumpy, just wanting a relaxing shower. However, you hadn’t realized he was home so in your tired, sleep-filled daze you stumbled to the bathroom with the urgent need to pee.

You pushed the bathroom door open and halted in your tracks, heart stopping in your chest at the sight of shirtless Shinsou.

He had his back to you, displaying the angry red scratch marks that raked down the pale skin of his back, making them stand out even more. He realized you were there and spun around, eyes narrowed in a glare. With his chest in view, you could see all the hickeys and bites that trailed down his body, disappearing in the hem of his jeans that he had yet to shed.

“Get the hell out,” he snapped, ripping the door from your hand before slamming in shut in your face.

You stared at the wood for several, long seconds, stunned. You heard the shower start and snapped out of your daze. Forgetting your once desperate need to pee, you trudged back to your bedroom and quietly shut the door.

You weren’t a fool ― you knew exactly what those marks meant. You crawled under the covers and found yourself wondering what kind of woman got Hitoshi Shinsou’s attention enough to get him into bed.

And what did she have that you didn’t?

Truth be told, you couldn’t even imagine him as the type to sleep around. He wasn’t exactly sociable and he rarely seemed to go out of his way to interact even with his friends.

You could hear the shower turn off and you were suddenly reminded of the way he slammed the door in your face ― the ache from realizing he’d been with someone else only exacerbated by the knife of his shouting at you.

You closed your eyes and attempted to sleep, ignoring the sting behind your eyes.

The next morning, you found yourself not wanting to get out of bed. You could hear Shinsou shuffling around the house, doing god knows what. You heard him walk down the hallway, heart freezing as he stopped in front of your bedroom door.

You closed your eyes, willing him to go away.

Luck was not on your side, however, as he knocked thrice on your door. It was loud enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to feign sleeping through it.

You sighed and crawled out of bed and trudged over to the door, pulling it open just a bit to get a look at him.

He had his head down, hand clasped around the nape of his neck with his other hand shoved in his pocket. He looked up when he heard the door open, brows drawn together as he gazed at you partially hiding behind the door.

“I uh…” he cleared his throat, “I went out and picked us up some breakfast.”

“Oh…” you shifted on your feet awkwardly, nodding your head, “Thanks...I’ll eat later.”

You were about to close the door, desperate to escape the burning in your eyes as you remembered last night. Before it could close, however, he shoved his hand in the crack. You paused, not wanting to crush his hand in the door. You let him push it open to show more of you ― clad in shorts and an oversized t-shirt that you loved to sleep in. Thankfully the shirt was big enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell you weren’t wearing a bra.

“I have to apologize,” he grunted, meeting your gaze, “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that last night. I was just ticked off…” he trailed off.

You bit your lip, “I uh...I didn’t know you were home...so that’s why I just...walked in…”

He shook his head, “No I understand, really. Y-You just surprised me and I reacted. I really need to stop taking my shit out on you, I’ll work on that, really. I shouldn’t have slammed the door like that either. It was a shit night but it wasn’t your fault you didn’t know I came home.”

“I-It’s alright, Hitoshi, really,” you smiled, though it faltered a bit at the memory of those scratches and hickeys.

“I...hope you’re not hiding away in here because I upset you,” he muttered, making you frown once more.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

He bit his lip, looking away awkwardly, “you’re usually up around 10 and it’s...getting close to noon. You don’t do that normally so...I can only think you were trying to avoid me and that’s the last thing I want. This is your home too and I never want you to feel like you can’t be comfortable here.”

You gaped at him, processing what he was telling you. First, he paid close enough attention to you that he knew what time you got up ― that thought made happiness bloom in your chest and second, that was probably the most you’d heard him say in one sitting.

“It’s okay now, Hitoshi,” you smiled, “let me get dressed and I’ll be out to eat, okay?”

He smiled, making your cheeks burn at the sight as he nodded, turning away from you to move back to the living room. You closed your door and sighed.

It was crazy how just a simple smile from him had your heart fluttering. However, it was quickly halted by the memory that he had someone ― maybe it was a girlfriend. That made your chest ache and you bit your lip to halt those negative feelings as you stripped and changed out of your pajamas.

You had no idea how you were going to get past the painful clench in your chest every time you looked at him now.

Month six rolled around and nothing very interesting happened. Shinsou moved his playstation into the living room so the two of you could play some games together. It was a fun bonding experience and you got to watch the way his eyes would light up whenever he beat you. The sound of his laugh still rang in your ears and you couldn’t help but smile every time you thought back to that pretty smile of his.

It became a weekly thing for the two of you, every Friday night you would sit down on the couch together and play into the early hours of the morning. You got to know more about Shinsou than you had ever before.

Sometimes he would jerk his body and brush against yours, sending goosebumps across your skin. He was always so warm and inviting ― just having him near you sent your poor heart into palpitations.

You almost forgot about what happened the previous month when he came back ― those hickeys and scratches on his back finally having been cast out of your mind.

Your heart did ache when you bid him goodbye the night he left again, wondering if he was going to see her or not.

The seventh month was when that already precariously balanced life came crumbling down all at once.

Shinsou was in the shower as you played on his Playstation, sitting in front of the TV with a frown on your face. You could hear the shower running and in the back of your mind you pictured what he might look like ― water running down his flawless skin, his hands caressing. You felt an almost pitiful clench in your core at the mental image.

Your perversions were cut short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. You paused your game and groaned as you stood up, your knees popping from being sat in the same position for too long. Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and paused.

A woman stood on the other side of the door, a well-fitting black dress and fur coat wrapped around her shoulders. Her ears, neck, and wrists were adorned with sparkling jewelry and you could see the red bottoms of her expensive heels. She wore vibrant red lipstick across pretty, smiling lips as she acknowledged you. However, you could see the cold gleam in her eyes that made the smile all too fake.

“Can I help you?” you asked, leaning against the door jam.

She hummed, tucking some hair behind her ear with perfectly manicured nails, “Is Toshi here?”

“Toshi?” you raised a brow at the nickname, “He’s in the shower. What do you need?”

“Just to talk,” she replied, stepping forward like she wanted to come in. When you didn’t budge she raised a brow, “You don’t mind if I come in, right? I’m sure Toshi would love to see me.”

“Uh…” you didn’t get a chance to reply as she brushed past you, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as she made her way towards the living room, “Sure...come on in…” you whispered sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you shut the door.

You could hear the shower was turned off, indicating Shinsou would be returning in a minute. You looked at the woman as she glanced around the apartment, feeling a sting of jealousy burning within you.

Was she the girl he was dating?

“So...how do you know Hitoshi?” you asked, making her smile.

“I’m his girlfriend, of course!” she beamed, voice far too peppy for your liking.

The words sent an arrow through your heart and you looked away with a hum, ignoring the need to flee to your room and cry into the pillow like a stupid middle schooler.

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Shinsou strolled down the hall, towling his hair as he moved.

Any other time you would have drooled over the sight of a shirtless Shinsou, gym shorts hanging loose on his hips as he walked.

“Uh...Hitoshi…” you mumbled, getting his attention.

He looked up from beneath his towel, meeting your gaze before his eyes moved to the woman beside you. Immediately his eyes went wide and he stood up straight.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, startling you with how aggressive those words came out.

The girl didn’t seem too affected, merely pouting as she spoke, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You have no business being here,” he growled, jerking his head to the door, “Get out.”

“No!” she argued, walking right up to him, “I deserve answers before you throw me away like trash, Hitoshi!”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he replied coldly, breezing past both you and her to go to the kitchen. She followed him but you remained in the kitchen, listening as they argued.

“Why won’t you see me anymore?!” she cried, petulantly stomping her heeled foot.

“Because you got too damn attached,” he spat, opening the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water before walking into the living room again.

“Attached?!” she gasped, grabbing his arm to force him to look at her, “I have given you so much. How can you just break it off without a real reason! Come on, Toshi, just...be with me, you won’t have to work anymore.”

He tensed, glancing over at you at the mention of her job, jaw set, “Just get out, Kana.”

She looked over at you, a sly smile forming on her lips, “She doesn’t know what you do, does she? Is that why you’re avoiding this?”

He didn’t reply, simply glared at her. Kana scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “After all I spent on you, you have no right to just run away. You know I can treat you better than anyone else can, Hitoshi. You’re making a mistake.”

“I have plenty of other clients lined up, Kana,” he shot back, making her frown. He chuckled at the sign of weakness she showed, “What? Did you think you were the only one? No, sweetheart, I have plenty of girls waiting to spend even just one night with me. You’re not special. You’re certainly not the highest paying one either. There’s nothing of importance tying me to you. You have nothing special to offer. You got too attached, starting having feelings for me...you know it would never work with my job. So just leave before you get your feelings hurt.”

Both of you were stunned silent. You because you had never heard him speak so coldly and harshly to someone before ― even when he was having a bad day and accidentally took it out on you. Her because the words he spat out with such venom wrecked her pride and made her burn with anger.

She clenched her fists and snapped her head towards you, “Best not to get close to this prick,” she warned, her voice watery with unshed tears, “A man who makes money being a sugar baby isn’t one you want to get attached too.”

With those last words, she stormed out. The slam of the door made both you and Shinsou flinch. The silence that followed was even more deafening, however.

Shinsou cursed under his breath, running a hand through his half-dry hair.

“So...she wasn’t your girlfriend?” you asked, making him look over at you.

He was quiet for a second before chuckling under his breath, “You learn what my job is and that's the first thing you wonder?”

“Well!” you defended yourself quickly, “She introduced herself as your girlfriend!”

He shook his head, moving around the couch to take a seat, “No, she was just...a client I spent time with for a while. She started catching feelings so I cut it off and referred her to a friend of mine. Apparently...she didn’t like that.”

“How’d she know you lived here?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He shrugged, “She could have looked through my shit at some point, I suppose.”

You hummed, not wanting to push him to reveal more than he wanted to. After all, it wasn’t even his choice to expose his line of work anyway.

Well, at least you had answers on why he had all those expensive clothes, cash, and jewelry. It was good to know he wasn’t some type of shady thief in the end.

“It’s...just a really bad idea to get involved with clients,” he explained suddenly, “It’s not a relationship that’s built up on anything real. Having to pay for the company of someone is not a good foundation,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair again before looking at you, “I hope you...don’t think differently of me because of my job.”

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, “It’s not really my place to judge you, you know?”

“Thanks,” he smiled, “It’s not really something that’s as bad as people think. It gets a bad rep for having sex for money and shit but...truthfully majority of my job is just...being company to rich women. Sometimes they want to take me around to some fancy parties to show me off or go on dates because they’re lonely. Sex isn’t the majority of what I do. I mean...I will but...it’s not the most common occurrence.”

Once again, the vision of those hickeys and sex-scratches crossed your mind and you found yourself wondering what kind of woman gave him those. At least you could be assured he wasn’t going out to see his girlfriend when he went to work ― they were strictly clients.

Which meant...he was probably single.

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the hopeful idea.

“How about I order some take out?” you asked, standing up to retrieve your phone.

“Get some pizza,” he called as you disappeared down the hall.

After his occupation was revealed to you, things began to look up. He became more open and carefree around you ― as he no longer had a big secret to hide. He didn’t really talk about his work but he wasn’t hiding it from you either.

You decided not to ask too many questions, knowing you’d only burn up in jealousy at the idea. You knew you didn’t really have a right to be jealous since you weren’t his girlfriend or anything but you couldn’t help it either.

The peaceful feeling didn’t last long, however. Once the fire started burning, it had no other choice but to rage.

“You should really just tell him, _____!” your friend, Uraraka whined, head against the table.

“It’s seriously painful,” Momo agreed, “All this pining is making me sick.”

“Oh real nice,” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee.

It felt nice to hang around with your friends for once ― it wasn’t something you frequently got the opportunity to do.

Just as Uraraka was about to open her mouth and reply, a looming shadow dropped over the table. You all looked over to find the familiar blonde hair and wide grin.

“Kaminari,” you greeted with a smile.

“Hey _____,” he waved before tucking his hands in his pockets, “Listen, I’ve been wanting to ask for a while but...would you like to go out with me sometime?”

The question left you stunned.

You weren’t super close to Denki Kaminari, you shared a few general studies classes. He was a goofy, excitable guy who always seemed to know how to light up a room. Everyone around him was always in a good mood, in general he was just a very positive person.

Not just that but he wasn’t too bad to look at either; with his pretty, wide eyes and sharp jawline. The black lightning bolt streak through his hair just made him look even more charming.

But you hesitated, your mind drifting to Shinsou.

Sighing, you bit your lip, “Can I get back to you on that?”

He smiled, nodding his head, obviously relieved you didn’t tell him a flat out no, “No problem. I’ll see you later!”

Once he was gone, a sharp smack landed on your back making you cry out.

“Why didn’t you give him an answer?!” Momo cried.

“Denki’s a great guy, _____! You should do it!” Uraraka added.

You shrugged, “It’s just…”

“If you’re holding out hoping something will miraculously happen with stupid Shinsou, it’s a stupid idea,” Momo said, making you pout that she had read you so easily.

“Just tell him how you feel, _____,” Uraraka sighed, “If he rejects you, you can accept Denki’s date!”

You sighed but didn’t reply. Your two friends shared a look before changing the topic, drawing the attention away from your hopeless crush on your roommate.

When you got home, you were filled with a sense of urgency. Shinsou wasn’t in the living room so you went to his bedroom, knocking a few times on the door before he opened it.

“Hey,” he greeted, a tired smile on his face, “Welcome home.”

“Hitoshi,” you swallowed thickly, steeling yourself.

He frowned, “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you,” you breathed.

“Okay,” he stepped aside, waving you into his room.

You hesitated for a second, realizing that there would be no turning back once you walked inside. The door shutting behind you echoed in your head. He moved past you to take a seat on his computer chair. The screen was lit up behind him, indicating he had probably been playing something before you interrupted.

“I’m all ears,” he said softly, relaxing back in his seat.

“I…” you shifted on your feet, biting your lip, “I got asked out on a date.”

He raised his brow, cocking his head to the side. Part of you had hoped you would see some hint of jealousy from him at your words but his face remained as steely as ever.

“And...you want advice or something?” he chuckled.

You shook your head, “I want to know if…” you took in a deep breath, “If you like me before I accept him.”

He was silent for what felt like an eternity, just staring at you. Shinsou was always the type of man to think before he spoke, running through all possibilities before opening his mouth. His throat moved as he swallowed, a soft sigh coming from his nose.

“You...have a crush on me, or something?” he asked, making you deflate slightly.

“Yes,” you admitted, “And...if you don’t like me back then I’ll accept this boy’s date. There’s no reason for me to wait around and hope you’ll like me back when I could be out meeting someone new.”

He nodded his head, quieting once more. You watched as he stood up, taking a few steps towards you, “_____…” you heart clenched at his tone, knowing what was coming, “My job...it doesn’t leave me room for personal relationships.”

Despite how much you prepared yourself for it, hearing him reject you hurt. You nodded, forcing yourself not to cry as you backed up towards the door.

“Alright then,” you gave him a tight-lipped smile, turning your back to him, “I guess I’ll accept Kaminari’s date then.”

As you walked out his door, you didn’t see the pained look in his eyes. Your name lingered on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t dare speak out. The click of his door was deafening in his ears and when you were gone he sighed, hanging his head as he sat on the edge of his bed, feeling like an idiot.

The next day, you hunted down Kaminari, telling him you’d love to go out on a date with him. He was thrilled, going off excitedly about how he couldn’t believe you actually accepted him and that he would make it the best date ever.

And truth be told, the date was a blast. You had told him you’d never been to laser tag before and immediately he said that was exactly what you do then. The sound of Denki’s laughter still echoed in your ears as he lost to you, accusing you of cheating in a lighthearted tone.

You didn’t see much of Shinsou after you started seeing Kaminari. Although it was casual, you spent a good bit of time hanging out with him ― he began eating with you, Uraraka, and Momo on campus and the two of you texted often.

It seemed that Shinsou wasn’t making a big effort to hang out with you anyway. As much as that hurt, you knew it was for the best. It spared you a lot of hurt and him of the awkwardness of living with a girl who had a crush on him.

It was fair enough, you mused.

But when you laid in bed at night, your phone on silent and the faint sound of Shinsou’s voice floating through the walls as he gamed with his friends, you felt the now familiar tug on your heart. You longed to be with him.

But you knew it was pointless now.

You’d been seeing Kaminari for a month when he showed up on your doorstep to pick you up. Usually you would leave and meet him but due to the rain, he opted to pick you up and save you both from the hassle.

You were in your room, putting the final touches on your makeup when the doorbell rang. Before you could react, you heard Shinsou open the door.

You quickly grabbed your purse, tossing the strap over your shoulder as you opened your door. You could hear their voices carrying down the hallway.

“Holy shit!” Kaminari laughed, “What a small world ― it’s been a while Hitoshi!”

“Denki,” Shinsou greeted curtly.

“You ______’s roommate?” Kaminari asked, tucking his hands in his pockets as he waited for you, “She’s talked about you a bit. Didn’t know it was you, though, man!”

“Denki―” Shinsou was about to say something more but was cut off by your entrance.

“Hey there babydoll!” Kaminari greeted with a grin, holding his hand out for you to take, “See you later, Hitoshi!”

Shinsou didn’t respond as he watched the two of you leave, his jaw set tight as he held himself back from calling out.

You felt like you’d never been more angry in your life as you stormed home. Things had been going so well between you and Kaminari, you felt like you could genuinely start to like him. You enjoyed his company and began to think less and less about one purple haired roommate of yours.

You slammed the front door, startling poor Shinsou on the couch. He turned around, eyes wide at the blazing anger visible on your face.

“What the hell is your problem, Shinsou?!” you cried, kicking your shoes off and tossing your backpack to the floor.

“Huh?” he raised a brow dumbly, only fanning the flames of your rage.

“You…” you heaved, fists clenched, “Who do you think you are?! Telling Denki to break it off with me?!”

Realization quickly flashed over his face and he groaned, standing up, “I didn’t tell him to break up with you!” he argued. You opened your mouth to retort but he put his hand up to stop you, “I just told him to think it over. Do you know how we know each other, ____?”

“No,” you shook your head, tossing your hands up, “What does it matter? You still have no right to interfere in my relationship!”

“He’s in the same line of work I am!” he snapped, rounding the couch, “He does the same exact thing I do.”

You paused, letting the information sink in, “Why does that matter?”

He shook his head, “Do you really want to be with a guy who spends his nights in bed with women, _____? That’s not exactly the easiest job to trust a man with.”

You didn’t have a retort, “I thought...the majority of the job was just being a companion.”

Shinsou sighed, taking a seat once more, “It really depends on the guy. Denki is pretty popular because he loves to get his dick wet.”

You thought those words would make you feel jealous. The idea of the guy you were seeing fucking other women should make you feel something but instead...you felt almost relieved. Still, it didn’t simmer the anger you felt towards Shinsou at putting his nose in your business.

“You should have come to me and told me your concerns, Shinsou,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, “Instead of going behind my back for me to be dumped.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, biting his lip, “I just...wanted to see if Denki was still the same as he was when I last knew him. It’s just how it happened. I am sorry.”

Sensing his apology was sincere, you relaxed and nodded, “I’ve got to study.”

With that, you hid away in your room.

You couldn’t deny you still felt a bit ticked off with him but at least you were able to move past it. You realized you weren’t truly attached to Kaminari, you were just using him to shove your feelings for Shinsou away ― a pretty dick move on your part. So you were relieved to be out of the relationship.

Unfortunately, this left you with Shinsou once more. Where he once was pushed from your mind for the most part, he now resumed plaguing your thoughts.

You couldn’t deny how tired you were.

It was emotionally exhausting feeling your heart race at the mere sight of him only for it to ache when you remembered there was no chance in hell he’d even give you the time of day.

Things reached a head when he returned from work. Eleven months in and all the negative feelings and tension finally culminated.

“Hey Shinsou,” you called, finding him leaning against the kitchen island with a cereal bar in his hands.

He looked over his shoulder, an unusually cold look in his eyes as he regarded you, “What?”

You tried not to flinch at the tone, frowning, “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he snapped and you sighed, realizing he was in one of his moods, “What do you want?”

“I...nevermind,” you shrugged, “We’ll talk when you’re in a better mood.”

You hadn’t meant for it to be something to piss him off further. You truly meant that you would wait until he felt better to talk. For some reason, however, he took it wrong.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled, pushing himself off of the counter to storm up to you.

“Nothing!” you defended, “I don’t want to get into anything with you, okay?”

“If you have something to say then just say it!” he snapped, making you shake your head.

“No!” you argued, turning on your heel to storm into your bedroom.

Before you could get very far, however, a tight hand was wrapped around your elbow, pulling you back.

“Don’t fucking run from me!” his tone sent shivers down your spine, the angry fire burning in his eyes finally snapping something inside you.

“I am so fucking tired of this!” you tore your arm from his grip, not missing the frustrated grunt he gave in response, “This shit isn’t working anymore, Shinsou! You clearly don’t know what the hell to do with yourself; you come home from working and you’re in a shit mood and you take it out on me. Then you act like everything is perfectly fine. You know how I feel about you, so you can’t even pretend that doesn’t have anything to do with your behavior. In fact, I know it affects you because why else would you have convinced the only guy I’ve seen in the past like two years to dump me like trash! All over this stupid fucking job of yours. I don’t want to deal with the shitty way you make me feel, Shinsou!”

“So?” he snapped, teeth bared.

“So I’m gonna fucking move out!” you threatened, standing nose to nose with him.

His eyes narrowed and he let out a humourless laugh, “Fine! The sooner the better!”

With those last words he stormed past you, slamming his bedroom door with deafening finality.

You were left alone in the living room, fists clenched as tears you’d held back so long finally broke free.

A stupid purple haired idiot was not worth being hurt so much over. That you were sure of.

It’s not like he even cared, apparently.

With that thought finally pushing you into action, you returned to your own room to begin looking for new housing.

In all your time living with him, the longest you went without seeing him was two days. Once a month when he went to work ― that was the only length of time you didn’t see him every day.

Now, however, the two of you were avoiding each other like the plague. You had been busting your ass finding a new apartment, going to school, and working as usual. Shinsou had been hiding in his room the majority of the time.

You even stopped cooking.

Part of you wondered if he even noticed. Deep down, however, you knew he probably didn’t care.

He would just get a new roommate and go on like usual. Like you had never existed.

At least you’d be able to get over him then.

It took a month before you found a decent place. It was nowhere near as nice as your current one but there was nothing you could do about that. Your situation with Shinsou was unique and you knew you were never gonna have an opportunity like this again.

You came to terms with that.

Wandering out of your room, you were surprised to find him sitting on the couch. His nose was buried in his phone but the TV played his usual shows.

“Hey,” you greeted, keeping your voice even. He grunted in response, not looking up, “I found a place. I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

He didn’t say anything and you sighed, feeling your eyes burn.

How you wished he would say something to stop you ― to show you that the past year wasn’t a huge waste of time and that you really meant nothing to him. You felt you could have at least called yourselves friends but...apparently that was one sided.

The thought hurt so you escaped to your room once again to hide.

The night before your move, you were laying in bed playing a game on your phone. Laying on your back, you held the screen up and tapped your thumbs aggressive against the screen. Your momentum was lost by three sharp knocks on your door. You cried out as your phone fell from your hand and dropped on your face.

“Shit,” you groaned, tossing it away and getting up from bed.

Opening the door, your words caught in your throat at the sight of Hitoshi Shinsou’s sleepy gaze fixated on you. His hand was clasped around the nape of his neck and he was looking away nervously.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” his head snapped towards you, eyes wide before you realized how that sounded, “I-I mean I thought you were supposed to be gone! You know...to work.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he shrugged, “I cancelled. I...wanted...no, I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?”

You stood there for a few seconds, thinking it over before stepping aside to let him in. He gave you a tight lipped smile before you shut the door behind him. Turning to face him, you took note of the way his free hand was shoved into his sweats pocket. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

“What...what did you need?” you asked, sitting on the edge of your bed.

He remained standing, obviously thinking over his words carefully. His back was to you, his figure hunched slightly in his usual posture. But you couldn’t miss the tension his form held.

“I never intended this to become a long-term thing,” for a moment you thought he was talking about your living arrangement but before you could refute, he was turning to you, “This sugar baby thing, that is. I had a friend who did it and made some good money from it and eventually I got into the scene and realized just how good it could pay. It’s been like 2 or 3 years now since I’ve been at it.”

He dropped his hand from around his neck, beginning to pace around your room to gaze at your various knick-knacks. He paused at the few boxes you had packed up already, a frown marring his face.

“I make even more money by selling the presents I get. Sometimes the clients will give me jewelry or clothes, I always sell them,” he sighed, picking up a snow globe that sat atop your dresser, shaking it mindlessly to watch the fake snow float around the glass.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly.

“The truth is, I hate the majority of my job,” he confessed, ignoring your question, “Most of the people are pretentious assholes who think they’re better than me because they pay me. I don’t mind being arm candy, it doesn’t really bother me. And not gonna lie sometimes the sex is bomb,” he chuckled almost lifelessly and you ignored the pang in your chest at his words, “But the position I’m in forces me to basically do whatever they want me to. Naturally, I have limits and shit but if they want to dominate me I let them and that sucks.”

“Hitoshi,” you grumbled, making him look at you, “Why are you telling me about your sexual preferences?”

“Oh right…” he shook his head, “I hate doing it because I don’t have much control in my life because of it,” he looked at you with fierce eyes, “That’s why...I want to say fuck it.”

Before you could respond, he was walking up to you, cupping your cheek in a warm hand. Your eyes were wide, staring up at him as he moved close to you, his lips brushing yours.

“It’s been so fucking painful letting you go,” he whispered, “Having to reject you and let you go out with fucking Denki nearly broke me down, not gonna lie. I didn’t want him to hurt you, that’s why I interfered...but I also...didn’t want to let him have you when I wanted you so damn bad myself.”

Your heartbeat stuttered as you stared up at him, wide eyed, “D-Does that mean you…”

He nodded, “Shit, I’ve liked you for so long, _____. It’s been so hard not telling you how I feel every single day.”

“Hitoshi,” you likced your lips, reaching up to fist the front of his shirt. He hummed before you spoke again, “Please kiss me.”

There was a quick flash of his smile before his lips met yours ― every bit as soft as you expected them to be. You could faintly taste toothpaste on his lips but you didn’t mind one bit, he probably tasted the same from you.

His hand moved from your cheek to your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Your own hands moved around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

You quickly found yourself on your back, his hand wandering up the hem of your shirt, touching the bare skin of your stomach. You whimpered, fisting his hair as you kept him locked in a kiss. He didn’t seem to mind, simply sighing against your lips.

You still had questions but you couldn’t bear the thought of stopping this so you tucked them into the back of your mind, devoting yourself to what was right in front of you.

Shinsou sat up just slightly, breaking the kiss. You almost whined but the feeling of his hand creeping upwards towards your bare breast stopped you.

“Is this okay?” he asked for your consent, pausing before he actually touched you.

“Very,” you breathed, tugging him back down for another kiss.

Immediately, he cupped your breast, thumbing your already erected nipple. You gasped into his mouth, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Sensitive?” he asked, pecking your lips before suddenly sitting back.

This time you did whine at the loss. He flashed you a fond smile before pushing the hem of your shirt up to your neck, revealing your chest to his greedy eyes.

“D-Don’t just stare,” you complained, feeling your cheeks burn as he admired your body.

“Sorry,” he replied insincerely, cupping your breast once more, “You have such pretty tits, you know? I couldn’t help it.”

You scoffed but it turned into a choked gasp as he enveloped your pert bud in his hot mouth, wet tongue lashing against it before he pulled away with a firm suck. You wrapped your hands in those soft, purple tresses and whined. His other hand came up to pinch your other nipple, making sure to give it just as much attention.

“Toshi…” you whined, tugging his hair until he pulled away, his lips swollen.

“What is it, baby?” he hummed, nosing at your neck to press soft kisses there.

“T-Take your shirt off,” you breathed, tugging at the hem until you were able to pull it over his head with a bit of assistance.

Once he was as shirtless as you, your hands began to wander to touch every bit of skin you had long to for so long. He let you explore, letting out a soft sigh when you brushed over one of his hardened nipples. You didn’t linger in one place for long, quickly growing too curious at the sight of his member straining against those damn sweatpants he always wore.

His head tipped back as you palmed him through the fabric, quickly noticing that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Eagerly, you dipped your fingers beneath the hem and pulled his cock free, your fingers not even able to touch once wrapped around.

He was thick, a curve to his length that you just knew would hit a certain spot inside of you that would make you lose your mind. The head was a flushed red color, leaking precum that you used to give him a couple easy strokes.

He reached down, grabbing your wrist to stop you before slipping his own hand down the hem of your shorts and panties.

Your hips bucked the second his fingers made contact with your folds ― already dripping wet and coating his digits generously. He gave a few soft circles to your clit, testing your sensitivity before finding the pressure that had you cunt clenching around nothing.

You whined, grinding your hips against his touch in hopes he’d slip at least one of those long fingers into you. Thankfully, you were granted your wish and more as he easily slid his middle and ring fingers in.

He groaned as you walls tightly clenched around him, trying to desperately pull him back in whenever he pulled them out slightly.

“Feel good?” he breathed, already knowing the answer but craving your praise.

“So good,” you whimpered, biting your lip. He curled his fingers suddenly, nailing that sweet, spongy spot on your upper wall, “Right there!” you gasped.

He grinned, massaging that one pleasure-point with vigor, “Yeah? Right there, kitten?”

You keened at the name, walls clenching. He groaned at the feeling, suddenly pulling his hand free from your shorts. You didn’t have time to complain before he was tugging the remaining articles down your legs to toss away.

He moved with practice expertise, grabbing you beneath the thighs to pin them open. Your wet cunt was exposed to his all too greedy eyes. He licked his lips at the sight, making your cheeks burn.

Before you knew it, he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, tugging you down just a bit so your ass was almost hanging off the edge. The position left you completely at his mercy. He knew it too.

You watched with bated breath as he spread your folds open ― revealing the shiny, pink hole that continuously dripped your arousal. It clenched beneath his leering gaze and he groaned.

“Fuck!” you squealed when he dove forward to wrap his lips around your hardened clit.

He hummed at your taste, sending vibrations through the little bud. He quickly abandoned that in favor of getting a full taste of your juices. Tonguing your entrance, he reveled in how tight you were around his tongue.

You reached down, tanging your fingers in his hair as he ate you with all he had. His tongue worked expertly to circle your clit before dipping back down to your hole once again.

“Please, put your fingers in,” you begged, desperate to be filled.

He quickly obliged, slipping two long digits into your clenched pussy before mouthing over your clit eagerly. He could already feel you clenching sporadically around him and he couldn’t resist setting a quick pace, hammering against your sweet spot with every movement.

Your muscles were taught as you felt that glorious high building up. Soft pleas left your lips as your back arched.

“Gonna cum, kitten?” he tasted, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Y-Yeah!” you sobbed, abandoning your hold on his hair to tear at your blankets ― not wanting to hurt him in your throes of pleasure.

“Cum then,” the casual way he said those words flicked a switch and you were cumming.

He groaned through your high, feeling your cunt spasm around him. He felt your cum gush from around his digits, soaking them as you clit throbbed beneath the pad of his tongue. Once your body began to relax, he pulled away.

Your thighs slammed shut once he was out of the way, your muscles trembling through the intense aftershocks. While you were coming down, he stripped himself of his sweats, popping his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth with a groan as he fisted his cock to the sight of you trembling.

The fact he made you cum so hard was a boost to his ego and he didn’t bother fighting the prideful grin on his face. Sweat coated your skin and made your hair stick to your neck.

After several seconds, he climbed onto the bed and maneuvered you so your head was in the pillows. You bit your lip and grinned slyly at him as he climbed onto the bed.

“Shit uh…” he looked around your room quickly, a frown on his lips. You looked up at him curiously before he explained, “Condom?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, “D-Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” he gaped down at you.

You shrugged, “I’m on the pill and well...I’m sure you use condoms with you...job, right?”

“Always,” he blinked.

“Then…” you wiggled your hips at him with a cheeky grin.

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. Reaching between the two of you, he gripped his cock and tapped the head of it against your folds. Your thighs jumped as he slapped lightly against your sensitive clit.

Finally, he began to press into you and your mouth fell open at the delicious stretch his cock gave you. He clenched his teeth, letting you soft groans as he sunk more of his length into you. Your walls gripped him so tightly, spasming and clenching as he was fully seated within you.

The two of you had to pause before continuing, the feeling of him filling you up too much. His cock was thick, making you feel like he was stuffing you full.

“Please,” you begged, fisting the pillows on either side of your head as he sat back on his heels.

Gazing between your thighs, he nearly lost it at the sight of your cunt stretched tight to accommodate him. He thumbed over your clit, receiving a sharp cry from your lips.

“Fuck...you’re so fucking tight,” he growled, circling his hips against yours with a groan, “I can feel you clenching so tight around me. Bet you wanna cum again, huh?”

“Yes!” you cried quickly, mouth agape as he gave a sudden thrust, “Please make me cum!”

He shushed you, rubbing his thumbs over your hips, “Don’t worry, kitten, I got you...I’ll get you there.”

Before you could respond, he was setting an almost brutal pace. You always imagined what Shinsou would be like in bed ― you pictured it too many times at night. Sometimes you imagined he would take it slow with deep, intense thrusts. Other times you’d picture exactly this; rough, harsh thrusts that you were sure were going to leave you sore when the morning came.

You had no complaints though.

Hitoshi gripped you beneath your knees, pinning your legs to your chest as he fucked you. Your cunt gushed around him, making lewd, wet noises reverberate around the room and mingle with your mixed moans. He let out groans of pleasure, strands of purple hair sticking to his forehead.

You couldn’t help but admire the sight of him ― muscles rippling and moving with the force of his thrusts. Reaching up, you pulled him closer against you, dragging your nails across his shoulder blades.

He winced but you felt his cock twitch at the pinch of pain inflicted as a result. You thought back to what you saw that one night ― the marks some random woman left on his body. Suddenly, you were overcome with the need to mark him as yours.

Catching him by surprise, you managed to flip him over, straddling his waist, using his strong chest as leverage to fuck yourself on his thick cock. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper, almost hitting your cervix every time you sunk down on him. He gripped your hips, assisting your movements as he tossed his head back into the pillows.

“Shit, that’s it, kitten,” he praised, reaching up to pinch one of your nipples.

You keened at the praise, leaning down to deliver a sharp bite against his shoulder, sucking at the skin until a bright red mark bloomed. You eyed it proudly, biting your lip as you ground against his cock, making sure your clit got the attention it needed.

Shinsou bucked into you, making you whine as he started a steady pace of bouncing. Your thighs burned but it was worth the sight of having him beneath you. The way he stared up at you, as if you were a goddess made your heart race.

“Toshi…” you whined, leaning back to steady yourself on his thighs as he started to thrust up into you.

“What is it, babygirl?” he grunted, gripping your hips tightly as he fucked his thick cock into your gushing cunt.

“Make me cum, please!” you begged, biting your lip.

He grinned, bringing his thumb to his lips to lick the pad of it, “I got you, baby.”

Before you could think of a response, he was circling his thumb around your clit, the bud desperate for attention. Your body tensed with just a few quick circles of his thumb, his cock angled against your g-spot so perfectly that you immediately reached your high.

Through your own cries of pleasure, you heard him moaning alongside you before he froze, his cock buried deep inside you as he came. His cock throbbed and pulsed with every jet of hot cum he released into your clenching walls.

All at once, things stilled. You both relaxed against each other. His cock was still stuffed inside you, softening as his cum leaked out around him to make a mess between the two of you. You laid your head against his chest, his large hand cupping the back of it, pressing soft kisses against your forehead until your heartbeats finally slowed to a reasonable pace.

“Let’s take a bath, baby,” he groaned as he sat up, keeping you secure in his lap.

You were surprised he could carry you so easily after he nearly fucked the very life out of you.

Soon enough, you found yourself surrounded by sweet-smelling water with a fucked-out Shinsou cuddling against your back.

“Not to...ruin this afterglow bliss,” you hummed, leaning back against him as the warm water ripped around you, “But what brought this confession on suddenly? I thought you said your job doesn’t allow room for relationships.”

He was quiet for several, long seconds before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder, “I didn’t think it was fair to let myself be with you when I was going out once a month to hang around with a bunch of women. It isn’t something I want to put you through.”

“So you’re going to quit?” you asked.

He nodded, “I probably won’t be able to make enough money to keep this place but...if it means I can have you without feeling like shit about hurting you, then yeah. It’ll be worth it, I’m sure.”

“Why don’t you just…” you bit your lip, pausing.

“What?” you questioned, gripping your chin to make you look at him, “Talk to me.”

You hummed, “Just stop with the sex and kissing stuff...just be arm candy, like you said. Hang out with them. They’ll still pay for that, right?”

He raised a brow, shifting so he could look better at your face, “You’d be okay with me going to hang out with a bunch of women who want nothing more than to sit on my dick?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat, your cheeks burning, “As long as only I get to sit on your dick then it’ll be fine. I trust you, Hitoshi.”

He was quiet once again before a smile fell across his lips, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips, “We’ll talk more about it later. Let’s just relax.”

He tucked you against his chest, leaning back against the porcelain of the tub. With his fingers caressing across your skin, you allowed yourself to drift off ― finally wrapped up in those damn arms you dreamed of.

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha smut #shinsou smut #afton.writes

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bobohu4eva · 4 years

Text

Pink Lace - Preview/Chapter 1

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Master list

“Looking good tonight Candy.”

You rolled your eyes, frowning.

“Thanks Dave.”

Having your manager check you out every time you clocked in was one of the less fun parts of your job.

You didn’t clock in to make any kind of hourly pay, and your real name was definitely not Candy. As a dancer at a gentleman's club you made your money on a pole and in private lap dance rooms, but it’s whatever pays the bills, and as a college student being able to make over a thousand dollars a week working just two nights was worth it.

After checking in, you went back to the dressing room to check your makeup and outfit one last time and grab your money bag before heading back out to get your night started.

Saturday nights used to not be your favorite, but they had been for a few months now because of one customer. The first night you met him, his friends had dragged him in after getting dumped to cheer him up. When you sat down with the nine of them you already knew it would be a good night, judging by the *quite* expensive VIP booth they’d bought.

Your first impression of him wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, having met plenty of relatively good looking guys while working at the club and being quite used to groups like them doing birthdays or bachelor parties.

They were a fun group, and you found yourself actually having fun as they bought you rounds of drinks and perched you on their newly single friends lap.

That night his friends bought him a private room with you, and he’d been back to see you again every Saturday night since.

Baekhyun always arrived pretty early in the evening so you sat yourself down at the bar and made yourself look busy while you waited for him to show up. Tonight you were wearing a matching lace lingerie set along with a new pair of clear heels, and your hair straight down your back. With your nails done and your favorite perfume on to top it all off, you felt sexy as hell. On weeknights you didn’t try as hard, but on days he would be there you always made sure to put in a little extra effort to look as nice as possible. You told yourself it was just because he payed you so much, so you wanted to look your best. But you’d have been lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you wanted to impress him. Baekhyun, especially compared to other customers, was quite attractive. Having him fawn over you and compliment you always made you feel good.

You feel a tap on your shoulder followed by a “hey” and turn around to see Baekhyun grinning back at you.

“Hi Baekhyun” you smile back, getting up and giving him a small hug.

“Hi Candy.”

Standing in 8 inch stripper heels you’re slightly taller than Baekhyun, and you find his usual glasses + hoodie + cargo pants combo endearing. Despite being somewhere around 30 and therefore significantly older than you, you can’t help but find him cute, adorable even.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, already knowing your answer.

“Of course, you know what I like” you say, giving him smirk and running one perfectly manicured hand over his shoulder, and down his toned chest.

The whole time you touched him his eyes were fixated on yours, looking at you with an intensity you weren’t used to, something you’d noticed was unique to him compared to the other men you met there.

“Your outfit tonight it.. um..” he says, eyes now looking you up and down, almost drooling. “ I like it.”

It was the same thing every time he’d come see you. He’d buy two beers, one for him and one for you, and shorty after pay you $800 for an hour together in a private dance room. For any other guy it would be $1000, but he didn’t need to know that.

You made your way up the stairs towards the area of the club with the private dance rooms hand in hand, leading him behind you to give him the best view.

“Do you want me to dance for you today or do you just wanna talk?” You asked as you entered the room and took your top off, standing in front of him as he sat down on the couch. Usually you would dance for him for a few songs and spend the rest of the time sitting on his lap listening to him talk about whatever it might be that week but some days he just wanted your company and nothing more.

“Just for this song, I really like this song.” He said looking up at you with big eyes. So, you got to work doing your usual thing.

Getting into the rhythm of the music, you started swaying your body and slowly leaning towards him.

This time both of your hands find purchase on his chest and you move your body in a wave, giving him the full close up view of your bare chest.

As you lean back up you notice he’s slumped deeper into the couch and biting his lip, already thoroughly turned on.

“Holy shit” he muttered to himself, watching your nearly naked form sway in front of him.

The way he looked at your body was different too. Most men looked at you like nothing more than a piece of meat, something to use for pleasure and nothing more. Not that you minded, as long as you got your money, but the way Baekhyun looked at you as you danced for him was almost like someone observing a piece of art.

You rotated your body until you’re facing away from him, and bent down slowly, the curves of your ass on full display to him, making it jiggle a bit before bending back up and lowering yourself onto his lap.

“God you’re something else, I wish I could touch you.”

You noticed him sit on his hands, because of course he wasn’t actually allowed to touch you, you were only allowed to touch him.

Once you were situated on his lap, you started moving your hips to the music, causing his head to hit the back of the couch.

As usual, you could feel his dick straining against his pants as you rolled your hips over him.

“Fuck” you heard him whisper.

You knew how much he was holding himself back by the way he was sweating and panting. He was one of the few costumers who had never once tried to touch you, not even a little bit. Which you appreciated, but right now you felt yourself almost wanting him to, knowing that his reaction alone would be worth it for you to see.

So against your better judgement, and with the hope of a little extra money, you turn around, knees straddling his right thigh, and put your arms on each of his shoulders. You play with the hair at the base of his neck and whisper in his ear

“If you really want to, you can touch.”

You almost feel bad when you notice his entire body go rigid beneath you, eyes wide at your words.

“Are you serious?”

“I mean nothing too invasive please, but I don’t mind if you want to caress me here and there” you respond with a smile.

“Okay”

You see him swallow as you lowered yourself onto his lap again, this time feeling his hands make contact with the bare skin of your waist.

As you let your hips move with the music, his hands slowly wandered across your waist, hips, and sides. His hands on you were surprisingly warm, soft, and gentle. Under his gaze and in his hands you felt like your body wasn’t just being used for shallow, fleeting pleasure. You felt appreciated.

And this was exactly the problem with Baekhyun.

You knew that you liked him too much, more than you should like one of your customers. You shouldn’t be thinking about how soft and pretty his hands are as they make their way across the skin of your thighs.

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft.”

You smile, now facing him once again as you sit with your knees on either side of his leg. You feel his words in the pit of your stomach and your hands caress his shoulders and chest, only now with his hands gently placed on your hips.

A few body rolls later and the song was over, so you shifted your weight onto one of his legs, sitting down on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and leaning into the couch.

“You’re gonna completely ruin me one day” he breathed out, making you giggle. “Why’d you let me do that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I could tell how much you held back and most guys try to touch me anyway so..”

“They just do it anyway?” His eyes narrowed.

“Yeah well I tell them not to and usually it’s fine after that”

You could sense his discomfort with what you’d just said, looking genuinely agitated.

“Yeah well those guys aren’t worth your time no matter how much they’re paying” he muttered so quietly you almost didn’t hear.

“This is my job Baekhyun, there’s bad customers in every job” you respond timidly.

He turned to look you in the eyes again, this time more intensely due to the proximity of you sitting on his lap.

“Do you like working here?”

“Please don’t ask me that.”

“You know you don’t have to, I can take care of you.”

With the way his eyes bore into yours and he gripped your thigh, you knew he was serious. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted by his words.

Nonetheless you got up from his lap and sat next to him, bodies no longer touching.

“You know that’s not how this works Baekhyun.” You cross your arms over your bare chest, feeling like you needed to hide.

You look down, not wanting to look at him as you continue.

“It’s my job to make you feel good and give you something nice to look at but that’s all it is. My job. I’m sorry.”

He knew you were right. He knew because despite coming to see you every week for a few months now, he knew nothing about you. You wouldn’t tell him any details about your personal life, hell he didn’t even know your real name.

He knew he was stupid to have let himself become so completely fucked over a girl who wouldn’t even tell him her name.

“It’s okay, I understand, I’m sorry if that was too far”

You look at him again, giving him a soft smile.

“How was your week?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

You soon find yourself back on his lap as he starts talking to you about his week, but you couldn’t help feeling guilty. You could tell what Baekhyun felt for you was more than just sexual attraction, and yet he knew nothing about you. He’d asked you general things and you’d told him you were college student, which was true, but you’d lied about which college you attended. He asked about what you were studying and you’d lied about that too, quickly changing the topic back to him and his life.

Every time he tried to get to know the real you, you pushed him away, and you knew he could tell.

It fell silent for a moment, until Baekhyun spoke up.

“This is for touching you” he said as he dug in his pocket before pulling out three hundred dollar bills and putting them in the waistband of your thong.

He didn’t look at you as he gave you the money. It wasn’t until he was done that he grabbed your hand, and gave you another intense look.

“Please, can I please just know your name?” He asked.

With you sitting on his lap, faces close together you saw the desperation in his eyes. He’d spent a decent amount of time with you now and you knew how badly he wanted to know more about you, how much he wanted to be able to get to know the real you.

The way he looked up at you, with that look in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t tell him no.

You sighed.

“Okay. I’m y/n.”

Shorty after your hour together was up, Baekhyun went home and so did you. Counting your money was easy that night; just the eleven hundred dollar bills he’d given you.

As you took your makeup off and got ready to finally sleep you couldn’t help but feel strange about Baekhyun knowing your real name. Despite how nice he smelled, how cute he was, and how kind, generous, and funny, and how you liked spending time with him more than any other customer, that’s still exactly what he was. A customer. Someone who walked into a club looking to pay hot girls in exchange for their attention. But at that point Baekhyun was your friend too. He’d been coming to see you for the whole summer, and you really did enjoy talking to him.

Is it okay for him to actually get to know you? Is it okay for you to want him to?

Next Chapter

A/N: Hello! This felt pretty short which is why it’s kind of a preview/first chapter but please tell me what you think :) and let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for the next chapter!

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo smut #baekhyun fic #exo fic

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becomingbts · 3 years

Text

Time heals (sometimes) - Teaser 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the burning spotlights and the applause and the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

Ask or comment to be tagged!

Warnings: The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: I was thinking of “Moonchild” and for some reasons, some memories I’d prefer to have forgotten came back to my mind and instead of making a full-blown panic attack like I used to, I thought that it would make a great plot if I mingled that with a soulmate and idol verse and that’s how I started going into it. This is going to be loaded with personal experiences, even if they’ll probably be a bit differently explained compared to what I experienced. Despite the heavy themes and many warnings, I hope you guys will like it. I think I really needed to write it. It will be a semisocial media AU!, because I like the idea of being to write some of their conversations through texts. However, I do plan on fully writing most of it. Though, you’ll have some updates about their social medias as I will update their profiles soon after you see this. I will probably mix a lot of different media for this story such as songs written and produced by myself. I’ll upload for real MC’s EP. So expect a lot for this story. Please take well care, feedback is always very warmly welcomed, it helps me to write for real. If you need to talk to someone, my dms are always opened and if you really don’t feel well, please call urgency numbers.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

"And we will close our night show with the most awaited segment! The audience jumped during the commercial break, it's amazing how many people just joined us! Welcome to our interview segment and especially, welcome and thank you so much for being with us Moon!”

"Of course, thank you for having me on your radio show."

"Thank you for coming! I have to mention that this is your very first interview with another media than your usual personal platforms like Vlive, YouTube, or Instagram, so we are honored to be the first ones to greet you! Do you plan on making more activities outside your personal schedule for the promotion of your new album?"

"If I may be honest, not really. I'm the most comfortable in my own safe zone and I tend to try not to get out of it too often. It might close some doors to me but I'm comfortable with my fans that way. However, I often listen to this radio show and a lot of my fans were enthusiastic about that so I thought: why not."

"Ah, thank you so much, it means a lot! Your fans are indeed a strong community and they support you whether you go to TV shows or not. Besides, you've been a very active artist on social media and your whole career started on YouTube and SoundCloud before you signed to your current agency. We have to congratulate you on your journey! It's barely been two years but here you are, with your second EP 'People'! Congratulations on the release!"

"Thank you very much."

“For our listeners who might not know who Moon is, I’m going to introduce her to you: Moon, your real name is (Y/N), you were born on August 4th, 1998, Incheon and your mother was American so you pursued your studies in America. You have been taking online classes since the start of your career at the HULT, university of Florida, and even recently got your Business Bachelor, now aiming for a Ph.D. You started your journey on Youtube, uploading covers and vlogs until you finally started producing your own songs, releasing them on Soundcloud. You started gaining a lot of followers; thus, you started on other social media such as Twitter or Instagram. One year ago, you release your first EP called ‘BALANCE’ which is the reason why the music label BigHit reached to you and asked you if you wanted to sign with them. Did I get everything right?”

“You are. It feels like you know my life better than I do.”

"Ah not at all, but thank you, I am glad that I didn’t say something wrong! Would you mind sharing the concept of this EP? Many of your fans probably already know but maybe some of our daily listeners might not!"

"Of course. As you said, 'People' is my second EP, yet the first to be studio recorded. Signing with BigHit is a big step in my career and it created a lot of changes, hence I decided to focus on the people I have met, stayed with, became close to, or detached myself from… This is dedicated to the people who changed my life, whether they intended to or not. It could be interpreted as my social life diary in a way."

"I see, many of your fans have said that the album held a very distinct duality, with a bright and a much darker side that made quite the storm on social media. ‘Y/N our Moon’ and ‘MOONISBACK’ trended for a few nights on Twitter. Do you have anything you'd like to say about that?"

"I guess it was a surprise because this mini-album is really raw and uncensored. I didn't try to sugarcoat it nor to romanticize my experiences. I hope it brings comfort to people who haven't been feeling well. Because I think that it’s always easy to say that it's going to be okay to someone who’s not feeling well. Everything doesn’t suddenly become okay. And it's fine to be hurting, you can learn to live with this pain and move on while still hoping for better days. There is no end to hopes, and this is why my EP has a brighter side to it. Not everything is always a vast cold ocean. Sometimes, there are small or big waves that come crashing into our universe and they form something that we couldn't have imagined. They bring a little piece of sunshine in life and it helps to move on. So I hope that people who are struggling know that, despite how insignificant I might be, there is a person that understands and can relate to their struggles. I hope it can comfort them, even just slightly, to know that they are not alone."

"That's a beautiful way to put it."

"Ah, thank you."

"I have to ask because I'm really curious and I’m definitely not the only one: a lot of your fans have been theorizing about who could your title track ‘TIME’ be about? I have to ask you on the behalf of everyone. Is it okay for me to break the mystery?"

"Time is a track that shouldn’t have made it to the EP. It’s a bit like a fit of personal anger that I didn’t know I needed to let out.”

“Your anger was definitely heard and understood. People have been curious about the addressee of the song especially because of the line ‘maybe it’s time I finally let go of you’. So can you tell us who is it about?”

“Uh...Time was written for my seven soulmates who rejected me years ago."

"Seven!?"

"Yeah, it's a lot I know.”

“Is that why you have covered your soul mark with this tattoo on your arm? Netizens talked about it a lot; normally idols tend to cover their arm from the public eyes to avoid for their soulmates’ names to be known, but instead, you were proudly showing your tattooed arm, fully covering what might be under the ink. Many people assumed that it meant that you didn’t have a soulmate at all.”

“Well, I decided to cover the mark because there was no reason for me to keep it without hurting myself. I decided that I have been hurt enough to let myself take a rest. I didn’t see the point in hiding my arm either, I’m proud of my tattoo, I mean; it’s really a beautiful piece in my opinion. But to answer the assumptions, I don’t consider that I have soulmates anymore, hence why the tattoo as well."

"This is really a heartbreaking story, it must have been extremely hard. Breaking a soul bond is immensely dangerous, my link with my husband already itches when I spend the day away from him, so seven soul bonds? It must have been terrible."

"It was, but the most important is where I am now. I'm not lingering on that anymore because they made their choices and I thus made mine. I just hope that they all are healthy and happy where they are."

"I have to say I'm really impressed (Y/N)-shi, you really have a delicate and caring soul. I probably wouldn't be able to have such soft words about your soulmates had I been in your shoes."

"I think living the actual experience made me reflect on myself a lot. I'm comfortable where I am now, I'm able to do music and make what I love. I have nothing to complain about, I'm surrounded by lovely and supportive fans, I have the best manager I could have ever hoped for and a warm and healthy family. I don't need more on my side."

"I'm glad you are happy then. Many of your fans have pointed out it's really hard to make you smile and some wonder if you are happy, especially after the release of ‘TIME’, I don’t blame some of your fans for being worried."

"Ahhh, is smiling the only way to prove that we are happy? I believe my words are usually a bit more impactful than my facial expressions. I have to admit that I don't often smile, it's not a bad thing, at least I don't think so, but I just don't feel the need to smile when I don’t feel like it. Besides, I get shy easily when I expose my emotions too much."

"It's hard to imagine you being shy but at the same time now that I have you in front of me, our listeners cannot see you, but I definitely feel that you have a very shy and reserved aura despite the energy you give off when you are on stage. It’s not unfriendly either, but you’re just very soft-spoken and quiet in everything you do. Like when you came in, I barely heard you entering at all; you’re just silently making your way without a fuss, it’s really endearing, to be honest."

"Ah... I’ve been told that my stage persona and the ‘me’ in real life were two different entities but I don’t really think it’s true. I'm extremely introverted and it doesn't really mix well with the stage. So I just put it on the side for the people who came to see me and deserve to see more than a 24 years old woman who has troubles speaking without stuttering in front of other people."

"You stutter when you have to speak in front of other people?"

"Sometimes it happens when I’m nervous, and I’m very often nervous. Like right now, I’m extremely nervous. But it's something I'm working on."

"Well it's definitely paying off because I couldn't sense that you were nervous at all, just very calm and soft, but I wouldn’t be able to imagine you being nervous enough to stutter."

"A lot of artists actually have stage fright, most of them just don't want to admit it because it doesn't sound sexy when you tell your fans you're actually shaking before going up there for the show."

"This is very true, but it's refreshing to hear it from someone who actually lives through that rather than fan theories."

"That's understandable."

"Our time is coming to the end, do you have anything you would like to add before we sadly get our mics taken away?"

"Oh uhm, everyone, my new mini-album 'People' came out very recently and yet it already received a lot of love so I want to thank you for that. This EP was a very personal project and I was worried about how it would be welcomed but you all made me realize that I have nothing to fear because we'll always find someone who can relate to our stories. As long as I can help even one person with my songs, then it's enough for me. Thank you for listening to me and my voice. I hope we'll be able to meet soon. Love you my fans and non-fans as well, please take well care of yourselves in those times. Be careful and stay safe. Wear your mask!"

“Thank you so much Moon for being with us tonight. Our time was short but I really enjoyed it, I hope our listeners were able to feel that very warm presence of yours through the mic. ‘Give Me A Song’ of Moon’s EP ‘People’ will now be playing and we will see each other tomorrow night with IU for the release of her new album LILAC. Take care!”

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Uploaded : 08/04/2021

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marvelmusing · 3 years

Text

HYDRA Hunter

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Part 1

You worked at SHIELD for your entire life, inspired by the likes of Peggy Carter and Captain America, wanting to do the right thing and protect people.

You worked hard, rising up through the ranks. Becoming a Colonel. Spending your time ensuring that you could help people.

Then SHIELD falls, along with HYDRA. And you find out that the organisation you’ve dedicated your life work to was not what you thought it was.

You spend the years after the fall of SHIELD finding old HYDRA bases and employees and ensuring they’re brought to justice.

This has caused you to bump into the Avengers quite often. Steve Rogers often asks for your help with intel.

You earn the quite the reputation as you track down a large number of old HYDRA operatives.

You’re soon known as the HYDRA Hunter. A name you aren’t too happy with but it seems to have stuck with you.

One day Steve asks you to help him and Sam with their search for Steve’s friend, Bucky Barnes. The former Winter Soldier. You agree to help them.

Although, now that you’re occupied by your search for Bucky you don’t notice there’s another person hunting HYDRA’s people.

You don’t notice when Vasily Karpov, the Winter Soldier’s handler, is found dead.

You don’t notice that a certain red notebook has been stolen.

Then Vienna happens.

And the entire world has joined in with your search for Bucky Barnes.

And that grainy photograph is plastered across every newspaper, news show, social media site. It’s everywhere.

You can’t it out of your head. That the ghost of HYDRA could be so obviously spotted like that.

So you go back to your research. Noting down as many HYDRA names as you can find. Then you spot one. Vasily Karpov. And his obituary.

You read the police report. That he was hung by his ankles over his sink and drowned.

Someone else was after the Winter Soldier.

Your discovery is too late though. Steve, Sam, and Bucky are missing by the time you’re in Berlin.

Then Tony sends you some files. The reported death of the UN psychologist sent to assess Bucky. And the identity of the man who impersonated him. The man who found the Winter Soldier.

Baron Colonel Helmut Zemo.

If you weren’t so frustrated that you missed this you would have been impressed with his work.

In the aftermath of the Avengers splitting up you’re busy trying to stay under the government’s radar.

Then Thanos happens, and you’re dusted away. Only to return five years later.

After the final battle you stay in touch with Sam and Bucky, you’d helped Sam out during the years he was on the run.

So when he gives you a call after Bucky’s arrest you offer to help with the Flag Smashers.

Then Bucky suggests visiting Zemo.

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets.” Bucky reasons. Sam immediately gestures to you. You nod, agreeing with him.

“I’m literally right here, Buck.” He sighs.

“Do you have any idea where the serum’s coming from?” He’s got you there.

“Not entirely. After a couple of days of digging I might find something?”

The three of you exchange looks. You don’t have a couple of days to spare for a maybe.

“Okay. Let’s go see Zemo.” Sam says.

Then you’re in a maximum security prison in Berlin. Bucky went in to see Zemo alone, which puts you on edge.

You know the trigger words don’t work anymore. You’re not afraid of the Winter Soldier. You’re afraid that Zemo will manipulate Bucky into doing something he doesn’t want to do.

Bucky seems fine when he returns. You and Sam follow him as he leads you to a large warehouse.

“Where are we, man?” Sam asks. Bucky doesn’t answer, instead walking you through a ‘hypothetical’ jailbreak scenario.

You’re beginning to doubt how hypothetical this situation is.

Then Zemo steps into the room.

“What did you do?” Sam stares at Bucky. Though it’s pretty obvious what Bucky’s done.

“We need him Sam.” Bucky reasons.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam demands, pointing at Zemo.

“If I may?” Zemo begins.

“NO!” Sam and Bucky yell at him. You hear Zemo mumble an apology as Sam turns to you,

“[Y/N]?” He prompts, hoping you’ll back him up. You sigh a little, considering your options,

“HYDRA was never able to successfully recreate the super soldier serum, excluding Bucky. That’s why they had to steal Howard Stark’s test serum for the Winter Soldier program. Whatever lead he has, it’s better than anything I’ve got.” Sam sighs,

“You don’t make a move, without our permission.” He warns Zemo. Zemo nods,

“Fair.” He then turns his attention to you, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Zemo’s eyes are fixed on yours as he inclines his head.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N]. You must be Baron Zemo.”

“Baron?” You hear Sam question from behind you. You keep your eyes on Zemo.

“Or do you prefer Colonel? Some people value their military achievements over inherited titles.” You’re letting know you’ve done your research.

“Just Zemo will suffice.” You nod. Sam turns to him,

“Alright Zemo, where do we start?” Zemo heads to one side of the room, turning on the power. The lights flicker on, revealing a large collection of cars. “So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam jokes.

“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations.” He opens the trunk of one of the cars. You glance inside, noticing the array of weaponry stored. “I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum, because once it’s out there,” he bends to reach inside another car. “Someone can create an army of people, like the Avengers.” He gives Sam a pointed look. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished.” Sam turns to you,

“So you two haven’t met?” You look away from him. Even after all these years, you’re still a little unsettled by how good Zemo was. That you never saw him coming. Zemo frowns,

“Should I know you?” You shake your head,

“Sam’s joking.” You dismiss.

“Sounds like he was doing your job for you.” Sam adds. You sigh before explaining to Zemo.

“I’ve been tracking down HYDRA personnel for the last few years. So Sam’s surprised we’ve never crossed paths.” Zemo nods, considering your explanation.

“Are you surprised?” You tilt your head at him. “That we never crossed paths?” Yes, absolutely. It still annoys you to this day. You shrug casually,

“The world’s a big place. It’s not too surprising.” Zemo looks at you, not buying how casual you are. He thankfully changes the subject,

“To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of low lives.”

“Well join the party, we’ve already started.” Sam tells him. Zemo heads off, his stride determined, as he calls back to the three of you,

“First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence, I still have a line on. From there we climb.” The three of you follow Zemo as he heads towards the exit.

He asks for a moment to change his clothes. Bucky paces outside the bathroom as Zemo changes.

When he emerges he’s dressed in a turtleneck, with dress trousers and shoes. He pulls a long coat with a fur collar onto his shoulders. You notice he’s also fresh faced, he must have shaved.

There’s a small walk to a local airfield where a large jet is waiting.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam gestures to the jet.

“Like [Y/N] said, I’m a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country.” You wince at the thought of Sokovia. What happened there is one of your biggest regrets.

There’s an old man stood at the stairs into the jet. Zemo greets him in Sokovian, kissing each of his cheeks affectionately. He welcomes the three of you and you reply with a polite,

“Thank you, sir,” in Sokovian. Zemo glances at you for a moment, no doubt surprised that you speak Sokovian.

The four of you get comfortable on the plane. You’re sat opposite Zemo, with Bucky next to you.

The atmosphere is rather tense, particularly after Zemo stole Bucky’s notebook, causing Bucky to threaten Zemo.

Then Zemo tells you where you’re going.

Madripoor. That’s just great.

As the plane gets close to Madripoor, Zemo suggests that the three of you should change your clothes. He explains each of your roles. You roll your eyes when he tells you that you’d be playing the part of his lover.

You head to the room at the back of the plane with you bag in hand. The outfit Zemo’s bough you is lying on the bed.

You close the door and get changed into your tact gear. People in Madripoor know you, they know there’s no change of you dating a Baron. You push open the door as you finish getting changed. You’re busy securing your weapons when you hear Zemo approach,

“Is my selection not to your liking?” he asks. You look up at him. He doesn’t seem mad that you’re refusing his gift, just curious.

You glance down at the outfit. No doubt it was expensive, and it’s very tasteful.

“No offence intended, Baron. But if we’re going to Madripoor I’m going as myself, not as your arm candy.”

“You couldn’t be both?” He asks. You stop and look back up at him, he returns your gaze, his thoughts a mystery to you. Then Sam interrupts,

“Damn, you think you’ve over done that a little?” He asks you, gesturing to the array of knives along your belt, and the holsters across your thighs and calves. You laugh a little,

“Walking into Madripoor unarmed is pretty unconventional. You three will stick out without any noticeable weapons.”

“You’re forgetting, we have one of HYDRA’s most notable weapons.” Zemo nods his head towards the other end of the plane. No doubt referring to Bucky. You’re quick to press a knife to his throat,

“Refer to him as a weapon again, Baron, and I will ensure you regret allowing me on your plane.” You trail the knife along his jawline, watching it trace against his skin. “Understood?” His gaze doesn’t stray from your face, but he swallows hard and provides a minute nod.

“Of course, Colonel.” You tilt your head aside. He knows more than he lets on. You pull away from him, feeling suddenly aware of how close the two of you are.

Bucky leans his head though the doorway,

“We’re landing.”

A/N: This is a lot longer than I thought it was going to be so there’s going to be a few more parts to this.

If you’d like to be tagged for this series just let me know!!

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #tfatws #tv: fatws #fatws #zemo x you #zemo headcanons #zemo x y/n #zemo fanfic #zemo imagine

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cherrybracelets · 3 years

Text

I’ll Take You On

bucky barnes x f. reader

18+ / drinking mentions, heavy smut (unprotected s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) )

inspired by: ill take you on by brockhampton

For your whole childhood, as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a veterinarian. You had loved animals, and couldn’t imagine a better way to spend your days than caring for them. But, as you grew up and the harsh realities of adulthood and capitalism dawned upon you, your dream was becoming less likely.

Vet school was way over you and your mom’s budget. It was just the two of you, and she wasn’t exactly bringing in buckets of cash at her teaching job. So, you had to get a bit more realistic.

After graduation college with a business degree, you set forth into the world hoping for a lifetime of amazing opportunities. But, a job didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, and you were getting desperate. So desperate, in fact, that you called your estranged father begging for a job.

Your father left your mom when you were nine. You didn’t care much, as he wasn’t around a lot anyways. He was some big shot lawyer in Miami, and he was always traveling for work. It was honestly easier on you and your mom once he left. He didn’t make much an effort to connect with you after that, only calling every few months and sending wads of cash on Holidays, hoping to make up for his absence.

So, as you pushed aside your pride to call and ask for his help, it was really the least he could do. And lucky for you, his firm’s office manager had just quit. It didn’t sound like an incredibly difficult job and the pay was beyond what you wanted. Your father was most likely overcompensating with the salary. But he could afford it.

He also promised you a place to live, rent free. He owned multiple properties around the city, most of which he never used. It was kind of the perfect situation. A little suspiciously perfect.

But there were no other options. You needed a job and he desperately needed to feel like he wasn’t the worst father in the world. It was a win-win for both of you.

And obviously, Miami wasn’t the worst place you could be. You didn’t know anyone besides your father, but you didn’t care. The idea of relaxing on a beach alone soothed you way more than a group of screaming drunk girls.

After a week of settling into your apartment and the city, it was finally time to start your new job. You had met up with your father multiple times already, getting prepared for the job and visiting a few of his favorite spots around the city. He was actually really kind, but it was slightly uncomfortable talking to him.

You walked into his office on your first day, shaking in nerves as you prepared to meet your new coworkers. Would they treat you kindly, or did they catch up on the obvious nepotism that was lingering through this entire situation?

But your fears were quickly buried over as his staff welcomed you with open arms, talking highly of you and about how “proud” your father was to have you working here. You rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to show a warmer side to his staff, but you let it slide. You had a job and place to live because of him, so it was the least you could do.

You spent the morning learning the phone and computer system, battling intrusive questions from everyone in the office and trying to learn how to work the damn coffee machine. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad job.

You never really knew what kind of law your father practiced, and maybe that was something you should’ve asked before, so you were a little less shocked. His clients were mega rich and famous. And your father was just mega rich. It kind of pissed you off, seeing how well he lived and how you and your mom never saw a penny of it. Part of you wanted to scream at him, break all the expensive glasses in his office and storm out. But what was the point? Caring about him was more energy than it was worth.

Your father met with his clients throughout the day, and part of your job was welcoming them to the office, getting them something to drink, and telling your father when they arrive. And today, at 2:12 PM, twelve minutes late for his appointment, he walked in.

“James Barnes. I’m here to see Henry,” he commanded, not bothering to look up from his cell phone and pay you an ounce of attention.

“Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked kindly, trying to keep your voice from quivering. He stood towering over you, his large frame blocking the light above, casting a shadow over your desk. He was one of the most beautiful and intimidating people you’d ever seen. You felt like you were going to choke if he looked directly at you.

But he didn’t. He walked cooly over to the sofa in the waiting area and sat down, mumbling “Scotch…”.

You stood up and walked away quickly, desperately trying to catch your breath. You slipped quietly into your father's office, smiling as you closed the door behind you.

“James Barnes is here. And he mentioned something about scotch, which I’m not sure if I’m authorized to give…”

Your father chuckled and stood up, walking over to a small bar cart in his office and pouring two drinks.

“Everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a good friend. Come on, i’ll introduce you.”

You followed behind your father in a daze, not ready to face him, not ready for his eyes to meet yours. Your skin felt hot and the room was spinning as your head, his loud voice greeting your father in excitement.

“Bucky! It’s been too long!” Your father yelled, handing him a drink and smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah, I had to be in New York a bit longer than I thought,” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. You were hiding behind your father, hoping he would forget about you and you could sneak away without a word. But of course you wouldn’t get away that easily.

“Bucky, I have to introduce you to my daughter. Today is her first day working here! (Y/N), come introduce yourself,” he instructed, turning towards you and ushering you in closer to Bucky.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, the sound of your name in his mouth making your whole body light up. You had never heard it sound so beautiful before. He reached his hand out towards you, and you grabbed it lightly. His hands were soft and cold, shocking your skin as he touched you. As you shook hands, he leaned towards you, the smell of mint and tobacco pouring from his skin.

“Why don’t we head to your office, Henry,” he frowned, dropping your hand and turning towards your father. You brought your hand back to your side, confused and dizzy as you found your seat.

“Can… can I get you anything, Henry?” You stuttered, realizing awkwardly that this was the first time you’d addressed him, and you didn’t say dad. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Sorry, thought that would be more professional. Totally awkward, right?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. You didn’t think your father would care if you called him Henry, but maybe he wanted you to play into the sweet daughter character at work.

“No, sweetheart, this is actually a private meeting. I don’t want any interruptions, unless someone’s dead. Okay?” He said in a serious tone, pushing aside any awkwardness. He hadn’t said this with any other clients he’s seen today, so it gave you an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

You turned towards Bucky, looking for some sign of a joke with him. But his face was carved of stone, his eyes locked on your father as if he expected Henry’s devout secrecy for any conversation they had.

The two walked quietly into his office and shut the door, leaving the image of him to only exist in your mind. You were curious who exactly this beautiful mystery was, so you did what you always did. Googled him.

You searched for a while, under both of the names he went by. But nothing. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Nothing on Facebook, Linkedin was empty, Twitter and Instagram were farfetched. It was like he didn’t exist. You even unblocked your father on facebook to stalk his friends and see if he existed there, but nothing. He was a ghost.

You got frustrated after a while, sitting back angrily in your chair, realizing you had three voicemails. Yikes, you were not very good at this job.

You finished all your work quickly, hoping it would distract you from him.

They spent the next two hours locked away in your fathers office, leaving you to wilt away in boredom. It only took about 30 minutes to catch up on calls and emails, and then all you could do was scroll aimlessly on your phone hoping someone would bother you.

But everyone seemed very quiet here. Beyond the initial excitement of meeting you in the morning, everyone stayed at their desks all day, focused intently on their own work. It was one of the quietest offices you’d ever been in. Maybe they were just trying to show off on your first day, or trying not to bother you… but it was odd.

At 4:15, your father loudly exited his office, Bucky following behind. He was smiling, something you hadn’t seen before. It was almost god-like, his perfect smile, radiating warmth and happiness. You wanted to be close to him again, missing the sweet smell of his lips…

“(Y/N), I have a request…” your father interrupted your daydreaming, making you jump as you stood up to help him.

“What’s up?” You asked casually, refusing to take your eyes off Bucky.

“Bucky and I are grabbing dinner tonight, and we’d love for you to join us,” he said quickly, Bucky finally turning towards you and meeting your glance.

“You… want me to come?” You asked quietly, Bucky still staring at you. He smirked slightly as you spoke, but refused to break your gaze.

“Well, Bucky would really love to get to know my daughter. You know how… proud I am of you. The light of my life!” He said, smiling intensely at you. You finally looked away from Bucky and towards your father as he spoke.

It was disgusting, the way your father was obviously using a fake relationship with you to get in good with his clients and employees. But you would’ve done anything to see Bucky again. So you agreed reluctantly, wondering why a man like Bucky would care about his lawyer's daughter…

“We’re going to a nice place so… dress up,” your father instructed, eyeing your clothes. You had noticed you were the least dressed up at the office.

“Um… I don’t really have a nice dress…” you whispered quietly, wondering how “nice” you needed to dress…

Your father pulled out his wallet, handing you a thick black AmEx card.

“I’ll have my driver take you downtown to some shops. Get whatever you want,” he instructed, pushing the card in your hand.

You didn’t refuse, why would you? Free shopping spree and dinner with some hot mystery man sounded like your perfect day.

You spent the next few hours in and out of shops, spending more money than your father most likely anticipated. But you needed a new wardrobe anyways, most of your old clothes were too warm to wear here.

You picked out a gorgeous light blue silk dress and some strappy white heels to match. You were maybe a little ‘under’ dressed for dinner with your father, but all you could focus on was Bucky. You felt high whenever he crossed your mind, your body unable to focus on anything except the feel of his cool skin touching yours.

By the time you were done shopping, it was almost time to meet them at dinner. The driver promised to bring the rest of your bags home and drop you right off at the restaurant. It was all the way across town, and you’d most likely still be late even if you left now. So you hopped in the car quickly, your new outfit looking perfect.

The drive to the restaurant took just as long as the driver said it would- maybe even longer. You were getting impatient as the time went by, wondering if he was thinking about you the way you were thinking of him.

It was unlikely. You still weren’t sure who exactly he was, but you knew he didn’t spend his time with ordinary girls.

But why did he want you to come to dinner? It was odd of him to take such an interest in you. None of your fathers other clients seemed to look twice in your direction. But then again, Bucky was the only one that required privacy.

As you got lost in your thoughts, your mind tumbling through expectations and excitement, your driver pulled swiftly up to the front entrance of Paterro’s.

Upon walking through the doors, you were taken aback by the overwhelming fanciness of this restaurant. Your father definitely undersold how nice it was. You felt slightly underdressed, but no one seemed to look twice at you. You were used to not turning heads, being able to walk through a crowd without notice.

That changed when you got to your table. Your father wasn’t there, most likely in the bathroom or at the bar. It was just him, looking just as beautiful as you pictured he would.

He wore a navy blue suit that hugged his skin tightly and left very little of his body up for imagination. As you walked towards him, his head lifted from the table and his eyes lingered towards your body. He gave you a soft smile, but he was obviously distracted by how much of you he was seeing.

“Your… Henry ran to grab a few cigars for later…” he mumbled, standing up awkwardly and pulling out a chair for you.

“Thank you…” you whispered, sitting shakily down in the chair as he pushed you in towards the table.

You were in between Bucky and your father’s seat, but much closer to Bucky. Your father came back less than 30 seconds later, which was ideal, since you couldn’t think of a single word to say to Bucky.

Your father greeted you kindly, a wide smile that read as ‘You better be good tonight.’ It clearly wasn’t normal for him to have guests attend his business dinners. He seemed just as put off as you did, but the two of you kept your thoughts to yourselves and made small talk.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants, (Y/N),” your father smiled, handing you a menu to you.

“I’m excited to be here. Thank you for having me,” you responded kindly.

Bucky and your father started talking about business, leaving you to your own thoughts as you scoured the menu. The prices were insane, but obviously you weren’t footing the bill. You had half a mind to order the most expensive thing on the menu, for the hell of it, but you settled on a nice glass of red wine and pasta.

You weren’t included in much of the conversation, wondering why exactly you were invited in the first place. It seemed that the two of them barely even knew you were there. You sipped at your wine angrily, wondering how you could get Bucky’s attention.

It was then when you decided to make one of the riskiest decisions of your entire life. But, high risk, high reward, right?

Bucky cracked a joke with your father, and you laughed loudly and girlishly, forcing him to draw his eyes towards you. You then gently placed your hand on his knee, dragging your fingertips on his thigh lightly as you smiled at him. For a second, you forgot your father was even there, lost in the delight of finally having your hands on Bucky.

But you quickly drew your hand back, afraid of how far you’d go if you didn’t stop. Luckily your father didn’t seem to notice, or care. But Bucky did.

In fact, he was glaring at you. His fists were clenched on the table, his breath shaky and his stared. His face started to relax and he looked away, a slight smirk on his face as he grabbed his drink and gulped it.

“I have to run and make a quick phone call,” Bucky said abruptly, not waiting for a response before leaving the table.

You turned awkwardly to your father, not sure what to say to him at this moment. Thankful for you, he clearly felt the same, and buried himself in his phone. That was the nice thing about your father, he never forced you to talk.

Bucky was back quicker than you’d expected, looking relieved as he sat down.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “Where were we?”

The three of you started chatting again, a feat that only lasted about five minutes, before another interruption. Your father’s phone started ringing loudly, much to your embarrassment.

“One sec,” he whispered, jumping out of his chair and answering in a rush.

Your heart dropped as you realized you were alone with him for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after you nearly groped him under the table. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared intently at your fathers empty chair.

“Do you wanna talk about what the hell you’re doing?” Bucky growled at you, making you finally turn your head and face him head on.

“I don’t know what you mean…” you whispered innocently.

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not gonna fall for your sweet girl act. Your father might, but I see right through it…” He snickered, taking a large sip from his third drink of the evening.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, James.” You could see him cringe at the sound of that name. You couldn’t help but to get under his skin. Something about him so angry made it hotter.

“Listen, if you wanna fuck me, just say it. I’m not here for all these little games.”

“You truly think every girl in the entire universe wants to have sex with you? Seems like somebody has a little ego problem,” you retorted, rolling your eyes and looking away.

“Oh, baby,” he laughed, touching your cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t get under this table and suck my cock if you could?”

The thought of your mouth around him made you quiver, which was very evident to Bucky. He laughed coyly, before tightly gripping your chin. He brushed his thumb lightly over your lips, your body aching at his touch.

He dropped his hand quickly as your father approached the table, looking distraught.

“I’m so sorry guys... My client just called, major emergency. I’m gonna have to run… Bucky, can you make sure (Y/N) get’s home safe? I’m gonna have to take my car…”

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded at your father, enjoying the obvious win.

“I’ll take good care of her, man.”

Your father thanked Bucky, throwing his credit card to you for dinner and running off in a hurry. You felt sick to your stomach, all the red wine dancing around in your body. You felt Bucky’s hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin.

“You ready to go?” He winked, tilting his head for an answer. You could only nod, unable to think of any words to say.

Bucky tossed three one-hundred dollar bills down on the table, taking them from a large wad of cash hidden in his jacket. You felt dizzy at the sight of all the money, wondering where it could possibly be coming from.

The valet pulled Bucky’s car around, which was obviously something beautiful and fancy and nauseatingly expensive. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up into the seat. He leaned towards you after you were sitting, pulling your face to his. He kissed you intensely, not giving you a second to think, or breathe. You melted into him, allowing his body to do whatever he wanted.

But he quickly broke away, closing the door and getting in the driver seat. He didn’t speak to you the rest of the ride, just casually glancing in your direction every few minutes. You wondered if you should tell him where you lived, or if he already knew. But you quickly realized you weren’t going home.

You pulled up to a large white house on the beach. The gates opened promptly as you arrived. They closed quickly behind you, making you finally realize the intensity of the situation. You were here now, locked inside, with a complete stranger. A very, very hot stranger.

Bucky opened the door for you, clearly picking up your awe at the size of the house.

“I’m just renting it. I don’t usually stay in one place too long…” he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“What exactly do you do?” You asked, instantly regretting it as you noticed the distaste in his voice.

“You don’t need to know that, yet,” he snapped, emphasizing the word ‘yet’. What the hell did that mean?

He ushered you through the front door, offering you a glass of wine as you entered. You accepted happily, staring at his wide wine collection that was much nicer than the box sitting in your fridge.

You sat down on his couch, sinking into the soft cushions, realizing just then how tipsy you were. As he walked back towards you with your drinks, you felt a wave of excitement and spontaneity wash over you. Fuck wine, man. The worst and horniest decisions you ever made were because of wine.

Bucky set your drinks done and you didn’t waste any time. You jumped up towards him, pushing your lips onto his and dragging your hands down his body. He didn’t fight you, unbuckling his pants quickly. He began kissing your neck, pulling down the straps of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra, giving his lips easy access to your breasts. He sucked your nipples lightly, grazing his teeth.

You pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly sculpted body that at this point, you had expected. You brought your hand down to his dick, already hard and poking out through his boxers. You pushed him off of you as you got down to your knees, removing his boxers and taking his length into your mouth.

You flicked your tongue across his tip, making him shake under you. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself deeper into you, hitting the back of your throat. He moved in and out of your mouth, his hand holding your hair out of the way.

Finally he pulled out of your mouth, beckoning you to stand up. You did as you were told, getting off your knees and following him to the catch. He sat down and dragged you onto his lap, feeling his cock under you. He kissed you for a while, but you never got bored. You could’ve kissed him forever.

But you felt him twitching beneath you, begging to be inside. You positioned him to your opening and slid down gently, adjusting to his size. He moaned slightly, throwing his head back as he went in.

“Don’t move for a second…” he commanded, sitting up and taking your face. He was inside of you, not moving, just holding you.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he whispered, the scotch spilling from his breath. He didn’t give you time to respond before he grabbed your hips and began to rock you on him.

You let him move you for a few minutes before you started moving yourself. You felt the overwhelming rush of pleasure take over as you got close to cumming, speeding up your motions.

“Shit…” you squealed, riding out your high as he kissed your neck.

“Keep going… I wanna cum inside you…” He whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your jaw.

You kept grinding your hips, moving faster as he got closer. He gripped onto your hips, digging his nails into your skin as you felt him twitch. You felt him fill you up with warmth, claiming you as his in that moment. The ultimate trophy of male dominance.

You felt sick to your stomach after you got off, feeling him drip down your thighs as you rolled to the other side of the couch. The fun of the wine had worn off into an annoying headache, and you were dreadfully thirsty.

For some reason, you wondered if you had dreamed the whole thing, before you looked over and saw a naked Bucky, staring blissfully at you.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, kindly.

“Water.”

He smiled graciously, standing up and putting his boxers on. He walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen, and your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly grabbed your shoes and bag, bolting out the front door, unable to face him.

You were greeted by the fresh air, happy to be back in the realm of normalcy. And then you remembered. The gate.

“Fuck…” you exclaimed, dropping your shoes on the pavement.

“I’ll take you home.” You heard, seeing an uncomfortable Bucky standing in the doorway.

You got back in his car, staying uncomfortably silent as he started the engine and opened the gate.

“Do you regret it?” He asked. His voice snapped through the quiet like a whip. It made you jump.

“No. I don’t.” You answered. It was the truth.

“Good. We’ll talk soon, then.”

He dropped you off without another word, and you realized you never actually gave him your address.

Who the hell was James Barnes?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes

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hehebread · 3 years

Text

[BKDK] Izuku keeps mentioning a Kacchan to reporters and they think that's his gf

this was a request on twt that i had way too much fun writing. warning for suggestive language!

“And is there…. a special person….or a group of people you would like to thank on air today? Anyone who inspired you? Anyone you would attribute your success to? An image of victory per say?”

Izuku’s eyes glimmer as the bright lights of the studio reflect on his irises. “Oh!” He jumps in his seat, his perfectly- coiffed curls bouncing as he nods frantically to the show’s host. “Yes! Yes!” Leaning forward with his hands on his leg, the camera zooms in on his face where the blush is painting his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be the hero I am today if it wasn’t for Kacchan!”

And it’s as if an earthquake alert dropped on the talk show. The host grows this devious grin on his face as he turns to the camera team and says, “Well, well, well, behind every great man is a woman after all.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure why the host is bringing his mother into this since the interview is reaching its end and he has already discussed her influence in detail very early on, but he doesn’t get a chance to ponder.

The host, Yamaguchi-san, leans into Izuku’s space with renowned interest and an interesting glint in his eyes. Izuku feels himself sweating in his oversized maroon-striped suit.

“So, Midoriya-san, Hero Deku, Rising Symbol of Equity and Hope, can you tell us more about … Kacchan?” His voice goes higher at the last syllable, almost sing songs, and Izuku is not sure if he should be worried or not, but he won’t pass an opportunity to gush about Kacchan!

“Ah, Kacchan is very … confident, hardworking, strong, and smart. Kacchan is a hero who knows how to lead a team and perform under pressure, an inspiration to both myself and our entire graduating class, and a”—Izuku can feel the heat rise in his face as he tries to hide in his colour— “a shining star who was closer to me than All Might!”

The host makes a loud ‘AWWW’ noise at the same time as the small audience in the studio. “My, my! Sounds like Kacchan is very important to Hero Deku! Don’t be shy! Tell us more! Is there a physical description to go with your precious person?”

“Ahm!” Izuku fiddles with his fingers as he avoids the gazes on him. There a long beat of silence before he manages to say, “Muscles….Blonde…..Sharp eyes….” With a vague gesture to his middle section, he mumbles, barely audible, “Big, ugh…..” Heart.

“OOOOOOOOOH!” The host goes wild and so does the audience. “So are we talking Hiromi Oshima type big or maybe Rio Natsume, or aaaah Aki Hoshino even ….?”

Izuku feels his ears ring in humiliation as he tries to process what they’re talking about. Something Kacchan has in common with all these beautiful women is his big successful career so Izuku nods. “Yes!” Then, a thought occurs and he rises in his chair. “Even bigger!”

After all, Kacchan’s net worth is higher than these ladies.

“BIGGER?”

“The biggest!”

“Oh my god!” The host is losing his mind now! “And is it … natural? Or did Kacchan get a little help from professionals?”

“No, no, no! Kacchan was a natural ever since we were in school together!” Izuku’s eyes shine with a fire to defend his childhood best friend, no longer trying to hide in his big suit. “No one helped Kacchan get this big!”

“That’s … amazing!” The host shakes his head in both awe and disbelief. “Now we want to see Kacchan in action! When the hero works around the city, defeating villains, does the size get in the way?”

Does Kacchan’s fame get in the way of his work? “Sometimes,” Izuku muses, “But Kacchan never lets the restless and perky nuisances stop him, y’know. With a little shake from his hands, and a few colourful words of wisdoms, nothing gets in the way!” Izuku laughs as he remembers Kacchan’s way of dismissing fans and reporters alike.

“Wow!”

“Of course, there are times where Kacchan’s big firm moulds become springy and hard to control, but I have yet to see an instance where that has been a major issue. ”

Kacchan is still having some adjustment problems with his new hero costume, particularly his grenade mould, but that’s as far as distractions go.

“Does Kacchan not use support?”

“Uhm, only when it’s a dire situation! Sometimes I’m even allowed to provide assistance!”

“You must be very lucky…”

“I am! It feels … exciting and … very special! Kacchan doesn’t trust just anyone, y’know! I can never quite get used to the trust we built together. We are one unit working together.”

“Do you use your hands…. Or something else?”

“Oh, hands! Yes! But anything works really! Whatever Kacchan is comfortable with and needs at the time. Black Whip, combo moves, an iron grip...”

The host furrow his brows and seems to be considering Izuku’s answer before he opens his mouth again. “Uhm, never mind.” He then turns to the camera, smile back on. “Our time is almost running out! Thank you, hero Deku for your time! We look forward to seeing you again in the big screen!”

The next day, Izuku wakes up to the headline: Hero Deku And His Mysterious Busty New Girlfriend: The Beautiful and Spunky Kacchan!

He’s doomed

He sees Kacchan early the next day.

Having spent the morning talking to tabloids and the host show agents about the misunderstanding and whether or not it was possible to take down the episode at least, Izuku slumps his head on his desk in defeat.

Oh, this is very bad.

He starts thumping his forehead on the wood in sync with the bleeps noises in the phone, already planning his funeral in his head.

Okay, so it seems the suspense around this girlfriend is raking up his popularity, but god, at what cost.

“Nerd, we need to talk.”

Izuku’s soul near flies to the roof at the sound of the door to his office slamming close. Fuckfuckfuck.

Kacchan stands before him with his hand on his hip, teeth snarled and looking ready to tear his flesh open. Oh, this is going to be fun!

After flashing a haughty glare at the glass door to scare away the nosy friends hanging about, Kacchan continues, “About the interview.”

Of course! Yes! His final hour is approaching. “Haahahaha, what about it?” Izuku feels his undershirt cling to his torso, sweat collecting on his face. He directs a shaky hand to a nearby chair. “Feel free to take a seat, Kacchan! You want me to get you anything? Water, tissues, uhm, a knife, a body sized bag, or uhhh, a shovel? I think I have some spare sheets of paper if you’d like to give me a chance to—“

“So…” Kacchan starts.

“PLEASE TELL MY MUM I LOVE HER!”

“…this Kacchan, huh?” Having completely ignored every single word Izuku just said, Kacchan crosses his arms and scowls. “Is she strong? How come I never heard about her before? Since when did you start dating this gravure idol and pro hero, huh?”

“Wha—?”

“So, you just go around giving everyone pretty nicknames now?” Kacchan snorts and his expression darkens before he slams his hands on Izuku’s desk. He looks at Izuku from under his chin, and Izuku swear he can see flames behind his eyes. He growls, “What’s her actual name?”

An alarm bell rings in Izuku’s ears and he stutters, “Ka— Ka— Kat— Katsuko! Bakugan Katsuko…….”

Kacchan’s expression doesn’t change and Izuku feels his heart leap to his throat. God, Kacchan is gonna call his bluff at any minute now. He’s going to reject him then he’s going to break his heart and his bones.

“What’s she like?”

Kacchan shifts forward slightly and Izuku is just know noticing the ample cleavage in clear view. Right there. In front of Izuku’s face. “Uhm. Ah, she’s very, ugh, im- pec— impeccable!! And strong! Muscl— mature!! Breasty too – I mean, pretty! PRETTY!” Izuku bites his tongue then swallows thickly. “Beautiful, actually!” Lifting his gaze to meet Kacchan, he whispers, “Gorgeous. Just the most amazing person in my life.”

Kacchan is staring intently with his sharp red eyes, and Izuku feels his chest swell with confidence he never had before. “Kacchan is my inspiration, and I just … love … Kacchan so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him— um, her that.”

“Are you two serious?” Kacchan asks, impassive but there is silent rage hiding behind his words.

Something flashes quickly through Kacchan’s eyes before he narrows them. It takes Izuku a second to recognise that it’s /hurt/ and then he realise what he has just done.

“No, no, no!” Izuku backtracks immediately. “I don’t even know her that well! In fact, she kinda smells and definitely has sweating problem.” Izuku needs to do damage control and come clean NOW. “You know what? I will call her and break up with her right now. Ha ha ha.”

What the hell is he saying? Who is he going to call?

Kacchan stands up while Izuku fumbles with his phone. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, before he heads to the door.

Izuku jumps from his chair and is ready to chase after him when Kacchan stops him. “How big?”

“Huh?”

“You said Bakugan was big.”

Ah, yes, he did. Tragically.

“Um, y’know just…” Izuku motions with his hands like he’s moulding two doughballs, palms up and fingers wiggling because he’s lost control of his life once he accepted his funeral date, but that’s not even happening anymore so what is he doing really.

He then makes am hourglass shape in the air and belatedly realises that he’s just outlining Kacchan’s shape in front of him. Izuku retreats his hands and puts them behind his back in shame.

Kacchan is looking at him funny. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Does she shoot aerial bomb or something? Is that a combat-style quirk?”

Izuku blinks.

Kacchan just sneers and turns around.

“Whatever. I’m doing a photoshoot this afternoon. The Sekushī clothing line is dropping a new summer set and they asked me to model.”

“Se- Sekushi?? You mean, like—” Izuku feels his face go impossibly red. “You’re saying that, you’re going to wear, like…..” his voice goes down to a whisper when he says “…..a b-b-b-b-b-bikini?”

“Swimwear,” Kacchan turns to say over his shoulder, “Among other things.”

The sexy smirk he sends Izuku’s way is doing very, very weird things to Izuku’s body and imagination, things too inappropriate to describe in a work setting.

Kacchan leaves but not without offering the most dangerous challenge to Izuku’s mental wellbeing. “Feel free to drop in.”

Oh, he absolutely will.

“Bring Bakugon.”

Oh, he absolutely will not.

Actually….

Maybe, he will.

Kacchan is going to ruin Izuku

#dekubaku #dkbk #bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #mha #boku no hero fic #boku no hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #prompt fill #icewrites

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Rain Check

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2860

Warnings: Lots of sexual tension and pining and ~heated glances~ or whatever but no actual sexy times. Author plays fast and loose with the canonical details of Spencer’s teaching sabbatical, as well as the logistics of grad school. There’s a teacher-student thing going on, but no weird age gap or whatever. Excessive objectification of Spencer’s hands, because really, what else do you expect from me?

A/N: For the “mutual pining” square on my @cmbingo card!

You trail off. Spencer’s staring like he’s waiting for you to say something else, even though you’ve been rambling for a while now.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

“For what?”

“You probably didn’t need to know all of that.”

He blinks, shaking his head with a quiet laugh.

Something about him makes you want to open up; it’s been almost an hour of nonstop conversation, and you haven’t told him what you’re studying or even where you’re studying, but you feel like you’ve known him for years. You’ve talked about your favorite books and assorted high school traumas. He keeps insisting he’s not good at small talk anyway.

“I really like listening to you talk,” he says, soft and sweet. “I just… I like watching you talk, too. I noticed your eyelashes and — and I got distracted.”

Your cheeks feel hot, suddenly. You know the feeling.

“Oh,” you manage.

There’s something about his hands; they’re just very fucking distracting, and every time he tucks his hair behind his ears, you lose your train of thought. It doesn’t help that he keeps absently-mindedly twirling a pen as he talks, long dexterous fingers moving with precise little movements, and — yeah. Distracting is putting it mildly. There’s this constant low flicker of want in your gut.

“It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much in a bar,” he admits, with a self-conscious little half-smile.

“Me too.”

Probably helps you’re not actually inside the bar. You’re tucked in the corner of the deck, leaning on the railing, and even though it’s crowded, you’ve barely noticed your surroundings. Every time you look at him, the rest of the world feels distant, like one of those perfect movie moments where the crowd parts and the hero and heroine walk toward each other in slow motion, meeting in a spotlight as everything else fades away.

It’s just… those moments don’t happen, not in real life and certainly not to you. It’s never as simple as that: see — want — have.

You can’t help but hope that this time might be different.

Spencer’s smiling, and the way he looks at you with those big soft eyes makes you feel like you’re standing in a spotlight. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. It’s just unusual, this jittery, excited, not-exactly-stage-fright thing happening in your chest.

You have to remind yourself to breathe.

The pause stretches a bit too long, and in an effort to fill the silence you blurt out, “What are you thinking about?”

He hesitates, and his tongue slides along his lower lip, drawing your attention to his plush pink mouth as he says, “I was thinking—”

“Spence! There you are!” someone says loudly, and you’d be embarrassed by the way you jump, startled, if Spencer didn’t do the exact same thing.

“Hey. Emily. Um… what’s up?” His voice cracks. He looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar; it’s flattering and oddly endearing.

“We have a case.” The woman seems to be holding back a smile as she glances apologetically at you. “Meet you up front.”

Spencer is visibly disappointed as he turns back to you. He gives you a helpless sort of shrug, and for a second, neither of you say anything.

Your throat feels tight as your eyes lock on Spencer’s parted lips again. It’s been such a long time since you felt this drawn to a person; his closeness feels hypnotic.

“I’d like to see you again,” he says shyly. “I — can you—”

“Phone number?” you supply. His hands flutter and his eyebrows rise, like he forgot, for a second, that cell phones exist. Then he pats his pockets, pulls his out, and passes it to you. Once your number is saved, you give it back with a small smile.

“I’ll probably be out of town for a few days, and then — maybe next weekend,” he says.

“I’d really like that,” you admit, trying to make yourself take a step back. “This was — yeah. I’m glad I met you.”

“Spencer!” someone says, from the door, and he waves them off without turning to look.

“Earlier, when you asked—” He pauses, frowning, shifting his weight like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I was thinking about how much I’d like to kiss you.”

His voice is soft and husky, and it cracks on the last word like maybe his throat is tight too. You feel hot all over.

You never even shook hands; there’s been no physical contact whatsoever between the two of you, and now your head is spinning with the urge to reach out, to touch, to get closer... but it feels like you missed your opportunity for that — it doesn’t feel right, not when you know it’d be over much too quickly. You can tell Spencer feels it too.

Once two magnets snap together, it’s a lot harder to separate them.

“Rain check on that,” you say breathlessly, and he nods, raising one hand in an awkward wave as he steps back.

This is Spencer, by the way. I’m really glad I met you.

The text comes in just an hour or so later, when you’re sitting in the cab on your way home, and you smile so wide it feels like your cheeks might split with it.

The giddiness lasts until Tuesday morning, when you walk into the first session of your six-week-intensive graduate seminar and see Spencer at the white board, writing down page numbers for your reading assignment.

Your eyes lock, and there’s another of those moments where you can’t see anything other than him. It’s not so pleasant this time, though.

Spencer drops his pen, and you promptly forget how to walk, stumbling and spilling coffee down your front. You curse so loudly that the rest of the class turns to stare at you.

To add insult to injury, the only open seat is directly across from Spencer’s.

Fantastic.

You spend the next hour and a half trying very hard to avoid eye contact, and for the most part, you’re successful. He doesn’t seem to want to look at you either.

You do sneak one glance, though, and he’s just as pretty in the harsh fluorescent light of the classroom as he was in the golden glow of the bar lights. It seems really fucking unfair.

If it were any other class, you would consider dropping it, but you were lucky to get a spot; this is big for your resume. It’s a special, one-time-only class, and your advisor had described the guest professor as “a genius, and one of the leading names in his field.”

...fuck.

Spencer dismisses the class. You start packing hurriedly, convinced he’s going to ask you to stay back, but you get out the door without incident. You’re already halfway down the hall when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Can we talk?

It’d be so easy to lie, say you have somewhere to be, put the rejection off for another day, but instead you take a deep breath and turn around.

Spencer is sitting right where he was, except now he’s cross-legged in the chair, twirling a pen and frowning at it like it contains the mysteries of the entire universe. He gives you a twitchy attempt at a smile, eyes wide with worry.

You move closer, sitting down next to him, trying to ignore those fucking fingers as he plays with the pen. This would be a whole lot easier if he would stop doing that, because it’s just like the bar — the same hot, fluttering sensation low in your belly, no matter how much you try to ignore it now.

“I thought you worked for the FBI,” you mumble and he lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sigh.

“I do,” he says ruefully. “I just — also teach, sometimes?”

“Yeah. I got that.”

His tongue does that slow swipe across his lower lip. You bite your own lip, trying not to stare, and Spencer drops the pen with a clatter.

“Sorry,” he says, shoving both hands through his hair. “I’m so sorry if I — if this is — is this going to make you uncomfortable?”

You frown, looking at him blankly for a second, because that was so not the reaction you expected. “Uncomfortable?”

“Knowing that I — that I’m attracted to you? I’m aware of the power imbalance inherent in the situation and I promise I would never—”

“Present tense?” you blurt out, and Spencer stops, blinking at you.

“Well… yes. I thought that was obvious. I meant it, you know; I don’t just meet people like that,” he says, agitated. “It’s usually difficult for me to talk to strangers, and you’re — you’re just — yes. I’m attracted to you.”

“I figured you would think I was immature, and — I mean, it’s such a fucking cliche,” you laugh, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. “I usually try to avoid modeling my life on Van Halen songs.” He gives you a blank look and you add hastily, “Never mind. Point is, a student with a crush, throwing themselves at a professor? Seems like a recipe for embarrassment.”

“Oh,” he says, as a smile spreads across his face. “So… maybe after the class is over, we could—”

“Yeah?”

Spencer is blushing. Jesus pogo-jumping Christ, you want to kiss him.

“It’s just six weeks. We’ll keep it strictly professional — appropriate �� for six weeks.” The words are quiet, all husky and promising, and you can’t tell whether it’s intentional or not, but something about that tone sounds very fucking inappropriate. “And then… we’ll take that rain check.”

You nod and clear your throat. “You’re on.”

SIx weeks, two classes a week, ninety minutes per class. Easy enough.

It’s not easy. Not in the fucking slightest.

Part of you wishes he could be a bad teacher, or something. If he was boring — if he had an obnoxious laugh — something. Instead, every goddamn minute spent in his classroom seems like another reason to fall for this guy.

And yeah, sure, he’s pretty. You catch yourself staring, sometimes: his long lashes, the hint of gold in his eyes, the sharp angles of his jawline, the messy hair… and you’re not the only one. It seems like the entire class is crushing on him by the end of the second meeting, boys and girls alike, and maybe you would make fun of the Indiana Jones-style lash-fluttering that’s aimed his way if you weren’t guilty of doing the same thing yourself.

Once word gets around that there’s a cute new professor in the criminology department, rumors start to fly left and right. You’ve heard other students talking about him, speculating about the apparently “way more badass than you’d think” Doctor Reid. You hear stories about how he got shot once — was kidnapped and tortured — overdosed on heroin — saved a train full of people by talking down a lunatic with a gun — hooked up with a movie star — went to jail for murder — you name it, every story more far-fetched than the last.

Well, he did mention getting shot one time, but you’re pretty sure the rest are too absurd to be true.

Either way, it’s not the looks or the legends that have you hopelessly head-over-heels.

It’s the way he lights up when he gets started on a subject that interests him. It’s the joy in his expression when a student asks a good question, or when they draw the right conclusion; his smile is bright and brilliant every time.

The first time one of those smiles is aimed in your direction, along with a half-shouted, “Correct!” and an excited wave of his pen, you’re just about blinded. It quickly becomes one of the driving goals of your day-to-day life: make Spencer smile.

He’s beautiful, in those moments when he’s grinning and enthusiastic, but the quiet moments are even worse.

Sometimes he stares as you work your way through a train of thought, eyes glinting as he fixes them on you with a breathtaking intensity and this fierce pride. Sometimes, his voice is firm and sharp, and sometimes when he says things like, “Yes, exactly like that,” it sounds so much dirtier than it should.

Sometimes — sometimes — once or twice or a dozen times — you fantasize about that voice. You’re only human.

You never realized there was such a thing as a “praise kink,” but… yeah. That about sums it up.

At first you worry that he’ll lose interest: that you’ll say something stupid or he’ll find someone else, because in your experience with men, they don’t wait around for six hours, let alone six weeks, once they’ve realized they can’t immediately have what they want. Instead, it only gets worse as the weeks pass.

It’s nothing obvious, nothing that could be labeled as inappropriate — you still haven’t touched Spencer, not so much as an accidental brush of his hand against yours when he passes back a graded essay. It’s just that his gaze lingers, whenever he looks in your direction, just a moment longer than it would on anyone else. Every time your eyes meet, you have a hard time remembering that the rest of the world exists. It might as well just be the two of you. There’s this heat between you, this crackling electricity, like touching a live wire every single time, like you can’t pull yourself away to break the current.

It’s the longest six weeks of your life.

“That’s our time,” Spencer says, glancing at his watch. “I’ll get your essays marked and returned to you before break, and on Sunday evening, I’ll submit your final grades, at which point—” His eyes flick to you, and you bite your lip. “— my responsibilities as your professor are complete. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Hi,” Spencer says, without preamble, when you pick up the phone on Saturday evening. “This is — um. This is Spencer?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning so hard you can barely say, “Yeah, I know.”

“Right. Um… where are you?”

“Just dropped off a few library books.”

“I got grades done a little early,” he says hesitantly. “Do you want to… meet me at my office, maybe? We could go out for dinner?”

You’ve never been there before, but you know where it is. Open office hours with Spencer always seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, because your self-control only goes so far.

“Sounds good,” you say, voice strained, heart racing. “Be there soon.”

You walk fast.

The building is mostly deserted, at this hour, and as you walk quickly down the hall, the catch and release of breath in your lungs seems too loud for your quiet surroundings.

You might be panicking a little bit. There’s still a part of you that’s just waiting for him to change his mind, to realize how dorky and awkward you are, to find someone more polished or accomplished or… something — fuck, this seems to good to be true.

Spencer has one of the old, cramped temporary offices used by visiting professors, and even though he’s only been here for a month and a half, he’s amassed quite a collection of books in the small space. When you step through the open door, he’s got his sleeves rolled up as he places a couple books gently in a box. He runs his hands through his hair with a sigh, making it even more hopelessly touseled.

“Hey,” you say, and he turns around, wide-eyed and nervous for a moment before a smile — one of the brilliant too-bright ones you’ve become so fond of — transforms his face.

“Hi! Um, I’ll come back tomorrow to finish cleaning, I was just — we could go out, I don’t have to — dinner? Are you hungry?” He picks up a pen from the cluttered desk, twirling it like he just really needs something to do with his hands; he seems just as anxious as you feel. It’s comforting, for some reason. At least you’re both awkward dorks.

“Not hungry,” you say shyly. You close the door, slow and deliberate.

Spencer’s eyes widen and then go dark, all heavy-lidded and heated.

He drops the pen, closes the distance between you in two long strides, and cups your face in his hands before kissing you, deep and urgent, dizzyingly perfect. It’s desperate, after all this time, all that pent-up longing and suppressed electricity surging through you all at once, making you gasp at the sharp incredible sting of his teeth nipping your lower lip.

It’s one hundred percent worth the wait.

You’re both breathless when he breaks the kiss, but you sway closer anyway, trying to follow his mouth, and blink like you’re coming out of a trance. His lips are red and swollen.

“Rain check on dinner?” he asks. His voice is suggestive and smoky — there’s nothing appropriate about it.

When you nod, he just reaches behind you and locks the door.

Smutty bit is now here!

More CM fic here!

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

The Raven Haired Rebel

Chapter 1

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which you plead Loki’s case. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Besides this being a miniseries, all the chapters are pretty short too! Hope you enjoy all the same :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Swiping into Avengers Tower made you feel important, more so than swiping into a SHIELD base. You weren’t exactly sure why, though. Perhaps it was because SHIELD was a secret, and no one knew. Here, the passerby on the street looked on in awe. Or maybe it was because the Tower was so elite. Because so select few got to enter. But really, it probably wasn’t that you got to enter so much as why you got to enter.

True, since your first day on the job, word got around that you were the best in your field. Fast as lightning, you’d risen through the ranks to be Fury’s top tracker, a position all but secured when he brought you on for this case. A case, you knew, that intrigued you far more than it should have.

Just like everyone else had on that day a little over three months ago, you watched the TV with rapt attention as gods and superheroes made themselves known to the world. And, you supposed, supervillains too. Not that you’d told anyone, but something didn’t quite sit right with you in the weeks after when news anchors and colleagues alike were referring to the raven haired god as such.

For the next three days, you’d pored over books of Norse Mythology and a number of studies. Most of the latter coming from one Dr. Jane Foster, who you soon came to link with Thor. But even there you found a disconnect between the god of legends and the bloodied man on your screen. He never really did have malicious intent before. He was a trickster, yes, but he’d not even come close to doing something this drastic before! Ok, yes, there was his involvement in Ragnarök in the myths, but even for that you’d found multiple sources that could debunk it. Besides, it certainly didn’t seem like Asgard had even faced the end times yet.

Alas, you figured Thor knew his brother, and you had your own case to work on, so you let be the mystery that was Loki.

And then you were called into Fury’s office a week ago and asked to begin tracking the god. A bit too eagerly, you’d agreed to take the case. You’d dealt with villains before, truly evil people, and your search only further proved what deep down you already knew; Loki was not one. Everywhere you followed his trail, a mysterious savior was stopping bank robberies and saving people from burning buildings and runaway trains. Not to mention there were multiple descriptions of said savior using green magic. It seemed a wonder that the tracker in the case before you hadn’t noticed. Then again, people tend to only see what they want to.

Regardless, you made your way to the elevators, heading toward the conference room on one of the upper floors. You tapped your foot as it ascended, impatient to share your findings. As the lift stopped and you got out, you tugged on your leather jacket. It was ever so slightly too big, but it was on sale. Plus, you felt like it looked pretty cool, considering your job and all. Subconsciously, you puffed up your chest a bit too. Regardless of actual size, you felt like a petite little thing, stepping into a room of now renowned heroes. Strange, you thought, how so much could change in just three months.

“You know, I got to get me one of those,” said the man suddenly keeping pace next to you. You quickly identified him as Tony Stark.

“I... Pardon?” you replied, slightly startled.

“Your jacket,” he said, pointing at it. “I feel like the leather will match the whole rugged good-guy, vibe. Besides, I think Capsicle’s got one.”

You chuckled at that. “Maybe we should just make it the team uniform then.”

“Team, huh? So you must be that new tracker kid we’re working with.”

“I’d hardly call myself a kid,” you scoffed.

“When you get to be as rich as I am, you get to call everyone a kid,” Tony shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure that’s how it works, but whatever you say, I guess,” you chuckled again.

“See, now if everyone would just adopt that mindset, we’d get stuff done a lot faster around here.” He quickly signed something that was brought up to him on a clipboard, never stopping. You wondered how long he could keep up like this before collapsing. “Besides, take it as a compliment. That last tracker was some fuddy-duddy old guy.”

“Fuddy-duddy?” you guffawed. “Maybe you’re the old one, after all.”

Tony feigned like he’d been struck in the heart. But before you could keep up the banter, you reached the conference room, and Steve was waving you inside.

“Stark,” he said with a nod. “Are you ready to begin or are you going to keep distracting our new teammate?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said with a little salute. “Reporting for duty.”

You mouthed a sorry as you followed Stark into the room. Even if the rest of them turned out to be hard-asses, at least Tony was fun. And having one ally was better than none, you figured. As you took your seat across from your new friend, you flipped through the file that had been left for you. It wasn’t really anything new, so you glanced at your teammates again. Nat and Clint both nodded at you, recognizing you from a couple other missions you’d interacted during. There wasn’t really any time to talk, however, before Captain Rogers was walking to the head of the long table.

“Alright, team. Before we get started, I think it’s worth mentioning we have a new member on the team,” Steve said, before welcoming you by name. “I think we’re all caught up on the situation here, so let’s dive right in. A new trend has shown up in the Tower’s data mining.”

“Data analysis,” Tony butt in. “It sounds more ethical that way.”

“Whatever you want to call it, the program showed that wherever Loki goes, there’s a spike in activity of an organization calling themselves AIM. At first glance they seem innocent, but after some digging, we’ve found they’re anything but. We’ve determined Loki is working with them, perhaps even masterminding some of their more underground projects. Agent? Can we assume you found the same things?”

“Uh, yeah, no. Actually, my data shows the opposite,” you cleared your throat. Standing, you slid the information from your tablet onto the room’s TV screen. “See, it seems that he’s actually doing good deeds. There are multiple accounts of a man fitting Loki’s description performing heroic works.”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Tony said, leaning forward. “What about AIM then? You think it’s a coincidence.”

You bit your lip. “I’ll admit, I haven’t found anything about them yet. But... maybe, just maybe, Loki’s showing up where they are because he’s trying to stop them.”

“I am so sorry to interrupt, but that does not sound like the Loki I know at all,” Thor laughed. “A wonderful joke, though.”

Now you were getting mad. You shouldn’t be, but you saw something worth defending in Loki. A lot, actually. There was something about that look in his eye that you couldn’t quite read, but it was telling you something was wrong all the same.

“That’s not fair! Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. Look at this,” you said, swiping to show a side by side of Loki during and after the fight. “You can see it by the look on his face; something was seriously wrong during the battle. Plus, I’ve seen videos of him when he first came; he was not alright. Afflicted with severe anxiety and what looks like burn marks, I’d say. He needed help.”

“With all due respect,” Clint chimed in, “aren’t your a tracker, not a psychologist?”

“Yes, but as such I’ve been trained to look at all the details. Not just what’s convenient.”

“Listen,” Steve sighed before things got any more heated. “It’s a great theory and all, but you read Thor’s account of everything that happened before this. So, until we get some solid evidence proving otherwise, we’re going to have to stick with what we already know. We’ll put a pin in the AIM thing until you can take a look, though. Ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed, defeatedly taking your seat again.

You looked around the table. Natasha and Bruce, the only two who hadn’t said anything, both looked kind of pensive. Alright, maybe bewildered was the better word for Bruce. He was smart, no doubt about it, but you got the impression he wasn’t very good in social settings. Then there was Clint and Thor, both who seemed a little skeptical of you. At least Thor seemed to be considering his brother’s innocence at least a little. Steve was a bit more unreadable as he continued to prattle on about what you already “knew” for the case. And then there was Tony, who seemed more impressed than anything else. He, at least, had seemed to genuinely consider what you said. Perhaps he still was.

“The best way to solve this,” Steve closed his spiel, “is to bring him in. Agent, have you located him yet?”

You sighed. Deeply. It shouldn’t be this much of a struggle to present your findings. You’d had no trouble speaking on his behalf. Yet a part of you—an alarmingly large part, you realized—didn’t want to turn him in. But who were you to ignore direct orders?

“Yup,” you conceded, pulling up a map with a blinking red dot, marking Loki’s location.

“Well then, team,” Steve said to the group. “Let’s roll out.”

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mysoftboybensolo · 3 years

Text

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 12: The Courtship

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, questioning of a relationship, but it gets resolved, hints of John x Sara (more of them will come in later chapters).

Laszlo didn’t quite know what to do when it came to courting. He himself had been so inexperienced in love and more so with social interactions that he feared that he’ll make one wrong move and ruin everything. It was one of those moments where he had to admit he knew nothing about the subject and must turn to someone who did.

John would never have thought in a million years that Laszlo would ever some to him for advice, and certainly not of the romantic kind. To see Laszlo looking rather on edge and uncertain gave John a small feeling of enjoyment as the roles have now been reversed, but he did not keep his friend suffering for long and entered the den.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Laszlo spoke, “Especially on short notice.”

“That is probably the first time you had ever said that to me in all the years we’ve known each other. You must need my help badly.”

“I fear that I do. I-I have asked Evelina if I may officially court her.”

John’s eyes brightened with joy. “Laszlo, that is wonderful! She is indeed a remarkable woman.”

Laszlo smiled and nodded in agreement. “I have never felt this way about anyone, and I am afraid. I am afraid that I shall say or do something wrong and after everything that had happened in the previous days, the last thing I would want to do is cause any further scandal.”

John chuckled and teased, “If you want her to be scandal free, then she picked the wrong man.” John quickly realized what a mistake his choice of words was as he saw the visible hurt in his friend’s eyes. “I am sorry, I was only joking. It is amusing to see you like this though, because last I recall you had some choice words about love. Dull, no more than a mystery than cholera.”

He watched as Laszlo’s mood lightened as he recalled back on his own words and shook his head. “And I did believe them. Or at least, I wanted to believe them. She changed my mind. John,” he asked in a somber tone, “Do you think I am wrong to do this?”

John stared at him perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just, I am forty and she is just shy of her twenty-fifth birthday, a whole life ahead of her full of possibilities, and I feel like I am taking something away from her, especially with…” He doesn’t say the words, but his habitual gesture of left hand gripping the right wrist finished the sentence.

“Laszlo,” John sighed, “You two are not the first couple to have a difference in age, and many more have had even larger gaps then you do. And I resent the idea of you being too old, because it means I am as well, and I should like to think I am not too old for love!”

Laszlo offered a small smile, but a part of him knew that his relationship did mirror a bit with John’s feelings towards Sara, even though John was with Violet. That was something that Laszlo felt grateful in, not to be a situation where he is tied to one but loves another.

“And by now, she knows about your arm,” John continued, “I am sure that if she had thought less of you because of it, she would have left. Let us be honest, if she hadn’t left after her first meeting of you, then I am certain she is never going to leave. And I shall now share with you a lesson that I had learned a rather difficult way; never tell a woman what to feel, even if you do think she ought to feel differently.” John reached over and placed a friendly hand on Laszlo’s shoulder and grinned. “No one deserves to be happier than you, after everything that has happened, you deserve it. Take it, my friend, and enjoy it.”

Laszlo was touched by these words and knew John meant it. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’d say that.”

“My god, Laszlo,” John chuckled, “If being in love placates you, then you must do it more often.”

“I intend to. But what do I do? I mean, what is it that people do when they court?”

John explained the socially proper rules of courting, such as never be alone with her without someone being there, places where they be together, gifts you can and cannot give, etc. Many of these rules made Laszlo roll his eyes, for they were built on patriarchal beliefs that did more harm than good, but overall, when he left John’s place, he felt comfortable to move forward in the relationship.

Evelina had felt herself on cloud nine, for it felt that everything was falling into place at last. The feeling of his kiss still lingered on her lips and it was like a drug that had prolonged effects, for even the stares and whispers that people made when she passed them hadn’t even bothered her. The party at the Roosevelt’s tonight should be able to help with that, especially with Edith Roosevelt in your corner, who had happily accepted Evelina into the party as soon as she saw her.

“Oh, my dear, you are just the loveliest creature ever, love suits you very well.”

Evelina blushed and asked, “Is it obvious?”

“Beautifully so. He’s over by the fireplace, his usual spot in events such as this,” Edith said, giving her a coy smile, knowing she’d want to go to him.

Because of how late the rehearsals went, Evelina had told Laszlo to go on ahead and she’ll meet him there, so this was the first they would see each other after the kiss, and they came together sweetly and shyly. “Good evening, Laszlo, did you sleep well?”

“Quite well, I had the most pleasant dream,” he softly spoke, looking down at her with such a tender love that he could see reflected in her eyes.

“A result from a rather wonderful moment from the previous night?” she asked, knowing full well that was the reason why, she just wanted to hear him say it.

“There can be no other reason.”

The party went extremely well, and Evelina had to say that Laszlo was a good sport, she knew how uncomfortable he can get at social events, which was partially the reason why he stuck close to Evelina. The other reason was because he just adored her so. It was quite apparent to everyone in the room by the end of the night, and many thought it a good match; economically, she will be married to a man who is one of the wealthiest people in New York, socially, he is less irritable when around her. Personally, they loved each other so much.

Laszlo was indeed right, people would move on from one scandal to another, as a week later it was revealed that a prominent society lady was having an affair with her stable hand, and everyone went mad over it. People still looked down at her for her profession, but she brought up a good point during one of their meetings, of how despite people looking down at the profession, they still come to her to hear the music they love.

“It comes from a need to control and a deeper level of jealously,” Laszlo said, “If they see someone that they can put down, then they will as it will make themselves feel important. But they also know that they need that person to provide a need they cannot get themselves, which can cause a sense of jealously and hostility and make them react in such a way. They try to convince themselves that the ones lesser than them need the higher class to survive, but the truth is, the society needs the workers more than the workers need them.” Laszlo opened his mouth to continue, but he noticed how Evelina looked at him and wondered if he spoke too much. “I’m sorry. I tend to go on rambling about such things.”

“Don’t apologize, it was fascinating. I like hearing you speak about such things; it only teaches me something new, but to see you go on about something that you enjoy, it makes me happy.”

Often people have told Laszlo that they didn’t care about his work, that his ramblings about facts, big or small, were not so interesting, and to hear that she not only enjoys it, but likes how it makes him happy, well, that made him even happier.

What made their courtship so different from everyone else’s was how open they were with one another. Laszlo certainly made it no secret that he did not approve of the standard norms of society, which is why he did things so differently, and while to some it would be an improper error, Evelina felt that they should not have to hide how they felt. Most unions were made for the sole purpose of advancement in society, but this one was an affair of the heart. But despite how they felt about these rules, they also knew that there were some rules that could not be breeched. Laszlo visited her when he knew Sara was home to “keep watch” over the pair, which meant she’d be in the next room typing away at her machine while Laszlo and Evelina had the freedom of being alone.

Mrs. Vidal had also played chaperone at the opera, watching with a careful but affectionate eye as Laszlo visited after the show. The first time he came by was after the premiere of Roméo and Juliette, having watched her fall in love, despair and die, all so tragically and beautifully. He looked down at her from his box with incredible pride and adoration, and what he couldn’t believe was that at the end of the show, when she was giving her final curtain call, she looked up at him and gave a small but noticeable gesture of blowing a kiss to him. No one else caught it, between the gesture being subtle and they so enraptured, but Laszlo noticed, and it warmed his heart.

He went down to her dressing room after the show, pushing through the usual crowd of admirers and was allowed the privilege of a private audience with the prima donna.

“Laszlo!” she happily exclaimed, rushing to wrap her arms around him, which caused him to gasp but chuckle as he returned the hug. “Did you like the show?” she asked with her face pressed against his chest.

“Oh, meine liebe, you were perfection itself.”

She pulled back enough to look up at him, with a look of pleasant surprise. “Laszlo, do you realize that you just called me by a term of endearment?”

He thought back and then apologized. “Oh, I hadn’t realized. I am sorry if you don’t like it.”

“Oh no!” she disagreed cheerfully, “I love it. I like to be called your love. But what shall I call you?”

Laszlo chuckled at her sweetness, “Whatever you like, I suppose.”

“It’ll come to me. Such a thing must come naturally, as it did with you. The company is having a party, Delmonico’s, your favorite. Please be my escort?”

He kissed her hand and declared it to be a pleasure and left her to get ready as he waited in the hall. Evelina watched as Laszlo pushed through the crowd and couldn’t help but to laugh at the thought of him getting lost in the crowd.

Maria, still in her nurse costume, was pushing through the crowd of men when she bumped into Dr. Kreizler was confused as to why he was down here. Managing to get through, she entered the room and quickly went to Evelina who was laying on the couch with her eyes closed. “Evelina, are you alright?”

Evelina opened her eyes and sat up with a smile. “Yes, shouldn’t I be?”

“Well, no, of course not, but I saw the doctor leave and I was worried.”

Evelina got up and went to her vanity with a smile. “No, I am perfectly well. Better than well, actually.”

“Good. Listen, I was thinking of us entering Delmonico’s in style. Be fashionably late and-”

Evelina gently interrupted and said, “I am sorry, Maria. But I am going with someone else.”

Maria was at first disappointed, then she perked up when a thought came to her. “Is it the same man of whom you have feelings for?”

Evelina began to wipe the stage makeup off as she nodded. “Yes. We managed to finally express our feelings for each other and he’ll be taking me tonight.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense, who is it?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it. “No, you’ll laugh.”

“Laugh, why would I laugh? Evie,” Maria placed both hands on her friend’s shoulders, making her look at her, “I promise, if I laugh, I’ll lend you my ruby and pearl earrings for the evening. Now, please, tell me?”

Evelina sighed, then said, “It’s Dr. Kreizler.”

Maria paused for a moment, her hands slipped from Evelina’s shoulders and a quizzical look came over her features. “Dr. Kreizler. The alienist?” Maria watched as Evelina nodded. “Huh.”

“Oh, stop it, I know you want to laugh,” Evelina muttered, standing as she tossed her towel on the vanity.

“No, not at all. I am perplexed, to say the least. He is indeed quite good looking and is more well off than Mr. Moore could ever hope to be, and he is older, but so is Moore. It’s just, well, Dr. Kreizler always just seems so…distant and harsh, and you two seem so different from one another. What on earth do you see in the man?”

Evelina’s face softened and an almost dreamy haze overcame her. “Oh, if you only knew. He puts on the air of being steely strong and mean, yet, if you could see him with the children, he’s remarkable, tender, loving. He suffered but only wants to help others avoid what he went through. He’s witty, humorous, brave. And his thinking is so modern, so unlike most men I have known. He believes in women having just as much rights as men, including holding their own jobs and casting votes. He’s wonderful.”

Maria whistled. “Well, in that case, I may just fall in love with him myself.”

“Hands off, I saw him first,” Evelina teased, smiling back at Maria.

“Oh, all right. I suppose I’ll have to settle for Ramon, the tenor,” Maria teased back. Then her smiled turned tender and asked, “But, you are happy with him? Truly?”

Evelina nodded. “Yes, incredibly so. We may not be so similar, but we are similar in where is counts.”

“And that is all that matters,” chimed in Mrs. Vidal. “It’s rather best you do not end up with someone who is completely like you, otherwise, neither of you will push the other to do better, and on the bad days, you’ll hate the flaws of yourself that you see reflected in the other. Dr. Kreizler is a fine man and any man who would risk his life the way he did for you, that is a man worth keeping.” Giving her a kiss on the cheek, Mrs. Vidal said, “You are very lucky, some of us never find the right one, enjoy him while you can.”

Maria smiled, seeing her friend looking so happy was wonderful, especially after the horror she had to endure, and if it was a man like Kreizler, who not only came to her aid but also made Evelina smile, then it was worth it. “Hear, hear! And speaking of, I should leave you to get dressed, can’t keep him waiting.” Maria stood and bopped the end of Evelina’s nose. “I am very happy for you. I’ll, see you at the party,” she called out from over her shoulder.

As Evelina got ready, all she could think of was how lucky she was that not only did she find a good man to love, but that the dearest people in her life liked him too. She almost wept to think that her parents could not be alive to have met him, but she knew that they would have liked him and would have wanted her to be happy. And she knew that she’ll never stop having her heart skip a beat, for when she stepped out after changing and saw him standing there, waiting for her, it was like falling in love all over again.

If people had not known that Laszlo and Evelina were a couple, then tonight had put everything to rest. People stared amazed at the sight of Laszlo walking Evelina into Delmonico’s, especially the opera company, who never saw this coming. It was of course not an unusual practice of a singer taking on the patronage of a wealthy person, but they of all the months that they had spent working alongside Evelina, she never seemed to be the kind to do this sort of thing. The highbrows of society had simply nodded their heads and declared that they had fully expected this of her.

But what changed it from being simply seen as an arrangement to an honest to goodness courtship was seeing that the pair had matched in their flowers; in his lapel, was a lovely boutonniere of violets which matched the same corsage she wore pinned to the front of her dress. It was a spur of the moment decision, as they had passed a flower seller on their way and picked matching flowers that had a very strong and important meaning “faithfulness”.

At this point, they both decided that society could look at them with judgmental glares and harsh whispers all they want, but nothing was going to stop this miraculous feeling of being in love. And if anyone did, Sara would happily get into a fisticuff with the person, as she strongly vowed to the pair. As much as she was very happy to see them together, it did make her feel a little left out, and her gaze fell to John, with a sense of longing that she never could allow herself to admit. It was hard not to see herself reflected in Evelina and her relationship with Laszlo, after all, it was what Sara had imagined being with John might be like.

But it was too late.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl, @cazzyimagines @scuttle-buttle @violetmuses @flutterskies @sokoviandelights @rumblelibrary @fictionlandslanddreams @somethingthatsaysbubbles @alindeluce and @barnesxnobles

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #fanfiction

38 notes · View notes

castthy-nightedcolour · 3 years

Text

One-Shot: One Good Day (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the notes as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Aziraphale

Warnings and Tags: anxiety, depression, social Anxiety, implied S/H, swearing, aziraphale loves your soul, mysterious soft guardian angel breaks into your home, soft comfort

Summary: life hasn’t been going great for you. every single thing which could have gone wrong in the last week has gone wrong and you’re reaching breaking point. miraculously, something appears in your room to guide you to safety.

Word Count: 2459

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/76720253

You stumbled through your front door, the handle of your shopping bag snapping in half as your foot made it over the threshold. You watched blankly as the bottle of lemonade rolled down the hallway and the other groceries poured themselves all over the floor, rain water dripping from your hood down your face. As you slammed the door shut behind you, the smell of disinfectant rose up from the place where the groceries were sitting and you quickly realised that there’d been a leak.

Deep breath in.

The breath makes it halfway into your diaphragm before it stumbles into a sob.

Burning in your throat as you pull down your hood and hear the water shake off onto the floor.

One wrong thing in your life always managed to form into two wrong things, then before you knew it you were drowning in a cascade of completely wrong things. Everything in the past week had gradually been getting more difficult and you now felt that if you couldn’t even go to the corner shop without everything going horribly wrong, there wasn’t much point in leaving the house at all.

Work was hell; customers were rude, you were in constant pain from walking the shop floor and folding and re-folding items that people threw onto piles, and your manager seemed to hate you more with each passing day. Because you were always working, you felt incredibly isolated from any of your friends, and your unsociable free hours prevented you from messaging anyone in complete fear that you were taking up their time.

Everything just felt dull. A pressure behind the eyes, numb hands, dead legs, a complete inability to produce even one tear. You hadn’t felt this bad in a long time and you could feel yourself spiralling quickly towards catastrophe.

You stepped over the pile of groceries on the floor and edged towards your bedroom, completely ready to fall down backwards onto your bed and think yourself into a pain of solace. Water was still falling from your coat down onto your floor, leaving a trail behind you before slowly pooling together on the lino.

As you pushed your bedroom door open, you ran your right hand along your left arm, collecting freezing cold water on the tips of your fingers and in the palm of your hand. You took this hand to your face in an attempt to feel something on a face which felt like brick.

Not cold enough. Try harder.

A swift slap to your cheek had you letting out a small gasp.

Still not good enough.

You lunged towards the bed with the full intention of collapsing onto it and never getting up again. As you propelled yourself forwards, you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder, one with a gentle but commanding touch. Although you stopped dead in your tracks, you weren’t at all scared or concerned about this other presence in the room. There was absolutely no hint of threat at all. Slowly, you turned your head to look at the hand, glancing up the arm which was clad in a pale beige overcoat. A warm voice whispered from behind you,

‘Now, don’t tell me you were going to get into that lovely warm bed in this coat?’

There was no other way to describe the voice but hug-like, embracing the dull ache in you and injecting just a hint of warmth. You didn’t reply, but slowly turned fully to get a glance at whoever the man smelling vaguely of cinnamon was.

He is almost luminous.

One hand resting lightly on your shoulder with the other holding the rogue bottle of lemonade with support from his underarm.

You took one glance at the fluffy white blonde curls on his head and immediately branded him as something ethereal, the rosy pink cheeks and beaming smile were just more evidence for this. You shivered under his light grasp, partially because you were freezing and partially because you were very overwhelmed by the sight in front of you. If this was as you thought, a visit from an angel, then surely your life would never be the same.

Or maybe you’d died?

As if reading your mind, the glowing being jumped in to reassure you.

‘I know you may be wondering what’s happening here but fear not, I’m here with good intentions. In fact, they’re the only intentions I can possibly have.’

You zoned out slightly listening to his honey soaked voice, your eyes practically glazing over at the idea of whoever this radiant being was being present in your flat which had become a complete black hole over the past week. You struggled to form any kind of sentence to articulate this, but eventually came out with one word.

‘Y/N.’ You breathed, immediately feeling like an idiot for saying it. The angel didn’t hold the same opinion on this matter, though.

‘Well, that is a simply beautiful name. It’s an honour to be in your presence, Y/N.’ He spoke. You couldn’t quite fathom why he was being so nice to you and an ominous, inky black cloud inside you was attempting to convince you that this was all some joke.

Noticing fear creeping into your eyes, the angel tightened the grip on your shoulder in reassurance.

‘It’s okay, I promise. I’m Aziraphale , I’m here to look after you for as long as you need.’ The voice, like nectar, coated your very being in what felt like love.

The angel placed the lemonade on the floor and then very slowly pulled your coat off your shoulders, constantly looking at your face for any hint of discomfort. All you could do was stand there like a lemon, a look of disbelief plastered on your face as Aziraphale lifted the coat and threw it behind him, with it seemingly now miraculously dry. As you leaned to try and peek behind him, he looked concerningly at your shivering body and took a step towards you, running one of his hands down each of your arms.

You could suddenly feel heat radiating off him as you realised that all of your clothes were sopping wet, it wasn’t just your coat. The storm outside had hit just as you’d left to go the shop, which was just the icing on the cake of the perfectly played out horrible circumstances of the week.

As the hands were run down your arms, you noticed everything become dry and fluffy, like you were suddenly dressed in fleece, but they were definitely still your clothes.

Some kind of miracle?

The reassuring voice of Aziraphale returned to the room, echoing off every wall.

‘There, now I think that’s a lot better. Won’t you sit down, Y/N?’ He gestured towards your bed and immediately, you fell backwards onto it, following his instructions as though they were law. Sitting up, you peered up at him as he moved to sit down next to you, a comforting smile still on his face. The feeling of safety was so overwhelming for you, especially compared to the chaos swimming around your body only five minutes prior. Instinctually, you kicked off your shoes, curling your legs up to the bed and sitting cross legged, turning to face the angel. You weren’t sure how to make conversation with the ethereal, it wasn’t exactly a day to day occurrence, but you ran with the situation.

‘So… well… wow I guess. This is… well it’s…. oh my god sorry, oh GOD I shouldn’t be saying God should I, not around you. I couldn’t have done this more wrong, could I?’ As the words trickled out your mouth, the familiar sense of embarrassment began to worm its way back into your soul, overriding whatever comfort Aziraphale had placed there previously. You were slightly shocked to glance at his face and notice the smile still plastered on it.

‘Please, lovely Y/N, there’s no need to apologise. Say whatever you need to say, I’m here to listen. I’m all yours.’ He beamed.

Something still isn’t adding up. There isn’t a chance that someone would be this nice to you out of choice, this must be a joke.

With your thoughts beginning to spiral again, your breathing was working its way into something between a pant and one long, continuous breath. Aziraphale noticed this sudden change, and placed one hand on your back and began to very gently rub.

‘Shhhhh, it’s okay now. What’s going on here? What’s happened?’ His voice rang like a bell in your head. Your breathing came to a complete halt.

No one’s every asked you that before, have they?

The angel realised that your ribs were no longer rising and falling. All he had to do was say the words ‘please breathe’ before you took one big sigh. Glancing down at the floor, you weren’t really sure how to even answer him. Did you mention your manager? Or was he more bothered about the fact that you’d barely eaten for three days, and the only shopping that you had managed to get yourself was now doused in disinfectant? Maybe he’d be able to help with your missed messages and emails.

Then again, with 43 notifications looming over you, maybe not.

As you lifted your gaze, all of your debilitating troubles culminated into two words.

‘I’m fine!’ A false chipper tone rang through your response as the angel furrowed his brow.

‘Well, now, and please don’t think me rude here Y/N, but I think that may be just a teeny-weeny lie.’

You both sat staring at each other for a few seconds as you let that sit with you. Interestingly, you swore that you could see sunlight on his face despite the fact that it was absolutely pissing it down outside. Eventually, you worked up the courage to respond.

‘Well, yeah. A little bit maybe but on the whole, I’m okay! It’s just my manager is really onto me at the moment which means that I can’t really concentrate so I’m having to stay long hours at work…’

As you spoke, the chain of events spilled out your mouth in a fountain of truth. You got to the point where you couldn’t stop talking, laying out an entire map of problems for Aziraphale to navigate his way across. By the time you were talking about the build-up of notifications on your phone, tears were running down your cheeks, with Aziraphale swiftly reaching across to wipe them away. He watched on as you spoke, an almost pained look in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see a human soul so torn up, especially because of other humans.

With words falling out of you so easily, both you and the angel were a little taken aback when you stopped yourself mid-sentence.

‘I’ve been coming home and I’ve just been sitting here and thinking, and thinking before eventually-‘.

Aziraphale looked as though he expected you to carry on for about a second, until he grasped exactly what you were talking about. He couldn’t help but getting choked up at the idea of such a beautiful soul being driven to destroying the vessel which was carrying it, and this was all he needed to hear. With both force and care, he threw his arms around your shoulders, allowing your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

‘I’m going to sort this all out for you, Y/N. I can’t bear to think of you being so unhappy when you deserve the world, and everything beyond it.’

Before you could even protest with any idea that he may have been exaggerating, you felt a whimper leave your body which felt like it had been sitting there for centuries. Being held, being listened to, being cared for was something so alien to you, so overwhelming.

As you sat still in the angel’s grasp, you could physically feel worries lifting off your shoulders. You wondered for a moment how this was even possible, before remembering that you were spilling your problems out to an angel.

—

Turns out, Aziraphale really did sort it all out for you. A cheeky little rat infestation in the local shopping centre meant that the shop where you worked was forced to close for a few days, plus your manager had been taken out by a freak case of a rare tropical virus so they weren’t going to be able to leave their house for a couple of weeks.

Your fridge was fully stocked, every surface in your house was shining and a glass of lemonade complete with ice and a little slice of lemon was sitting on the side waiting for you when you returned from a bath which had driven every ache from your body. The angel was leaning against the fridge, reading a copy of Frankenstein which you’d forgotten that you even owned. You stood in the doorway of your kitchen in a fluffy robe, feeling a smile sit on your face for the first time in a while. The angel suddenly noticed your presence and glanced up, beaming at you.

‘Enjoying that?’ You asked, pointing your head towards the book. He held it up.

‘Takes a while to get going, doesn’t it?’ He responded, a quizzical look on his face. You giggled at this, slowly walking over to take the glass of lemonade. The angel watched on as you took a sip from it, the bubbles rising to your nose and making you sneeze. As you put the glass down, you fully turned to him.

‘Thank you, Aziraphale. For everything you’ve done for me.’

‘Oh, we’re not done yet my dear. I’m here for you until the end. Unfortunately one good day won’t be enough,’ he walked closer to you and grabbed both of your hands.

‘But it’s a brilliant place to start.’ He finished. You beamed up at him, but still with some concern sitting on your face.

‘What about when my manager gets better? I’m really not sure I can ever face them again, I-‘ Before you could begin catastrophising, the angel gently placed one finger on your lips. He then squeezed the hand entwined with his.

‘As I said, I’m here for you until the end. There’s many miracles for you, dear Y/N. Let’s just get through today, okay? We can battle tomorrow when it arrives. For now, I think that it’s time my food expertise should come out and that you should take a seat while I prepare the best meal of your life. Now, let’s see…’ He moved away from you, beginning to rummage in each cupboard and your fridge for ingredients. Naturally, you seemed to drift towards your sofa, as if being led.

Must be a miracle. For an angel, he sure can tempt you.

#good omens #good omens fic #aziraphale x reader #reader insert #comfort fic #aziraphale loves your soul #guardian angel #gender neutral reader #good omens one shot #good omens x reader

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bobohu4eva · 4 years

Text

Pink Lace - Chapter 8

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

For Baekhyun, the first half of the week was spent preparing. For the first date of all first dates. A first date that would be heart flutteringly romantic, yet private and comfortable. Exciting, but also intimate. Something where he could talk to you, where he could touch you if he wants, where nobody else could see and judge. But also somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to bend you over and take you if you decided to start teasing him again. That would need to wait until after the date, for which he also had big plans.

Endless phone calls were made. Flowers, chocolates, and champagne needed to be bought. His mind was set, this date would be nothing short of perfect. So perfect in fact, that you would have no choice but to fall for him the same way he’d fallen for you. The man was dedicated.

First though, he needed to ask you in a way that would guarantee a yes Baekhyun, I would love to go on a date with you, and not just an ‘okay’.

His first stop was the florist, owned by his friend Minseok. It was a quaint little shop where he knew he’d be able to get a perfect custom arrangement with all your favorite flowers. Little did you know Baekhyun had used his professor status to look up Mia’s school email, and had been in contact with her in order to make sure he got the best possible things to fit your preferences.

“Lilies and roses, those are her favorites. As many of them as you’ll give me.”

Minseok ended up putting together a box, a wide white cylinder overflowing with lilies and roses in all shades of white, red, and pink. It was big, a bit extravagant, and quite expensive. But Baekhyun did not care, if anything he was trying to go as over the top as possible, to really show how much he cared and wanted to make this special. No purchase was too large, no gift too much.

The chocolates were imported from Switzerland. A large box with endless flavor varieties, each one more delicious than the last. The last time he’d had them had been on vacation in Europe, and it was not so easy for him to get his hands on them outside of the EU. But after a few phone calls, he had them on their way over with 2-day shipping.

Baekhyun wasn’t one to usually spend much money at all. Not because he didn’t have it, he just didn’t feel the need. He had a nice home and a nice car. There wasn’t anything he regularly bought, aside from food. Most purchases would either be related to movies and games online, or would be for his friends.

But he loved spending money on you, because for the first time in his life there was a girl who cared about more than just his family’s wealth. You actually cared about him. He’d never wanted to spoil someone like this before out of fear that they might only stick around for the financial benefits, but that didn’t worry him when it came to you. He found it almost laughable that after so many years of dating ‘proper’ women, women his family would’ve liked, women who looked great on paper but brought him no excitement and used him for his money, he finally found someone who actually cared for him at a strip club. The universe sometimes works in mysterious ways, he told himself.

Once the chocolates had arrived and he had acquired the flowers, it was time to get going.

Wednesday afternoon you and Mia decided to put away your homework for a while and bake something together. Apple pie was the agreed upon project for the day. You were in the process of slicing up the apples when you started to wonder just what was taking Baekhyun so long, after all he’d already told you he was going to ask you out. Why couldn’t he just do it?

“I wonder why Baekhyun still hasn’t actually asked me on a date yet, he said he was going to on Saturday and it’s Wednesday. Do you think he might’ve changed his mind?”

Mia had to work to hold back her smile. Not only did she know when he planned on coming to ask, she knew the exact flowers and chocolates he was bringing, as well as the date and time of the date itself, all of which Baekhyun had carefully discussed with her.

“He definitely hasn’t changed his mind, that’s for sure. He’s probably just taking his time to make sure it’s special.”

“He’s only asking me on a date. He could literally just text me. It’s not like I’ll say no anyway.”

At that, Mia couldn’t help but crack up. Maybe that was the norm for college guys, but Baekhyun? Ask you in a text? After everything he’d done? It was laughable.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Mia said and put two hands up in the air in defense, but you’d known your best friend for long enough to tell when she was lying.

“You know something. Tell me.” You demanded, taking your apple slicing knife and pointing it towards her.

“Get that away from me! And my lips are sealed, sorry.”

No matter how much you annoyed her about it, she wasn’t going to tell you. Not only was she sworn to secrecy, she wanted you to enjoy the surprise.

“Come on, did he say something to you? Just tell me.”

“I’m not saying anything. You’ll just have to see, but I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“You are so evil.”

“You still love me”

The pie was eventually assembled and put into the oven, at which point you returned back to your own room to continue doing homework. Mia stayed out in the living room, since she knew there was a guest arriving shortly.

It was finally time for Baekhyun to go to your house to ask. After approximately 30 minutes of just making sure his hair looked right, he finally grabbed the chocolates and flowers and got on his way.

It was a pretty warm day, but even with the AC blasting as high as it would go Baekhyun was still sweating. He knew you would say yes, but his hands felt slippery on the steering wheel of his car anyway. It had been almost 5 years since he had last done this, since he had asked a girl out. It had been even longer since he’d asked someone out that he was actually excited to spend time with, and really hoped would say yes.

The closer he got to your home, the more nervous he became. He couldn’t even explain to himself why. He knew you were home, he knew you would say yes, he knew you were free the day he was going to take you out, and he knew he had the perfect gifts. This was exactly why he’d interrogated Mia via email for days, but when it actually came down to it he couldn’t help worrying. What if you were mad that it took him so long to ask and wouldn’t wanna go anymore? What if something came up last minute and you wouldn’t be able to? He wasn’t sure if his heart would be able to take a response like that. Especially since setting up the date itself had been a whole other story, one that not even Mia knew about.

Baekhyun could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he got the chocolates and flowers out of his trunk and started walking up to your front door. When he knocked, Mia was the one to answer.

“Hi Baekhyun!” She said, looking him up and down, and then to the flowers and chocolates he was holding, a wide grin on her face. “I’ll go get her.”

You heard your name being yelled from the living room so you peeled your thighs off your desk chair and made your way into the common space to see Baekhyun, holding the most enormous flower arrangement you’d ever seen.

Mia went to her room, leaving you standing before him, slightly flabbergasted.

“Sorry I didn’t do this sooner, but can I take you out on Saturday?” He asked, peeking over the mountain of flowers that hid the bottom of his face.

You immediately grinned and nodded enthusiastically, pulling Baekhyun through the doorway. You grabbed the flower arrangement and set it down on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch with him.

“I would’ve asked days ago already but I wanted to bring these too and it takes a little while for them to get shipped from Switzerland.”

The flowers had distracted you so much you hadn’t even noticed the box of chocolates he was holding as well.

“Baekhyun this is crazy, how much did all of this cost?”

He only rolled his eyes. “You know none of that matter, I just want to make you happy, okay? And you like them right?”

“Well of course I love chocolate, and the flowers are beautiful, roses and lilies are my favorites.”

“I know.” He grinned at you.

“I never told you that?”

“I might’ve found your friend’s school email...”

Your eyes widened. “You did not-”

“Professors have access to every students files and that includes school email addresses, and you mentioned her a few times so I figured I would ask her some stuff.” His hand made its way to the back of his neck and he looked down at the ground nervously. “Sorry if that’s weird, I just wanted to make sure I’d get the right things and that you wouldn’t already be busy or anything.”

You smiled “It’s alright, this is definitely the most anyone's ever done for me for a first date, or any date for that matter, sorry if I don’t really know how to act right now.”

“Nobody’s ever bought you flowers or chocolates before? Really? Are those boys you go to school with that dumb?”

“I don’t really date around much anyway, and maybe once or twice for valentines day or something, but definitely never like this.”

“Well you deserve to be showered in flowers and chocolates all the time.” He smiled and grabbed the box and untied the fancy looking ribbon holding it together, and removed the lid. “Try one, this stuff is crazy, no other chocolate has been the same since I first tried it on vacation in the alps a few years ago.”

Of course he went on fancy European vacations. You wondered if someday you’d get to tag along.

He picked a piece and held it up to your mouth and you took it between your lips. He was right, it was amazing.

“Oh my god this is so good. Holy shit.” He was right, this would pretty much ruin all other chocolate for you.

He watched you as you finished eating it and placed a hand on your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his. “Give me a taste.”

He pulled you in for a slow open mouthed kiss, savoring the flavor of the chocolate on your tongue and leaving you breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get used to the way he kissed you. He was so good at making you feel like your insides were melting with desire it felt almost dangerous.

“You’re intoxicating, I could kiss you all day.” He said as he pulled away from the kiss just enough to speak. You could feel his breath on your face and his eyes as they bore into your own.

“Oh come on you’re just saying that because of the chocolate.” You laughed as you pulled away further, face now a bright shade of pink.

“The chocolate is amazing, but your lips are even better.”

“God you’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes at him, but he still just smiled back. “So where are you taking me Saturday?”

“It’s a surprise, I’ll pick you up here around 3:00 and it’ll be a bit of a drive but I promise it’ll be well worth it.”

“Can you give me a hint at least? Will there be food? What should I wear?”

“Yes there will be food, and just wear something comfortable and weather appropriate.” He considered it for a moment, trying to think of something that wouldn’t be too obvious. “It’s an outdoor thing, and something I’m almost 100% sure you’ve never done before, but that’s all you’re getting out of me. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You’re so mean.” You pouted. “You make me wait for days and now you won’t even say where you’re taking me.” You really wondered what was so special that he couldn’t just tell you. It was only a first date so it wouldn’t be anything that extravagant anyway right?

“Once you see you’ll understand why I want to keep it secret, just trust me, okay?” You rolled your eyes again, “Hey, y/n, look at me.”

He put his hand on your thigh before giving you a serious look. “I know this might not seem like that big of a deal to you, but it’s been over 5 years since I’ve taken someone out like this, and even longer since I’ve been this excited to. I just, I really want to make this special, so can you trust me?”

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. “Of course, I'm impatient is all... And I haven’t really done this in a while either...”

“It’s really shocking to me how someone as beautiful as you doesn’t have a constant stream on boys trying to take you out.” You chucked, and thought back to Lucas and how he’d asked you to a party.

“Me and college boys don’t really mix well, I’m not someone who enjoys big parties and they usually aren’t really interested in getting to know me anyway, or once they do they realize I’m just a boring STEM major. You saw that guy Lucas, I’m sure he was just hoping I’d go party with him and get wasted enough to end up in his bed. No thank you.”

“He was so pushy too.” Baekhyun said as his face fell into a frown at the unpleasant memory.

“Boys will ask me out sometimes, sure, but it’s always just to a party or a movie or something, somewhere you can’t really have any kind of meaningful conversation anyway, so I assume they just want to sleep with me. And I’m not really interested in that.”

“You seemed more than happy to let me rail you in my office last week.” Baekhyun laughed, making your face blush an even deeper shade of red.

“That’s different!” You said in defense, giving a light slap to his shoulder. “You’re not some college boy, and we have technically known each other for a while already.”

Baekhyun had a wide smile plastered on his face again, “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one who had to keep it from happening.”

“Which I still think was pretty lame of you...”

He caught your eyes again, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Baby I’ll make sure that was worth the wait too.”

You shivered, and as soon as he had pulled away you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him and pull him into another kiss. He quickly deepened the kiss and pulled you onto his lap. The two of you sat like that for a while, exploring each other’s mouths, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of it. Eventually you ended up laying down next to one another, still kissing lazily in each other’s embrace. You knew better than to escalate it into anything sexual now, so you just enjoyed the softness of his lips on yours and his arms wrapped around your waist.

After some time Baekhyun had to go, and you thanked him again for the chocolates and flowers. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Mia emerged from her bedroom.

“See! I told you he’d ask soon! Also, he’s even cuter in person.” She giggled and you laughed in agreement.

“Did he seriously email you about me? What all did he say?”

“He asked about your favorite everything pretty much, when you’d be home this week for him to ask you, when you’d have time over the weekend, all that. I assumed you wouldn’t mind missing work for the date so I told him Saturday night.”

“Was there anything else? Any idea where he’s taking me?”

“No, I asked but he wouldn’t tell me either. It was really cute though, the way he was talking about you. He’s seriously whipped.”

“You don’t say.” You laughed gesturing towards the huge flower arrangement and box of chocolates still on the coffee table.

“You have to tell me where he takes you, I’m really curious. Did he tell you anything?”

“Just that it’s outdoors and I don’t need to dress fancy.”

You could tell Mia was thinking, trying to figure what it might be the same way you had. “A picnic maybe?”

“That feels almost not fancy enough for him, but I don’t know. I really can’t think of anything outdoorsy that nice.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out! Come on, let’s cut into this pie.”

The evening was spent eating pie, and with Mia showing you Baekhyun’s emails to her. They made you feel like your heart might explode from the sweetness and consideration he had when planning everything. He’d even made sure to get you milk chocolate rather than dark chocolate. There were a plethora of other seemingly unrelated questions as well, including your favorite snack foods, colors, and more. You felt a little bad for how much he’d asked her about.

As the hours went by, you were looking forward to the date more and more.

Saturday afternoon couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Next Chapter

A/N: Sorry this one is late and a bit short, but the next update will be *much* more exciting I promise ;)

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fic #exo fic #fanfic #smut #fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #exo smut #exo fluff #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic

228 notes · View notes

tsukiida · 4 years

Text

honey — bakugou katsuki

— info :: bakugou x gn!reader ; sfw ; fluff & humour ; 6.04k words.

— contents :: quirkless reader ; reader’s pov ; scheming friends ; dumbass!reader ; slight cussing ; confessions.

— synopsis :: if there’s one thing that you have in common with bakugou katsuki, it’s obliviousness to the other’s feelings. a haunted house is the best place to resolve misunderstandings.

— note :: it’s been a while; I finally finished this!! :D it’s a continuation to bakugou’s “pining”, and I’d suggest reading that first for the full experience™ but there are hints dropped throughout “honey” to give you an idea of what happened! I hope y’all like this! :)

quite honestly, you've got to be the biggest idiot possible.

really, you had the best chance.

it’s not like confessing to bakugou katsuki would be that bad, right? the most he’d do is turn you down with a scoff and then go back to pretending you don’t exist while chasing his heroic dreams.

he’s not big on humiliating people unless they’re— a: aspiring heroes, or b: midoriya izuku.

he definitely wouldn’t lord it over your head and tease you about it.

kaminari really gave you the best opportunity to get things out in the open!

and you let it slip through your fingers like an idiot.

furthermore, you really did also say that you have absolutely no romantic interest in the explosive pretty boy. you acted like the idea of harboring any feelings towards him shocked you. you also acted like he was the weird one for thinking you liked him.

while having a raging crush on him which really makes your heart beat and bounce around in your ribcage as if getting a firsthand taste of his quirk.

have you mentioned that you’re an idiot?

right, you have done that enough times, so maybe the next step is to explain why.

you’d been out running an errand when you’d come across midoriya izuku.

midoriya; the only other quirkless student in your year, in junior high. you’d never talked much to him, but you’d felt a sense of camaraderie with him whenever you saw him. the school was small enough that you could count the number of quirkless people on one hand.

you and deku were included in that number.

the only reason why you didn’t get picked on for the reasons he did was because you never wanted to be a hero.

and you avoided bakugou katsuki like the plague.

to be honest, you hated him at first.

you’d seen it all, but hadn’t been able to do anything other than giving midoriya a few words of comfort which felt hollow to your own ears. you still blamed yourself a little for having never helped him properly.

you loathed bakugou for being as powerful as he was, as arrogant and stuck up as he was, and for being the petty bully who really thought he was better than someone just because of a quirk.

you were bitter. not because you didn’t have a quirk, but because people like him made people like you feel like you weren’t worth anything.

that’s why, when you chanced upon midoriya after such a long time, you were elated.

you were so happy when you found out that he really did have what it takes to be a hero.

if you deliberately ignored bakugou, then that’s entirely on him and not on you.

you won’t be taking responsibility for things that aren’t your fault.

…you were also wary of him.

you didn’t want him to blow you up if you so much as smiled at him.

not that he deserved seeing your smile anyway.

that’s what you told yourself right in the beginning. and that’s what came to bite you in the ass, because some days you have to do your best to conceal your smile at the mention of the stupid explosive boy’s name.

he really does scare you, you didn’t lie about that. but despite that, your brain thinks that it’s fun to get flustered over someone who scares you. just a little bit! he’s losing that scariness rapidly in all situations except when you’ve seen him in action as a budding hero. you just get worried that he’s going to take one look at you and decide that you’re getting in his way, a nuisance to everyone, and whatever else he can think of you.

in all honesty, you’re aware that he was an idiot in middle school, and the majority of his issues stemmed from his convoluted relationship with midoriya. if midoriya himself can forgive him, then you don’t really have a reason to hold grudges. and you know he’s grown. he’s matured to an extent you never expected from him, but perhaps that’s how he goes through life.

exceeding expectations is something he’s great at.

and he’s grown into someone wonderfully inspiring, if not intimidating.

—juuuust a little!

…

uraraka finds out first.

you love that girl, but you could do without her knowing about your embarrassing crush on one bakugou katsuki.

if only she’d actually helped you out, instead of teasing you subtly to the point that you couldn’t even stay in the same room as bakugou—to the point that you vehemently denied any sort of interest in him when midoriya innocently brought up the other boy in a conversation.

it becomes a reflex to avoid anything related to bakugou and romance in the same space. which is how you landed yourself in the mess with kaminari.

so you’re going to blame uraraka. she’s definitely at fault! it’s not your wimpy self to blame!

“uraraka,” you end up mumbling into the phone, rocking back and forth while hiding your face against your knees, wishing to be swallowed whole.

“uraraka, i told kaminari that i don’t like him.” despite having promised yourself that you won’t bring the whole thing up with her, you can’t help it. she’s still your precious friend that you’re very fond of, and the same friend who wrangled out from you all of your embarrassing opinions of him.

“uraraka, he’s going to hate me now. he’s going to think i don’t think he’s cool or strong, or whatever else that might hurt his pride. he’s going to completely stop paying attention to me now!”

you may claim that you blame her, but you’re aware that she’s not at fault. she always tries hyping you up when you’re nervous and comforts you when you’re down. perhaps you’re taking advantage of her kindness, but you really don’t want to be left alone with your thoughts. and it really is her fault for being so encouraging when it comes to dealing with your feelings for bakugou katsuki.

so when your friend just wordlessly hums in response for the third time, your fingers clench in your hair and you let out a frustrated sigh. raising your pitch obnoxiously, you whine, “uraraka!”

“i love you, but if you call my name like that one more time i will tell deku.”

you freeze, not sure if she means telling him about your not-so-little crush, or merely the fact that you like singing uraraka’s name. she laughs mischievously, clearing up your confusion much too quickly, prompting you to let out frantic apologies and make her promise that she won’t let the cat out of the bag.

“really, though,” you mumble, “he didn’t even remember me. he asked me if i was messing with him using my quirk. i had to tell him i was quirkless and then deal with his anger.”

that gets her attention in an entirely different manner. she sounds positively incensed when she asks you why it matters if you’re quirkless, and you give her reasons that sound weak to your own ears.

“and how are you messing with him?”

that leads to you telling her about one of your earlier interactions with bakugou, back when you’d first started being friends with midoriya’s class. you mention how you were about ready to pass out when bakugou’s question registered in your mind and you had to tell him you were quirkless, before you’re back to bemoaning the conversation with kaminari.

and something clicks.

not in your brain.

but in uraraka’s.

…

it’s not just you avoiding bakugou.

bakugou avoids you like the plague.

the sensible part of you is relieved, but another, bigger and dumber, part of you is hurt. of course he’d avoid you if his friend asked you if you liked him, and you said you didn’t.

but ouch, you really didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

not that something like this should even matter to him, right? maybe it’s you who’s suddenly noticing that he avoids you, because now you have a reason to fixate on rather than trying to lie to yourself that bakugou is not entirely indifferent to you. he really has no reason to pay attention to you.

it all makes sense, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling saddened every time bakugou blatantly ignores you. nor does it stop you from going out of your mind wondering why kaminari, too, seems to avoid you at all costs. it’s not like you said you didn’t like him!

yes, it makes sense perfectly. but not to you.

it makes absolutely no sense to you.

…

midoriya’s advancing steadily in his hero career with uraraka’s help, because the latter convinces you to come meet up with the two of them on a rare day out, and the former conveniently drags bakugou out too.

really, such heroics, all for a friend’s pathetic love life? how heartwarming.

you’re still in shock at how easy it was, and god, you don’t want to think about the implications, with the way bakugou’s eyes flit from one to the other when he’s not looking at you.

you also don’t want to admit that you’re stealing glances out of the corner of your eye at the blond when you don’t feel his eyes boring into you.

talk about awkward.

you’ve always been enamoured by how smart bakugou actually is, but it works against you when he corners you after uraraka and midoriya mysteriously vanish under the guise of training.

(that too at an arcade, because gaming supposedly helps achieve better reflex. why is a quirkless person with no interest in being a hero even invited to this outing? one will never know. the only games being played here are with your frayed self-control.)

“oi, if you’re gonna avoid me, don’t be so obvious about it.”

“a—? avoid you?” you practically squeak, and his annoyance seems to increase. there’s something else that you can’t really put a finger to. you’d say he almost looks agitated? but there’s nothing to agitate himself over…

…unless he still thinks you’ve got a raging crush on him.

“nope!” you hastily respond before realising he’s not even said anything to you, but hey, it’s as good an answer to his complaint about you avoiding him.

why’s he complaining, anyway? shouldn’t he be glad no one’s getting in his way?

you ask as much, and he all but growls, words escaping him as you take a step back. bakugou is more susceptible to dramatics than one would think. you used to find it funny, but when such behaviour is aimed at you, you’re not sure how to respond.

“you think you can actually get in my way?” he bursts out, and you make a show of thinking about it, when internally every single one of your brain cells is rioting, self-composure in shambles as you’re rudely made aware of how little distance is between the two of you.

that’s fine, you’re strong, you’re not going to be weak in the face of bakugou katsuki’s incredibly attractive glower.

no, you’re not whipped, thank you very much, to the uraraka-shaped devil materialising in your mind.

ah, back to the matter at hand. it’s not possible for quirkless little you to get in his way, is it?

anyway—

“aren’t you the one avoiding me?” you’re going to try and turn this situation around on him even if it means confronting things you don’t want to.

he scoffs in disbelief, but by that time you’ve worked up the courage to look at him, and you see the look in his eyes. you’ve spent enough time around him to know what that means, even if you barely ever look at him. he looks like he’s been caught, and isn’t that the funniest little thing?

he notices the twitch of your mouth, his own eyes narrowing as it’s your turn to be caught now.

“kaminari,” bakugou says in lieu of a response, and your heart jumps in your throat. you don’t mind dropping a subject if he doesn’t plan on grilling you on it too—changing the subject would be great, but he just picked one even worse than the last!

“he’s stupid, don’t pay attention to him.”

“uh huh, he sure is,” you laugh nervously. if you’d had your bearings about you, you’d never have said that. as it is, your mind is still shaken up and hoping that he doesn’t catch on to the fact that you are the stupid one.

you’re also very busy battling a smug uraraka and shouting at incompetent old you for swooning in the face of your biggest problem. and for, you know, missing that golden chance to confess without anxiety.

“look at me.”

nuh uh, nope, not possible. you’re not going to survive looking into his pretty eyes.

he lets out another frustrated sound, and you wait for him to blow up again—maybe even cause explosions. you wonder why he’s not been doing that lately.

he gets tired of your stalling, and surprises you by getting in your line of sight, locking eyes with you.

ah, impatience is such a gorgeous look on him.

…and you’re insufferable.

“i am not avoiding you. why would i, idiot? there’s nothing i need to avoid you for.”

you nod, not quite believing him, but you really want to just move on from this. a part of you wonders if you should come clean. but bakugou really doesn’t seem like he wants to hear anything about that. it’s in the way his eyes flit away momentarily and his expression sours, and in the way he seems to be pushing himself to hold onto some shreds of self-control.

all you can do is nod, really.

“where’s deku?”

you’re barely able to carry on the conversation, making some excuse or the other as to your missing friend(s), doing your best to act like you don’t have a clue either. if he finds your behaviour suspicious, bakugou doesn’t comment on it.

he does comment on something else. again.

“you don’t have to keep avoiding me just because of pikachu either.”

really? there’s nothing better for him to talk about? you thought you were past this! and calling kaminari ‘pikachu’ is not that smart!

“pikachu was cute…” you mumble. and you need to be louder, because you don’t want bakugou leaning in any closer to hear you.

the proximity is doing things to you.

things like making you forget that he probably hates your guts and doesn’t want to spend time with you, nor talk to you, at all. things like how he’s probably upset at being stuck babysitting you while midoriya and uraraka are off who knows where. things like making you discuss the cute factor of a magic ball–inhabiting yellow electric creature when bakugou clearly means the boy who almost outed your silly crush.

the boy who was giving you the best opportunity to confess!!!

if there’s one person who will never let you forget that, it’s your own self.

bakugou makes a sound that almost sounds like laughter, but there’s no way, right?

he shuffles back slightly, making it that much easier to breathe before he drops another bomb.

“school festival.”

you blink.

“it’ll be next month. make sure you’re free.”

oh. the stupid part of you is internally rejoicing, but since there is no way that he’d actually ask you to come—

“a-are you asking me to visit…?”

no no no, you didn’t mean to ask—

bakugou gives you a flat stare, and you gulp. so you were right for once.

you mull over it for a moment, the concrete under your feet extremely interesting before meeting his eyes again, “am i allowed to?”

“you practically live with us with how often i see you in the dorms. you think they’ll stop you now?” he snorts, rolling his eyes, but there’s not as much bite to his words as one would expect.

he has a point.

but you can’t really see reason when every single cell of your body is screaming ‘IT’S A DATE’ over and over again.

you groan, before swallowing back the sound. uh oh, bakugou’s going to think you don’t want to—

“come when you can.”

hands in his pockets, he walks off as if he wasn’t just making you go through all stages of panic.

…

uraraka tells you why she vanished. she was simply being a ‘good friend’ and trying to get you and bakugou to reconcile. you politely tell her it wasn’t required, especially because there wasn’t much that happened.

except the fact that he asked you to turn up to the festival, so that’s nice, at least.

uraraka doesn’t react as expected, again, and she utters the cursed words that you never wanted to hear out loud. “aw, a date!”

“uraraka, no!”

but it’s too late. it’s been said and now you can’t think of anything else. you know it’s not a date, any sane person would know that, but you can’t stop thinking of that one stupid word and bakugou and the school festival and spending time with bakugou at the festival—

“uraraka… the festival— i’ll need to see him. i’ll see him having the time of his life while he’s in his element, i’ll see that infuriating face— i’ll have to spend time with him—”

“y/n,” uraraka gives you a look that’s the perfect amount of wary and pitying to make you embarrassed, but there are bigger things to worry about than your friend’s opinion of you.

“this is bakugou we’re talking about. he’s not that open about having fun unless it has something to do with murder.” the fact that he won’t be keen on spending time with you goes unsaid, but you know what she’s hinting at. “also, i don’t think you find his face as infuriating as you say.”

“still. bakugou katsuki. he… told me to— agh—”

and you’re back to square one, where the very mention of bakugou katsuki has you confused out of your mind because you don’t know how to act around him.

perfect.

…

time passes quicker when you’re hoping for the opposite, you find out when the days go by faster than you can blink. there’s just a week left before you have to see bakugou again, and it makes you nervous every time you think about it. which is a lot of times.

you’ve not seen the class in a while, since everyone told you they have a ‘surprise.’ you know they’re aiming to outdo their previous performance at the festival, you’re rooting for them. but without one of your main sources of entertainment, things haven’t been eventful.

except the conversation you have with kaminari over text, because of course he somehow procured your contact information and of course he felt like he had to make amends.

maybe you were expecting it because you were already on edge from when bakugou confronted you, but kaminari doesn’t beat around the bush and gets straight to the matter, which is quite unlike the last time you both talked. that time.

“haven’t got the chance to check in w/ u in a while, we’ve been crazy busy! i hope u’ve been well >:D” shifts to “we’re good, right?” sooner than you’d like, and you’re left staring at your screen in shock as you try to think of an innocuous response that doesn’t give away your true emotions.

kaminari is too quick, and he doesn’t even give you a chance to think of a lie before the next ping distracts you, leaving you staring at the latest message in horror; “blame bakugou! he’s the one who told us you like him! i’m really sorry! :(”

it’s nice of him to apologise, but you really have other things to think about.

like how it’s bakugou katsuki himself who apparently thought you had a crush on him.

he knew.

he knows.

he knows he knows he knows—

no, no, he doesn’t know. he can’t. maybe he was just suspicious.

and on the off chance that he does know, then of course. he’s smart. you’re stupidly obvious. of course he’d figure out.

but he doesn’t seem to hate you. he was the one who approached you every time! when he asked you to turn your quirk off, when he supposedly instructed kaminari to ask you if you liked him, and when he told you to visit for the festival.

you like to think that he’s just too busy training to even realise that you like him. you hope that’s the case. you can always come clean and admit that yes, you really do like him. but there’s also your lame excuse of a pride that remembers the unreadable expression on his face when he’d heard you then, before promptly leaving, the door shut slamming shut behind him.

perhaps it’s not your pride, but guilt. you don’t want to be annoying and get in his way. there are too many things going on in his life already, why would you want to add on to all of that with your silly lies? the same logic applies to a confession too, argues the part of you that lives and breathes denial.

looking at it from another perspective, bakugou likes the attention and admiration. maybe it would’ve been for the best if you’d just admitted—

it’s too late now, so the most you can do is type out a hasty response to kaminari before he suspects your silence.

“it’s totally ok. we’re good :DD will see you guys soon!”

it’s purely to hold yourself accountable and not weasel your way out of the inevitable trip, but kaminari’s enthusiastic response manages to bring a smile to your face.

…

the evening before the grand day, you call uraraka up before the jitters can defeat you. she doesn’t react much other than humming and speaking a few encouraging statements while you lament over your luck and try to subtly ask her how bakugou has been doing.

“i’m sure he’s… excited.” you can practically feel the smile gracing her lips, and you know she’s having fun at your expense. when does she not?

you know she’s also having fun when she calls you a whiny complainer and says bakugou would probably blow up if he knew even a bit of it, and you – predictably – complain more, blaming her for meddling and bringing you to this point.

bakugou doesn’t need to know about your penchant for whining when things don’t go your way. you think he’s only ever seen you smiling and speaking politely with everyone, if he’s even been looking. that’s good, you don’t want him to find you bothersome. you’ve been doing your best to appear sophisticated around him.

…

no amount of complaining and whining could prepare you for when bakugou turns around and grabs at your wrist.

bakugou’s too close again—things are suddenly eventful.

“too damn slow, are you trying to get lost?” he grumbles as he pulls you through the throng of people, and you smile weakly, internally telling yourself to get your act together and not let on how frazzled you feel at that moment.

you don’t know whether it’s your own skin heating up under his touch, or if his quirk is responsible. for a moment, it reminds you of when he asked you if you’re using your quirk on him. it’s sudden enough that it makes you snort under your breath before you catch yourself. he gives you a quizzical look out of the corner of his eye, and you shrug, smiling lightly. that sates his curiosity, and he looks ahead again as he moves towards a predetermined destination.

it’s a lot easier to deal with his hand against yours after that. eventually, he lets go, and you find yourself missing the warmth for a moment.

the warmth completely leaves you when you find yourself in front of—

“a haunted house.”

“congrats. we’re going in. let’s see how shitty it is.”

you get the sinking suspicion that he plans to rip everyone’s confidence to shreds, and you don’t want to be around for that, but he doesn’t give you a chance to protest. you’re not supposed to be overstaying your welcome or overstepping your boundaries either, so you resign yourself to following him around quietly and perhaps apologising to his victims if he goes too far.

you’re his only victim.

you only make your way through a few scares before you get the scare.

bakugou katsuki promptly turns to you, glaring. you, being the genius that you are, take a step away from him. this continues till you’re best friends with the wall, and you try not to panic at the feeling of something slimy now clinging to your shoulder.

how can you, anyway? you’ve got bakugou staring at you with a contemplative look, almost as if he’s looking into your very soul.

“you talked to the idiot.”

“there are many idiots,” you mumble, knowing full well which idiot he’s referring to. you hope kaminari hasn’t tricked you yet again. did bakugou put him up to that conversation— there are too many things you don’t feel you have in yourself to think about.

something changes, then, and he lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. he seems agitated, almost awkward, and you wonder why.

“you piss me off.”

huh? is he talking about how much you get in his way and bother him and make things hard for him and—

“kirishima told me.”

…did another person figure out about your crush? kirishima’s always seemed really sweet, and you don’t think he’s the kind that would deliberately spill any secrets. it wouldn’t be manly, right?

“he told me i should apologise.”

“huh?” you really can’t hold it in. why is he the one apologising? shouldn’t you…? and why is he apologising by telling you that you piss him off?

“he said i shouldn’t have put you on the spot and then avoided you. dunno why he thinks he has any say in the matter but you know what i realised? maybe you think like that too. maybe you’re,” he spreads apart his fingers before making a fist and scowling at it, “hurt. and you really did avoid me after that.”

you don’t say anything, still stuck on how constipated he’d looked just moments ago. you’re not supposed to be amused right now.

“oi, say something. aren’t you gonna deny it?”

still nothing.

“say something before i leave this place without you.” your incredulity shows on your face, and he huffs, “what do you want?”

“i… i don’t need an apology… everything’s okay…” it’s not, but you don’t want him to look further into this. there’s no point. “i’m not hurt, bakugou. there’s no reason for you to apologise.”

“then why’re you still acting so jumpy? i told you, just forget about what the electric idiot said and go on merrily through life. i told him not to bring it up with you again.”

“he said you told them i like you.”

he mutters something under his breath, no doubt cursing his friend out after you throw him under the bus. but he doesn’t let it affect him, straightening up again as he looks at you.

“miscalculation,” he shrugs, “i told them to drop it after you said you didn’t.”

“you believe me?” you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but it slips out before you can stop yourself.

“no shit. you telling me you lied?”

you gulp. all of a sudden, the slimy wall is so interesting!

“stop avoiding my eyes, dammit!” bakugou comments, frustrated, and you inhale sharply.

“stop making me so nervous, then!”

uh oh. you shouldn’t have said that. it’s the game changer.

“i make you nervous?”

you don’t answer, hoping he drops it. he doesn’t, and he repeats the question. still, you can’t crumble just because he looks impatient, and you shrug non-committally. something tells you that the situation is steadily turning against you.

”hey, tell me. i make you nervous?” his grin is absolutely roguish as he waits for you to answer.

you still don’t speak, telling yourself that you won’t rise to the bait, you won’t respond to him because you’ve said way more than you needed to—

“weakling,” he sing-songs, and your jaw clenches.

“being nervous around someone isn’t necessarily a sign of weakness, bakugou. sometimes it’s also a sign of being wise.” there goes your plan.

“hah, are you saying that you’re wise for being nervous and avoiding me? what am i gonna do, eat you?”

“i don’t know, maybe executive some explosive murderous strategies?”

“i wouldn’t do that,” he spits out, running a hand through his hair. why is every pore of him screaming agitation? “it’s no fun defeating you when we’re not even competing.”

“oh really? then what’s your idea of fun?”

“when you tell me i make you nervous even though i’m not doing anything.”

“aren’t you supposed to be apologising to me?”

he snorts, “never. i only told you what some idiot thinks. but i can understand why you avoid me, i make you nervous after all.”

his self-satisfied laughter infuriates you, yet makes your own lips twitch.

he lets out a put-upon sigh, and scuffles the floor with his shoe.

“me too, dumbass.”

“huh?”

“you make me nervous too, idiot.”

“huh?”

face mere centimetres away from yours, he lowers his voice to a whisper, “i’ll only say this once, so keep your ears open if you want to know. i miscalculated. i thought you had a thing for me because you didn’t meet my damn eyes always gave pretty answers whenever you talked to me. but you didn’t. i was…” he gulps before clearing his throat, sounding far too aggressive in that moment before he practically grits out: “projecting. i was projecting because i’m apparently into you.”

you stare at him speechlessly. try as you might, you can’t think of a response. you don’t even know what he means by the last bit. surely he couldn’t mean…? why you, of all people? but you’re worried he might leave, his threat from earlier still rings clear. so you resign yourself into taking his words at face value and admitting the truth.

no, it’s not resignation. it’s the resolve you’ve been lacking for a while now, finally coming together after hearing that from bakugou. even if this is a cruel prank, you’ll survive. you just need to get it out before it consumes you and ends up being a what-if, years down the line.

“you may have projected, but it wasn’t a miscalculation. it’s… not entirely… unreciprocated. the feeling is mutual, you could say.”

it’s out now, and you’re alright. the ground doesn’t swallow you up, bakugou katsuki doesn’t blast you headfirst into slimy walls. nothing happens. the moment remains suspended in time, or perhaps time is suspended in that moment.

bakugou’s eyes narrow as he mulls over your words. he glares at you again. it’s muted.

“if it’s reciprocated, shouldn’t you be doing your best to cling to me every chance you get?”

him being reasonable and quiet puts you at ease. the words come out more easily.

“shouldn’t you have done the same?” he scoffs at your question, but doesn’t offer a response, so you continue, ”bakugou, you know why you avoided me, and i know why i avoided you. i didn’t want to get in your way. and i didn’t want anyone else to catch onto it.”

“was deku in on it?”

you know how he’ll respond if he knows midoriya had an inkling before him, so you hastily dispel the suspicion from his mind.

“you said you don’t know me well.”

“bakugou, you didn’t even remember me when we first met,” you reason with him, and he scowls. “it applies to both of us; we really don’t know each other enough.”

taking a deep breath, you continue, “as for the rest of it, i panicked. i admit i didn’t deal with the conversation as well as i should’ve, and some of the things that i said weren’t the nicest. i know it was hurtful even to kaminari, but i couldn’t help it.”

bakugou scoffs, “if anyone’s hurting, it’s only him. not that he has any reason to be.”

you wince as you’re reminded of the texts the boy sent you. now that you’re thinking clearly, you feel slightly bad for having been cold to him, and lied. but there are bigger matters at hand.

“you actually remember that conversation?”

“no shit, why else would i ask?”

“but… why? why do you remember it? that makes me feel a little guil–ty…” you trail off as sparks fly off his fingers, the explosion possibly unintentional. it allows you to see his face clearly in the dark, and the red tint to his ears surprises you. he’s glaring at the wall, not meeting your eyes, and your heart promptly melts.

“aw, bakugou, i didn’t know you cared—”

“shut the hell up!”

you wait for him to calm down as he sets off more explosions, but the smile on your face refuses to leave. he doesn’t seem to mind it either even as he glares at you, because there’s no harshness in his eyes.

“this doesn’t mean we’re dating,” he eventually declares, and you raise an eyebrow. “i won’t spend my time on things like that. we like each other, big deal.”

“i just said whatever you feel is not entirely unreciprocated. who says i like you?” you ask in a rare show of humour as you roll your eyes teasingly. sobering up, you nod slightly, “you could’ve worded it better, but i understand what you mean.” you hold up a hand to stop him from interrupting you. “don’t worry, i have no intention of getting in the way of something you’ve wanted practically your entire life, bakugou. it’d be stupid of me. and i know neither of us are ready for that level of commitment yet. it’s enough if we— you know…” you look at him pointedly, not wanting to utter the words. but it’s bakugou katsuki, and he’s run out of patience from after all the teasing you’ve subjected him to.

“it’s enough if we what—? tell me, i don’t know.” he leans in again, the petty side of him thriving. you’re starting to get used to his proximity; it’s what you tell yourself but you barely stop yourself from averting your eyes.

“i’m just saying it’s enough if we like each other. we can get to know each other slowly and that’s it. we don’t need to jump into something that has a low success rate in the first place.” he gives you an incredulous stare, and you elaborate, whistling, “high school flings are mostly just flings, bakugou.” it’s not the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie.

he makes a face at you. eventually, he exhales.

“so? you like me? can i ‘pass it off’ as that?”

“will you ever let that go?” you groan, and he only responds with a cocky tilt to his lips. “yes, i like you. i wonder why i do,” you huff. “why’d you bring me to a haunted house of all places?”

“so you could get scared and beg me to save you.”

(you make a note to yourself to tell uraraka later that it wasn’t a date. but truthfully, you’re not disappointed about that.)

you stare at him, unamused. “you scare me much more than any haunted house could.”

“then stop getting scared!”

from the way his face is angled away from yours, you’d almost think he’s pouting. your eyes move between his face and the steam—

you wait for his hand to stop steaming before reaching forward and taking hold of it.

you give him a wry smile.

he returns the gesture with the same wild eyes and disarming grin that first drew you to him.

…

word got out that someone had been threatening a visitor in the haunted house. bakugou’s friends are convinced that you both had another fallout—kaminari is too scared to even look in your direction. good for you, because he misses every time you and bakugou lock eyes.

you frequently find yourself stifling laughter.

— note :: thanks for reading!! :) please let me know how this was; a lot of effort went into it and I’m not sure how to feel about this, so feedback is really appreciated! :)

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