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sixosix · 1 year ago

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I DON'T WANNA HURT YOU (I JUST WANNA BE) | LYNEY

warnings 3.5k words, vague descriptions of wounds, lyney crushing already, cesar appearance:(

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“This is crazy,” Lyney whispers frantically as they stumble over their steps, eyes wide and darting all over the place. “This is insane.”

“Lyney,” his sister whispers sharply, “she can hear you.”

Lyney swallows and steals a quick glance at The Knave, yet she’s staring ahead. But with Lynette’s words, Lyney notices that she’s gotten a bit closer than before. She was listening. Not that Lyney really cared.

Lyney tightens his grip on Lynette's hand as they advance further inside. He shudders at the scathing feeling of numerous curious eyes on him, uneasy about the idea of those gazes focusing on his sister. Though he can't see her while she's hiding behind him, he senses that she has tucked her ears and tail.

“A bond stronger and thicker than blood.” Lyney blinks and realizes that The Knave has been talking to him this entire time. She doesn’t quite smile, but it’s something close as she lays her hand atop their heads. “You’ll find a family here, Lyney, Lynette. From this day forth, you’re my children, and I, your ‘Father’.” With the claws of her hands in Lyney’s view, he feels as if that’s more threatening than a promise, yet Lyney feels warm all the same.

As ‘Father’ signals for Lynette to step forward and introduce herself, Lyney remains steadfast and refuses to loosen his grip on her wrist. He scans the crowd and feels like he’s looking at mirrors—orphans staring back at him, all of whom have been compelled to build a new and found family. Someone among them waves. Lyney takes a moment to collect his thoughts before reluctantly waving back.

And then he meets your gaze. Your cold and hateful gaze.

Lyney doesn’t know what he did for you to look at him in such a way. His heart skips a beat or two, enchanted. He wants to ask, but as soon as ‘Father’ asks him to tell everyone who he is next, you have turned away and walked off, disappearing into the long hallways. Lyney’s eyes never leave your figure until you’re completely out of sight.

“Lyney,” he says, hopefully loud and confident enough for it to reach your ears. It most likely wouldn’t.

As ‘Father’ dismisses the crowd and declares her leave, Lyney guides his sister over to the other orphans, their hands clasped together. They navigate the unfamiliar surroundings, their gazes and steps wandering.

The warmth envelops him, akin to stepping into a hot shower after being left out freezing in a rainstorm. It’s been too long since he experienced that—his recollections are filled with images of his shivering form, attempting desperately to share heat with his sister, whose lips are blue and trembling. The sensation is a distant memory. It's been too long since he last felt this way.

“Who was that who left just now?” Lyney asks.

The kid is sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the floor, a plate by his feet. He picks at his food. “Hm?”

Lyney points in the direction you’ve stormed off to.

The boy snorts as he follows Lyney’s gaze. “That was Y/N. Everyone knows who she is.”

We literally have just arrived, Lyney wants to snap, but he sees no point in picking fights when ‘Father’ has just promised a bond stronger than blood or whatever. There would be no bond to match what he has with his sister—he’s sure of it.

“And…? Why did she leave?” Lyney questions slowly. He watches the kid slurp the soup until it’s empty and clean and feels his stomach growl quietly in envy.

“No one knows,” he says halfheartedly. “It’s not worth the trouble. Provoking a confrontation with Y/N is signing up for a beating, and you wouldn’t want ‘Father’ to single you out when she’s the standard. Stick with your sister.” The boy sounds terribly bitter, as if having experienced it first-hand.

“Right.” Lyney has no idea what any of that means, but his pulse thrums, excited at the prospect of a mystery.

His sister fidgets beside him. Lynette eyes Lyney warily as if reading his thoughts. Don’t cause trouble, Lyney could hear her telepathically. I wouldn’t dare, Lyney communicates with his smile.

Lyney thinks he can never be as brave as you. He wonders how you manage to stand alongside ‘Father’ so frequently and maintain such composure—looking as if that’s exactly where you belong.

You look more like a soldier than an orphan, Lyney thinks. It’s beautiful in all the wrong ways.

While he diligently enjoys his homemade warm breakfast (it’s already his second plate), Lyney poses some very crucial questions to a new friend.

His name is Freminet. He jumped out of his seat when Lyney tapped him on the shoulder as a greeting, and he said he was expecting Lyney to get annoyed by his reluctance to speak, but all Lyney told him was that he was used to his sister already. Freminet warms up to them after. Well, mostly Lynette, but befriending her means would mean you should expect her brother as well.

Lunch ended, then came a new routine Lyney had to familiarize himself with.

“Where is she going?” Lyney asks in a murmur, eyes chasing your footsteps. The other orphans remain seated while you were the first to scurry off, foregoing the attempt to clean your plate. Were you so important to be able to do that?

“To train,” Freminet says simply, his eyes glued to stacking porcelain plates. He slides the chair back and heads to the kitchen.

Lyney follows after him with glasses in hand. “To train?”

Freminet nods. “We should follow. Is Lynette…?

Lyney glances off to the side, an unbidden smile tugging his lips as he sees Lynette curled up on the couch by the fireplace, eyes shut and body language relaxed. Like a cat hoarding a warm window. “I’ll get her.”

As much as it pains him to interrupt his sister’s sleep, he doesn’t know what ‘Father’ will do were they to miss a routine in the House of the Hearth. He doesn’t want to risk finding out, either.

She grumbles and sends him a biting glare but obliges all the same. They tail after Freminet.

You reemerge back into view, a weapon on your side, your face serious.

The other orphans head to the side and come back with different kinds of weapons. Lyney’s eyes bulged out of their sockets when small Freminet pads over to them with a great sword twice his size. A claymore, Freminet said, unbothered as he practically dragged his weapon around.

“This is crazy,” Lyney whispers to his sister again, who jabs his ribs with her elbow.

Lyney has never touched a weapon in his life. A butter knife here and there to cut bread nice people give him, but that is nothing compared to the long one you’re carrying. Freminet gestures to the corner of the room where it lays a chest cracked open, heaped with rusty weapons.

Unfortunately, Lyney doesn’t see any more of the weapon similar to yours. Lynette eyes the sword with muted interest, so Lyney takes the other weapon available.

He’s familiar with a bow and arrow; he’s seen how people wield them from afar and in plays. That doesn’t make it any easier when he has to hold it in his tiny hands. Lyney feels his muscles strain as he pulls, wincing at the ache that unfurls in his arms. Lynette clumsily swings around with her sword.

He cranes his neck to observe the other kids sparring, stumbling when his gaze wanders, catching you looking at him. There’s a smile on your face, but it’s not a kind one. You chuckle under your breath, then turn away.

Lyney doesn’t know what comes over him. One second, he’s at the corner of the room; the next, he’s forcing himself into your view.

You’re prettier up close. Lyney nearly misses his lines.

“I’m Lyney,” he says, face pinched with a seriousness that hopefully he conveys well to fight the blush threatening to creep up.

“I know,” you say, fixing him with a blank stare. “You saw me when ‘Father’ introduced you.”

“Do you think you can teach me?” Lyney then shows his chosen weapon as if he’s offering it to you.

You appraise him for a silent moment. Lyney shuffles on his feet. “I don’t like bow users.”

The statement hangs in the air awkwardly, with Lyney unsure of what to make of that.

“Lyney,” a soft voice calls after him. He turns and sees Lynette looking at you and her brother. “Hello.” She waves shyly at you.

“Hi.” You don’t quite smile, but Lyney feels it there. He realizes you resemble Father’s attitude quite a bit, just a ghost of it, never visible when genuine. “Lynette, right? How’s the sword?”

Lynette takes a moment to answer as if unsure what to respond to that with. “I like it.” Her gaze flits to Lyney, curious. “What’s wrong?”

Lyney feels caught, for some reason. “I just introduced myself.”

“Should you need it, seek me out if you want me to train you,” you tell Lynette, staring right ahead. Lyney feels as if he’s older than you, yet the way you carry yourself has him feeling young and small, a fawn prancing around a tiger.

You must have seen whatever face Lyney is making. “A bow is further off from a polearm than a sword; it’s nothing personal.” But the sickly sweet smile you flash at him feels very personal. However, instead of feeling miffed by this bold start of war, Lyney feels himself grinning.

“So you’re not good at every weapon?”

You start walking. “Astute observation for someone who isn’t good at any weapon.”

He trails after your steps with ease. “Hey, have we met before?”

“No.”

“You’re not acting like it’s a ‘no’.”

“Will you please let me train in peace?”

“Only if you agree to make me your sparring partner.”

You pause, sizing him up. Lyney attempts to hold a straight posture, but he noticeably deflates when you unleash a mocking laugh. “Surely you’re aware how idiotic of a request that is?”

Lyney then realizes the whole room is pin-drop silent, watching with bated breath for Lyney’s next move. And he is, of course, nothing but a performer.

“The harder the challenge to overcome, the greater the benefits to reap,” Lyney says with full-body confidence. Lynette snorts quietly because he stole it from a children’s book they found in a dump.

“A challenge,” you murmur, head tilted. “Is that why you look at me so strangely? You see me as a challenge?”

Lyney has no idea how he looks at you. “Uhm, yes?”

You seem satisfied with the answer, though. You roll your shoulders back and nod. “Very well.” Jeez, do you always talk like that? “I will be your sparring partner.”

Lyney babbles in confusion when you start walking further away before whipping around and pointing the tip of your polearm in his direction. “Try to land a hit on me. Do your worst.”

Long-distance is a bow user’s advantage. “Are you sure?”

You narrow your eyes fiercely. Lyney blinks and fumbles with the weapon in his hands. It’s begun to feel heavy now that he’s acknowledged its presence. He screws one eye shut and aims right for your head, then watches in awe as your polearm spins in a perfect circle and deflects his arrow.

“Again,” you demand, unbothered.

You are so cool.

Lyney tries again, unsurprised when he fails. But you swipe at your weapon this time, batting off his arrow as if an annoying fly. He tries once more, realizing belatedly that with each flimsy shot, you’ve been moving closer and closer.

His breath catches in his throat when you press the tip of your dull spear inches away from his nose.

“You’ve got guts to face me head-on,” you say, poking his skin, “but you’re new, so I can’t praise you for your naivety.”

He blinks. “I wasn’t—”

“Here, in the House, you prove your worth. Loyalty is your worth. How can you prove your loyalty if you can’t even live up to your words?” He releases a heavy breath when you lower your weapon, standing idle by your side. Goosebumps blossom on his arms. “Overcome me if you see me as a challenge.”

Lyney doesn’t know how to say that he sees you as a person. He’s breathless, in cold sweat—and he might be a little in love.

Lynette has become more adept with her sword under your guidance. Lyney can’t quite get the arrow to where he wants it to go, but his grip has been getting firmer—more sure and confident. He is still too far off from beating you, however.

But that’s not all that they’ve been practicing. Months have passed, and they must master other important skills if they are going to prove their worth.

Whenever they can, he and his sister sneak off to meet up with a talented individual that was kind enough to lend his knowledge to them. He’s caring and doesn’t push when they don’t answer honestly—exactly who they need, considering their identities.

Cesar pats his head, “What’s got you so distracted, bud?”

Lyney blinks up at him, schooling his expression carefully. “I was just thinking about a new trick I want to polish.”

“Hmm.” Cesar studies his face. Lyney feels a little uncomfortable. Can master magicians like him read minds? Will Cesar look into Lyney’s and ask about who it is? “You know, the more you try to cover something, the more it’s likely to show up.”

Lyney flushes down to his neck. “Um.”

“Did you meet someone you like?” Cesar grins, kneeling down to his eye level. “It’s okay. I won’t tell your sister if you want to. Though she probably knows already, that smart lady.”

Lyney shakes his head rapidly, hands waving all over to hide his unguarded expression. “There’s nothing to tell!”

Lyney wasn’t lying: there’s really nothing. He hasn’t made any progress with you. You look at him as if you see a scrap of paper, and Lyney should really back off and move on, but he likes the expressions you give him when he speaks to you either way, scrunching in annoyance or grinning in a way that makes his heart dance with fear and anticipation. It feels more human compared to when you stand across him with the air of a seasoned warrior.

“You’re a good kid,” Cesar says, toppling Lyney’s top hat over when he ruffles his hair. “And you’re going to grow up and become a wonderful magician. You will meet all kinds of people with your talent; don’t be afraid to let them in.”

This is a bit sudden. Nonetheless, Lyney dips his head in a nod.

“Lyney,” Lynette calls out, peering from the dove snug in her palm. “It’s sunset.”

“Right.” ‘Father’ is returning, and Lyney and Lynette are finally privy to a dangerous mission for the first time together. He looks back up at Cesar, who has this distant look in his eye that matches his smile. “Master, thank you for all your guidance. We will never forget all you’ve done for us.”

Lynette rises from where she’s been kneeling, bowing along with her brother. “Thank you.”

Cesar laughs heartily. “Just look for me if you kids ever need anything else apart from magic tricks, alright?”

Lyney and Lynette don’t doubt it, but they don’t need to trouble Cesar with their problems. As Fatui, they must uphold their sworn secrecy, no matter how kind and understanding Cesar would be.

“We should head back,” Lyney says. Her hair has been whipping around her face for far too long, hindering her actions during their missions. Lyney can’t really tuck them behind her…ears, so he reminds himself to buy some hairclips for her. “I don’t want to miss dessert.”

“You should try tying your hair,” Lyney says, sighing when a stray strand flicks her in the eye. “And yes, let’s head back. ‘Father’ will be assigning us to a new mission, right?”

Lynette has a delicate skip in her steps, and Lyney is content with the conclusion of a successful mission. Yet the air feels stifling when they arrive. ‘Father’ is nowhere in sight, and there’s a crowd of orphans huddled by the sofa, a first aid kit littered by the coffee table.

Bewildered, Lyney taps one of their shoulders and asks, “What happened?”

The girl farthest to the scene and closest to the twins sighs. “Y/N snuck out to a mission not meant for her. And, well, you can assume how that went.”

Lyney’s heart sinks to his stomach. “What?”

“See for yourself,” she says, pushing Lyney and Lynette to weave through the cluster of murmuring people.

Then, he notices you—your face contorted in a scowl, your body swathed in bandages. Lyney’s eyes catch it swiftly: the burns of your skin and the wince that flickers in your expression when someone gets a little too close.

“Everyone, please return to the dining hall,” Lyney says before he can even think about it. “Space!”

They don’t move, but they pause to look at Lyney. His jaw ticks. So they can rush to gossip but not direct orders?

“Now!” he barks out, gesturing to the other room. They follow, albeit unsurely, as their stares linger. The whispers subside as they do, birthing an upsetting silence that has Lyney running a hand through his face as you stare at the twins warily.

Lynette nudges Lyney, murmuring, “I’ll look for Freminet. Unless you want me to stay?”

Lyney nods, meeting Lynette’s eye. “Don’t worry.”

Your expression clears when Lynette shuts the door softly behind her. Lyney sits on the armrest and lets his eyes rake over your wounds, studying them. They all look nearly fatal, but they look as if Lyney and Lynette have come too late—no longer fresh, leaving an unpleasant taste on his tongue. What would’ve happened if you were not treated quickly?

You glower at him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Lyney keeps his face carefully blank. “I just wanted to tell you that I’ll still be requesting sparring sessions after you’ve healed.”

Your stare became incredulous, but anything is better than the wounded look on your face when the orphans fret over you. “Fine.”

He isn’t even certain if you want him close. What hangs on his back is a bright Pyro vision, the same element that has seared your skin. If it were him, he’d be wary of himself.

“Why did you do it?” he asks quietly.

Your reply takes a while as if you debated with yourself whether you can trust Lyney or not. Luckily for him, you come to the right conclusion. “I don’t have a Vision. I don’t have the ‘potential’. They all said—Father said I could be the next director, but I don’t feel worthy.” You look back up at him. “I don’t think you would understand—”

“You wanted to prove yourself,” he finishes.

Your forehead creases, face shattering at the reminder of your mistake. Missions as perilous as these are meant for Vision users for good reasons. Regardless of someone’s skill with a weapon, it becomes an uneven playing field when there are circumstances that affect those without Visions, or even when facing enemies as highly trained as you yet have the advantage of using their elements with their surroundings to their advantage. Most of the time, those without Visions who take on missions meant not for them don’t make it out alive.

Had Lyney not received his Vision on the day he needed it, he and Lynette wouldn’t have survived. But you…

“This is all I have, Lyney,” you murmur lowly. Lyney hasn’t heard you say his name before.

“Still, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says lightly, trailing off when you gaze to the distance. “What happened out there?”

“Cecilia was too young, even with a Vision. I thought that if I teamed up with her, I could protect her and prove that I’m as good as you Vision-holders and… Well, something went wrong. It was my interference, most likely.”

Your gaze flicks back to his face, brows knitted. “It was stupid, I know. This was the first time I did something as foolish as this, under no guidance from ‘Father’.”

Lyney has an inkling; it was suspicious you pulled this off a few days after he and Lynette got their own Visions. There were barely any orphans who didn't have theirs, either. Were you feeling…?

“I still think you’re too far ahead of me,” Lyney says, hoping you’d pick up on what he’s putting down. “I don’t know how to beat you just yet.”

And then you laugh. Lyney jumps back in surprise at the full-blown laughter bubbling out of you. He’s never heard you laugh like this, and he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away. He can’t let anyone take your joy from you now that he’s seen how bright you are with it.

“You can go, Lyney,” you say. “Don’t worry about me. Whatever punishment ‘Father’ decides to give is mine alone. I can see it in your eyes—you were planning something.”

Lyney sags, pouting. “I wasn’t really—”

“We’ll spar in two days.” You smile, and Lyney’s protests die on his tongue. “Once you prove that you can defeat me, I’ll let you help me.”

y/n: i don’t like bow users me, leveling lyney to 90: haha yeah i know right

TAGLIST @thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101

side note i am SO in love with this song so this chapter is very special to me. also hope u liked it... this was longer than last chapter!! tell me what u think if ure still reading all the way here

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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mxr1na · 4 months ago

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✧˖°ʚ🍵ɞ♡Sicktember Day 1[I’m not hungover, I’m just sick]Jeckole Angst- Class of ‘09✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

A/N: Day 1 of @sicktember’s 2024 Event! I really had fun doing this even though it was a time crunch cause I was just aware of the event like yesterday, but it’s fine. 🌊🫧Info!🫧🌊 730~ words

Inadequate writing lol

See here! to participate in the Sicktember event!

See here! to find all my Sicketmber works!

Tw!- Heavy swearing, drug abuse + mention of vomit. Viewer discretion is advised.

Enjoy ^^

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “Bitch why the fuck you haven’t been answering my calls? I know you don’t want to do the project, but I need this to graduate high school-”

Jecka slams open Nicole’s bedroom door, an obscene amount of annoyance washed away as she spots the brunette rotting in her bed in the humid room, which feels like being in a gym locker room.

Somehow, Nicole still looks appealing to the male demographic even if she is sickly pale with eyebags so deep you could’ve mistaken them for potholes.

She coughs, and smiles wanly at her. “Hey Jecka,”

“Oh shit are you okay?” Immediately at Nicole’s side, Jecka looks at her, feeling the creases and wrinkles under Nicole’s eyes. Her ebbing annoyance spikes up again.

“Ugh, did you try that MySpace challenge, the one where they’d snort a foot long line of whatever drug they could find? You know people actually died from that shit right?”

“When did you keep up with the news? No, I’m just down with the flu. I’m not that crazy,”

“The Spanish Flu?! Yeah right, don’t fucking lie to me. No one looks this bad when having the flu. Where’s the stash?”

“Well I am!” Nicole snaps. “I get sick easily.I’ve been convulsing and throwing up for hours, couldn’t you tell?” She points to the evident putrid vomit bucket, almost filled to the brim with puke beside the bed.

“Ew, shouldn’t your mom, like, empty that?” Jecka scrunches up her face.

“No, she’s too busy stocking up her medicine cabinet with beta blocker to care… Speaking of, can you get me some Paracetamol from there? Everywhere hurts like hell,”

Jecka sighs “Knowing you, you’d probably mix it with bedside stash of Xanax, crush it up and snort it, so no, stay hurting like hell,”

“Fuck you, whore,”

Jecka rolls her eyes and sits down on the side of the bed.

“That being said, I’m really concerned about you Nicole. This life isn't good for you…”

“Who are you? My friend or a guidance counsellor that isn’t trying to fuck me?”

“Okay you know what? Fuck you, I’ll just tell you straight. You’re fucked up and need help, and not even the cool sexy way that people fantasise about. The way people are being put in the mental asylum fucked up. And I’m sorry I can’t be like you, or even want to be like you, bu-”

“Oh don’t make me laugh. We’ve popped percs and have done drugs together, don’t act all high and mighty now, when you yourself is as bad as I am,”

Jecka hesitates, scrambling her brain to say something as equally smart as her statement only 10 seconds ago.

“Well- atleast I don’t take the illegal shit, just fucking around with kid stuff to blow off some steam! You know, the ones that literally every high schooler would take in high school?”

“Oh, just because what I use is illegal makes me worse than you huh? The outcome is the same, isn’t it? The reason we take it is the same, is it not? Using it to get off some steam. So when I use an alternative you don’t like, then, I’m in the wrong?” Nicole’s face is manic, insane, testing Jecka’s will to not just bend her back over to agree with Nicole, like she usually does.

“Stop trying to act all philosophical and shit to guilt me into agreeing with you. I’m just trying to help,” A tentative step backwards. Look at you Jecka! Making progress!

“I don’t need your fucking help Jessica.” Nicole chucks the bucket at Jecka, who swiftly dodges it, all but some vomit finding its new home on her shirt.

After that, she just…

Snaps.

Jecka shoves Nicole, making her hit the headboard, earning a bunch of her hair being roughly pulled, almost ensuring her to be left with a bald patch on her scalp.

“What, the FUCK NICOLE? I WANT TO HELP BECAUSE WE ARE FRIENDS! WHAT, JUST BECAUSE I’LL BEND MY BACK OVER FOR MOST THINGS YOU ASK ME TO DO MAKES ME YOUR LITTLE PLAYTHING? YOU’RE FUCKED UP AND NEED TO BE LOCKED UP!”

“I DONT NEED YOUR HELP, AND I NEVER DID. JUST FUCK OFF!”

Ouch. That must’ve stung. But if it hurt Jecka, no evidence of it showed on her face.

“OKAY I WILL” Jecka slams the door shut, a gross trail of footprints tailing behind her.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Mxr1na 2024. Do NOT copy, rewrite or claim work as your own. If you see my work elsewhere, please send an ask :3

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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

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“I’M UGLY, AND I AM PRO—,” you went to shout off of the roof of the compound, hoping that Yelena would finish the bit off. Alas, your dreams were crushed as you were slammed into the ground, your words cut off by a pained groan. Your eyes slammed shut at the moment of impact, but now they slowly opened up to be greeted with a downcast expression. “Y/N! I cannot believe I just heard what I did. You are literally insane if you think you can call my gorgeous baby ugly…”

“Natasha, I was,” you went to defend yourself, and your right to call yourself whatever you pleased, but then she cut your presumed excuse off with a rough kiss. “I guess I’m going to have to remind you,” she growled as her teeth bit into your lower lip and you moaned softly.

“THIS IS STILL THE VERY PUBLIC ROOF!” Yelena shrieked, “With an entire team of people on it!”

“We are used to this,” Tony nonchalantly mumbled over the croissant in his mouth. “They can have the space…”

The team practically raced off the roof, Steve used his shield to carry the loose snacks from the potluck, Thor carried an entire table, and Wanda’s wisps brought in the rest. Yelena stood there gobsmacked for a total of ten seconds before running off after them as the two of you showed no sign of actually stopping the insanity.

“So, what are you?” Natasha inquired with a quirked brow and a hidden smile. You gulped, then gave your best answer, the one unlikely to upset her “Yours?”

“Better,” she snorted, but then she was nothing but serious as she pressed her lips to your pulse. “But we both know there’s more to it, so try again detka.”

“I’m your pretty girl,” you conceded and she smiled deviously. “Mhm, now let me make sure it sticks…”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff x female reader

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satoruphilia · 1 year ago

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Just Wanna Get High With My Lover (Gojo Satoru x Reader)

tags: mdni, nsfw, weed obviously, smut, slight dubcon (they are high), y/n is a stoner, afab reader, gojo is so cute omg, gojo is emotional, high sex, slight hurt/comfort near end, petnames, established relationship, not proofread

A/N: I haven't wrote in forever omg 1.8k words

Listen to Moonlight - Kali Uchis trust me bae

You let out a loud huff as you face planted onto your bed. You spread your arms out, finally getting a break after your long day. First you were sent on a mission with your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, to catch a seemingly easy grade 3 curse, then it turns out there were like 5 more no one knew about. Gojo of course made missions impossibly more annoying by always trying to show off. Sometimes he acted like he was still in middle school trying to impress his crush. After that tiring mission, Gojo wouldnt stop nagging you about this new desert place 30 minutes away. "Baby...they literally have everything sweet in the world. We have to try it, just this once!" What do you do to make a pleading child shut up? You give them what they wanted. That was one of your weaknesses, you couldn't deny Gojo's pretty eyes, and he knew it. After spending almost 2 hours getting sweets, you were finally home.

"This is my bed too, be considerate to your roomies!" You rolled your eyes. "It used to be my bed until someone forced themselves into my dorm." You sat up, opening a drawer next to your bed and pulling out a familiar jar. Now it was his turn to sprawl out on the bed, you scooted to the edge of the bed so he couldnt knock anything over. He watched as you set down your grinder as well, preparing to make the evenings blunt. "Now youre gonna kill me with the fumes, hmph!" He was so overdramatic, you just needed to chill. The first time he complained about you smoking around him, you actually did almost put it out. Geto laughed and told you to ignore him. He and Shoko smoked all the time. Shoko was more cigerettes, whereas Geto was 50/50. You preferred your blunts, and the closest thing to Gojo smoking was him breathing out in the cold winter. You licked the paper before preparing your herbs on it, then rolling. Gojo watched closely, he did every time.

"I don't understand why you're always smoking," You picked your lighter out of your pocket and light the blunt. "I don't always smoke. Plus, it calms me down." Being a student sorcerer was stressful, and dating Gojo was even more stressful. Sativa was the one thing keeping you from going insane sometimes. He watched as you took a hit, like a child seeing a exotic animal for the first time.

"Let me see it," You snorted, then you realized he was serious. "Knock yourself out Satoru..." You handed him the blunt. "How do I do it?"

"Satoru, why do you want to smoke? I thought you were 'too healthy' for that?"

"I want to brag to Suguru, about how I can also smoke 420" That sent you lying on your back on the bed, laughing your ass off. "What?!" He seemed offended.

"There ain't no way you just said that corny shit." You were already laughing like you were 5 blunts in, of course Gojo would say something cringe like that. "Satoru, baby" You looked at him with a straight face before another laughing fit.

"What? Is that not cool to say?"

"Thats just-thats not how thats used babe," You still giggled, sitting back up and seeing he was still holding the blunt with confusion. "Okay, first of all, dont be smoking cause you think you'll be coo-"

"Oh my god, chill out mom, I'm an adult!" You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever, give me." You took it into your fingers and put it to your lips, gently sucking in and letting it sit before breathing out. "Like that," He took it and tried to imitate what you did. After 3 seconds of inhaling, he started coughing. You tried not to laugh, making sure he was okay. He stuck his tongue out. "Bleh! That tastes nasty."

"You wanted to try it." He attempted again, this time getting about 4 or 5 seconds of inhale. He coughed less this time. You two took turns before he laid down with a low moan. "I feel like I'm flying." You were a bit faded too, but his eyes were getting pretty red under his sunglasses. You laughed at his state, never expecting to see the greatest sorcerer like this. He stared at the ceiling while you turned on Jhene Aiko. "Fuck... y/n, i feel so good." He almost moaned. You couldnt deny, you blushed at that. You also couldnt believe how dramatic he was sometimes. He sat up. "And hungry."

"Someone has the munchies," You sang along. He grabbed the bag from the sweet shop earlier and stared eating. One thing you never understood about him was how he could eat any sweets he wanted and still have the most handsome abs in the universe. He always had muscles ever since you known him. And he has never gone a day without a million sweets. Made absolutely zero sense. "You know Shaggy was a stoner." You mumbled, taking another hit and sitting next to him, huddling closer.

"From Scooby Doo?"

"No, from Dora, stupid." He laughed. Normally he wouldve had something witty to say back, but he just laughed like you were Pete Davidson.

"It was so obvious he was smoking, do you remember Mary Jane?"

"Hell yeah, she was 12 year old me's idol."

"Huh, i thought it wouldve been Daphne" He took a hit, starting to get the hang of it. He still coughed almost every time.

"Why?"

"Dunno, she was hot." You shook your head, not even wanting to argue or reason. You watched as he switched from donut to blunt, almost confusing the two time to time. He handed you the blunt and you gradually brought it to your lips, feeling the vibe. "Zoinks! Mary Jane's like my favorite name!" You spit out any smoke you inhaled, coughing whilst bursting out laughing. Not only did he say that out of no where, he did a perfect Shaggy impression, causing you both to throw a laughing fit.

"What the hell is wrong with you Satoru?" You said between coughs before laughing again. Eventually, you both calmed down, staring at each other. You were reminded of what you were daydreaming of earlier, how the hell he kept his muscles. How were they so fine. He read the lustful look in your eyes, then pulled you in for a kiss. The blunt was forgotten on the floor, he climbed on top of you, pinning you down while your hands explored his neck and hair. His hair was so soft. His pace was much quicker than the previous times, his kisses moving down your jaw, then your neck. He hands rushed under your baggy t shirt. "W-wait, Satoru" He looked at you. "You're high...are you-"

"I heard being high during sex feels ten times better."

"But you're not-"

"Y/n, Thats the reason I wanted to get high with you. So Yeah, sober me consents and high me consents. Do you consent?"

"Of course," He went back to kissing down your body. "Plus, you're so gorgeous like this." You scoffed.

"Am I not as gorgeous when youre sober?"

"Eh..." You smacked him on the head gently, making him laugh. He came back up to kiss your lips while smiling. He looked at you, taking off his sunglasses. His shining blue eyes contrasted his reddened sclera. "So fucking beautiful," He mumbled. He couldnt stop kissing you, couldn't get enough. Soon your shirt was gone, then his. Next was your bra. It drove you crazy how he could undo your bra with two fingers in literal seconds. Especially when it took you forever. He played with your tits, praising them before kissing further down your stomach. You giggled, his breath tickling you. Everything was much more sensitive. His hands were in your pants before you knew it. He worked his fingers around your clit, then sliding them down further. He watched as your breath quickened the faster he thrusted his fingers into you. He curls them and you were seeing stars.

"Feel good baby?" You nodded. After three songs by Jhene Aiko in a row, Kali Uchis came on. 'Moonlight' Spotify read.

"Cmon Satoru..." You whined out, making him smirk. His sweatpants were pulled down, and he positioned himself infront of your legs. He wouldn't miss out of teasing you, but it didn't take long for him to be thrusting deep inside you. Both of your moans were much louder than usual. You could already see the noise complaints coming in. He had fucked you high before, considering you were high a lot. But you were never this high, and the high sex was never so sensual. He always held back a little when you've smoked a blunt or joint because he wanted to be the reason youre sensitive out your mind. But now you both were feeling so good. You felt something drip onto your cheek, then your forehead. You looked up in confusion, realizing he was crying. "Toru?" He stared at you, mesmerized. You put your hands on his shoulders in attempt to slow his movements. "Toru, whats wrong?"

"Im so fucking in love with you..." He mumbled, putting his head into your shoulder. You moaned into his ear with each thrust. "You dont even understand...I refall inlove with you every fucking day..." You smiled, kissing his cheek.

"Fuck...Love you so much toru," He cried and moaned into your neck, his face was red. He mumbled sweet words into your ears, professing his love over and over. He came inside you with a loud cry, you followed. "Fuck!" His voice cracked, taking deep breaths.

You two laid there trying to catch your breath, he was still holding onto you tight. As if he let go, you'd disappear. The moment was so intimate, there was basically red leds and roses everywhere. It reminded you of the day you realized you were in love with him. It was on a mission sophomore year, you two were paired up to find a grade 1 curse. When you thought you had got rid of it, it came right at you. Gojo had pushed you out of the way, and fought the curse. There was a moment, and total of 20 seconds where you believed he was dead. In those 20 seconds, a million thoughts and emotions overwhelmed you. Guilt, worry, sadness, anger. But he got up like nothing had happened and laughed at your face. You rolled your eyes, but that night your feelings were abundantly clear. Your worst thought during those 20 seconds was "I never got to tell you how much I loved you". You never thought you would use that word in the same sentence as Gojo, but you did, and you meant it. Maybe in another life, he had actually died. Maybe in this life, you were given another chance. So you made sure you didnt waste that opportunity.

"I love you y/n" He wiped his tears, kissing your cheek over and over. "Youre my everything." You smiled at him, catching him in a kiss.

"Zaza got you emotional, huh?"

"I'm seriously your shaggy, you're my Mary Jane" You snorted at that.

"You don't smoke enough for me, plus im not as hippie as her." You said sarcastically, laying on your side when he pulled out. "Anything else?"

"Morticia and Gomez Adams. Cause I'd kill for you." You giggled, rolling your eyes. "Are you calling me emo?"

"Jeez y/n, just accept my love!" He whined.

"Love you too, 'toru"

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catholic-character-tournament · 2 years ago

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Round 2 - Side A

Propaganda below ⬇️

Ronan Lynch

Uhh fun fact he saw the devil flash his father once, and that's one of the reasons he goes to church on Sundays <3

context for this scene from book 2: ronan is in church with his older brother declan, younger brother matthew, and ghost friend noah "Joseph Kavinsky isn’t someone I want you being around,” Declan added. “Don’t snort. I’m serious.” Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster. A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work. Declan repeated, “Like, actually dangerous.” Sometimes, Declan seemed to think that being a year older gave him special knowledge of the seedier side of Henrietta. What he meant was, did Ronan know that Kavinsky was a cokehead. In his ear, Noah whispered, “Is crack the same thing as speed?” Ronan didn’t answer. He didn’t think it was a very church-appropriate conversation. “I know you think you’re a punk,” Declan said. “But you aren’t nearly as bad ass as you think you are.” “Oh, go to hell,” Ronan snapped, just as the altar boys broached the rear doors. “Guys,” Matthew pleaded. “Be holy.”

Gay Catholic streetracing farmer. Consumed by catholic guilt NOT because of the gay thing but because he can Create things in a way he thinks should be only God's business. Will literally roll up to mass on sunday morning still drunk and bloody.

THIS GOTH KID IS LITERALLY GOD. This is a god trapped in the body of a Catholic teen and if he ever stopped feeling Catholic guilt he’d end the world!!. How is your confession every week that you creating a whole new being? Babygirl the God is coming from inside the house

eldritch entity from beyond the mortal plane wants to be a Real Human Boy, becomes a real (ish!) human (ish!) boy, goes to mass every sunday

Gay boy got his crush an apartment above his church so he could have his two favorite things in one place

gay. I'm not caught up the the series but I went through the tag when the latest book came out and I remember seeing a quote that said he worried if his boyfriend would make it to heaven when he dies because of his agnostic tendencies.

Kid is like a dream warlock who creates psychic horrors and never goes to confession because why would he? and he’s gay

There are no words

basically ronan's powers are inherited from his dead father niall and it means he can bring anything from a dream into real life. so he's got this whole crisis about whether he is a living piece of blasphemy because men are not meant to have the powers of gods or whether he literally is god. which is not acceptable to him for a number of reasons but mostly because he hates himself. his love interest's name is adam and adam lives in a small apartment above a church which the book says focuses the objects of his worship neatly into one building. I love them both dearly. also, this entire page makes me feel like I'm going insane. Ronan Lynch believed in heaven and hell. Once, he’d seen the devil. It had been a low, late morning at the Barns when the sun had burned off the mist and then burned off the chill and then burned the edges off the ground until everything shimmered with heat. It never got hot in those protected fields, but that morning, the air sweated with it. Ronan had never seen cattle pant before. All of the cows heaved and stuck their tongues out as they frothed with the heat. His mother sent Ronan to put them in the shade of the cattle barn. Ronan had gone to the searing metal gate, and as he did, he’d glimpsed his father, already in the barn. Four yards away from him had stood a red man. He was not truly red, but the burned orange of a fire ant. And he was not truly a man, because of the horns and the hooves. Ronan remembered the alienness of the creature, how real it had been. Every costume in the world had gotten it wrong; every drawing in every comic book. They’d all forgotten that the devil was an animal. Looking at the red man, Ronan had been struck by the intricacy of the body, how many miraculous pieces moved smoothly in harmony, no different than his own. Niall Lynch had had a gun in hand — the Lynches had an enormous number of guns of all sizes — and just as Ronan had opened the gate, his father had shot the thing about thirteen times in the head. With a shake of its horns, the unharmed devil had presented its genitalia to Niall Lynch before bounding off. It was an image that had yet to leave Ronan. And so Ronan became a reverse evangelist. The truth burst and grew inside him, and it was laid upon him to share it with no one. No one was meant to see hell before they get there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.

Friar Tuck

If you use the picture of furry friar tuck from the Disney Robin Hood, bless you 🙏

#Ronan Lynch #the raven cycle #raven cycle #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #friar tuck #robin hood

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juyeonszn · 1 year ago

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WHAT IS LOVE? — TWENTY

PAIRING ₊˚⊹ lee juyeon x f!reader

SUMMARY ₊˚⊹ all is well in the business of matchmaking. except it’s actually not, because lee juyeon, the school’s star baseball player, has just come to you for help in obtaining the girl of his dreams. oh yeah! and he happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on since your first year of university.

MORE ₊˚⊹ um. i apologize in advance 🧍‍♀️

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TWENTY — A Hole In The Shape Of You (2.17k)

The rest of the week moved faster than you anticipated. Even breakfast with Juyeon felt like it wasn’t nearly long enough.

As you sat across from him at a two person table in that cute cafe, you couldn’t help but feel your heart stutter every time he smiled. He laughed genuinely at any of the jokes you made and he looked like he really wanted to hear what you were saying, all his attention on you whenever you spoke.

You learned that his crush on Tzuyu started around the same time as yours on him. It humanized him in a way, it made you see him as an actual person with feelings rather than the guy you put on a pedestal for so long. When you told him about sharing College Algebra first year, he laughed at the fact that you had such a vivid memory.

Just as you suspected, he didn’t remember. You didn’t really expect him to, considering he didn’t have a good memory, but also because you never did anything memorable. It was probably better for everyone involved if you got over this crush and moved on with your life. You didn’t stand a chance anyway, since you were literally helping him get with the girl he was actually interested in.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you felt like you were going insane. Despite coming to the conclusion that you would give up with Juyeon, you were still freaking out over picking an outfit for the party. Yuqi watches in amusement as you hold different bathing suits and dresses up to your body in front of your mirror.

“This is a disaster! I have nothing to wear.” You sigh, flipping backwards onto your bed.

“You’re being dramatic,” Yuqi snorts, flicking your forehead. “Wear the pink halter with the white sundress. Have a little Barbie moment.”

“Oh my god, you're a genius!” You shake her by the shoulders. “Should I wear heels too?”

“Yeah, maybe some wedges? You can always ask Sakura for her opinion too when she gets here.” The blonde says as she gets up to stretch. Her orange bikini looked cute paired with the tube top and shorts she was wearing, her long legs accentuated with the strappy heels on her feet.

You and your two girl friends were going to the party together, meeting Kevin, Eric, and Haknyeon when you got there. Seonghwa and Minho decided to opt out of this one— both not too keen on attending. You figured Seonghwa just didn’t feel like dealing with a drunk Eric because that was his least favorite Eric, but you weren’t too sure why Minho didn’t want to go.

Sakura arrived at your apartment just after you’d finished your makeup and the three of you set on your way to the Tau Psi Zeta house. You were more nervous than you initially thought you’d be about seeing Juyeon in a public setting. The closer you got to Greek Row, the quicker your pulse began to race.

Though it went against all of your morals, you half hoped he would see you and fall in love instantly, forgetting his crush on Tzuyu ever existed.

“We’re here!” Sakura sing-songs, parking with the other cars along the block. As if he had perfect timing, your phone buzzes while you make your way to the backyard.

[8:13 pm] juyeon: hyunjae, jacob, and i just got here

[8:13 pm] juyeon: are u here yet?

[8:14 pm] y/n: we just got into the backyard!!

[8:14 pm] y/n: looking for kevin and the boys rn then grabbing drinks :P

You shove your phone inside your purse and follow behind Yuqi, who seems to know exactly where your other friends are. Kevin and Eric are in a shotgunning contest when you find them, Haknyeon standing between them with the stopwatch running on his phone. Surprisingly, Eric finishes first, the foam from his beer can spraying at the crowd when he pulls away. Kevin isn’t far behind, crushing his own can in defeat.

The younger boy looks pleased with himself, fist bumping the air and then running around the circle to high five everyone. It had only been an hour since the party started and you could tell he wasn’t going to last the whole night. Kevin shuffles over to you dejectedly, a pout on his lips.

“I can’t believe I lost to fuckass Eric,” he groans. “I need another beer.”

You laugh and then your little group is scampering off to the drink area. Yuqi puts herself in charge of concocting something for you as you glance around the full backyard for two people. First, you spot Tzuyu in the pool, giggling with what you assume is some of her sorority sisters. Then you squint your eyes and scan the yard some more, but ultimately fall short.

That is, until you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You spin around to see the culprit with his stupidly cute grin, his buddies behind him. You bring up a hand to give him a small wave.

“I figured I should just come straight here instead of trying to find you out there.” Juyeon says, scratching the back of his neck.

“That was smart,” you nod, thanking Yuqi when she hands you your drink. “Um, this is my best friend Yuqi.”

The pair exchange introductions and then you formally meet Jacob and Hyunjae. You’d heard about the former through Kevin mostly, but the latter through Eric, who’s interesting baseball stories seemed to always involve the older boy. They’re both polite, even thanking you for your services in regard to their friend.

Juyeon’s cheeks redden and he looks away from you before something catches his attention. You’re almost too busy joking around with Haknyeon to notice that he’s completely enamored by the view of Tzuyu, like nothing else in the world mattered to him.

Key word: almost.

You’re about to include him in the conversation when you see him staring off into the distance. You direct your gaze in his line of sight, a frown slowly replacing the smile on your face. Juyeon wasn’t here for you, you have to remind yourself. He didn’t even know you. You were just his matchmaker, destined to bring him and the girl he truly wanted together.

“Leave me here to drown.”

Sakura sighs heavily, turning to Yuqi for help. The blonde shrugs like this is something completely out of her jurisdiction. With another grunt of exertion, she tries to get you out of the pool again.

“I don’t wanna stay here any longer if you’re just gonna mope around and suck the fun out of everything.” Sakura deadpans, holding the heel of her palm to her forehead.

You don’t make any move to get up, floating on your back and staring up at the sky. Your eyes cast a backward glance at an upside down visual of Tzuyu and Juyeon at the other end of the pool. She’s sitting on the edge, her feet in the water while he’s fully submerged— his arms resting on the concrete surrounding. The two are immersed in a conversation about something you can’t hear. He worked up the courage to talk to her earlier in the night and you’d effectively lost his attention since.

The drink Yuqi had just brought you was downed in an instant and you found yourself asking for another. She raised an eyebrow at the insistence, but made it anyway. There was no way you could make it through the night sober. Not at this rate.

“Do you think now’s a good time to make my impression?” Juyeon turns to you when his friends have gone off to mingle.

You flicker your gaze to him, his focus still on Tzuyu. She looked gorgeous in the bright blue strapless one piece she was wearing, a section of the side cut out. You’d always thought Chou Tzuyu was a pretty girl. She had long, shiny hair and a sparkling smile that reached her eyes, anyone who could see had the potential to fall in love with her upon first sight.

The way Juyeon watches her, like she was the reason the sun was in the sky, made this growing ache inside of you expand. Getting your heart broken intentionally was one kind of pain. But unrequited love was another. It was one that you’d never wish on your worst enemy— no matter if they made your life a living hell.

You weren’t here to be a Debbie-Downer. You had a job to do and because it was for him, you were going to try to do your best.

With the biggest fake smile you can muster, you nod. “I think so. I can send someone to distract her friends so you can get her alone?”

“That would be great, Y/N,” he turns to you with that special grin of his. “Thank you.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you give him another faux smile and a thumbs up, shoo-ing him off to her. Heavy feet drag you over to Kevin (who knows everyone) and you convince him to do your bidding. When you tell him why, he immediately agrees— most likely out of pity.

“You know, Juyeon’s never really been the type to express actual feelings for a girl,” Jacob speaks up when he sees you standing alone, crossing his arms over his chest. “This whole Tzuyu thing is actually the first time I’ve seen him show that side of himself. I guess it must be more than a silly crush.”

You’re not sure what you should make of this revelation. You’re not even sure why Jacob is telling you this as you overlook Juyeon sitting himself beside her. He sticks his hand out and you assume it’s to introduce himself. The conversation only continues from there.

“Luckily for him, I’m the best in the business. I’ll do whatever I can to get him a happy ending.” You force yourself to stare at the drink in your hands instead. Jacob hums in acknowledgement.

You know you should be overjoyed that he was finally able to go up to her. You should be jumping for the moon. But you don’t have it in you to even be slightly interested. It hurts you way too much to see him laughing and smiling with someone else.

Granted, you never spoke to him yourself until he came to you for your expertise. You only recently started to get to know each other and it was exciting, though the reasoning behind it was less than. How were you supposed to put your whole heart into helping him get with the girl of his dreams if he was the boy of yours?

The water splashes around you as you switch to a standing position. You ignore Yuqi and Sakura’s questioning, scrambling out of the pool. All of your stuff was left with the guys, who were sitting on some lounge chairs nearby and drinking. You grab your stuff without a word and throw on your dress. Before you know it, you’re sitting on the front porch, dialing the only number you know by memory.

Sakura was right. You were sucking the fun out of everything. But you couldn’t just ask them to leave, especially not when they hardly enjoyed themselves.

“Hello?”

“Minho? Are you awake?” You chew on your bottom lip, kicking a pebble with your haphazardly put on wedge.

“Yeah? It’s only like 11PM, what’s up?” He asks into the receiver. You hear some shuffling on the other side, which was probably him moving around in his bed. The sound of something playing on the TV is muffled in the background.

“Do you think you could get me from the Tau Psi Zeta house? I wanna leave, but I don’t wanna make everyone else leave too.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Just send me your location. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Minho says and you hear more shuffling.

“Thank you, Min,” you bite your cheek. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

‘Soon’ is 10 minutes later when you recognize his car rolling to a stop in front of the sorority house. The moment your seatbelt is buckled, the tears start flowing. You wanted to hold them back the entire night and even during the phone call, but something about the comforting scent of Minho’s car broke you. Your eyes felt like a flood gate reaching its limit, letting it all burst through.

Lee Minho never knew what to do when it came to seeing his friends cry. Especially not you, the most headstrong girl he’s ever known. But seeing you so distraught tugged at his heartstrings and he instinctively went to rub at your back. He didn’t care if he had to sit here for 2 minutes or 20, as long as you got to let it all out.

Once your sobbing has simmered to sniffles, you wipe your nose and lean into your seat with a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

PREV ₊˚⊹ NINETEEN — Blocked and Reported for threatening language

NEXT ₊˚⊹ TWENTY ONE — men against song yuqi

MASTERLIST

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TAGLIST ₊˚⊹ @matchaoreocrepes @maessseongs @tannieflix @winterchimez @kyusqult

#the boyz #the boyz smau #tbz #tbz smau #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smau #lee juyeon social media au #juyeon x reader #juyeon smau #juyeon social media au #juyeonszn #what.is.love.juyeon🩷

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archerincombat · 3 years ago

Text

takin' my time, let the world turn

“Hey,” Ravi says. “Scale of 1 to 10, how bad would it be if I assumed Eddie Diaz’s girlfriend was his wife in front of him?”

Lee groans. “Did you do it in front of Buckley?”

“Yeah?”

“A hundred,” she replies, turning the other direction before Ravi can demand to know why.

At three in the morning, it hits him. He bolts upright in his cot. Oh my god, he thinks. Buck and Eddie are divorced, and everyone forgot to tell me.

aka, the ravi fic (affectionate)

15.5 k words | read on ao3

The first time Ravi meets the A-shift, they remind him a little too much of the football jocks from high school — mostly because there’s definitely something wrong with all of them.

They’re infamous at the 118 — at any firehouse really. You know, after one of them got crushed by a firetruck and the other survived a piece of rebar straight through his brain and another one of them got trapped at the bottom of the well during a storm and came out of it cracking jokes. Ravi’s only been at the 118 for one day, but gossip travels extraordinarily fast here. Somehow, these guys named Buck, Eddie, Hen, and Chimney seem to always be at the heart of it all.

(“Do not get on their bad side,” Richardson, one of the younger firefighters, tells him in the locker room when Ravi asks if there’s anything he desperately needs to know before he’s thrown off into the deep end. “Shouldn’t be hard. They’re all good people, but they’re like...they’re like the popular kids. Cap’s favorites. Just don’t do it.”

“Diaz did,” Cassidy interjects. “Look at him now.”

“Yeah well he had to pull a live grenade out of a man’s leg to remedy that.” Richardson claps Ravi on the back before turning to leave. “B-shift usually leaves that to the bomb squad. Everyone on A-shift has a death wish. Never join A-shift.”)

Anyway, Ravi’s pretty content with taking that advice and running with it, because for all of B-shift’s goading praise, A-shift actually seems clinically insane and he’s not planning on interacting with them unless he absolutely has to. It’s only been 20 hours, so Ravi doesn’t know much about the inner-workings of the firehouse, but he’s seen enough to start packing up a little quicker when Bobby enters the firehouse.

And then, one by one, the rest of A-shift trickles in, and look Ravi doesn’t know any of their names, but he’s only human, so when a very tall, very attractive man strides in the bay doors, looking for all the world like he owns the place, it’s possible — like a little bit, microscopically possible — that Ravi decides, if he looks like he belongs there and walks at just the right angle…

He walks at the right angle. The problem is, now that he’s here, he’s not really sure what to do with it. He thinks, best course of action, he just keeps walking, forward and straight out the doors, even though his duffle bag is still in the locker room.

He’s not a huge believer in fate, but it seems like the universe does indeed have other plans.

“Hey probie!” very tall attractive man yells, making Ravi flinch so hard he drops all of his books, and hadn’t Cassidy literally said to him, snorting all the while, “This is a fire house, not a library.” And god, maybe he should’ve listened instead of striding around like he isn’t just fresh out of the Academy and great now he has to quit and-

He takes a breath. Steadies himself because he’s 25 and this is his workplace, calls the slightly less attractive now man ‘sir’ sarcastically (his friends say no one really knows the difference between his sarcastic voice and his normal voice, but it’s the thought that counts), and refuses his help as — and now he can see the name tag — Firefighter Buckley, looking rightfully contrite, asks him how his first shift was.

Ravi nods warily and shrugs to seem suave. “Oh, pretty quiet,” he says.

Wrong answer, apparently. Though, in Ravi’s defense, he hadn’t known there was a right one. “Whoa!” Buckley protests.

“Did he just-?” the woman asks, shell-shocked.

And finally, the third guy. “No!” he shouts, backing away like Ravi’s some sort of feral animal. “No!”

“Sorry,” he frowns, because what..? Clinically. In. Sane. “I just said it was-”

A-shift seems intent on not letting him speak. They bicker in incomprehensible sentences about curses and horror movies while Ravi stands there, frozen, 15 minutes after his shift ended, because he’s not quite sure that this isn’t a nightmare so what else can he possibly do except clutch his books and wait, maybe, for the earth to swallow him whole?

Then just because his life can’t possibly get any worse — this is the last time he’ll ever pursue a handsome stranger, thank you — Captain Nash comes out onto the balcony with a frown on his face and scans the floor below, looking for his victim. “Who used the q-word?”

Everyone points at him and Ravi considers just transferring, or maybe asking for shifts that always intersect with C-shift instead of A-shift — because he already knew they were weird, but this is more cultish than anything and Ravi’s honestly worried that if he stays here for too long, they’ll recruit him too and because he’s already dropped out of grad school he’ll have no choice but to accept, and then he’ll have to tell his parents that he unwittingly joined a cult, which he’ll know will sound ridiculous but is exactly how this seems to be panning out and—.

But apparently Ravi’s got a guardian angel in the shape of the man leaning against the firetruck, looking just as skeptical and confused as Ravi feels. His eyes flicker to Buckley’s body before he even looks up at Captain Nash and Ravi figures, because it’s only been a day but he’s heard the rumors, that this must be Diaz.

“What am I missing here?” Diaz asks, and the alarm goes. Ravi’s not sure, and he’ll never admit to it, but he thinks that that might be entirely his fault.

Buckley claps him on the shoulder and levels him with a disappointed stare at the same time. And you know what, Ravi’s not quite sure how he got here, but he decides the only dignified thing to do is to shuffle off to the side so that the ladder truck doesn’t run him over and try his best to forget any of this ever happened.

He’d say, for anyone keeping track, that this was probably the last moment any part of his life contained a sense of normalcy.

continue on ao3

#ITS HERE #911fic #ravi panikkar #buddie #911 fic #evan buckley #useroliii #userceecee

351 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 4 years ago

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

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A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

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First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years ago

Text

➳all the king's men ♡ ☾

in which all the king's men couldn't put the pieces of y/n l/n together. we all have the days where we're insecure and broken, this is one of hers.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±1.8k

tw: insecurity, bullying

please if you are having overly harmful thoughts about yourself, talk to a friend or a professional. you are perfect the way you are and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

it's so sad that the best people tend to think the worst of themselves

all the king's men

y/n, for lack of a better description, was feeling like humpty dumpty. she had seen herself in the mirror last night, and felt positively traumatised. she had come back from a quidditch practice session, and the results were quite terrifying.

she didn't understand. quidditch made the guys more toned and even a few of her teammates had abs. what did it do to her? well, it made her shoulders broad, which she thought was highly unattractive to anyone, and not at all slim! sure, it was fun and kept her fit, but terribly horrible, in her opinion, in trying to fit in to the beautiful girls that went to hogwarts.

she admired angie johnson and cho chang and ginny. she really did. y/n knew how hard it was to be beautiful, and she liked when other people were so beautifully beautiful. it just made her feel terrible, because what was the chance of her keeping her boyfriend in fred weasley when fiercely pretty girls were dancing elegantly around her?

there wasn't any time to be mopey and sad, so she gathered all her books and immediately went to breakfast. she didn't even bother going over to fred and greeting him. she saw how happy he was laughing with george and lee. surely she wouldn't bother him. instead she plopped down next to alicia.

"you ok?" alicia spinnet asked her.

she nodded, "fine."

"you sure?"

"no."

"wanna talk about it?"

"do you think it's too early to get plastic surgery?" y/n joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"what the fuck, no. what's up?" alicia's eyes were lit with concern.

"i don't feel pretty," her voice was but a whisper.

alicia caught it.

"why? you're literally adorable."

"you're my best friend, you're supposed to tell me that."

"hmm, nah, i truly believe it."

"well i don't," y/n said miserably.

"oi, l/n, your hair down today?" adrian pucey snarled, "it's gonna give me aids."

a few students snorted.

"you can get aids then. shut your mouth," y/n retorted back.

the whole school look startled. was this the same, prefect, goody-two-shoes y/n l/n?

adrian pucey opened his mouth.

"i said shut. your. mouth."

fred weasley watched in a mixture of furiousness and pride. he knew that pucey had a crush on y/n too. he was just terrible in expressing it. fred didn't like the way y/n's eyes sadly flitted to alicia afterwards. and she hadn't come up to him and given him a kiss today. maybe she just wanted a bit of space??

"see?" y/n sighed, "not even my hair is pretty." she tied it up.

alicia laughed, "adrian just wants your attention."

that made y/n laugh. "why? why?" it was a rhetorical question. she got up, and smiled at adrian in the most menacing way that he shrunk.

"miss l/n, your outburst was quite rude-" snape began.

"my apologies professor, of course, i was in the wrong. adrian pucey brought the topic surrounding my hair up, called it ugly. now what would you do if a student called your hair ugly?" y/n said, eyes burning with fury but conscience too good to lose her temper.

"i-i would give them a scolding."

"likewise. good day, professor."

"fucking hell, he is such a sh-" alicia muttered as she got up and followed y/n out to class.

"ali, that's enough," their retreating voices could be heard.

fred kept his eye on y/n through the day, giving her the space he thought she needed.

she looked very like her normal self, until she encountered pucey again.

"l/n, nice squinty eyes," pucey laughed.

y/n's shoulders sagged. her eyes dimmed and she let her ponytail fall in front of her face.

"ponytail won't fix them," he laughed meanly, "can they fix your dumpling body?"

fred frowned deeply, "fuck off, adrian," he angrily said, "that's my girlfriend you're talking to."

"oh, you have someone like weasley to save you? i don't even think you deserve him as a boyfriend."

y/n didn't answer, fearing that tears would spill out of her eyes. she had just been feeling worse and worse about herself. instead, when the bell signalled the end of classes, she hurried quickly off to wherever, trying to pull herself together.

she felt like she was at the bottom of the earth. her eyes finally let go of the tears that needed to be spilt. she leant sobbing against a stout tree in the forbidden forest, head slumped gloomily against the trunk, eyes trying to find anything, anything, that could be remotely comforting and hands fiddling nervously with the flowers that bloomed happily around her. her whole body shook in anxiety. she wished she had her mum or dad here to help her. but they were back at home.

how did fred love her?

she wished she didn't have stupid hair or squinty eyes or a dumpling body. but she couldn't ignore the mean, yet so true, remarks about her body adrian made. they were morally wrong and he deserved to be stabbed, but they were factual. she used to just laugh and joke about him too, but now she realised that maybe she should pay more attention to the way she eats and works and the way she talks and looks and presents herself and put more makeup on and-

fred found her crying there, by the little pond, shrinking away from the mere sight of her own appearance. he didn't get it.

well, he did, but he didn't know why such a beautiful girl like his girlfriend was crying.

"y/n?"

she flinched and stopped crying.

"sorry, i'll leave. i don't think you want a dumpling of a girlfriend sharing this nice space," she attempted to joke, but it fell short. she wasn't joking anymore. her tone was serious and genuine. the unexpected good nature pucey's remarks were received in usually was gone, and for good reason. it had broken her into the tiniest little pieces.

fred felt it. he felt his heart stop.

"is this about what pucey said to you, lovely?" he asked gently, cupping her cheek, and pulling her close to him.

she nodded, feeling immensely better already. the smell of him made her calm down insanely.

"so you don't want space?"

"n-no, i was just..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"mhm?" he looked at her and waited.

"it's silly."

"well, it's got you crying, i don't think so."

"the stuff a-adrian says is true," her voice was quiet and small.

fred frowned.

"i'm not cute or elegant or even hot," she continued, "i-i'm not as pretty as anyone here."

"well, my little love, if my opinion even matters, you are stunning. i think you're the prettiest person in the world, both on skin and in here," he patted his own heart, "do you know how long i pined after you?"

"no?"

"i'm still pining after you, gorgeous."

"d-do you mean it when you say gorgeous?" her eyes were broken and teary.

"of course. it hurts me when you are upset. because you are gorgeous and much more because you are so nice and good to me and to everyone else too. pucey's a complete shithead and when i next see him i will bash his head in. i'm so sorry i didn't notice, love, i thought you were mad at me."

"no it's fine, i just don't understand. you're fred weasley. so many girl's want you and you-you choose...me?," a sad frown was etched on her face, her tone confused.

"y/n, you're my only choice. i don't want the other girls. i can see the appeal of you. i-i know i'm not the best with words like you, but i really care about you. i love you, i adore you, you're the bestest person i've ever met."

and he knows he's brought the happiness back in her. she giggled. he felt relieved, because he knew he wasn't good at all at comforting people and y/n was so special to him- why didn't he say that earlier to her?

"bestest isn't a word, freddie."

"well you get what i mean, right? you're really special to me," there it was.

she nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips as she kissed him on the lips, before snuggling closer to him.

"darling, wouldn't you rather go back to the castle to cuddle?"

hesitantly, she shook her head.

"why?"

"'drian's there."

"adrian cannot hurt you, okay? whatever he tells you is wrong. he's wrong," he gently says, pulling her close to him, "besides, if he does, i'm here, and you're strong."

"i just cried about it, i can't be strong."

"crying doesn't mean you're weak, darling, sometimes we all cry and that's okay."

y/n nodded.

"here, i brought this for you, maybe it's a comfort??" he blushed as he handed her his quidditch hoodie.

she grinned and put it on.

he couldn't stop blushing at the sight of her, so he tilted his face away to save himself the embarrassment.

noticing and mistaking his turned away head for disgust, y/n took the hoodie off, downcastedly handing it back to him.

"sorry," she gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as fred looked at her in confusion.

"y-you can have it back, yeah, there's no need to hide your shame, here, s-sorry," she stuttered out.

"shame?" he asked, looking worriedly down at her.

"mhm," she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, "sorry."

he finally understood.

"angel, look at me."

she reluctantly looked up at him.

"i wasn't feeling disgusted at all. i-i was actually embarrassed because i was blushing," his cheeks heated up again, "like i probably am right now. you're too beautiful. i was blushing too much."

"oh."

"yeah. now put it back on," he demanded, as he cheekily tugged the jumper over her head, blushing again as he saw her standing there in his jumper.

"c'mon!" he said, carrying y/n's school bag as they made their way to the castle, his arm wrapped protectively around his waist and the bright gold letters on the back of his sweater shining for anyone and everyone to see.

they didn't see pucey, thank goodness and they ended up talking with george and katie bell and angie and alicia by the fire.

as y/n smiled and giggled with katie over something highly scandalous, fred had his eyes on her, not so much monitoring her, but he couldn't keep them off of her.

when he had noticed her words start to become short and slightly slurred by tiredness, he lead her back to her dormitory.

"feeling better princess?"

she nodded, "you're so good to me, freddie. i love you."

it made his heart swell with happiness.

"i'd go to the moon and back for you, y/n."

she smiled drowsily, "and i, you."

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

Text

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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taesspark · 3 years ago

Text

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc.

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year.

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day.

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook.

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did.

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep.

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard.

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-”

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.”

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.”

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it.

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble.

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude.

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close.

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them.

“Oops.”

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh.

Fucking Jeon Jungkook.

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.”

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.”

You’re seething.

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all.

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out.

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies.

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.”

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek.

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Do you have something to say?” You snap.

He opens his mouth. Then closes it.

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing.

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.”

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.”

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hit a nerve?”

“No.”

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is.

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up.

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.”

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting.

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.”

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?”

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve?” You mock.

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow.

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same.

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says.

Jungkook groans.

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall.

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.”

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?”

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself.

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.”

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror.

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it.

“But-”

“Professor!”

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.”

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder.

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead.

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake.

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed.

“Y/N?”

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face.

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?”

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate.

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.”

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away.

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.”

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance.

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole."

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake.

#bts fanfiction #bts au #bts drabble #bts writing #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #Jungkook Fanfiction #jungkook #jungkook x reader #spellbound #bts hogwarts au #bts fic

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

ok liSTEN how about for drabble nights stem major jungkook n he's cute or whuteva

ft. cold senior!y/n having a crush on shy stem major!koo :D neither can initiate nor maintain eye contact lmao

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist

never in a million years did you think that you’d be stressing over and shopping lunchboxes at a saturday night

“you’re insane. you must be insane for doing this.”

yoongi deadpans because never did he think that HE’D be the one to accompany you to a 24/7 supermarket to look for lunchboxes

to look.... for lunchboxes

it’s an uncanny friendship really bUT it’s functional

you’re on the soccer team and yoongi’s a varsity chess player :D

the two of you shared an equivalent of one (1) bagel on field day and that’s when the matching-friendship-bracelets friendship began

you wear the red string as an anklet though because it’s a charm when you kick the ball right through the goal

yoongi will not hesitate to give you his kidney but he wILL complain the whole time when you coax him into helping you pick out a lunchbox

“it’s just a tiny simple crush. it’s not like i’m asking for his hand in marriage.”

fuck it