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jenscx · 4 months ago

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APPLE CIDER — nakamura kazuha

you’ve fallen in love with many things, like the mango ice-blend down the street, the weather after a rainy day and the puppy that you see on your morning walk. but nothing’s been easier to fall in love with than yunjin’s roommate.

tags fluff, sprinkle of angst, kinda crack fic, non-idol au, jealousy, non-established relationship, falling in love, my puppy zuha agenda, mentions of lesserafim and ive members, squint for annyeongz, basketballer!zuha that appears for one sec, mentions of drinking, cursing

wordcount 10.9k

you’re well-accustomed to yunjin’s antics. she constantly gets you into trouble, either embarrassing you or just involving you in her pranks. like doing silly tiktok trends on your friends or random strangers. you still feel a shiver of mortification when you recall the situations you’ve been roped into.

yet, as yunjin’s self-proclaimed best friend, this might be the worst thing she’s ever done.

the girl had forced, or in her words, heavily encouraged you to find a new roommate this semester. you think it’s because she’s tired of you nagging her for not doing the dishes. anyway, despite your reluctance, you managed to befriend someone from your social politics class and become her roommate. chaewon was like a breeze of fresh air from yunjin. sure, yunjin was your best friend, but it felt incredible to have some peace and quiet in the apartment for once.

chaewon was constantly out for practice with her cheer team which gave you some alone time to just unwind, something that you didn’t have the luxury of when dorming with yunjin. despite the newly formed distance between you and yunjin, the latter had still managed to see you almost every day. she was dorming alone because her previous roommate left the school, causing administration to give her the whole apartment. what would normally be a gift, was a punishment for yunjin, who could not survive a day without human interaction.

hence, she insisted on coming over to your dorm almost daily. it was common to just find her lazing on the couch when you came back from classes, or seeing her back at the kitchen counter, cooking something.

which brings you to your current situation of standing out in the sun, groceries in hand, in front of yunjin’s door. it was a whole other building from your block and the weather was particularly harsh today. you tap your foot impatiently, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek. the paper bags were heavy, filled with a variety of ingredients that yunjin demanded you buy. apparently she was hosting some sort of dinner. you had no clue what the girl was doing half the time.

yet, with the designated role of yunjin’s best friend, you had to skip out on lunch with chaewon to visit her dorm. sighing, you call yunjin’s phone again, but to no avail. as it rings, you press the doorbell again. why wasn’t yunjin answering? she literally told you to come earlier but was she even at home?

groaning, you thump your head against the door. as it hits the wooden frame, the door swings open, and the force nearly makes you topple over.

“motherfu—”

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you immediately halt in your curses. this wasn’t yunjin’s loud, boisterous voice. it was smooth and sweet. and in a different language.

you tilt your head up, almost gasping at the stranger. your body was crouched down, but even from below, you could tell she was tall. maybe almost as tall as yunjin. her doe eyes were wide with shock and her glossy lips were parted. stunned in silence, you hastily get back up. clearing your throat, you bow your head slightly, “i’m so sorry.”

as you lift your head, you realise something.

the girl only had a towel wrapped around her.

blood rushes straight to your head. you feel your entire body burn with embarrassment as you look away swiftly.

“uh— sorry,” the girl mumbles, “who are you?”

you gulp, still facing away, “i’m looking for huh yunjin.”

“oh, i’m her roommate,” she says. you turn back to her, gaping. since when did yunjin have a roommate? that girl had some explaining to do.

“you can come in,” the girl stands aside, her dark hair still dripping, “i’ll just, uh, go change.” you nod stiffly before walking in. the apartment hasn’t changed much from the last time you came. yet, there was a new addition to the framed photos perched on the shelves. you place the bags of groceries onto the kitchen island and walk back to the living room. as yunjin’s roommate heads into her room, you observe the photograph.

it holds a background of cherry blossom trees and standing in front of the wood is a young girl, reminiscent of yunjin’s roommate. if you had to guess, she would probably be eleven or twelve in the photo. even when she was young, she was already pretty. you couldn’t deny that fact. from her crinkled eyes to the curve of her lips, you wondered what her parents looked like to be able to birth such a cute kid.

the sound of a door creaking open pulls you away from the photo. yunjin’s roommate was now dressed in an oversized t-shirt that reached the top of her knees. a small towel was flung over her head, draping her hair.

you decide it’s now an appropriate time to introduce yourself.

“sorry for barging in like that,” you grimace, holding out a hand, “i’m y/n, yunjin’s friend. she told me to come over and i wasn’t expecting to see someone new.”

the girl nods, “i’m kazuha, nakamura kazuha.” her korean sounds a little hesitant and you note it off as her being a foreigner. she added, “yunjin’s roommate.”

“ah, i didn’t know she had a new roommate,” you say sheepishly. it was definitely yunjin’s fault here but you still didn’t want a pretty girl’s first impression of you to be so ridiculous.

“it’s okay,” kazuha says thoughtfully, “i moved in… maybe three days ago?”

no wonder yunjin hasn’t said anything to you.

“i see.”

silence falls between you two and kazuha strides to the couch, flopping onto it.

“do you want to sit?”

it’s cute— the way she offers. as if it’s your first time coming over. despite your amusement, you humour her and sit down, a distance away from her.

“are you from japan?” you decide to ask. it’s a good conversation starter in your opinion. if the cherry blossoms didn’t indicate her ethnicity, the startled japanese that escaped her previously was a dead giveaway.

“mhm,” she hums, “i’m from osaka.”

this piques your interest.

“oh, i heard that people from osaka are funny,” you state. it was probably from an instagram reel that yunjin had shown you weeks ago.

kazuha shrugs, “i think i’m okay.”

somehow, even though she didn’t mean for it to be funny, you still find yourself chuckling uncontrollably. kazuha stares at you, probably weirded out, but too nice to say it.

“sorry,” you apologise again, “it’s just the way you said it.”

she frowns, “maybe i’m funnier than i thought.”

“yeah,” you smile, “you are.”

kazuha peers blankly at the unmoving tv screen, suddenly finding the black void to be very interesting. you decide to break the tension once again by asking, “do you know when yunjin’s coming back?”

“uh, no. i told her i was going to shower. she just left,” kazuha replies in broken sentences.

you sigh, defeated. checking your phone again, there’s a flurry of texts from the girl.

y/n 🤓 [4.16pm]:

open up

hey.

girl open up rn

hello??

are u srs

i’m gna break down ur door

yunjin 😍🥰 [4.47pm]:

OMGGG DONT DO THAT

im COMING

WAIT A MIN

ARE U WITH MY ROOMMATE?

glancing at the messages again, you decide it’s probably useless to reply and you turn off your phone, choosing to focus on the restless girl next to you. leaning back on the couch, you take the opportunity to admire her features. even in your haste, you managed to spot the sharpness of her collarbones and jawline. now, facing away from you, you could evidently see her broad shoulders and the bobbling of her throat when she swallowed.

damn, god did have his favourites.

“what are you majoring in?” you ask.

kazuha flinches slightly before answering, “dance.”

“oh, that’s…” you mumble lamely, “cool.”

she smiles, “what about you?”

she has a pretty smile too.

“bio medical.”

“you don’t look like a science person,” kazuha remarks. you can only raise an eyebrow. did she mean you look dumb? as if sensing your inner thoughts, she continues, “you look like you major in the arts.”

as you’re about to say something, the front door barges open, revealing a sweaty and panting yunjin who looks like she just ran a marathon. you scrunch your nose at the girl who only points an accusing finger at you, “choi y/n, you left me on read!”

raising your hands in mock innocence, “that’s not a crime.”

“it is when you’re corrupting my sweet zuha here!” yunjin exclaims, almost throwing herself over the coffee table into kazuha’s body. the girl jolts and swerves away as yunjin collapses on the couch.

“ew, you’re getting your sweat everywhere,” you huff, smacking yunjin on her back, “and i wasn’t corrupting anybody. i’m trying to have a nice conversation, right kazuha?”

the mentioned girl only nods hesitantly, her eyes wide and full of surprise. yunjin moans, “she told me she was going to shower and the next moment you text me. my roommate was naked and vulnerable and you’re a raging homo. i was connecting the dots!”

your entire face heats up as you recall the humiliating experience, probably worse for kazuha who looks like she’s about to faint.

“you didn’t connect shit!” you scoff as yunjin climbs onto you, gripping your hand. pushing her off and dusting your clothes, you flick her forehead, “i bought your things for you, so hurry up and pay me back.”

yunjin pouts, “isn’t my presence payment enough?”

you give kazuha the stink eye as she stifles a laugh.

“no,” you deadpan, “pay up.”

your best friend merely sighs and pulls out her phone, transferring you fifty thousand won.

“anyway,” yunjin turns to kazuha cheerfully, “wanna stay for dinner, roomie?”

through an extremely awkward and silent dinner which mostly consisted of yunjin talking, you learn that due to some flight issues, kazuha could only attend school at its midpoint. even from a glance, you could tell the girl was timid and shy but the language barrier only further strained her social skills. additionally, she had been forced into rooming with yunjin. the shocked expressions she carried whenever yunjin did something strange only attested to her unfamiliarity with the girl.

despite their lack of closeness, yunjin still somehow manages to carry the conversation smoothly. you juggle between checking on kazuha and admiring your best friend’s ability to be so shameless.

“zuha,” yunjin mumbles through a spoonful of rice, “do you like blackpink? or are you a bts fan?”

you scoff at yunjin’s obsessive question. it was so evident that she wanted to ensure kazuha was a fan akin to her.

kazuha, however, brightens up and instead exclaims cheerfully, “i’m a blink!”

you can only guffaw at the incredulous look yunjin carries.

“me too,” you say, filling in the previous silence due to yunjin’s despair, “i like jisoo.”

“really?!” kazuha gasps, “my bias is jennie!”

as you converse with kazuha about blackpink’s unfortunate absence, yunjin only grumbles and stuffs her face full of food.

it’s been a few weeks since you first met kazuha. yunjin constantly invites you over rather than going to your dorm because she needs her two favourite people in the same space or whatever. you’re pretty certain she said the same thing to chaewon the other day. the older girl had also been introduced to kazuha, albeit begrudgingly because according to chaewon, anyone that spends time with yunjin willingly was probably a spawn of the devil. you don’t necessarily disagree.

you spend your day studying and going to classes, and your nights playing mario kart and monopoly with your friends. yunjin had proudly declared friday to be the designated game night and somehow, chaewon managed to persuade another person into joining. just when you thought you would survive the hangouts, with the newest addition of sakura, who always beats yunjin and chaewon in video games, your chances of being able to hear diminishes every night. it’s something you can connect to kazuha with. the presence of the older japanese has gradually caused kazuha to warm up.

it’s a little silly how shy and sheepish the girl was at the beginning, but now after spending time with everyone, it’s normal to hear rapid fire korean erupt from her mouth. you often find her indulging in arguments with yunjin about the best ice cream flavour or which dog breed was the cutest. yunjin vouches for golden retrievers while kazuha vouches for samoyeds. you think they both remind you of puppies— overeager, almost towering puppies with too much energy.

if yunjin was loud, unashamedly herself, kazuha would be the opposite. you would see her staring into space, muttering to herself. it’s endearing watching how her eyes light up as sakura explains the basics of super smash bros to her. you learn that she didn’t have much of a free childhood, having to attend ballet lessons instead of going to sleepovers and playing video games.

“so you’ve never played super smash bros?” it’s funny the way kazuha cowers at the sight of sakura, who’s grasping her shoulders and shaking her intensely. as kazuha recovers, she mumbles feebly, “no… i didn’t even know it existed.”

her response only lights a fire within sakura who vows to make kazuha the best super smash bros player to ever exist. after her, of course. and somehow, it become a routine to also find sakura and kazuha huddled up in front of the television on the floor, both insistently smashing the buttons on the joycon. sometimes you stay and watch their games, other times you head into yunjin’s room to study. most of the time, you stay for dinner. chaewon has become expectant of your message popping up, reminding her that you won’t be home until after dinner. it’s normal that you would end up staying the night at yunjin’s now. yet, the close proximity with her roommate doesn’t aid you in your quest to befriend her at all.

almost every time you see her, it’s like meeting a distant relative. awkward. stifling. you’re always unsure of what to say. sometimes you wish you could run your mouth like yunjin, blabbing about random nonsense without any shame. but it’s difficult to talk to kazuha alone. at least in a group environment, you would have someone else to rely on.

you’re lounging on the couch again, biting the tip of your pen as you read through the numerous textbooks and notes for your upcoming test. too engrossed in your revision, you don’t notice the door swinging open.

hence, when a gush of hot air breezes past your ear, you jump. the fear dissipates any form of hesitance you have. swirling around, you clutch your chest as you reprimand, “don’t sneak up on me like that!”

kazuha only stares at you with wide eyes, a smug smile plastered across her face. you’ve seen her with that expression countless times now, always during game night when she wins second place in mario kart.

“are you studying?”

“yeah,” you scoff, still trying to calm your racing heart. your thick, black-framed glasses have almost slid down your nose entirely. pushing them up, you sigh, “back from practice?”

the girl nods. another new development. instead of joining the dance team— which you’re certain kazuha would be amazing in, she decided to join basketball with yunjin. a strange decision, no doubt, but the way yunjin speaks about kazuha during games makes it seem like she’s the next lebron. unfortunately your busy schedule hasn’t wavered at all, so you couldn’t attend any of their games this semester.

“yunjin tackled me today,” kazuha pouts. you allow yourself to pat her head encouragingly, “isn’t that a foul?”

“she said it was an accident,” the girl shrugs. it’s kind of believable. yunjin is clumsy and you have been on the receiving end of her tendency to fall on you. perhaps that was mistaken as a tackle.

you ruffle her hair, not minding the sweat dripping down from her bangs at all. it’s a little attractive seeing kazuha all sweaty.

“maybe it really was an accident,” you comment. kazuha’s face immediately turns sour. for a girl that is able to maintain her cheery look most of the time, seeing the drastic change in her facial expression makes you panic.

“ah… i meant…”

“why are you taking yunjin’s side over mine?” kazuha asks and god— you feel sorry for using his name in vain, but oh my god, kazuha whines. you’ve never seen her this way before.

you resist the urge to coo at her, knowing that she would only take it as an insult to her pride.

“yunjin’s clumsy,” you state, “and she wouldn’t harm you intentionally.”

kazuha turns away, still sulking, “i guess…”

she looks like a puppy who just received a scolding and if she had dog ears, they definitely would be drooping down now. you internally giggle at her cuteness.

“forgive the giraffe this one time, okay? i’ll scold her if she tackles you again,” you say, smiling. kazuha swerves back, nodding fervently, “yes, please do that.”

even though there’s barely an age gap between you and kazuha, you still feel a ravangeous need to protect the girl, as if she was a baby. sometimes you forget that kazuha’s not used to the culture here and you get to admire the childlike curiosity in her eyes. it’s an interesting sight to see, like she was experiencing her first life. you wonder, in the back of your mind, if you ever existed in her past ones.

there’s a lingering silence left after, almost a twinge of awkwardness in the air. you’re not sure what else to say to kazuha. but maybe she doesn’t feel the same— her body, lax, as she heads towards the washroom, humming what seems to be the melody of ‘playing with fire’. you laugh internally at her fanatic side. even if it’s not as overbearing as yunjin’s, kazuha definitely still is a dedicated fan. one time, you had to wake kazuha up from her nap, only to discover that her walls were lined with posters. maybe yunjin and kazuha bonded so easily over their love for their idols.

you hear the distant ruffling of the shower curtain and then the sound of water droplets splashing against the floor. leaning back into the couch, you try to resume your revision, eyes swarming over the textbooks sprawled all over. your efforts are fruitful, at first. at least you understand most of the content but eventually, your eyelids grow heavy and the muscles in your hand ache. taking a deep breath, you bring a sole textbook up, reading the paragraphs of definitions and explanations.

soon, your breathing turns slow and there’s an overwhelming need for your eyes to close. darkness fills your vision as your body slackens, sinking deeper into the softness of yunjin’s couch.

there’s a distant shuffling sound, far away from your ears. as you dream about emptiness, a warm embrace is thrown over your body, enveloping and engulfing your limbs in a tight hug.

sometimes you think that kazuha doesn’t like you. it’s a harrowing worry that creeps its way into your heart when kazuha sends you a hesitant smile after you had offered to go to the library together. it made sense to you— she needed to research something and you needed to complete your thesis. but that stupid smile followed by, “no, it’s fine. i’m meeting someone,” nearly breaks your heart. it’s a stupid feeling caused by an even stupider reason.

by no means are you jealous that kazuha’s going out with someone else, it’s just her rejection of you heading to the library together. why else would kazuha say no if she didn’t like you? was it that she couldn’t even bear the ten minute walk to the library? you had only swallowed harshly, trying to tide your tears over by looking back down at your textbook. yunjin’s in the kitchen, singing joyfully while she bakes a cake for whatever reason; you might have heard her mention that it was for somi’s birthday or whatever. thus, you can’t hide behind yunjin now.

you’ve never been so upset and bothered by a rejection before. and it was just a trip to the library together. yet, the feeling buries itself in your stomach, dragging it down into a bottomless pit while you bear it.

“have fun,” is what you reply. it’s dry but you can’t really bring yourself to act all excited and happy. just as kazuha’s about to leave, backpack in hand and her hair tied into two cute braids, she takes one look at you.

“are you okay?”

the concern in her voice feels uncomfortable, sheathing under your skin and prickling your veins.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you respond. kazuha only shrugs and waves goodbye while you resort to moping on the couch.

when yunjin calls for you to taste the cake, she doesn’t mention the hint of dried tears clinging below your eyelashes, only wrapping an arm around your shoulder and feeding you the dessert.

but she breaks the spell immediately when she blurts out, “cheer up, honeybun.”

“who the fuck is honeybun?” you retort, disgusted, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just transpired.

you hate early classes. the sun is barely up and you’re already trudging into the classroom, eyes barely open. it’s irrefutable that you got a ton of sleep last night, or last afternoon, but now you’re heading into the lion’s den. due to your unpredicted loss of consciousness, you didn’t have the time to watch any of the tutorials uploaded previously and hence, you didn’t know a single bit of the covered content.

just as you settle into your seat, yujin, one of your classmates, slides into the seat next to you.

“were you studying last night?” she asks. you only feel worse about your dark, sagging eyebags even though you got plenty of rest.

“yeah, kind of,” you answer noncommittally.

yujin sighs, running her fingers through her bangs, which are quite long now, “i think i’m screwed for this quiz.”

you slowly turn your head, a frown on your face, “…quiz?” the realisation sinks in, just like how your head slams onto the table. yujin, startled, quickly asks if you’re okay but all you can think about is the looming thought of the blaring red zero on your paper.

“i didn’t study anything!” you moan, voice muffled by the table. yujin winces, “well, at least we’re failing together.”

you flip over, staring at yujin. she seems a little different today. her previously long luscious hair had been trimmed to a shoulder-length shaggy cut. you recall that she had been dumped by her girlfriend, your senior, kim minju and yujin had gone through a phase of reinventing herself because— no way in hell am i going to let an aquarius ruin my life, yujin’s words. the more you think about it, the more sense it makes. after becoming single, yujin embarked on a self-discovery journey which you would describe as going to every single party and getting shit-faced. her previously brown hair was dyed back to jet black because apparently girls liked black hair now, according to yujin. you didn’t question it, but chaewon, who was also a friend of yujin’s, had nodded encouragingly and maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t get it.

the yujin you’re seeing now feels different.

“you like someone new?” you blurt out. yujin’s face turns into one of astonishment before becoming flustered.

“i— where, how— what do you mean?” she splutters. her nervousness only reveals the truth and you lean in closer, “who is it? are you over minju now?”

yujin covers her face and groans loudly, attracting the attention of neighbouring classmates who only glare at her.

“don’t tell anyone, okay?!” yujin demands, “not even chaewon unnie.”

“sure, i’ll keep it a secret.”

she turns around, checking if anyone was eavesdropping before whispering lowly, “jang wonyoung.”

you’re not super shocked. yujin definitely has a type.

“wow. good luck to you then,” you say, referring to the horde of fans the popular girl has. yujin only pouts before nudging you, “what about you? got your eye on anyone?”

your usual reply would be, “no, too busy.” you didn’t have time to daydream about anyone now and your social circle was small too. there wasn’t a high likelihood of you ending up with a crush. maybe eye candy at most. you had no one to even like. literally no one. you think in your head if there’s anyone that has caught your attention in particular. your mouth moves to respond robotically to yujin.

but something stops you from responding that way. a pictorial flash in your mind, just for a fraction of a second. you blink owlishly, and the image’s gone.

“maybe,” you say quietly instead, thinking about bright doe eyes and cherry blossoms.

kazuha’s first instinct when she hears a series of knocks and shouts from outside the apartment is to answer the door. her hastiness causes her to momentarily forget that all she had on was a towel wrapped snugly around her body, fresh out of the shower. she unfortunately doesn’t hesitate when her hands tug around the door knob, revealing a girl who nearly falls in.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” kazuha shrieked as the random girl toppled over, almost hitting her bare chest.

and due to her stunted ability to converse in korean, kazuha couldn’t express herself too well, opting for short replies rather than accidentally saying something wrong. hence, she chose to sit beside you, who she just learnt is her roommate’s best friend, without speaking a word. perhaps you were perturbed by the silence and decided to ease the tension by asking kazuha some basic questions. yet, when faced with your curious, bright eyes, kazuha had no words to say.

this went on for a few days. the first few times you came over, kazuha only watched you from her room (not in a creepy way! she was just shy) and never initiated a conversation. she managed to talk to you once. just once. alone— when you had stumbled into their apartment while kazuha was just finishing her workout. you mentioned that there was a storm going on outside and if you went back home, you would be drenched. kazuha would never want anyone to be sick and thus, she lends you her freshly washed clothes to wear since yunjin’s clothes were too big.

because of your height difference, kazuha’s clothes are still a little oversized but she thinks you look really cute in the university sweater. she had managed to strike up a conversation about your classes, learning that you didn’t really talk to anyone outside of your small social circle and most of your friends were introduced by yunjin. kazuha expects it, the taller girl was easily the most extroverted person she knew and the social butterfly had a ton of friends around campus. yet, kazuha’s still surprised that you didn’t have many friends— you were a really nice and pretty girl, so why wouldn’t people want to be friends with you? she chalks it up as them being intimidated by you, her being a victim as well.

but don’t worry, she’s no longer intimidated by your presence, just a little shy! sometimes you ask to walk together back to yunjin’s dorm, now unofficially yours as well considering the fact that you spend most of your days there instead of your own. kazuha has heard multiple calls from chaewon, demanding to know where you were and if you got kidnapped. she’s not extremely sure why you decide to spend both your weekdays and weekends in their dorms but she has humoured the thought that perhaps you and yunjin were dating. it would certainly explain why you looked so comfortable latching onto the taller girl and when it’s someone like chaewon touching you—

kazuha shakes her head, knowing that thought was incredulous. yunjin herself had told her so firmly and openly that nothing would ever happen between you and her but kazuha still held her doubts. most of the time, kazuha’s unable to reply to your remarks or quips, merely mumbling, “okay,” in the lamest possible way ever. she hates the way your smile drops ever so slightly and the furrow in your eyebrows but she genuinely has no idea how to talk to you.

like that one time, kazuha remembers vividly. lisa’s new song had just dropped and the moment your eyes met hers, you instantly started rambling about the music video. because of her vigorous training beforehand, kazuha barely heard a word you said and she wasn’t that confident with korean either to register the rapid-fire words battering at her.

“wait— can you stop?” the words had come out blunt and direct, definitely not her intention, but your facial expression had softened and you nodded bashfully.

kazuha didn’t want you to stop talking but apparently her words had the opposite effect since you had gotten up from the couch and sauntered off into yunjin’s bedroom.

left alone in the living room, she doesn’t realise that she basically chased you away due to her fatigue, not until you emerge from yunjin’s bedroom again to leave the apartment entirely.

“where are you going?” she blurted out.

you shrugged, “back to my own dorm. i wanna see chaewon.”

kazuha didn’t know what else to reply with, so she just left it as that. hours later, when yunjin comes back from eating dinner with the rest of the team (something kazuha has skipped out on to go home early instead), she gets a light scolding to think before she speaks. kazuha knows now that her words were careless and insensitive but she doesn’t want to blame it on the language barrier.

or maybe that other time when you initiated going to the library together. kazuha already made plans with this other girl in her class called minji and she didn’t want to invite you without minji’s approval first. so the best idea at hand was to reject your invitation, right?

wrong.

the dimmed look in your eyes causes guilt to gnaw in her chest and she instantly regrets her decision. the text message of you lying on yunjin’s shoulder, sent by her roommate, passed out and sleeping, only drives the feeling further. minji had nudged her, asking if she was okay. but kazuha merely nods, not knowing what else she would be— if not okay.

she gets this emotion sometimes; not overwhelming her body but it’s sort of like a quiet hum that keeps her in a trance. she doesn’t know what to call it but she realises it’s been happening around you lately. maybe kazuha just likes the comfort you bring, like an older sister. but it doesn’t feel the same with others. sakura, the closest person kazuha can call family, the feelings that come with her are like a warm embrace. it envelopes her into the feeling of being back home. home as in japan. with her lulling words of kazuha’s mother tongue, it transports her back to osaka.

or like with yunjin, who kazuha considers as one of her closest friends. she can’t call yunjin her best friend since she’s sure that spot is heavily guarded by you but yunjin definitely matters a lot to her. yunjin keeps her safe. she makes her feel comfortable. like a pet, almost? that one family dog that kazuha wishes could stay with her forever.

chaewon, kazuha thinks she’s like an older sister. protective and possessive, even though kazuha doesn’t know her very well. chaewon makes sure to take care of her and whenever she sees kazuha in the hallway, there’s a sweet smile on her face. the older girl also manages to always ask if kazuha has eaten or not, which kazuha appreciates greatly since she easily forgets her meals.

but with you, kazuha doesn’t understand anything. she can’t read you easily compared to yunjin who wears her heart on her sleeve. she knows when you’re upset though, and most of the time, it happens because of her. it’s difficult for her to predict your emotions. you make her feel risky. like she’s dangling on the edge of something, ready to fall any time now.

she gets this feeling when she leaves you alone on the couch. she gets this feeling when you leave her alone on the couch. somehow the couch is always involved.

she gets this feeling when she spots you walking out of the lecture hall, someone’s grip on your elbow and her body fitting snugly to yours. kazuha doesn’t know what to say. she just stares as you laugh at whatever the girl says. the girl’s tall, kazuha notes. her short dark hair framing her face perfectly and giving kazuha a good view of how attractive she is. her eyes are crinkled into an eye smile and her dimples are as deep as the ocean.

you don’t notice kazuha since she’s standing by a corner, wondering if she truly meant to witness this intimate scene between you and someone else. kazuha wonders if that girl is your girlfriend. she wonders why you always hang out at their dorm, despite having a girlfriend. she wonders if yunjin knows and has met your girlfriend.

(not that she’s jealous or anything! she’s just interested in your life! as a friend!)

that same night— a friday, kazuha might add, their friday, game night friday— you don’t show up. she’s been waiting for half an hour now, her eyelids heavy and about to close when yunjin hears her phone ping. kazuha snaps out of it as yunjin reads loudly for everyone to hear, “y/n said she’s not coming. something about having plans already.”

kazuha resists the urge to pout while sakura and chaewom both groan audibly.

“she couldn’t have said that sooner?” sakura grumbles while she starts the mario kart round, her joycon moving rapidly to select the stage. just as the light turns green, kazuha glances at your empty seat and suddenly, she gets that feeling again.

“must be yujinie,” chaewon remarks and kazuha suddenly strange. despite being in her own home, she feels unfamiliar. who is this yujinie? why did chaewon know her too? did everyone just know your girlfriend before she came? kazuha bites the inside of her cheek as she passes the finish line, a few seconds after sakura. in the background, she hears yunjin and chaewon arguing. it all becomes muffled once she stares at the untouched bowl of popcorn you would usually be eating.

she doesn’t know if it’s normal to feel this way— like her lungs are collapsing in on themselves and she can’t breathe properly through her nose. it is normal to feel this way? about a friend? were you even considered to be a friend? maybe an acquaintance at best? kazuha has no clue what’s going on. all of her emotions and feelings feel out of reach and she’s gasping for control.

“zuha, are you okay?” a warm hand lingers on her shoulder. kazuha looks up from her spot on the carpet. it’s sakura, whose face is full of concern while yunjin and chaewon are still bickering.

“yes, i’m fine,” kazuha tries to smile and she even responds in japanese, being as sincere as possible. sakura nods before saying, “you can tell us anything, okay?”

(“i did not cause you to become twelfth— you just suck at mario kart!”

“say that to the thousands of blue shells you threw! you knew i was in front of you!”)

kazuha sighs, “it’s okay. i can deal with it.”

she doesn’t think she wants sakura to know of her feelings yet. not when she doesn’t know anything herself.

the athletes running up and down the long expanse of the basketball court never fails to amaze you. their stamina is extraordinary, having to sprint laps like that would surely have you gasping for air. if you had to go through such a routine, it would definitely have you on a hospital stretcher at the end of the day.

your eyes trail to the group of girls, huddled together with enormous sign boards covered in an assortment of decorations. you recognise some of the names, mostly since yunjin likes to babble about her teammates. one even had yunjin’s name and a cut out of her face glued onto it— you would definitely make fun of her later for it.

“hey,” chaewon slides smoothly into the seat next to you, “how was class?”

you groan immediately just thinking about the horrendous tutorials you had to endure in the morning. at least it was a morning class which gave you the leeway to come watch yunjin’s first game of the season. and kazuha’s too, but you haven’t seen much of her recently. after what you would call the library fiasco, you decided that being angsty and upset over a simple rejection was too immature and childish. hence, it would be best for you to step away for a while, lest you say something rude to kazuha because of your inability to control your own emotions.

“choi y/n! kim chaewon!” your head swerves to face the court. yunjin’s hand is outstretched and waving excitedly at you two. guffawing, you wave back while chaewon rolls her eyes, “does she have to say our full names like that?”

just as your hand falls, kazuha walks up to yunjin, conversing with her in hushed whispers. yunjin instantly jumps, jogging away from the benches and towards the centre of the court. your heart accelerates when the doors bang open. the other university team strolls in, all with their chins high, dignified and confident. you can only hope that yunjin holds the same conviction. you don’t really pay attention to the other team warming up and luckily, you had brought your textbooks along. using the spare time, you skim through your notes again, until chaewon nudges you.

everyone on court was in position and once the whistle blows, yunjin jumps upwards, reaching out for the ball. your eyes widen as she basically levitates in the sky for a good five seconds— you didn’t know yunjin could jump so high. even with her height, she was two heads taller than the opposing player. cheers sound out from the stands and you can’t help but shout yunjin’s name.

you watch intently as yunjin dribbles the ball down the court, passing it between her teammates. just as she’s about to finish a layup, the opposing player leaps forward, blocking her attempt. chaewon lets out an undistinguished groan as yunjin scrambles to regain possession of the ball. suddenly, a blurry flash of blue, your school’s team uniform colour, passes by and snatches the ball. kazuha strides all the way to the other side with precision and grace, dodging all the defenders agily.

you remain mum when everyone else cheers for the rookie. within seconds, kazuha jumps, flicking the basketball towards the net. you hold your breath and only exhale when it swoops in. the stands erupt into hoots and hollers. the game continues with back and forths, both teams evening out with their scores despite the early lead. however, the balance doesn’t persist for long, since midway through, just when kazuha is about to score a three pointer, one of the opponents dives in to tackle her. you instantly jump out of your seat, eyes wide with worry as kazuha gets shoved to the floor, a loud thud echoing throughout the gym.

“dude— is she allowed to do that?” you ask chaewon in disbelief. chaewon shakes her head, her face equally full of concern. there’s an outcry of anger from the supporters, booing at the opposing team. kazuha’s still on the ground, her arm twisted unsightly.

“what a bitch!” chaewon yells as the offender smirks at kazuha, strutting away to sit down on a bench while her teammate runs into court. your eyes follow the bright red jersey, the back depicting the name ‘shin’ in bold white font along with the number nine. the foul play earns your team a penalty shot but kazuha’s taken off court to be assessed for injuries.

despite the ongoing game, you can’t take your eyes off kazuha. her limp body, defeated and disappointed, resting against the wall causes sorrow to engulf your heart. you hate how upset she looks. even chaewon’s shrieks and screams can’t distract you. soon, kazuha leaves the gymnasium entirely and you can’t help but want to go after her.

“oh, c’mon yunjin! that was an easy shot!” chaewon shouts, causing the girl mentioned to turn around and glare at her. the ball had rolled off the rim effortlessly and your heart stopped as the score tied once more. it was already in its last quarter and if your team had any hopes of winning, they would need to step up their game. as the seconds ticked by, the chance of victory dwindled and you could see the moral fading away from your team.

yet, out of nowhere, yunjin somehow manages to score a three pointer that flings your team into the lead.

“huh yunjin!” you holler as the stands rise to clap and cheer. chaewon does the same and the game ends with the team lifting yunjin’s lanky body up in the air, seemingly awarding her with the title of mvp. your best friend grins as she shakes the opponent’s hand and you swear she grips number nine’s hand a little tighter. while the team finishes up thanking the opponents, you head down from the stands towards the infirmary, leaving chaewon behind.

the hallway leading to the infirmary feels endless as your legs trudge through. you couldn’t sit still throughout the match but yunjin came first as much as you wanted to check up on kazuha. and anyway things were awkward now— it would make sense for you to remain in the stands.

swinging the doors open, you whip your head left and right, searching for the young japanese girl.

“y/n?” kazuha blurts out. she’s laying on one of the beds, arm wrapped in a cast that’s slung around her shoulder, “d-did we win?”

you want to laugh in disbelief at how kazuha cares more about the match than her broken arm.

“ninety two to eighty nine,” you repeat the scores, sitting down on one of the chairs next to her bed. kazuha frowns, “that’s not a huge difference.”

“no, but at least you won.”

the girl’s shoulders turn slack and she gazes at you with a downcasted expression, “barely. i thought yunjin would be able to pull ahead.”

“she scored the winning shot,” you offer half-heartedly, which at least manages to cheer kazuha up a little. she smiles reluctantly before furrowing her eyebrows at the cast again, “i can’t play for the rest of the season.”

you nod, “of course not.”

“that’s— ugh,” her head falls against the propped pillow, “that’s annoying. i’m gonna miss so much—”

“hey,” you interrupt, “you just have to focus on resting now. don’t think about what you’re missing out on.”

kazuha pouts. she pouts— and it’s maddening the way the sight of an upset kazuha tugs at your heartstrings. how was it possible for someone to have that much control over your emotions?

a moment of silence passes slowly as kazuha’s eyelids flutter shut. she must be tired, you infer. despite the little time she spent on court, the girl suffered a serious injury and required rest. just as you decide to stand up, kazuha’s voice halts your movement.

“why didn’t you come to game night?”

she sounds timid and worried, almost like the kazuha you met at first. you haven’t heard her this anxious in a long time.

“game night?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“y-yeah… on friday… we waited for you,” she trails off, willing herself to stare at the clenched fists bunching up the blanket resting on her lap rather than you.

you’re reminded of the night that you spent with yujin, coming up with different ways and strategies to woo jang wonyoung even though you knew she was too pussy to do anything.

“i was out with my friend,” you explain, “sorry for making you guys wait up.”

kazuha frowns. you hold back from reaching out to relax the furrow between her brows.

“yujin?” she asks, voice strained.

“mhm. do you know her?”

she shakes her head.

“well— yujin does robotics, so you probably never crossed paths before. she’s a good kid though,” you smile fondly, thinking about the girl. kazuha can’t stop herself from glaring at the adoring look in your eyes. you had seemingly brightened up at the mention of your friend and kazuha hates how she feels out of place even though it’s just you and her talking.

this whole situation should be familiar. you’re her roommate’s best friend. she should feel fine and comfortable carrying a conversation with you but she doesn’t.

“i think you guys would get along well,” you say, “she likes playing genshin— don’t you like it too?”

kazuha stuns. how do you know that she plays genshin? out of everything that you had to know about her, liking genshin impact was not one of kazuha’s get to know me facts! you probably thought that she was a loser now! only losers play genshin! she internally wails at the prospect of it.

“hmph… maybe,” she mumbles, the tips of her ears reddening. kazuha’s lucky that her long hair hides her embarrassment. you laugh at her response and kazuha gets that feeling again.

suddenly, your phone rings, indicating a call. you fish your phone out, grimacing at the contact before answering.

“choi y/n!” kazuha hears yunjin’s voice unabashedly shouting. she stifles a laugh as you wince.

“yes?”

“where are you?! we’re meant to be celebrating!”

your voice turns stern and steely (kazuha’s heart stutters in her chest a little), “i’m with your roommate, or did you forget that she got injured?”

“i— kazuha! oh shit, wait for me!”

the moment you end the call, kazuha lets out a giggle. yunjin was just so silly. she can’t think of a better roommate to be honest. even if she has the memory of a goldfish. kazuha has a lot to thank yunjin for, and as she gazes at you, grinning shyly at the reduced tension in the room from yunjin’s mere phone call, she suddenly feels a wave of gratitude.

thank you yunjin for giving her this opportunity to befriend you.

your blooming friendship with kazuha has ascended from mere acquaintances to a contender for yunjin’s best friend spot. the previous icy disposition prevalent had disappeared almost instantly after that basketball game. you spend most of your days on kazuha’s bed, not the living room couch. at first, it was because she had to watch this scary movie, courtesy of a bet made by chaewon, and she couldn’t do it alone. yunjin would be equally useless, so you took up her offer.

unfortunately she didn’t inform you that chaewon’s bet consisted of watching the whole trilogy at night. hence, you were subjected to watching three horror films at midnight. kazuha couldn’t really stay quiet and it wasn’t as if you could tape her mouth shut. so, you decided to help her by giving her your hand to squeeze whenever a jumpscare came on screen.

however, this situation was extremely bad for your heart.

the warmth emitting from her hold was enough to make you blush. not to mention the way her body would cave in, seeking comfort. the mere presence of kazuha made goosebumps rise along your skin.

your heart weeps in disappointment when kazuha’s touch leaves your skin, her hand flying out to cover her eye while her other rests in the cast.

(not because you wanted kazuha to keep touching you! covering her eyes was just a cowardly move! as chaewon’s roommate, you had to ensure that kazuha would adhere to the rules!)

anyway— through this one night, kazuha had somehow managed to get nightmares from the horror movie. you wondered how that was possible when she barely watched it. maybe a little. through the gaps in her fingers perhaps. due to this recurring nightmare that kazuha had, she couldn’t get any sleep at all. the next day you visited her dorm, she looked like a zombie.

hence, your disastrous plan of staying the night with kazuha to make sure she was safe from any ghosts!

it was the foreigner who brought it up at first, all shy and bashful and you couldn’t reject that sheepish expression. but maybe you should’ve, since instead of just being by her side at night, somehow you would end up cuddling. the cuddling wasn’t really bad… it was just that kazuha was handsy. incredibly so. you would wake up in the morning, hair tousled and drool across your cheek, and kazuha’s entire body would be embracing yours, like a koala. you weren’t too sure if the conscious kazuha would even do such a thing and you chalked it up to her sleeping habit.

every morning, you would have to carefully detach yourself from kazuha before heading to class, making sure not to wake the girl up. especially with exams round the corner, she definitely needed her sleep. if you weren’t watching movies, you would be studying. sometimes kazuha moans about music theory, stating that she should have just studied science and other times you grumble about ecology, wishing you took arts instead. eventually, a few weeks after that fateful movie night, kazuha finally got her cast removed and was back to feeling brand new. you had celebrated by watching high school musical and drinking, which was definitely the cause of your killer hangover the next morning.

“zuha! where’s my hoodie?!” you shriek, fighting against your pounding headache and rifling through the piles of laundry stacking up beside kazuha’s bed.

the girl groggily sits up from her sheets, eyes bleary, “huh?”

the sun’s barely out but you have an eight am class to get to and now you can’t find your hoodie! it’s your favourite one too! a black adidas hoodie! and if you don’t bring it to your morning class, you’ll freeze to death in the theatre! the hangover doesn’t help either.

“where is it? i brought it over last time,” you ask, facing the sleepy girl again. kazuha rubs her eyes, frowning, “i think in my closet?”

ignoring the urge to coo at her, you stride towards her closet, searching through. eventually, you do find your hoodie, all the way at the side, shoved in with a bunch of other clothes.

exclaiming in glee, you hurriedly pull it over your head and grab your bag.

“okay, bye zuha! love you!” you blurt out, kissing the top of her head and sprinting out of the dorm despite yunjin yelling for you to stay for breakfast.

it’s only when you reach your class that you realise what you’ve done. sweat dripping down your neck, you collapse in the chair, eyes wide and mouth agape at your own shamelessness.

“oh my god…!” you shriek as loudly as you can, muffled into the thick fabric of your hoodie. yujin slides into the seat next to you, blinking in surprise. you turn to her, distressed.

“are you…” she makes a bunch of vague gestures with her hand, “you look ten seconds away from having a stroke.”

you bury your head into your palms, fingers digging into your hair. yujin makes a noise of indignation.

“yujinnie, prepare my funeral for me.”

“what?!” the younger girl grabs your shoulders, shaking you roughly, “you’re dying?!”

“ugh, no!” you push her away, “i did something stupid.”

yujin stares at you before huffing, “if you’re just gonna sulk—”

“i kissed zuha on the cheek and said love you when i was leaving!” you splutter out. her eyes turn as wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise. “zuha? yunjin’s roommate? since when did you get so chummy with her? are you dating?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek in humiliation when you recall kazuha’s stunned expression, frozen on the bed.

“so… why’d you…” yujin stutters, “kiss her?”

groaning, you flop back onto the desk, limp with mortification. it’s almost a repeat of the incident when you first met kazuha. somehow, everytime you hung out with her, you would find a way to truly embarrass yourself. but maybe this one triumphs all other times.

“i don’t know! i was really hungover and she just looked super cute after waking up! i think it’s because we spent the night together so we got a little too domesticated… and it was just an instinctive reaction to do that! she was so pretty… and maybe i’m kind of in love with her but that’s not the point!” you whine.

it had never been stated so outrightly before. that your whole heart rested in the palms of kazuha. you had no idea when this crush, or adoration, for her started and it very well could have blossomed the moment kazuha opened that door for you. all you knew was that your love for her was like a tsunami, endless in its barrage. it explained all the feelings you felt for her; from jealousy to affection. she made you feel a whole spectrum. you wanted to know everything about kazuha. her likes, her dislikes, why she chose basketball over dance, why she enjoys video games so much (not as much as sakura though).

“you’re in love with her? girl what.”

“i know! oh my god— how am i gonna face her now?”

yujin guffaws, shoving your limp body away, “you’re such a mess. shut up and focus before you fail this semester. think about this later.”

you nod. yujin was right! you shouldn’t think about this now. it wouldn’t do you any good. currently, all you should think about is the looming examinations that will decide your future.

yet, the thought of kazuha still remains clear in your mind. halfway through the lecture, you nudge yujin’s side, whispering softly, “do you think zuha got uncomfortable with me doing that?”

yujin frowns, pushing her glasses up, “probably a little… unless she likes you back.”

unintentionally, a scoff escapes you. kazuha liking you back? no way. she wouldn’t even touch you with a ten foot pole if it wasn’t for her own comfort. the mere thought was preposterous. how could someone, as sweet as kazuha, as caring as kazuha…

she was the kindest girl you knew. you had forgotten all about the misfortune you faced at the start with her, writing them off as misunderstanding the girl. it was so apparent that kazuha had a heart of gold. and perhaps it was too easy for you to fall for someone like that. someone gentle and loving. maybe the furthest her love for you would be as a friend. you couldn’t assume that her actions were romantic. it would make more sense for them to be platonic.

you cuddle with yunjin too. you kiss chaewon on the cheek as well. you’ve spent nights talking to sakura. nothing about the things you’ve experienced with kazuha was strange or abnormal. well, except for the outrageous heart rate you had during those times.

sometimes when you wake up first, you prepare breakfast for yunjin and kazuha. and most of the time, when you’re flipping pancakes, firm arms wrap around your waist and a giant embraces your back. it would always be kazuha’s face that meets yours when you turn around. her goofy grin as she eyes the pancakes hungrily. you could imagine the ears flapping on those brown locks and the tail wagging excitedly behind her.

almost like an enthusiastic puppy that sees its owner for the first time. kazuha was innocent like that. she deserved a good person to take care of her. one that doesn’t have to contemplate their worth to her. maybe she does like you, but that would be a diabolical decision to make.

you sink further into your chair.

“you good?” yujin asks.

kazuha should not like you back.

“y-yeah. i’m fine.”

it wouldn’t be so bad if she did though.

truth be told, kazuha wasn’t really sure what changed overnight. she just had almost the best sleep of her life and suddenly, it’s the morning and you’re rushing out the door. the lingering warmth of your lips still resides freshly on her cheek and a delicious tingle sends shivers down her entire body as she remembers it so dearly. don’t even get her started on the way her heart had jumped in her throat when you said ‘love you’ to her. it was mystical the way she reacted to such words.

yet, it seemed like you had done a whole one eighty. instead of returning back to her like you should, kazuha never received any indication of you dropping by their dorm. she had eagerly waited for your arrival after your class and you were nowhere to be found. if anyone saw her then, they would immediately state that she looked like a wet dog. kazuha didn’t know what she’d done wrong. only that yunjin was equally bewildered.

“do you think i did something?” kazuha asks again over dinner and yunjin can’t really stand to be exasperated when her roommate stares so sadly at her food, not even eating.

“maybe she’s just in one of those phases again. it’s nearing exam season,” yunjin shrugs even though there’s insecurity in her answer, “she might just be busy.”

kazuha nods and it feels as if she’s trying to convince herself rather than acknowledge yunjin’s words.

“i’ll tell you if i get any news from her though,” yunjin offers and it brightens kazuha up enough for her to finally take a bite of her dinner.

things don’t really change even after a few days. yunjin just has a pitiful expression on her face when kazuha asks again and everything’s starting to look dull. she still has no clue what transpired in this situation. maybe it really was that morning when you kissed her. how could you be the one avoiding her if you kissed her first? kazuha huffs, stomping her feet as she thinks about it. she should really be focusing on her thesis right now but her mind likes to wander and more often than not, the main protagonist in her brain is you.

the fact that you don’t share any subjects together only further wedges a gap between you and kazuha barely spots you in the hallways. based on what chaewon’s told her, you’ve only been staying in your room, even avoiding going to the library or cafes in fear that kazuha might be there! now that was just too over the top. the next time kazuha sees you, she’s going to explode.

additionally, to add to the things that do not quell kazuha’s frustration, you’ve become increasingly close to this yujin girl. kazuha currently has all her friends on lookout, searching for your whereabouts and almost all of them have reported sightings of you with this tall girl with dark shaggy hair and kazuha knows that’s ahn yujin. back when she still had you to cuddle, you would sometimes bring up yujin despite the scowl on kazuha’s face. the mere mention of her name was enough for kazuha’s blood to boil so imagine seeing you with her! when you were meant to be cuddling with kazuha! life was so unfair.

kazuha wants to pull out all her hair when she finally sees you for the first time in weeks and no surprise, yujin’s latched onto your side like a hopeless dog.

(she ignores how she may have, very well, looked the same once.)

she watches pathetically as you stroll by, not even sparing a glance at her and maybe if she listened close enough, she could hear her heart shattering into shards. now kazuha just feels silly. she’s tried everything (no, not really, it’s an exaggeration) for you to notice her but nothing seems to work. maybe she’ll just corner you in your dorm room, where you can’t escape.

at that very moment, a lightbulb flickers on.

kazuha sprints, her long legs striding towards the direction of the dormitories, eyes blazing with a newfound determination.

kazuha [3.14pm]:

pls lock urself in ur room

just for a few hours

chaewon [3.15pm]:

is this about yn?

okie sure~

kazuha [3.15pm]:

thanku (´▽｀)

the moment she reaches your dorm, she’s panting heavily and she needs to rest her body against the hardwood door to catch her breath. no doubt she reached before you and as she knocked, chaewon grimaces at her but still opens it wide enough for her to enter.

“good luck,” is all she says before clicking her bedroom door shut. kazuha has a few minutes to spare, so she takes a good look around your apartment. for the amount of time you spent in hers, she hasn’t done the same. it’s an unfamiliar territory that kazuha has to become well-versed with. a whole wall was filmed with polaroids and pictures, all taken throughout your college life. her eyes fall from one of yunjin to a blurry film photo. it’s a little hazy but the people inside are still clear enough to be identifiable. kazuha knows that’s her. and the person she’s wrapped around is you.

she doesn’t remember this photo being taken but the surroundings are evidently her dorm, so it could only mean that yunjin took the photo. but for you to get it developed… kazuha hasn’t understood the significance of her friendship to you until now. it’s slightly jarring to be frank but a sense of relief settles within her.

her head swings back when the door clicks open.

“oh.”

you stare at kazuha with widened eyes.

“sorry, chaewon unnie let me in.”

you clear your throat, coughing slightly, “ah, yeah. i just… wasn’t expecting for you to be here.”

kazuha cocks an eyebrow at you, “not done avoiding me?”

“uhm, what… haha, no… i wasn’t avoiding you.”

“really?”

you nod stiffly, “yup. just busy. busy with schoolwork. y’know, biomed’s a hard curriculum.”

“of course,” kazuha states, “let’s catch up now then. you have free time, right?”

there’d be no use denying that to kazuha, so you accept your fate by sitting down on the couch. the fabric feels foreign after spending most of your days in yunjin’s dorm.

“so… what’s up?”

“explain why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i just told you i haven’t…”

the look kazuha gives you says, ‘come on,’ and you sigh, knowing that there wasn’t any way out of this. at best, you would be able to move on without ever speaking of this again, and at worst, you would be thoroughly humiliated. at least it was just the two of you now, so maybe your embarrassment wouldn’t be as bad?

“well, uhm,” you look away from kazuha’s intense gaze, “for starters, i was really embarrassed after that incident in the morning…” your voice trails off awkwardly as kazuha’s eyes light up in recognition.

“why? it wasn’t weird for me.”

“no? it wasn’t?” you ask, surprised. kazuha shakes her head and it gives you the slightest bit of confidence.

you try to keep your voice steady, “okay but other than that, i kind of… i haveamassivecrushonyou.”

“what?! say that again,” she demands, now facing you directly and you shut your eyes, already feeling the tips of your ears heat up rapidly.

“i kind of have a massive crush on you. i’m sorry! if i stayed friends with you it just felt like i was taking advantage and i wouldn’t want to do that to someone i like.”

she doesn’t respond for a few seconds and instantly you think she’s gotten up and left. surely this would be weird for her, right? her roommate’s best friend suddenly saying that she’s been crushing on her— why did you even say that out loud to her?!

when you open your eyes, you find kazuha staring at you with a flabbergasted expression that quickly morphs into exhilaration. she lets out a breathy laugh, one that echoes in your ears endlessly, “i’m so happy.”

“what?” you ask, confused.

she repeats slowly, “i’m so happy.”

“…why?”

kazuha rolls her eyes playfully, “i have a crush on you too. why do you think i said i didn’t mind the kiss? or your profession of love?”

you blush furiously, “that was not a profession of love. more like a slip of the tongue. never going to happen again.”

she shakes her head, a grin gracing her lips, “well, it was really cute.” kazuha leans in close, mockingly poking at your maroon-stained cheeks, “are you flustered? did your heart flutter because of me?”

swatting her hand away, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself too much.” it’s an incredible contrast of your true feelings.

“i really thought you didn’t like me,” you pout, thinking of all the times kazuha would unintentionally reject you.

the japanese girl winces, “not my best moment but i do like you, if that wasn’t clear enough. so, are we dating now?”

you place your palms against her broad shoulders, pushing her away slightly before she sends you into a heart attack.

“o-okay.”

“hm? what’s that? i didn’t hear you.”

“shut up, zuha.”

“hey, i thought you liked me. why are you being so mean?”

later on, when chaewon finally emerges from her room, she finds two figures cuddled up on the couch, both clinging onto each other. her first instinct is to cringe, and her second is to snap a photo to replace the one currently on the wall.

🎙️ author’s note: not super fond of the ending but it’s literally 3am and i can’t be bothered sorry guys maybe i’ll change it one day but i need to sleep now. hope you enjoyed the fic nonetheless!

#lesserafim x reader #lesserafim #lesserafim x fem reader #nakamura kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x fem reader #nakamura kazuha x fem reader

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lucysarah-c · 21 days ago

Text

Mounting Spring Ch. 6

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.)

Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it.

From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

Masterlist to the previous parts!

Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there! Chapter dedicated to @marianafairybread because she always wants to be first in the chapter's comment section... and she did it! haha

Reaching out, he grabbed the first items he found, dropping them into his basket with little thought. ‘I should’ve gone to Trost’, he mused.

The small rural town near the Scout facility didn’t offer much in terms of variety. Most locals lived self-sufficiently, farming or raising livestock. Trost, on the other hand, was farther away, and with his limited free time, it wasn’t an option this week. The act of grocery shopping felt like a distant memory, more of an abstract concept than a routine he’d ever mastered.

In the underground, homes were more like squatter's shelters—claimed rather than owned. Kitchens were either non-existent or barely functional, forcing most people to rely on taverns for meals. He’d done the same. If he wanted more than bread and cheese, he’d head out for something warm. He recalled the occasional market day when he’d taken Isabel to pick out “whatever she wanted,” keeping his hood up to avoid attention.

The image flashed briefly—Isabel, beaming, holding up a packet of cookies, seeking his approval. The memory flickered and faded as he reached for some pastries on display at the bakery. They weren’t much, but they were more than plain crackers.

He picked items at random, a mixture of reluctance and uncertainty guiding his choices. This should do, he thought, noticing the baker’s daughter lugging a heavy tray of milk buns to the counter. Her flour-streaked apron and flushed cheeks gave her the look of someone used to hard work.

Levi cleared his throat.

“Oh, are you done, Captain?” the girl asked, dusted her hands off before packing his selections into paper bags. She couldn’t have been older than his newly proclaimed wife.

“Can I get a dozen of those, too?” He pointed at the fresh white bread.

She blinked, surprised but obliging. “Of course.” As she moved to fulfil his request, she added, “I dare say, Captain, it’s surprising to see you here like this. You hardly ever shop in town.”

Levi hummed noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying. He glanced over his shoulder at his squad, who were busy loading supplies onto the cart, too preoccupied to notice him.

“Is someone sick at HQ? The weather’s been wild lately,” the girl continued, clearly eager for conversation. She might have assumed someone had caught the flu, forcing him into town for soft bread to tide them over until rations were delivered.

“No,” Levi replied curtly, “But yeah, it’s been raining a lot.”

“Do you sell dairy?” he asked, shifting topics as he mentally ticked off his list.

The girl shook her head. “No, that’s Gilbert. He’s around—want me to call him?”

Before Levi could answer, she turned to the back window and shouted, “Gilbert!” Her voice was startlingly loud and commanding, a sharp contrast to her polite demeanour moments earlier. She returned with a cheery smile. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

Levi barely had time to process before, a young man with a dishevelled look and a peaky cap leaned into the window, clearly irritated.

“What now, May?” he grumbled.

‘They’re close’, Levi noted. ‘Well, this town’s so damn small, everyone is.’

Gilbert’s attitude flipped the moment he spotted Levi. “Captain,” he greeted, pulling off his cap and nodding respectfully.

“He’s asking about dairy,” May informed him, returning to her chores.

“Oh, is someone sick?” Gilbert asked, shifting his attention to Levi.

“No, just need milk, cheese, maybe butter. I can’t keep coming down here every time I run out. Do you deliver to the countryside?”

“Of course.” Gilbert nodded. “Leave the empties near the stables. I’ll replace them when I see them.”

“That’ll do,” Levi agreed, pulling out his wallet. He suspected other Scouts’ Squad Leaders had lived a little less frugally than he did. ‘Like Eyebrows,’ he thought grimly. But at that time, most of them where gone.

“I’m just surprised you’re shopping here now,” May chimed in, a sly smile on her face. “Is everything alright at HQ?”

“Yes.”

“I thought the Scouts had a deal with the Reeves Company,” Gilbert added, leaning on the window frame.

Levi hesitated. Socializing wasn’t his strength, but ripping the bandage off now seemed the easiest option. “It’s for my wife,” he said plainly.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward. Levi pressed his lips together; it simply didn’t feel real to pronounce those words. Saying them out loud confused him, it just made no sense for him but it was real. Almost like a weird illusion. The girl’s fake innocence vanished, replaced by a look of irritation and disappointment. Gilbert, on the other hand, stifled a laugh poorly by noticing her face.

“Congratulations,” the girl muttered begrudgingly.

“Congratulations, Captain,” Gilbert said, grinning. “Actually, my father mentioned something about it, but I didn’t believe him.”

“Thanks,” Levi replied curtly, eager to leave.

“Where’s she staying? Maybe she’d like to join us, the girls and I, for tea,” May asked, her tone a forced blend of sweetness and curiosity.

‘For fucks sake, just drop it,’ Levi decided to ignore it as the young man set four glass bottles of milk and some extras. Levi paid, though May tried to refuse. “It’s on the house, Captain,” she insisted.

“Come on, I grabbed a lot,” he countered.

“And my mother would be thrilled knowing Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’s wife is eating her recipes,” she insisted.

Reluctantly, Levi accepted, gathering the bags with practiced efficiency. She resumed her prying. “Let us know where she’s staying! We’ll invite her out!”

“She’s at HQ for now.”

May’s surprise was evident. “I didn’t know civilians could live at HQ.”

“Let them be,” Gilbert teased, nudging her arm. “Newlyweds can’t stand being apart, especially this time of year.” His comment made her giggle and blush.

—

“I paid for those groceries with my dignity,”

“I mean… they’re kind of right; don’t you think? What’s a civilian doing at military headquarters?” The brunette nudged the captain, attempting to keep the conversation alive. “You can’t just keep her locked up in your quarters forever, you know.”

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “I know. But where the hell am I supposed to put her? In the stables?”

Hange’s enthusiasm didn’t waver, despite Levi’s clear frustration. “Oh, we could go house-hunting! I’ve always wanted to do that!” They grinned, as if this were an adventure. “Owning a house is one of my wildest dreams! Right up there with seeing the outside world. I can’t believe I got to see the ocean before I could even afford a house—but hey, that’s the economy for you.” Hange chuckled, undeterred.

“I’ll have to have a word with that asshole Zackly. I can’t keep her living off charity,” Levi muttered. His long list of responsibilities felt like tackling a Hydra—cut off one head, and two more grew in its place.

“So?... Did she like them? Or is she still sticking to that hunger strike?” Hange leaned back; their cheeks already flushed from the alcohol. They’d shifted from standing close to the captain to sprawling in their own chair, drink in hand.

“There was never a hunger strike. She just hates our food,” Levi replied dryly. “Not that I blame her. But she’d better start getting used to it. I’m not hiring her a private chef, and she can’t live off cookies and cheese forever.”

The memory of earlier that day surfaced unbidden.

“You’re back!” she said, startled, stepping out of the room quickly to meet him.

“I brought you something to eat.” Levi set the bags down on the table. Unlike her usual cautious approach with the trays he brought, she dove right into inspecting the bags, curiosity lighting up her face.

She peeked into each bag, her expression softening with genuine delight.

Levi caught himself staring—maybe for the first time since they met, he noticed something resembling happiness on her face.

“Oh!” she squealed, pulling out the buns and bringing one to her nose. She inhaled deeply, savouring the sweet scent before tearing a piece off and taking a generous bite.

“Try not to fill up before dinner,” he warned gruffly. He remembered the previous night’s “dinner,” which had mostly involved her picking through the stew like it was poison.

But her eyes, bright and grateful, met his. She made an effort to swallow quickly, breaking the eye contact momentarily, then said softly, “Thank you.”

“Oww. Look at you, all doting. Your little alpha brain was probably glowing,” Hange teased with a wide grin.

Levi frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on, Levi. Alphas instinctively provide for their mates. Bringing her food is, like, prime courting behaviour—”

“Spare me the biology lesson,” Levi cut them off sharply. “I’ve had enough of your nonsense for one day.”

He reached for his glass, hoping it would hide the faint heat creeping up his neck. He’d dreamed of her the previous night. Not just of her, but of marking her—claiming her in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to think about while awake.

“At least her scent’s calming down,” he muttered, more to himself than to Hange. “Maybe now I can actually think straight.”

The last remaining veteran hummed faintly, their approval distant as they leaned back in their swinging chair, eyes closed. Sleep-deprivation from endless responsibilities and the alcohol in their system created a perfect cocktail for them to drift into dreamland almost instantly.

Levi, however, let his head hang over the back of his seat, eyes shut. He sighed heavily. “The one thing I’m grateful for... is that those two are Betas. If they weren’t, I’d never hear the end of it.”

He was referring to the fact that the small-town folk—most of whom were Betas—couldn’t recognize or differentiate between the scent of a bonded or unbonded Alpha.

—

“Dear Nana,

How is everyone? How is Clauws doing?”

She carefully penned the letter, seated at a desk that wasn’t hers. The pen’s tip dipped into ink once more before gliding across the paper. Though countless questions buzzed in her mind, very few could actually be written down. Her grandmother had always been strict, but when everything fell apart, she was the first to offer support—a comforting presence her own mother hadn’t provided. Her mother, too preoccupied tending to the returned “head of the house,” had barely noticed her struggles.

“I’m sorry I ruined your dress, Nana,”

She paused, remembering the day her grandmother had handed her the cherished wedding gown. It was simpler in design, a reflection of the fashion back then. “A piece of me will be with you that day,” her grandmother had said.

The letter rambled in places, yet felt hollow in others. “Things are improving slowly. My belongings arrived two days ago, which was a clear improvement,” she wrote.

She smiled at the memory. How ridiculously happy she’d been to finally take a proper shower using her own soaps, hair products, skincare, and body lotions. At last, she could wear a dress that was hers.

Levi’s reaction to the mountain of boxes had been understated—a brief glance, a slight narrowing of his eyes—but he’d said nothing. His indifference almost tempted her to write: “Nana, is it normal for a husband to not be interested in you?” But she stopped herself.

Her initial theory had been that her appearance was to blame. The limited wardrobe and lack of self-care products had left her feeling dull. But after her belongings arrived, she took her time in the shower that night, ensuring every inch of her smelled pleasant.

—

Levi returned to his chambers after a long day, utterly drained. He kicked off his boots, but still bent down to align them perfectly by the wall. Scratching the back of his head, his hand moved instinctively to push the bathroom door open—only to stop short when he noticed the light was on.

Her startled squeak from inside made him freeze. The door slammed shut in his face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping back to avoid getting hit. He’d completely forgotten she was there. Despite the subtle changes around his chambers—the rearranged furniture, the extra storage for her belongings—it hadn’t sunk in.

Levi waited a few moments, exhaustion weighing on him. Each blink grew slower, heavier. Finally, he sighed. “Is this going to take long? I need the bathroom,” he asked, voice calm but firm.

“No.”

He frowned, rolling his eyes as if following an invisible clock. “Is that a ‘No, I’m done,’ or a ‘No, I need more time’?”

“What does that even mean?” she called back, her muffled voice sounding farther away than it actually was.

Levi shifted his weight impatiently, hands on his hips. “It means your ‘just a minute’ is turning into an eternity.”

He opened the door, the abrupt motion startled Hange, who was working at the desk nearby. Levi muttered irritably under his breath, brushing past them. “Feel free to make yourself at home,” Hange quipped sarcastically, as if they didn’t burst into Levi’s chambers uninvited all the time.

“I need to use your bathroom,” Levi snapped. But after a quick glance inside, he wrinkled his nose, muttered, “Never mind, the cadet’s public ones are cleaner,” and left.

—

When he returned to his chambers later, exhaustion pulling at every step, she was seated there. Her freshly washed hair glowed with a soft sheen, and the dress she wore seemed to accentuate her figure in all the right ways. The change in her mood was palpable—she looked lighter, almost happy.

“You’re back earlier,” she said softly, breaking the silence. Perhaps the isolation was getting to her. She had no one to talk to but herself, and even her inner monologues were starting to feel unhinged.

“Yeah.” Levi didn’t elaborate, setting down a stack of papers he needed to finish. He poured himself a cup of tea and sat at his desk, ready to get to work.

But her gaze was intense, her attention unwavering. He raised his eyes slowly from the papers, catching her shy smile. She looked... almost embarrassed.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice betraying no emotion.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with unspoken thoughts. Levi frowned inwardly. ‘She wants something’. Too tired for subtle games, he asked bluntly, “What do you need?”

“Oh, um… how was your day?” she asked, the long pause making her question feel like an afterthought.

“Busy.” He blinked slowly, waiting for her to get to the point. “What do you need?”

For Levi, this was attentiveness—cutting to the chase and solving her problems directly. But to her, it felt cold. Distant.

Pressing her lips together, she tried to maintain her optimism. “Don’t you notice something different?” she asked, her voice carrying the same tentative excitement as a child presenting a crayon drawing, they’ve poured their heart into.

Levi barely looked up from his work. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him after nonstop duties. “Your stuff arrived.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Well, yes. You brought it.” She leaned forward slightly. “Something else.”

Levi, disinterested, returned to his papers. “My bathroom is crammed with packages of things that’ll be impossible to keep tidy. That it?”

Her smile faltered, the enthusiasm in her eyes dimming. “No,” she muttered.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the scratch of his pen on paper. Her drop in mood didn’t register with him immediately; his focus remained fixed on his work.

“Then I don’t know. I give up,” Levi finally said, his tone casual as though indulging in a child’s guessing game. “Communication is key, isn’t it?” He kept the conversation going, albeit with his usual bluntness. “I’ll be direct. I leave this place around six in the morning and come back around nine at night. When I get here, I just want to use the bathroom without waiting an hour. The rest of the day, it’s all yours.”

In his mind, he was simply setting boundaries—clarity prevented misunderstandings. “Settled accounts keep old friends,” as the saying went. He didn’t want resentment to build and cause an issue later.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice lacking the earlier spark.

Minutes passed in silence. Only then did Levi notice the shift in her mood. He tapped his pen against the desk, trying to shake off the sense of something being off. Straightening in his chair, he forced himself into a form of socialization that didn’t come naturally.

“How... was your day?” he asked, his tone awkward but sincere.

She gave him a faint, understanding smile. “It was good.”

“Good to hear,” he said, returning to his papers.

She replayed the events of the previous night in her mind, conflicted.

‘He called off my wedding and chose me with such determination... didn’t back out of the new arrangement when I lost my heat.’

She pieced together the events as though unraveling a mystery, searching for a missing clue.

‘He not only didn’t want to claim me… he’s simply not interested in me.’

A deep sigh escaped her as she ran a hand over her face. The confinement of the past few days had left her dizzy and drained.

‘Am I doing something wrong? Failing as a wife somehow?’

The thought of asking, ‘Captain, have we met before?’ lingered on the edge of her mind. How could a man so adamant about marrying her—a man who used his newfound authority after the uprising to demand her as his wife—not even know her?

‘We must have met before,’ she rationalized. ‘Perhaps at a ball? Maybe he knows my father?’

Yet, even as her thoughts spun, she arrived at a reluctant conclusion:

‘I don’t desire him to claim me, but at least he could be interested in me.’

If she could wish for one wedding gift, it would be for him to talk to her—about anything. She wanted to know if this marriage was punishment for her family, a humiliation disguised as duty, or if he was simply as severe and unyielding as he appeared.

She stood a few steps behind him, clutching the letter she had written earlier. Her eyes lingered on the curve of his bent head as he worked. When should she ask? Would it annoy him? What if he refused?

‘What if he doesn’t want me to contact my family anymore? Should I lie and say it’s for a friend?’

“Ehm,” she began hesitantly, catching his attention.

Levi glanced at her, waiting.

“I was wondering if you could send a letter for me?”

She braced for his reaction, expecting irritation or even outright anger. But Levi merely extended his hand.

“Sure,” he said simply.

Her initial shock passed quickly, and she moved closer, handing him the envelope. “Is... this alright?” she asked cautiously, testing the waters.

“Did you write the address correctly?”

“I think so.”

“Then I don’t see why not.”

They shared the same language, but their meanings never aligned. She questioned the morality of staying in contact with her past, while his thoughts drifted to streets and doorways, turning her words into something as practical as addresses.

Levi flipped the envelope over, his sharp eyes catching the empty space where the sender’s details should have been. Picking up his pen, he filled in the information himself, then reached for one of the stamps he used for his own correspondence. After affixing it to the envelope, he placed it atop the pile of outgoing letters.

“Done. With that stamp, it’ll be sent as a high priority.”

She wondered if this was some sort of test. “Alright, thank you,” she replied hesitantly, retreating slowly back to the room. Her cautious movement caught his attention.

‘Try talking to her, be sociable,’ Hange had urged him during lunch. ‘At least try to befriend her. You’re the only person she knows.’

The memory of that conversation made Levi press his lips together and exhale softly, though not loud enough to draw attention. His eyes scanned his desk as if it might somehow offer the social skills he so clearly lacked.

“You don’t have to leave. We can share the room.”

Those words stopped her in her tracks. After countless nights of waiting for his return and his insistence that he had too much work to spare time for her, she had assumed he didn’t want her there. Slowly, she walked back to the desk, hesitating before taking one of the armchairs in front of him.

Her mind was a battlefield of questions, but the voices of those who once told her that the success of a marriage depended on a woman’s quietness forced her to remain silent.

Levi, on the other hand, wished she would ramble about anything—or everything. ‘I’m not in a position to get picky’, he thought. It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed talkative people— ‘no one likes a damn yapper’, he mused with a wry press of his lips—but he wished she didn’t seem so…scared.

Respect and fear had followed him like shadows since his underground days, and he had never found silence uncomfortable. But something about the absence of connection in their shared space unsettled him. This was his sanctuary: the room where veterans had snuck in to celebrate his birthday against his will; the room where he, Mike, and Hange had gotten high because the mess in their rooms drove him mad; the place Erwin would stumble into drunk to rant about aging before forgetting the entire conversation the next morning.

Now, she slept in his bed—a bed he rarely used unless he got any unexpected visit for a night or two. She had gone through his drawers, where condoms, hardly touched lube, and those ridiculous chocolates Hange had once gifted him as a joke lay tucked away. She had invaded his space, his place, and he didn’t even know if she had some embarrassing middle name.

“You came back earlier today,” she muttered, breaking the silence.

He blinked. Had he? Maybe he had been trying to finish work earlier, hoping to get back before she fell asleep. “Did you forget your keys?” she asked.

Her question made him freeze, his sharp eyes narrowing. She instantly regretted asking.

‘Someone tried to break in’, Levi’s mind leaped to the worst conclusion.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone calm but commanding.

“Nothing. It was a quiet day,” she lied, her eyes darting away like a guilty dog avoiding its owner.

“Don’t lie to me,” Levi said firmly, though without aggression.

“Nothing. The front door’s knob was pushed down and tugged a couple of times, but that was it. The door was locked anyway,” she admitted, her voice hesitant, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten your keys.”

She tried to shrug it off, though her footing felt shaky. “It really was nothing,” she added quickly, her excuses flimsy and arriving too fast to be convincing. “It’s not that deep.”

‘I want to go out… I need to leave this place, or I’ll go nuts,’ she thought, the words she withheld tightening around her like chains. It felt as though she’d just added three more locks to the door with every word she spoke.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” she murmured, her voice softening.

‘Well… maybe a little,’ she admitted silently, guilt prickling at the edges of her thoughts.

Levi sighed heavily, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. His patience was stretched, but his tone was steady.

“Stop it. I’m not angry at you.”

“Well…you look like it,” she muttered, barely audible.

Levi caught her words. “That’s just the face I was born with,” he deadpanned, standing to prepare tea. “If I were actually mad, you’d know.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she still seemed wary. When he asked, “How much milk?” she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Oh, half and half, please,” she replied.

He carried on, adding two sugar cubes and placing her cup next to her before returning to his seat. One leg over the other.

“Thanks,” she murmured into her tea, both hands clasped around the warm cup.

As the room fell silent again, Levi’s gaze landed on a stray sketch she’d left on his desk—a portrait of a cat. He held it up. “You’re an artist, huh?” “You’re an artist, huh?” he asked suddenly.

“Uh?” She blinked, then realized what he meant. “Oh. I won’t leave them around again. Sorry.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, a trace of exasperation in his tone. “You’re not bad at it.”

A soft smile touched her lips. “Thanks, but I’m just an amateur. A real artist is someone professional. My technique is weak.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re better than anyone I know,” He scanned the sketches scattered across the desk. “Who told you that? Some shitty teacher?”

She hesitated. “My father.”

Levi pressed his lips together. “Sounds like a real ray of sunshine.”

She chuckled at his dry tone. “He just didn’t want me to think I could make a living out of it.”

“Ah, a natural motivator,” Levi deadpanned. “Bet he works in suicide prevention.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. ‘First joke she’s found funny,’ Levi thought.

She leaned forward slightly, a grin on her face. “Do you know my father, sir?”

“Not a clue,” he replied, sipping his tea. “Don’t call me ‘sir,’ by the way. I told you that.”

Her expression turned sheepish. “Sorry… force of habit.” Her smile faltered. Then why…why did you choose me? The question hovered unspoken between them.

Before she could gather the courage to ask, Levi changed the subject, holding up the cat sketch again. “You like this cat?”

Her face brightened instantly. “Yes! That’s my baby, Clauws!”

Levi raised an eyebrow but kept his thoughts to himself. ‘What kind of shitty name is that?’

She explained, “I got him as a Christmas present. He had claws, and Santa Claus brought him to me, so…Clauws.”

“Ah. I see.”

She laughed, catching his expression. “Give me a break—I was ten!”

“Fair enough.”

“Are you a cat person or a dog person?” she asked, clearly trying to keep the light mood alive.

“Neither,” he replied bluntly.

Her smile faded.

“I never owned pets. They shed everywhere. Too messy.”

Her enthusiasm dimmed, but she tried to hide it. “I guess…”

—

“I’m telling you, he’s been taking trays to his chambers!” Sasha’s finger hit the mess hall’s table as she spoke. “He has someone there!”

“How do you know he’s taking an extra tray for someone else and not just for him and Commander Hange to have dinner together?” Connie asked, trying to find logic in her declarations.

“Because there’s been an extra tray for every meal!”

“You count trays?” Jean grimaced in shock. “You’ve got a serious problem with food.”

“Whatever! He has someone there!”

“Ugh, let’s put an end to this,” Armin said, appearing out of nowhere to place his tray on the table. He climbed onto the bench attached to the surface, the rest of the group looking at him in confusion. With a loud, fake sigh, Armin pulled out a small pile of letters and held them up for everyone to see. The group gasped.

“He has a girl named Y/N over. How do I know? Correspondence,” Armin declared.

“Armin, you’re a genius!” Sasha exclaimed, but Jean stared at him in pale horror.

“Have Eren’s suicidal tendencies rubbed off on you?! Captain Levi will beat you senseless if he finds out you’ve touched his letters!”

“Relax. I’m going to put them back before he finds out,” Armin said calmly. “I read in a detective novel that you can open letters with steam and reseal them. Maybe we’ll figure out what she’s doing here.”

Before anyone could respond, another voice broke in. “Who? The omega Captain Levi has in his office?”

As Floch appeared and sat down next to them—uninvited and unwelcome—their lighthearted curiosity turned uneasy.

“How do you know that?” Connie was the first to ask.

“Well, Mr. Wannabe Detective here would’ve known if he were an alpha,” Floch sneered, clearly enjoying his superiority on calling Armin’s beta nature out. Was there a connection between Floch clear unbiased wish that they would have chosen Commander Erwin, a well-known alpha, over Armin? Perhaps.

Armin stayed silent, his self-esteem taking a blow, but Jean, the only alpha in their group, though far from dominant, jumped to the challenge.

“Shut up! Even if she was one, how would you know?” Jean demanded.

“Oh, I know.” Floch smirked. “I was delivering reports to Commander Hange, and her scent hit me under the door.”

Floch had recently come out of a rut, a telltale sign of young alphas developing.

“I have to say, before I realized it, I was trying to open the door. But it was locked,” he added, sounding almost offended. “Such a pity.”

The friendly atmosphere disappeared completely, and everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“That’s creepy as hell, dude,” Sasha said, disgusted.

Floch shrugged. “Everyone knows omegas drive alphas wild. Who the hell brings one here? That’s on them.”

Suddenly, Armin stood, clutching the letters tightly. “Maybe I should put these back,” he muttered. The idea of digging into Levi’s private life no longer felt like innocent gossip—it felt deeply wrong.

—

Levi stared at the two envelopes in his hands, clearly not work-related and not addressed to him. He quickly noticed one bore the name of the letter he’d sent earlier. But something didn’t add up. The last names didn’t match. “Her father, maybe,” he thought as he read, “Dietrich.”

He shrugged it off. “Maybe they’re a tight-knit family,” he guessed. He made a mental note to drop the letters off at his chambers before heading to his meeting. “Maybe it’ll cheer her up.”

But when she saw the letters, she didn’t look cheerful at all. She tried to mask her unease with a forced laugh. “Oh, haha, I just have a headache,” she lied, waving it off.

“Do you want some painkillers?” Levi asked, already thinking about making a quick trip to the infirmary. ‘Maybe it’s an omega thing after a heat?’ He wasn’t well-versed in omega biology, but he wanted to be a considerate partner.

“No, no, thank you! Have a good time at the meeting,” she said quickly, ushering him out.

Alone at last, her hands trembled as she clutched the letters, sinking into the couch. Her heart raced.

‘He wrote to me,’ she thought, her cheeks flushing. But the realization quickly turned sour.

“He wrote to me,” she muttered, dread sinking in.

One part of her wanted to read it, to giggle and cherish the thought that she was still the deepest desire of a man who wouldn’t give up without a fight. But her rational side screamed, “Are you out of your mind? Imagine what he’d do if he found out.”

Duty or love. Desire or safety.

‘Screw it,’ she thought, her hands trembling as she struggled to open the seal without tearing the paper.

A gilded reflect caught her attention from the corner of her yes. Her grandmother’s letter, sitting on the coffee table next to the wedding ring she’d taken off earlier.

The ring was uncomfortable. It didn’t fit her well. But the sight of it next to her grandmother’s letter felt like a moral reminder. Her grandmother had written back so quickly to offer support, her words a lifeline in this overwhelming new life.

The excitement drained away, leaving only shame and pain. “You know what the right decision is,” her conscience scolded.

Before regret could take hold, she tore Dietrich’s letter to pieces and flushed it down the toilet. Tears streamed down her face. “It’s the right decision,” she repeated, thinking of her younger siblings—particularly her two little sisters.

It was late into the night. The field lay eerily still, save for the occasional shadow of soldiers patrolling under curfew. Their footsteps were sparse and distant, a quiet reminder of the night’s vigilance.

She sat on the wide threshold of the office’s main window, her head leaning heavily against the glass. The chill seeped through, a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin, and she welcomed it. Her lifeless gaze stretched out into the abyss beyond, where darkness swallowed everything in sight.

The tears hadn’t dried yet. She blinked slowly, afraid they might return if she lingered too long on her thoughts. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if it carried the weight of her despair. The walls seemed to close in with each passing second, shrinking her world into something suffocatingly small.

‘I hate it here,’ she thought bitterly, the words ringing like a quiet scream in her mind.

Levi returned to his quarters, the weight of another gruelling meeting pressing on his shoulders. The moment he stepped inside, he noticed her sitting by the window, her figure barely illuminated by the dim moonlight. Her head rested against the glass; her shoulders slumped. Something about the way she sat—so still, so lost—struck him.

He shut the door quietly, hanging his cloak by the hook before stepping further into the room. “You’ve been sitting there all night?” he asked, his tone neutral but laced with a hint of concern.

She didn’t turn to look at him, her voice soft and hollow only hummed. “What is that even supposed to mean?” Levi asked back.

She didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m fine.” The words were brittle, almost a whisper.

He crossed the room, setting something down on the desk before leaning against it. “You don’t look fine.”

She seemed unresponsive, as if life were something that passed her by, not something she was meant to live. Levi’s gaze lingered on her, his breathing slow and deliberate as he wrestled with the unfamiliar territory of trying to be understanding. ‘What is it now? The food? The place?’

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but firm. The sound of her name seemed to pull her out of the fog she was in. “I told you—I’m not a mind reader. If something’s wrong, just tell me, so I can fix it.”

Something shifted in her expression, her dull gaze sparking with an edge of frustration. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m far away from home, from everyone I know. Stuck here, in this tiny little room.”

‘Oh… so that’s it,’ he thought, nodding softly with an air of exhaustion. “This is temporary,” he replied, his tone even. “I’ll find you a place—somewhere better. Somewhere you don’t have to be here… with me—”

Before he could finish, she raised her hands to her face, muffling a scream before collapsing into sobs. Levi froze, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. That reaction wasn’t what he’d expected.

“What the hell did I say now?” he muttered under his breath, bewildered, watching her unravel before him.

She turned to face him, her eyes red-rimmed but sharp. “What do you want from me?!”

“I’ve the same damn question,”

“Why are you doing this?”

He frowned, taken aback. “Doing what?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely around the room, her tone sharp and weary all at once. “Why am I here? Is this some sort of punishment? Did you think my family would suffer more by taking me?”

Levi’s brows knit together. “Punish your family? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not going to excuse anything,” she continued, her voice rising as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’m not going to excuse what my father did, alright? He did business with the old Military Police. Sure. But we weren’t some noble family rubbing elbows with the royal court. We’re not that influential.” Her words came faster now, anger and frustration spilling out unchecked.

Levi opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t stop.

“At first, I thought you knew my father somehow, or maybe you hated my kind, and this was some sort of twisted fantasy,” she began, her voice trembling but firm. “Then I wondered if you just wanted an Omega wife to fit neatly into your new position in the government. But now? I don’t know anymore! I don’t understand what you want from me!”

Her hands clenched into tight fists on her lap, her knuckles whitening with the pressure.

“I don’t understand!” she repeated, her tone rising with the weight of her frustration. “You don’t even want me here—you’re trying to send me away, somewhere I won’t be a burden to you. You had plenty of single Omegas lined up for marriage, but instead, you called off my wedding, dragged me all the way here… just to cast me aside. What do you want from me?!”

Her voice broke as the raw emotion spilled over. “Is it fun for you? To ruin my life? To make me miserable? Is that all this is to you—some cruel game?”

She looked away, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And now my grandmother writes to tell me that my cat won’t eat. He’s lying in my old room, waiting for me. He’s going to die because of all this.”

Levi straightened slightly. “Your cat?”

“Yes, my cat!” she snapped, her eyes blazing. She inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself, but her tears betrayed her. “I was supposed to marry someone else,” she said bitterly, her words slicing through the air. “I had a life planned out. I was going to live close to the capital with my friends, with my cat, with the man I’d been preparing my whole life to marry. And then you…” Her voice wavered as she fixed him with a glare. “You called off my wedding.”

Levi froze, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What?” he said, his voice low and rough. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her hand raising as if to physically block his words. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want your excuses or justifications. Just leave me alone, okay?”

He stood there, his hands at his sides, watching her crumble in front of him. Her words hit him harder than he cared to admit. He hadn’t known she was engaged—or that her life had been so carefully planned before all this. He hadn’t realized how much she’d lost in the process of being pushed into his world.

But she wasn’t letting him speak.

“I just want to go home,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please… just leave me alone.”

Levi clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists. He wanted to say something—anything—

—

“You GAVE me a girl who was engaged to someone else?!” Levi’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

“You didn’t claim the damn Omega?!” Zackly shot back, his tone equally sharp.

The two cadets stationed at the far wall exchanged nervous glances, their bodies stiff and pressed flat against the plaster as if trying to disappear. They dared not breathe too loudly, their eyes darting from one side of the office to the other as the shouting escalated.

“Who the hell cares about that?!” Levi snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “The girl’s a blink away from throwing herself off a balcony! And the only reason she hasn’t is because I live on the first floor. She’s smart enough to know she’d survive the fall and just end up crippled!”

“You come into my office to shout at me,” Zackly growled, slamming his fist on the desk, “demanding a house, calling me a liar—and you haven’t even claimed the girl?!” His voice rose with incredulity. “You wanted her. No second thoughts. We gave her to you! What the hell did you expect us to do?”

“I don’t know,” Levi retorted, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Maybe you could’ve told me she was already promised to someone else!”

“You got what you asked for,” Zackly shot back with a scoff, leaning back in his chair. “You had one damn job, and you couldn’t even do that. So go back, claim the girl, and then we can talk about anything else.”

Levi stood frozen, disbelief washing over him. His steel-gray eyes locked on Zackly as if trying to process how a man could be so absurdly indifferent. “Maybe you’re the type to enjoy abusing girls half your age, but that’s not me. She doesn’t just hate me—she despises me.”

Zackly let out a derisive laugh. “Oh, your wife hates you? Boo-hoo, Captain. Welcome to marriage.” His sarcasm made one of the cadets stifle a chuckle, which they instantly regretted when Levi’s sharp gaze flicked toward them.

“We’ve got a coastal expansion to deal with, a train system to build, and a Marley invasion to prepare for,” Zackly continued, waving dismissively. “Neither of us has time to waste on this nonsense.”

Levi’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He’d never seen eye to eye with Zackly, and now, his patience was at its breaking point. “I need a damn house,” he ground out. “I can’t keep her at headquarters.”

The tension in the room was broken by one of the cadets, who sneered, “A house? Alone, for an unclaimed Omega? We’re not funding a brothel. Half the Alphas inside the Walls would be lining up outside her door.”

Levi’s world went red. His hand shot out, grabbing the cadet by the collar and dragging him close, his voice a low growl. “You say something like that again, and I’ll make sure you’re the one they’re lining up for.” He yanked the cadet lower, forcing him to meet his piercing glare.

The cadet’s bravado shattered instantly. “I’m sorry, sir—I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Levi hissed, his tone deadly calm. “You like to act cocky, but the moment you’re in my hands, you’re shaking like a little bitch.” He held him there a moment longer before shoving him back against the wall. “Don’t test me again.”

The cadet nodded furiously. “It won’t happen again, Captain. I’m sorry.”

“Tch.” Levi turned away, muttering under his breath. “This couldn’t get worse.”

—

“So… no house hunting today?” Hange quipped as they exited the main building, each fresh from their respective meetings. Their steps initially fell in sync, heading toward the waiting cart, but Levi abruptly veered off down the street.

“Were you going?” he shot back, his tone flat yet tinged with subtle sarcasm.

Hange stopped, blinking at his retreating figure before jogging slightly to catch up. their eyes dropped to the letter he held, his gaze fixed on the address written there.

“I’ve got something to pick up,” Levi said curtly, not breaking stride.

—

“Hey. Come on, wake up.”

Levi’s voice was quiet but insistent as he gently rocked her shoulder. She was sprawled on the bed, deeply asleep, the pitch-black room silent except for his voice. He’d been gone the entire day, leaving at five in the morning, and now it was three a.m. the following day. Despite his best efforts, she hadn’t even stirred when he came back.

“Wake up,” he urged again, shaking her lightly. “I’ve got something for you.”

A muffled groan escaped her lips as she shifted uneasily, her face scrunching in sleepy confusion. “What?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “You’re back?”

“Yeah, now come on.” He tugged lightly at her arm, his grip firm but not rough. “Get up.”

Grumbling incoherently, she sat up, her movements sluggish as she tried to process being forced awake. Levi didn’t wait for her to fully come to her senses. He turned on the light in the adjoining office, casting a blinding glow that made her squint and groan louder.

“What’s this?” she muttered, shielding her face and rubbing her eyes.

Levi didn’t answer at first. Instead, he walked to the center of the room, a box resting on the floor. “You’ll have to be responsible,” he said plainly, crouching to open it. “I don’t have the time to take care of it or clean up after it. That’s my condition.”

Her grogginess evaporated the second she processed his words. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught as she saw him lift the box’s lid.

“Oh my god. Oh my god—oh my god!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks. Dropping to her knees, she reached out as her cat—frail, disheveled, and scared—darted toward her arms.

The small animal let out a hoarse, frantic meow, burying its head into her neck as she hugged it tightly, crying openly.

“It’s okay,” she sobbed, rocking the trembling creature as if to soothe both of them at once. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Levi stood in silence, watching the scene unfold. His lips pressed into a thin line as he observed the cat clinging to her like it was afraid to let go, its pitiful meows muffled against her shoulder. The animal looked half-dead—though perhaps it had been revived by her sheer will the moment it reunited with her.

Before he could say a word, she rose to her feet, still clutching the cat, and threw her free arm around him in a fierce hug. The startled animal was caught between them, meowing in protest, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you,” she cried, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much!”

“You’ve got to be responsible—” Levi started, but his words cut off as she planted a quick, impulsive kiss on his cheek.

He froze, his usual stoic composure crumbling for a split second as his brain scrambled to process the gesture. He didn’t know whether to step back, reciprocate, or say something, so he settled on standing still, his arms awkwardly hovering at his sides.

‘Well,’ he thought dryly, watching her coo at the cat with unrestrained joy, ‘this’ll make it ten times easier to tell her she’s stuck here until further notice.’

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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ahqkas · 8 months ago

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♯ PRACTICE MAKES IT BETTER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! struggling with the local slang, you feel out of place until you meet theodore nott, the silent slytherin (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing + lmk !

NOTES! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

AMERICA WAS VIBRANT AND DIVERSE. The music scene was thriving with genres like grunge, hip-hop, and pop dominating the airwaves. To you, it was a place of contrasts and boundless possibilities. It was a land where towering skyscrapers stood next to historic buildings, and where you could find everything from bustling cities to quiet, open countryside. The diversity was striking; every state feels like its own little world, with different cultures, foods, and ways of life. It was a country where you could experience all four seasons, with hot summers, cold winters, and vibrant springs and autumns. The sheer size and variety made it feel like there was always something new to explore, whether it was a national park, a music festival, or just a quirky little town.

Then you moved to England.

Leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of America, you stepped into a new world of magic and centuries-old traditions.

The first thing you noticed was the climate change. England's weather was full of frequent rain and cloudy skies. You had to get used to bringing an umbrella everywhere with you.

Hogwarts in Scotland was completely different from Ilvermorny, which resided on Mount Greylock. The towering buildings of the castle intimidated you a bit as you were used to the more modern school, but you were excited for the change of scenery.

The stone corridors, moving staircases, and enchanted portraits had captivated your imagination. The castle itself was full of new discoveries. Sure, you missed your old friends dearly, every one of them, but the owls worked hard and you managed to make new friends here.

As an exchange student from America, walking the hallowed halls of Hogwarts was a totally new experience. The ancient castle with its sprawling grounds, enchanted staircases, and hidden passageways was like stepping into a dream. But it wasn't just the magical environment that threw you off balance; it was the British slang that seemed to pop up in every conversation.

During your first week, you found yourself constantly bewildered by the new expressions. At breakfast, when a cheerful Hufflepuff asked if you wanted a "banger" with your eggs, you hesitated, unsure if it was an insult or a menu item. When a Ravenclaw mentioned being "knackered" after a long night of studying, you had to suppress a laugh, thinking it sounded more like a sound effect from a comic book than an expression of exhaustion.

The confusion was endless: "snogging" instead of kissing, "knickers" instead of underwear, "blimey" instead of a simple exclamation of surprise. You did your best to keep up, but the nuances of the language often left you feeling like you were missing the punchline of a joke. To put it simply, you were lost.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the library, poring over a stack of books for a Transfiguration assignment, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Ciao, piccola," Theodore Nott drawled, sliding into the seat across from yours. His presence was effortlessly welcomed, with his cool demeanor and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was a strange boy at first, never letting anyone, but when you warmed up to him, he was a totally new person.

"Hi, Theo," you greeted him with a smile playing on your lips. Theodore had been one of the first students to approach you, his Italian heritage a surprising connection. He often teased you in his native language, enjoying the way you fumbled with the unfamiliar phrases. A nuisance, that he was.

"Come va la tua giornata?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ("How's your day doing?")

Already hearing this phrase a few times, you learned to understand its translation. With a sigh, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's been . . . interesting. I'm still trying to understand half of what everyone says here."

Theo chuckled, the sound rich and warm to your ears. "British slang getting to you?"

"You could say that," you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you watched his amusement at your misery. "I feel like I need a translator just for conversations."

"Well, if you think British slang is confusing, wait until I teach you some Italian slang," Theo smirked at the idea that appeared on his mind. "It's a whole different level."

Now this got your attention. "Teach me, then. It can't be that difficult from the British slang."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott became your informal language tutor. He started with simple phrases, weaving them into everyday conversations until you began to pick them up naturally. He taught you how to greet someone with "Ciao, amico!" instead of a formal "Buongiorno," and how to say "Andiamo!" when you were ready to go.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat together in the Great Hall, Theo decided to test your knowledge. The rain tapped persistently against the high, arched windows, casting a muted gray light across the large hall. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, swirling with dark clouds and flashes of lightning that illuminated the space completely. Despite the dreary weather, the Great Hall buzzed with the soft hum of student conversations, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the rustling of pages.

Theo, seated across from you at the Slytherin table, leaned back casually, a mischievous glint in his eye. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, framing his sharp features. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, the way he delighted in challenging you with phrases in Italian, watching with amusement as you thought through the unfamiliar language. Today was no different, his eyes scanning the hall as if seeking inspiration for his next test.

You had been in the midst of revising for an upcoming Charms exam, your notes spread out around you in a chaotic array of parchment and textbooks. The soft light from the floating candles above cast a warm glow on the pages, making the ink shimmer slightly. As Theo's gaze returned to you, you knew another one of his lessons was coming.

"What would you say if you were really tired?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Theo's questions were always a blend of practical and playful, designed to push you just a little further each time. He spoke with the ease of someone completely comfortable in his skin, his words flowing like the rain outside, steady and sure. His Italian phrases, though foreign at first, began to weave themselves into the mind of your understanding.

Your responses grew more confident, the hesitation in your voice diminishing with each passing day. You found yourself thinking in Italian at times, the language slipping into your thoughts as naturally as your own. Theo's delight was evident, his eyes lighting up whenever you got something right, his praise sincere and heartfelt.

The rain outside showed no signs of letting up, but within the Great Hall, a warmth lingered.

You thought for a moment, then confidently replied, "Sono stanca morta." The phrase rolled off your tongue more smoothly than before, each syllable a small victory in your journey to master his native language. The meaning — "I'm dead tired" — was all too familiar after long days filled with classes and studying.

Theo laughed, the sound rich and genuine, echoing softly in the near-empty Great Hall. His laughter was like a reward, a confirmation that you were getting it right. Silver eyes sparkled with approval, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart flutter. The warmth of his reaction was comforting against the dreary, rain-soaked afternoon outside.

"Well done!" His voice was filled with genuine pride and delight, making you feel accomplished. His praise was never out of place; it was always heartfelt.

Your heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy. Learning Italian was not just about understanding a new language, but also about bridging the gap between your worlds. Each phrase, each word, was a step closer to understanding Theo better, and a way to connect on a deeper level.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, waiting for your next move. "And if you wanted to compliment someone on a job well done?" His question was another gentle challenge, pushing you to dig deeper into your newfound vocabulary.

"Bravo!" you answered without hesitation. The word felt natural, a perfect fit for the context. As you spoke, you couldn't help but smile, the simple word carrying a world of meaning and mutual respect. Seeing the approval in Theo's eyes, you felt a surge of confidence.

Theo's smile broadened, and his expression softened with pride and admiration. The approval in his eyes was more than just about your grasp of the language; it was about your willingness to immerse yourself in something new, to share a part of his heritage, to make an effort to connect.

The atmosphere around you felt lighter, the earlier tension of the day's studies dissolving into a shared moment of triumph and connection. The Great Hall, with its towering windows and ancient stone walls, seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world of language and laughter.

The candles above flickered gently, casting a warm glow that danced across Theo's features, highlighting the pride in his eyes.

One day, as you walked together by the Black Lake, the cold water reflecting the moody sky, Theo turned to you, his expression thoughtful. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the shore, their branches swaying rhythmically as if in silent conversation. The scene was picturesque, the expanse of the lake stretching out before you, a serene contrast to the bustling life within the castle walls. It was quiet out here, and you liked this spot.

"You know, you've picked up Italian slang faster than I expected," Theo remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration and surprise. His thoughtful tone blended seamlessly with the natural sounds around you, creating a moment of perfect harmony.

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree, echoing across the still waters. Nudging him playfully, you replied, "Maybe I had a good teacher." The playful banter was a reflection of the easy camaraderie that had developed between you, a testament to the countless hours spent learning and laughing together.

Theo's smile softened at your words, a tender expression that seemed to light up his face. His gaze lingered on you, the depth of his affection and pride evident in his eyes. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, each shared glance made your knees tremble. Like you were the only girl at Hogwarts.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a warmth that enveloped you. "Or maybe you just have a knack for languages." His words were a gentle compliment, a recognition of your efforts and abilities.

The path around the Black Lake was peaceful, the occasional ripple disturbing the otherwise mirror-like surface of the water. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. As you walked side by side, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the rest of the universe fading into the background.

Your footsteps synchronized, a silent dance of familiarity and comfort. The conversations flowed effortlessly, alternating between Italian lessons and shared dreams, each word weaving a tapestry of understanding and companionship. Theo's presence was a constant, steady and reassuring, his thoughtful insights and quiet encouragements a source of strength.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape. The twilight hues painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, a breathtaking sight that added to the magic of the moment. Theo's silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun was a picture of serenity and quiet strength, a reminder of the stability he brought into your life.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the Slytherin boy took a small step closer, closing the distance between you. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, his proximity sending a gentle thrill through your body. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up your arm.

In that moment, with the golden light of dusk casting a magical glow around you, Theo leaned in. His movements were deliberate, filled with a tender hesitation. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure, unadulterated connection.

The kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips that spoke everything you needed to know. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the gentle caress of his hand against your cheek — it all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and deeply comforting.

Theo's hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The kiss deepened, becoming more confident, more insistent. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The connection between you intensified, the kiss becoming a language of its own, expressing everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. The world slowly came back into focus, the sounds of nature reasserting themselves around you. Theo's eyes, still holding that mix of affection and awe, met yours. A soft, contented smile played on his lips.

"Grazie, Theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

"For what?" he asked confused, his brow furrowing slightly.

"For being patient with me. For this. For . . . everything."

Theo's eyes softened, and he reached out, intertwining your fingers in one. "No worries," he replied, his voice just as soft. "I'm glad I could help."

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hynzsn · 7 months ago

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💭 JEALOUSY ★

☆ sungchan x male reader

-> idol!sungchan x idol!reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff?, headcanons, scenarios

summary: literally just sungchan being a jealous boyfriend!! plus some bonus cute boyfriend headcanons that i felt like adding 🥰

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕HEADCANONS ꒱ ˚₊

— sungchan tries so hard to play it cool, but he's legit the most possessive bf ever and it's lowkey adorable???

— he gets extra affectionate on stage. little touches, inside jokes, heated glances. briize go wild and honestly? sungchan lives for it. “mine," he'll whisper fiercely before you go on stage, giving your hand a squeeze. and really, you wouldn't have it any other way.

— if he sees you texting someone and smiling, he’ll casually drape himself over your shoulders, trying to peek at your phone. “who’s got you grinning like that, huh?” he’ll ask, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

— he finds nearly every excuse in the book to touch you -> fixing your hair, adjusting your mic, leaning on your shoulder, hugging you from behind, holding your hand, etc… literally anything to assert his position as your boyfriend.

— his jaw clenches every time he sees you laughing at shotaro’s jokes during practice. he can’t help but mutter under his breath, “what’s so fucking funny anyway?”

— during dance practice, sungchan notices the choreographer paying extra attention to your form, constantly adjusting your posture with gentle touches. he fumbles a few steps, distracted by the sight. later, he corners you when you’re alone, pressing you against the wall. "looks like you need some extra practice," he growls, his hands on your hips. "how about a private lesson with me instead?"

— during a livestream, anton casually drapes his arm around your shoulders. sungchan, off-camera, grips his water bottle so tightly it nearly cracks. later, he pulls you aside and hisses, “do you have to be so touchy-feely with everyone?”

— at a fansign event, a fan asks you who your ideal type is. before you can even a answer, sungchan blurts out, “he likes tall guys. tall rapper types.” he gives you a pointed look, daring you to contradict him.

— during a variety show game where members have to pair up, sungchan practically tackles you to ensure you're his partner. "sorry guys," he says with a not-so-sorry grin, "i called dibs on him ages ago."

— you mention wanting to learn guitar, and wonbin offers to teach you. suddenly, sungchan becomes very interested in guitars too. "i’ve always wanted to learn," he lies through his teeth, joining your lessons and monopolizing wonbin’s attention.

— during a group dinner, eunseok keeps feeding you bites from his plate. sungchan retaliates by practically shoving spoonfuls of his own food into your mouth. "here, try mine. it’s way better," he insists, glaring daggers at eunseok.

— sohee keeps stealing food from your plate, something you two have always done playfully. sungchan, however, is not amused. he wordlessly places more food on your plate and shoots daggers at sohee. under the table, his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers possessively.

— you’re feeling under the weather, and all the members are fussing over you. sungchan elbows his way through, declaring, "i’ve got this, guys. i know exactly what he needs." he spends the entire day hovering over you, bringing you soup and medicine, and glaring at anyone who dares to come near.

— at a radio show, the host asks about close friendships within the group. before anyone can answer, sungchan’s eager to announce that you and him are the closest. “y/n and i are super close. like, really close. right, y/n?” his eyes are practically pleading.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕BONUS BF!SUNGCHAN HEADCANONS ꒱ ˚₊

— late one night, you feel your bed dip and a warm body press against your back. "couldn’t sleep," sungchan mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "you’re better than any damn teddy bear."

— after a grueling practice session, you're both exhausted. without a word, sungchan follows you to your room, kicks off his shoes, and crawls under the covers with you. "just five minutes," he yawns, but you both know he's not going anywhere.

— during a thunderstorm, sungchan shows up at your door looking sheepish. "the thunder, it's... loud," he mutters. you lift your blanket in invitation, and he dives in, wrapping himself around you like a koala.

— in the practice room when you're alone, sungchan will sometimes come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder. "show me that move again," he'll say, but his hands on your hips suggest he's more interested in feeling you move than learning the choreography.

— during movie nights with the group, sungchan always manages to snag the spot next to you. as the others get engrossed in the film, he'll slowly intertwine his fingers with yours under the blanket, shooting you a sly smile.

— when you're stressed about a performance, sungchan will pull you aside. "close your eyes," he'll whisper, before giving you a slow, deep massage. his strong hands work out the knots in your shoulders as he murmurs, "you’ve got this. you’re amazing."

— during long car rides, sungchan will pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder. but you can feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck when you start playing with his hair.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕SCENARIOS ꒱ ˚₊

it’s comeback season, which means endless photoshoots. today you’re paired with shotaro for a concept that involves a lot of playful touches and laughter. sungchan watches from the sidelines, a subtle frown forming as shotaro adjusts a strand of your hair, laughing at something you whispered. later, during a break, you wander over to sungchan, excited to show him the polaroid the staff gifted you. “look! it came out so cute, right?” he barely glances at it, his hand reaching out to brush against your cheek. “you had something in your hair,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on yours, “must’ve missed it.” the intensity of his gaze makes you blush, and you’re suddenly very aware of his touch, lingering a beat too long.

seunghan loves to tease. he lives to tease. And he knows exactly which buttons to push when it comes to sungchan. so, naturally, when he sees sungchan subtly fuming backstage after witnessing your playful banter with wonbin, he decides to have some fun. “yah, wonbin-ah,” seunghan slings an arm around him, “you and y/n seemed pretty cozy out there. did you know he used to have the biggest crush on–” “seunghan!” you hiss, elbowing seunghan playfully as sungchan chokes on his water. you shoot him an apologetic look, but he’s not even looking at you. his eyes are laser-focused on wonbin, a challenging glint in them.

“hyung, stop hogging y/n!” anton whines playfully, trying to squeeze between you two during a chaotic group weverse live. you’d simply been showing sungchan a funny meme on your phone, your shoulders brushing, but leave it to anton to turn it into something else. sungchan, however, doesn’t budge. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and fixes anton with a flat stare. “we’re comfortable, thanks for asking.” the chat explodes, a flurry of heart emojis and excited keyboard smashing. you can practically hear the shippers going wild. meanwhile, eunseok is cackling in the background, thoroughly enjoying the show.

you’re exhausted after a long day of practice. All you want is to collapse onto the dorm couch and scroll through your phone. but when you enter the living room, you find sungchan already there, a deep frown etched on his face. “hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, concern lacing your voice. he avoids your gaze, mumbling something about being tired. you know him better than that. you gently pry until he finally confesses, voice low and hesitant, “i saw you and sohee practicing that dance earlier… you two looked really good together.” it clicks. jealousy. you can’t help but smile, finding his possessiveness endearing. you crawl onto the couch, snuggling into his side. “are you kidding? you’re the only dance partner i want.” he tries to maintain his grumpy facade, but you can see the way his lips twitch into a small smile. the silent treatment is officially over.

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contentloadingandstuff · 19 days ago

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Ganyu, Kujou Sara and their babies - Ganyu & Kujou Sara x Male!Reader

A/N: Shorter than what I usually do, I know. Anyway, enjoy! CW: Parental fluff, little mention of the reader, the characters being monster girls.

Ganyu who shows her kids the richest pastures, high in the mountains of Jeyun Karst. They might be little cuties with barely budding horns, but they climb very well, keeping up with their mother as she ascends the easiest approaches - she wouldn’t want them to get hurt, even if their daddy is waiting with open arms, ready to catch them at the foot of the wall. When they reach the top, your wife always smiles as she sees her babies jump in excitement at the colourful field of bright, joyful Qingxin and Sweet Flowers, just waiting to be devoured. She trusts you to look after her and the younglings as they graze peacefully, lying amongst the lush grass as they nom down their flowers. While there’s no need to watch out for predators, Ganyu still feels safer with you on the lookout. Just don’t try to walk up on her - it’s very easy to spook her when she’s this vulnerable.

She makes sure her little ones eat properly - as natural herbivores, Qilins eat only whole grain and drink only spring water, and Ganyu will make sure it’s the best variety. Of course, the babies get to enjoy water only from the very sources - you wouldn’t want them to take in any of the nasty things the river picks up along the way. Cloud Retainer already created fields of weather-resistant flowers for her daughters’ enjoyment, and she will continue caring for those so that even Ganyu’s grand-grand-grandchildren can graze upon them. But Ganyu knows that variety is important, so you’ll get to take your little goats to enjoy some rapsflowers right from the beautiful fields of Qingce Village. For centuries Qilin have been free to enjoy the crops as the people of Liyue see it as a sign of Adeptal blessing. And they’re not wrong - Xianyun will make sure the farmers get to enjoy the mildest of weathers and the greatest of harvests in return for their kindness.

Kujou Sara who didn’t expect her hatchlings to be such a menace to society. When they were young, they were in constant need of attention - if left alone, they would quickly grow cold as they haven’t grown their feathers out just yet. And the squawking… It’s good that she was taken in by the humans at a later age, as just thinking about her adoptive father having to endure her begging for inexplicable amounts of food makes her flustered. Still, they were lovely to look at, snuggled into their parents. Later it would become the only moment when the nestlings would behave. Sara doesn’t remember being this rowdy and mischievous when she was young. The little Tengu are endlessly curious, hunting out every shiny and colorful object made by humans. They are always on the hunt for shinies to nick, be it from trash or from “unguarded” troves to offer them to their parents. It is adorable, but also disrupts the peace. But if the humans don’t seem to mind having their miscellaneous items and bits of food stolen by the General’s sons and daughters, blessings of the Youkai and all… It’s an acceptable practice. She might not have done it, but if it’s in their nature, she won’t try to restrict her offspring in the same way she was.

Although not being able to fly herself after the crippling injury in her youth, Sara does remember a few things. How adorable the younglings are as they watch their mother spread her wings, admiration flickering in their little eyes! The first few attempts might be moderately successful at best, but Sara won’t mind - practice makes perfect, after all. In no time she will watch them soar the skies, her chest swelling with pride and love. And when they come down, their mother will preen them to make sure their wings are as beautiful and healthy as can be.

Thanks for reading!

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acatinabox · 23 days ago

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A collection of cultural and food suggestions related to Antiva

From an Italian amateur writer.

Big disclaimer: I am not trying to claim Antiva or his characters as Italian, if you want to see it more Spanish, be my guests. Things in the setting are ambiguous so let's make the most of this vagueness and make space for each others' headcanons.

That said, I'm Italian, and these are the things I can relate/speak about confidently, so I will. I do write Lucanis more Italian in my fanfiction because he was written as such in the Wigmaker Job and it was such a boon to feel represented in a piece of media I loved but I support fan creativity so do whatever you want.

Also these are generalisations. People are not a monolith, goes without saying.

Nobody asked for this, but I hope maybe it helps someone or is interesting.

With that out of the way, here's a collection of themes/suggestions that speak to me, and that might be useful if you want to write them in in your fanfiction and that aren't coffee or organised crime related.

The smell of soffritto at lunch time in the streets. People cook with their windows open when the weather allows it, and the smell of their food permeates the air. You can smell it from the street. Soffritto is the base of many Italian preparations and sauces, so it's a very familiar smell at lunch and dinner time. It's a mix of onion, celery and carrots minced and put in a pan to stir fry with olive oil. If you add a little bit of tomato sauce you make the most basic pasta sauce. Congratulations.

The smell of freshly made bread is fragrant and unique. Every region has its own type of bread and you can easily find a variety of them in most cities. Italian bread is fluffy and light and sometimes a bit dry. Potato bread is made in mountain areas. In the south, bread has a thick dark crust and an airy centre. We eat bread almost at every meal, it's just as iconic and pasta.

I can easily see Lucanis make his own pasta sauce and bread from scratch.

Speaking of bread, I can also see Lucanis make "scarpetta" after he finished eating, which means scraping the sauce from the plate with a bit of bread.

People make small talk in the streets or in the stores, sometimes with complete strangers. It's not a strict social rule but it happens quite often.

The Lucanis/Illario conversation in wigmaker job about not eating Antivan food abroad is the quintessential dynamic between the expat and the relative visiting who expects to not go out of their comfort zone. It happened to me more times than I can count.

Family functions can last all day, we can meet for lunch on a Sunday and spend the whole day together. If you get out of the table before 5PM on a holiday like Christmas or Easter frankly it means you failed as a host (harsh but true). More often than not you'll find yourself staying for a lighter dinner too.

The usual composition of a big meal is antipasto, first course, second course with a side, dessert, fruit, caffè ammazzacaffè. On normal days we only have a main, though.

Ammazzacaffè is the sacred ritual of the digestive after coffee (it literally means coffee killer). I mention it because it's mentioned in the game and in the short stories. It can be I think any strong liquor. We have it after a big lunch or in the evening, usually not at lunch on a working day. It kinda resets you, closes the meal.

Drinking wine has a big convivial function. Drinking alone is not something most people do often, we reserve it for social occasions and usually with a meal.

Dressing up is kind of expected in certain family functions and situations. Not in all families and not at all occasions but I can see it would be expected especially in high society.

Veneto, where RL Treviso is, is known for their creative swearing against god. I can absolutely picture Lucanis shout "by Ghil'an'ain's saggy boobs" or "by Elgar'nan's dried balls" when angry. Honestly go wild, please make up some insults for them and tell me about them (also sorry for the apostrophes, I don't know where they go).

We have a chocolate bonbon, Baci (means kisses), that have paper slips with sappy, romantic quotes in them. Some of Lucanis's phrases remind me of that. I think he'd be a fan and note down his favourite quotes. It's a dark chocolate bonbon with a soft heart and a hazelnut inside.

I said I wouldn't mention coffee but I lied. In some Italian cities there's the tradition of caffè appeso (hung coffee). Someone pays for coffee for themselves and for someone else they don't know that might want one and not be able to afford it. It's adorable and I can see Lucanis do it exaggeratedly all the time because he seems quite generous.

I think I'm done for now and maybe more people will jump up in the mentions or the replies to add their own useful things. I'll try to add some if they come to mind!

#dragon age #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age lucanis #dragon age the veilguard #dav #dragon age meta #datv meta #antivan lore

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little-lynx · 2 years ago

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EVERLARK OUTFITS: THE VICTORY TOUR

This part of “Catching Fire” is done (finally) so I put it all together;) DISTRICT 11, THE SQUARE

I go to my compartment and let the prep team do my hair and makeup. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I think how much Peeta will like the color. <…> As the train is pulling into the District 11 station, Cinna puts the finishing touches on my outfit, switching my orange hairband for one of metallic gold and securing the mockingjay pin I wore in the arena to my dress. <…> I can hear the anthem beginning outside in the square. Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. // Catching Fire, ch. 4

I think this dress should be a little semi-official so I choose cape sleeve sheath midi dress. It’s perfect for autumn (and they have early autumn weather there in 11th). The hair is just plain + gold hairband = girlish innocent look like the one after the games (this tactics they choose for the Tour). Plus I wanted to draw Katniss with her natural straight hair because i draw her with her braid usually ;) And again nothing about Peeta’s outfit. You know I feel like Portia 😅 because I have to choose how to dress Peeta. I’m not complaining through. So it is black suit with golden buttons (matching Katniss’s hairband and pin), thin soft orange sweater and black leather shoes.

DISTRICT 11, THE DINNER

A pale pink strapless dress brushes my shoes. My hair is pinned back from my face and falling down my back in a shower of ringlets. Cinna comes up behind me and arranges a shimmering silver wrap around my shoulders. He catches my eye in the mirror. “Like it?” “It's beautiful. As always,” I say. “Let's see how it looks with a smile,” he says gently. // Catching Fire, ch.5

DISTRICT 7

Jackson has devised a game called «Real or Not Real» to help Peeta. He mentions something he thinks happened, and they tell him if it’s true or imagined, usually followed by a brief explanation. <...> But since Peeta’s greatest confusion centers around me—and not everything can be explained simply—our exchanges are painful and loaded, even though we touch on only the most superficial of details. The color of my dress in 7. My preference for cheese buns. The name of our math teacher when we were little. Reconstructing his memory of me is excruciating. Perhaps it isn’t even possible after what Snow did to him. But it does feel right to help him try. // Mockingjay, ch. 19

So we have only one sentence in “Mockingjay” about this outfit. And still I decided to draw it because I have a theory (head canon?) about it. I think Peeta remembers the color of her dress because it was special night for him (a lot of kisses and attempts to sneak away from everyone and maybe it felt very real at times) and also because she had two braids and the dress was red. RED is the color ❤️. / Peeta has dark red + black + a little bit gold which is also sexy color combination.

DISTRICT 5 I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour. <…> Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta’s suits that they altered— the clothes are striking. <…> As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s. // Mockingjay, ch. 16

Katniss: green silk dress + wavy sleeves + sea waves embroidery / Peeta: ivory dress shirt + knitted green waistcoat with sea waves embroidery + tweed suit

DISTRICT 2

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head. “I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna. // Catching Fire, Chapter 15

This description gave me strong “Anastasia” feels 😅. So I loosely based Katniss dress on Anastasia’s ballet evening gown. For Peeta I chose tuxedo jacket similar to Salvatore Ferragamo design for FF 12/13. Neo classic, purple velvet, shiny shoes. Also I decided to include a cane, both to help Peeta to have some rest during all this Tour activities and as an accessory.

DISTRICT 12

When we reach the mayor's house, I only have time to give Madge a quick hug before Effie hustles me off to the third floor to get ready. After I'm prepped and dressed in a full-length silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill before the dinner, so I slip off to find her. <…> She [Madge] saw my reflection behind her and smiled. “Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.” // Catching Fire, ch.6

When I started drawing this one I just felt that I need to make it look very “Capitol”. So I added some feathers. A LOT of sparkling feathers, haha. Also there are some “moon and stars” accessories in Katniss’ hair because this silver gown gives me moonlight vibes. For Peeta I came up with classic suit but made him wear it casually.

#yes I redraw some of them #old ones looked bad #ugh #the hunger games #hunger games fanart #everlark #everlark fanart #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #thg fanart #lynx hunger games #lynx thg outfits #victory tour #catching fire #catching fire fanart

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madschiavelique · 2 years ago

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Hello! I saw your rules so I decided to I guess rerequest in the way you asked. I was wondering if you could write about a female reader coming in one day with a sundress and Miguel just goes absolutely feral. He’s just trying to keep it professionally but ends up failing and just going ham on the reader

OMG anon i'm kissing your brain hehehehe (summer is killing us all besties : please don't forget to hydrate yourself <3)

summary : miguel sees you in a sundress

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, fingering, biting and marking, this man is so in love with you, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, praise word count : 1,6k

Summer had arrived, and as in most dimensions, except for the apocalyptic two or three where everything was frozen or the weather had simply declined with little chance of a return, it was hot.

And although the air-conditioning was in every room and corridor of the spider society, that in no way prevented members from dressing a little more lightly, although some might find this a sign of a lack of professionalism, one in particular, needless to mention, whose name began with Mi and ended with Guel.

Today was a fairly hot day, and all the spiders were practically fighting for ice cubes, a spot of coolness that would bring them comfort. Many of them were dressed in shorts, a variety of shirts, t-shirts, skirts and even tank tops.

So you seized the opportunity and put on a summer dress. It was charming, in your favourite colour, not too long and not too short, stopping just above the knees, with a beautifully plunging neckline to show off your curves. It was light, incredibly comfortable to wear, and needless to say that in spider society, it was a change to see you like this.

Like most of the members, people were used to seeing you in your suit, or in civilian clothes that could be considered professional. But this dress? It was a little ray of freshness.

Miguel was chatting in the cafeteria with Jessica and Peter, all having a serious discussion that you were supposed to join. You entered the cafeteria, looking around for them.

"Oh, hey over here!" called Peter to you with a smile, "Oh. My. God. What's the occasion for you dressing like that?"

Miguel, who until now had been stubbornly focused on getting Peter to stand still for this meeting, huffed before turning his head and...

He became static, his breath caught, his eyes wide open as he watched you come towards him. All the others were oysters, and you were a pearl: the best of them all, the most beautiful, the purest.

You offered a gentle smile as you came closer, and his lips parted slightly as the gesture gave him the warmth of thousands of sunbeams.

"It's true that you look ravishing, cutie," Jess admitted as you sat down next to Miguel, facing the other two on the opposite side of the table. "What's the occasion?" she repeated after Peter's question.

"Yeah," said Miguel, clearing his throat as he straightened up and pretended to keep a straight face, "what's the occasion?

You gave them all a small, smiling laugh.

"Nothing in particular, I'm just trying to beat the heat," you said as you took your seat, "why? I shouldn't have?" The possibility that your attire might pose a problem in maintaining the balance of the multiverse hadn't occurred to you.

"No!" The strength with which Miguel denied this surprised you all.

He swallowed, his sentence had come out a little stronger and a little more involved than he had intended.

"No," he pulled himself together as he took on his usual grumpy tone that everyone knew well, "although it's a lack of professionalism, we're not going so far as to prevent your freedom of clothing in the Society."

Well caught up, he thought as he brought his glass of water to his lips. Around the table, he was the only one wearing his suit. Because it was made of pixels and produced by a refined technological composite, he didn't suffer from the heat. Jess was wearing a t-shirt and cycling shorts, Peter a shirt and trousers, and you your summer dress.

Jess and Peter exchanged a quick glance, a mischievous smile stretching across their lips. Most of the elite and close teammates knew about your relationship with Miguel, and although he wasn't always the most public about your relationship, he cared about you immensely, and they both could only imagine the effect you were having on him.

"So, what did I miss?" you asked.

Jess started to explain the situation, but Miguel wasn't really listening. His eyes were obviously riveted on you, and even when he tried to refocus on the conversation, his thoughts and eyes were redirected in your direction as if magnetised.

You were... radiant, beautiful, and... for a moment his eyes went down to the bench you were sharing: the skirt part of your dress was slightly pleated, exposing the skin of your slightly spread thighs, sinking into the space where your cunt was.

He suddenly had the urge to slide his hand over your soft skin, to press it between his fingers and see the bounce of it brimming over under the grip of his hand.

And your cleavage was showing your bare skin, and he wanted to kiss your neck, to nibble your collarbone as he kissed down to the hollow of your breasts...

Keeping his hands to himself was becoming complicated, every little movement you made, even if it was just to readjust your sleeve over your shoulder, was becoming intoxicating. How was it possible to become even hotter by wearing more clothes?

His professionalism really started to take a hit when your leg inadvertently brushed against his, a shiver running down his spine.

But he couldn't touch you here, there was no tablecloth at this cafeteria table that could conceal his desires.

How he longed to do it, even if it was just to touch your thigh with his fingers, to run his hands over your sublimely covered body and to-

"Miguel? Can you remind us about what the last reports stipulated considering the last anomaly?" asked Peter, bursting Miguel's thought bubble, "I can't remember it for the life of me, it must be the heat." he complained. "What do you guys say we postpone this meeting? I can't think straight no matter how many fresh cocktails i drink."

It was true that the glasses had accumulated on Peter's side. A sigh escaped Jessica's lips.

" I regret to say it, but I agree. We can't think properly with the temperature."

Tell me about it, thought Miguel. He didn't care about the temperature, the real distraction was you. He exchanged a glance with you, and you looked at him with a small smile, waiting for his answer.

"Good," he said, simply nodding. "I won't detain you, you can leave."

Peter let out a small chirp, he and Jess getting up from the table to leave. Once away, you turned to Miguel, tilting your head to the side in playful puzzlement.

"The great Miguel O'Hara closing a meeting like that? Summer really does have its magic."

If summer could let him see you every day in that outfit, he'd make sure it lasted forever. His eyes roamed your silhouette again, biting the inside of his cheek. His hand skimmed the side of your leg, hovering gently over it until he placed it on the inside of your thigh, pressing.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, his eyes returning to yours.

"I'm guessing you like the dress," you said more softly.

"Very," he replied simply.

His behaviour was becoming less and less... acceptable in public. So he took your hand and led you out of the cafeteria. Would he be able to wait until you returned to his quarters ? Probably not.

But he knew every nook and cranny of the building, it was his, so you passed down one corridor, then two, then three, until you came to an alleyway you'd never seen before, darkened by the lack of activity.

He glanced in each direction, then immediately came to press you against the first wall you came to, kissing you hungrily.

"That dress is going to be the death of me," he murmured as he came to kiss your cheek followed by your neck, his hands placed on your waist and thigh as he feasted on your skin.

His hand slid up your leg, gripping the warm skin of your thigh as you let out a moan. His fingers moved up your inner thigh almost hastily, unable to contain his need to touch you.

"You're so pretty," he breathed as he came back to kiss you, "all pretty for me, nena."

His fingers reached the fabric of your panties, your body arching. His fingers went under the elastic of the latter and down to your cunt.

"Tengo la novia más linda del mundo," he whispered, kissing the back of your neck, tracing the line of your pulse as he made circular movements around your clit. "Such a beautiful body," he inserted a finger inside you, making you whine softly, "such a beautiful voice," your wetness was starting to stick to his hand. "And it's all mine."

With his other hand, he shifted the short sleeve of your dress, exposing more of your shoulder and placing soft pecks on it. His lips caressed your skin, and his fangs grazed it as he added a second finger.

He was curving his fingers in a sublime way, the strokes combining perfectly with the undulations he was making and hitting the perfect spot.

He kissed the skin of your shoulder, sucking it until it left a bluish mark.

"All mine," he repeated in a murmur as he ran his tongue over the mark he'd just made.

Your moans multiplied, breath hitching, bringing you closer and closer to orgasm, the hot cloud in your lower belly and back spreading.

"Come nena, let me see your pretty face when you do," he said, kissing you a little before pulling back and watching you with his drunken eyes.

You came, your legs all wobbly as Miguel's hand came to rest on your back to keep you upright. He kissed your temple and forehead, calming you gently.

"You're a dream," he said, covering the mark he'd left on your skin with your sleeve as you trembled, only he was aware of the hold he had over you.

Needless to say, from that day on in the summer, the air-conditioning became suspiciously faulty, because he had every intention of seeing you wearing that dress again.

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urdreamydoodles · 3 months ago

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can you maybe do a gambit x fem!reader when the reader is sick? I got covid rn and I love ur stories

Remy LeBeau x Sick!Reader

How is Remy when you are sick

When you're feeling under the weather, Remy LeBeau becomes your devoted caretaker, taking it upon himself to bring warmth and comfort into your home, despite his usual laid-back demeanor.

Remy is my beloved, thank you for this request. I hope you like it!

- The moment Remy realizes you’re feeling under the weather, he drops everything to be by your side. You barely need to ask him for help—he's already pulling out blankets, fluffing pillows, and making sure you're as comfortable as possible. Despite his usual carefree nature, he’s immediately serious and focused when it comes to taking care of you.

- Remy insists on bringing you everything you could possibly need, from medicine to warm tea. He remembers every little detail you've ever mentioned about what helps you feel better and makes sure to include all of them. When he can’t find what he’s looking for, he’ll go out of his way to get it, even if it means driving across town.

- One of Remy's biggest strengths is his ability to make you laugh, and he brings out all his best jokes and impressions to lift your spirits. He can’t stand seeing you look so miserable, so he tries his hardest to distract you with his endless charm and humor. His Cajun accent seems to thicken whenever he tells a story, and he knows exactly how to use it to make you smile, even through your sniffles.

- Though Remy isn’t the best chef, he tries his hand at cooking your favorite comfort foods. He’ll follow recipes carefully, but there’s always a hint of his playful side in the kitchen, like sneaking in a dash of extra spice or cracking a joke while he stirs a pot. He’s surprisingly attentive, watching closely to see if his cooking lifts your mood, and he’s secretly thrilled if you enjoy even a single bite.

- Remy is endlessly attentive, always checking if you need more blankets, another glass of water, or a different type of tea. His nurturing side, rarely seen by others, shines through in small gestures. He doesn’t just sit around either; he’s constantly on his feet, looking for ways to help or checking the temperature to ensure you’re comfortable. His attentiveness makes you feel cherished and cared for, like there’s nothing more important to him than seeing you get well.

- He’ll sit beside you on the bed or couch, reading aloud from a book or comic, trying to distract you from how sick you feel. He reads in a variety of silly voices, especially for the characters, getting into it with exaggerated gestures and facial expressions. His storytelling pulls you into another world, making you forget about your discomfort for a little while.

- Remy’s touch is always gentle when you’re feeling sick. Normally, he’s a flirt, playful and mischievous, but he knows exactly when to dial it down and be comforting. He’ll hold your hand, gently rub your back, or press a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch is warm and reassuring, and you feel a deep sense of safety and love with him by your side.

- To help you sleep better, Remy hums a soft, soothing tune in that low, rich voice of his. It’s a lullaby he remembers from his childhood, sung to him by his mother, and he hums it gently, hoping it will bring you comfort too. The melody is soft and tender, calming your racing mind and lulling you into a restful sleep.

- Remy is incredibly patient with you, especially when you’re feeling irritable or uncomfortable. He understands that being sick makes you feel vulnerable, and he’s more than willing to handle any grumpiness or complaints. If you snap at him in a moment of frustration, he just gives you a warm smile and brushes it off, assuring you that he knows you’re just not feeling well.

- Every so often, Remy will surprise you with a small gift to lift your spirits—a flower he found, a funny little trinket, or even a card he made himself. His gifts are never extravagant, but they’re full of thought and care. Each one reminds you of his affection and makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world to have someone who goes to such lengths just to make you smile.

- As you start to feel better, Remy teases you lightly, saying that he must be an incredible nurse if you’re already on the mend. He’ll exaggerate his own heroic efforts, making you laugh as he recounts the dramatic lengths he went to just to ensure your comfort. His humor is infectious, making the lingering traces of your illness feel far less significant.

- When you’re finally able to sit up and move around, Remy insists on celebrating your “recovery” with something special, like a picnic in a park or a cozy night in with your favorite movies. He’s as energetic as ever, eager to make up for the days when you were stuck in bed. His excitement is contagious, and it makes you feel like your health is something to celebrate.

- Even after you’re fully recovered, Remy keeps an extra-close eye on you, still checking in with the same attentive care he showed while you were sick. He can’t help it; you’re too important to him. Any little sniffle has him on alert, ready to swoop in and care for you at a moment’s notice. His devotion doesn’t waver, and you know you’ll always have a steady, loving presence by your side in Remy.

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deadonyouraccount · 20 days ago

Text

Life Was Easy When It Was Boring - Gwayne H. x Targaryen!Reader

A/N: Hello I said I wasn’t writing but I did anyways bc @wicked-barbie inspired me now back to reposting on ao3, also the title is song lyrics from the police - darkness

Rating: Explicit

WC: 2.4k

Tags: PWP, 80’s corporate vacay, ARUBA!, I do get in the weeds about the au, Rhaenyra’s sister!Reader, Aemma lives, background Rhaenicent, bisexual Gwayne, I physically cannot go without mentioning Criston, dirty talk, oral m!receiving, f!masturbation, Otto argues w daemon while reading fiscal reports by the pool, Gwayne’s mannerisms are so very important to me

The soft din of breakfast being served drew you out of your thoughts. You scanned the room, seeing your sickly father— your mother rubbing his shoulders, a furrow between her brows. You were nineteen, Rhaenyra twenty-two, and set to inherit the family company. Aemma couldn’t have children anymore and now your father had cancer. Things needed to be tidied up considering her gender. Idiotic but whatever, she was intelligent and driven, you idolized your sister.

She was being courted around by the Velaryon shipping heir— you had a feeling she’d found a loophole. Your sister in a sarong, Alicent on her arm passed by, heading down to the pool to have breakfast, sparing no glance your way. You’d noticed Laenor certainly spent more time looking at men himself. A match was a match.

It was summer in the Northern Hemisphere. When the annual holiday to some destination most people couldn’t afford occurred. A neat bow for a two-week chance of expanding business. You went along for the ride, as was your duty.

This year it was Aruba. The Hotel Americana, sitting on lovely Palm Beach. You’d read about it in the Times. ‘Those who wish for familiar hotels with many resort amenities, nightlife, shopping, and gambling will like the scale and variety available.’

Hm. You had a feeling Otto was steering your father towards the economic boom of the United States right now. You went to University in Chicago, grateful for the warm weather. You were a bit shy and awkward, used to pubs and not clubs. Regardless, you liked the spa, courts, and the beach even if you looked like a ghost with that zinc-laden sunscreen your mother ‘offered’.

Not everyone had arrived yet. Uncle Daemon was to join with Laena, scandalously young, but she was strong and mature. Much like the women were in your family. You forked some eggs into your mouth, frowning. Laena calmed him, but he was certainly…chaotic. Daemon and Otto’s arguments were highly entertaining at the least.

Alicent was excited her brother was coming.

Gwayne Hightower was the enigmatic heir, a wildcard by all accounts, but he kept family ties. As a Targaryen looking in, it was expected of him to be ingratiated into the international conglomerate. Alicent was best friends with your sister, she knew all of you and held you as a baby.

The younger brothers who weren’t shucked off overseas in boarding school had their divisions to run and oversee. Where a Targaryen loomed, a Hightower stood in the shadow, pulling the strings, combing the pieces. Except Gwayne. He took off and moved to the States, you’d seen him in magazines.

“A male model, pah! He’s running from his birthright, he’ll learn once he arrives,” you heard Otto scoff to your father over breakfast, tossing a magazine out of his sight. You fiddled with your food, purple eyes peering out the large windows, scanning the bay.

You wondered if Otto held some hope for him. Alicent seemed to be doing just fine in his stead. Yet the idea of Rhaenyra becoming CEO ruffled feathers. Women in business…you certainly didn’t want it.

You thought about Gwayne again. He was handsome. Haughty, yet smiley with who he liked, a gleam in his eye like he held a secret, pretty teeth, and fine features. You were such an ugly duckling the last time you saw him. Baby fat, braces, pigtails. Horrid.

“You must be the other one,” he had laughed at some corporate dinner, earning some giggles and smiles. You smiled until you were alone and cried, watching your sister gleam, a shining star you wished to be.

The other one.

Perhaps you weren't too keen to see him again. Probably would bring a fellow model to strut around the beach with. Probably had a dumb smirk on his face, just like Criston used to. Probably would take a look at you and scoff about growing up and filling out.

You realized you were white-knuckling your utensil and carefully released your grip. You sighed, standing up to get dressed for the day, nodding at your parents.

It was always a flurry of neurotic dressing, comparing yourself to the willowy frame of Alicent and the athletic build of Nyra. Your therapist told you to dress how you wanted, not what you thought people expected. It was the age of athletic, leggy bodies— and you qualified for what felt like neither. Even if you played good field hockey back in school.

It’s not as if you were turned down often, but a bad relationship or harsh word left you insecure now and then.

“Curves, curves are pretty,” you muttered, tying on the top, a neon string bikini— one you'd bought on a whim shopping with your sister before the trip. The bottoms were cut high too, so you wrapped up in a big fishing shirt and slithered downstairs to hit the beach, a towel in one arm, a bag slung off your shoulder.

You walked out of the elevator, a clipped and haughty voice interrupting. They called, “Rhaenyra?”

You frowned. Not Rhaenyra. You turned to see the offender, lips set in a pout. Shock morphed your face. Gwayne Hightower, dressed in designer, his reddish hair all slicked and handsome, smug as you remembered. You blanched, blinking. Recognition flit over his blue eyes— a Cheshire smile upon his lips.

“Oh my, all grown up aren't you?”

He grinned, moving, holding you up as you tried to pass with a polite smile.

“Don’t you want to help a dear Hightower out?” He teased, followed by scoffing laughter. His bright eyes nonchalantly flicked to your face, then down to your tits and back. You would be lying if it didn’t feel good. You wanted him to look at you like that deep down.

What did you want?

You are supposed to be pissed off.

“I’m sure Otto has a whole itinerary for you, Gwayne,” you said coolly.

He shrugged, smiling to hide irritation, “I’m sure he does. I’ll see you on the beach, such a swan now aren’t you, no?”

You scowled, turning on your foot. He remembered the comment, the bastard had read your mind about the ugly duckling. You’d relax by the water and try to forget about his smug face, sharp cheeks, gorgeous blue eyes, and dark lashes- no!

“Fuck!” You hissed, scaring some old couple, ducking your head under your hat.

You’d been dozing under an umbrella, startled as the familiar voice of Gwayne disrupted your peace. He looked annoyed, a dismal look in his eye. The way his mouth pulled down reminded you of Otto and Alicent. You pushed back your hat, looking over at Gwayne lighting a cigarette in the adjacent lounger.

“Hello to you too, I take it you had a warm welcome?”

He scoffed, shrugging, “Oh, it’s always warm when Otto Hightower is in the room. Of course not, he wants me in the business, I want to live my life.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring at the sand.

You mulled over his words, replying, “You could step down.”

“No. I’ll get there on my own time, I listen enough to not get routed immediately. I certainly didn’t come to this island to pour over reports,” he bit out, puffing again.

You hummed, knowing what he wanted. Gambling, girls, glamor. Flowing booze and powder. You saw the appeal, somewhat. Aspects. Perhaps you wanted to be the girl. You looked back at the waves in the distance, sighing, “Then why don’t you go and schmooze up over by the bar and beach volleyball, you’ll find Laenor down there.”

“Laenor,” he snorted, “Yes, playing slap ass I’m sure. He’s a fun time, I’ll admit.”

You pulled down your glasses. No man around you had ever uttered such things aloud. Gwayne laughed, grinning, eyes crinkling. He hummed, “You’re still so naive you know that? You’re a pretty little swan yet hiding out all alone. Men fuck men, it’s real and it’s quite pleasurable, darling.”

You fumed a little, he was tearing you to shreds with his mouth, and tossing the bits around with his hungry gaze. You sat up, glaring, blonde hair cascading down your shoulders. Your manicured nail jabbed at his Ralph Lauren-clad chest, soft voice growing sharp.

“You think you’re going to just waltz in and know everything? Tell me why you’re over here talking about fucking Laenor Velaryon with the spare daughter and not going to ‘enjoy yourself’ or whatever you said. Probably snorting and drinking up the nightclub and blowing your money on rummy. Trust me, I know the type, they just aren’t so blatantly ignorant!”

His smug smile dropped, eyes wide. The man looked chastised. Now you felt bad, frowning. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. Gwayne said nothing, looking to the side, and ashing out his cigarette. You apologized, gathering your scurried emotions.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not easy, all of this,” you gestured vaguely.

He replied quietly, “I was being an ass to you, you had every right.”

A beat of silence enveloped the air.

“You don’t have anyone else out of the circle to go to do you, Gwayne?”

He nodded- that grim look upon his face. You wanted it to go away. You didn’t like upsetting people. Rarely did you speak so candidly. Granted, he was an ass but you hated this tension. You wracked your mind for a quick solution.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” You asked.

“W-what?” He spluttered, blue eyes going comically wide, spine stiffening.

You flushed, groaning at your inability to smooth things over. That was stupid. You should talk to your therapist about this. Thank God your mother let you pursue your career. You tried to speak, but your mouth was growing wet thinking about it. Sucking him off. The fucker hadn’t left your mind.

He cut you off, leaning in, voice husky, “So you're not that sweet little swan everyone thinks you are, hm? Using that pretty mouth, dating bad, bad guys like me. What else are you hiding?”

You whimpered, feeling exposed, the redhead looking around before gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lean thighs. He grinned again, eyes lidded as he watched your expression. Gwayne cooed, “Acting so shy, I thought you wanted to suck my cock baby?”

“I- I do, I just- I said it too soon. I was going to say I was holding resentments from the past against you and I'm sorry again for insulting you. Something is wrong with me? I think you're very, very attractive,” you rambled nervously.

He laughed lowly, stroking your hips and flanks, hands gentler than you expected. The heir nosed under your jaw, humming, “You’re so soft, God, you feel good.” He inhaled deeply, cock swelling and twitching underneath your weeping cunt, separated by thin swimwear.

“I should just sit out by the waves and take you apart, pretty girl, you want it, don’t you? As an apology, yes.”

You whimpered again, nodding, hands sliding his button up off his shoulders, ogling fair skin and a body he put work into. He wasn’t one of those overbuilt types you disliked. Gwayne grabbed the back of your head, meeting his lips with yours, slow and sensual, humming languidly.

Your left hand wrapped into copper locks, the other skimming his chest, a playful thumb sliding over his nipple. His breath hitched before laughing, “Cheeky.”

You resumed kissing him, growing eager, arching into his body, your hand sliding down to grip his cock, moaning softly. Gwayne’s tongue slipped into your mouth, your jaw widening some for better access, tongues gently rubbing on each push and pull. Your heart was thumping, Gwayne groaning as you squeezed his prick.

“I want it, let me let me,” you pled, lips swollen and hair mussed. Gwayne nodded breathlessly, hand on your cheek, the other grabbing a towel as he murmured, “For your knees at least.”

“There’s those manners,” you smiled, purple eyes flicking upward.

Pop. Gasp.

He snickered as your hands went up to cover your exposed tits. Yet not a soul was around and he was stroking his full prick through his swim shorts, handsome face flushed and smirking down at you. You slapped his outer thigh, huffing, “Just couldn’t take the compliment.”

He hummed lazily, “Mm- I just wanted the whole view, those tits and lips.”

Your lashes fluttered, cunt throbbing at his raspy tone. “Mhm, yes, you’ll get it all,” you murmured, easing down the shorts below his balls, Gwayne grunting in relief. Your eyes peered up at him, tying your thick silver hair up. He wrapped his hand around your ponytail, eyes studying you silently.

With a soft inhale, you lapped up the length of his cock, a hand on the tip, the other cupping his sack. You moaned along with him as you wet him nice and good, drooling on his flushed tip, pulling the skin back some. His head fell back with a sharp grunt, gasping your name as your lips enveloped the ruddy tip. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together as you began to bob your head.

His calloused hand got a handful of your breast, pinching and pulling at your nipple. You whimpered, sending vibrations down the length of him as he panted, thighs spreading. Gwayne murmured, hoarse, “Fuck, sweetheart, fuck, you’re going to make this end too fast. I’ll- oh god!” His hand wrenched into your hair as you circled your tongue around the tip of his cock, playfully flicking the salty pre oozing from the slit.

Gwayne tried again, snapping to get your eyes on him.

“I- I said I’ll make you see stars this week. Play with your pretty pussy until you cry, hm? W-want that? Do you want that baby? I’ll do it, I’ll fuck you good and hard, eat your cunt whenever fucking hell,” his sultry rasp peeled off into an anguished moan, throat bobbing as his cock pulsed and twitched.

He was growing close and you whimpered like a bitch in heat for it. Your fingers slid down to your aching clit as you suckled harder, rubbing in tandem, the soft whines and hums bringing Gwayne closer.

His blue eyes were shut tight as he babbled, “Close baby, so close, keep touching yourself for me, mmmfuck.”

Your amethyst eyes met his blue ones, debauched and messy— clumped lashes, mussed hair, your lips stretched tight. He blew with a long groan, gripping your hair again. You swallowed it down, gagging a little as he fucked into your throat in stuttering movements.

You pulled off, wiping your mouth, gasping for breath. Gwayne grabbed you with no qualms, grinning between his heavy breaths.

“Oh sweetheart, you didn’t come did you?”

#hotd fanfic #gwayne x reader #au: 80s #au: aemma lives #ARUBA JAMAICA OOOH I WANNA TAKE YA #Anyways #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x targaryen reader #gwayne hightower imagine #gwayne hightower smut #hotd smut

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boybandbaby · 8 days ago

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The Sweet Escape Part I

911 AU (Prince!Evan Buckley x Fem!Baker!Reader)

word count: 2283

warnings/tags: mention of death/character death, toxic parents, forced/arranged marriage, implied misogyny, buck 1.0 behaviors, cussing, eventual non-friend (wouldn’t say enemies) to friends to lovers, reader’s kind of mean, reader has a grandma

note: this is a mini series I’m working on, sorry for any royal inaccuracies

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Like clockwork, every morning you packed a box full of fresh baked bread and loaded it onto your vespa for delivery to the Buckley Palace. For many years, your grandma’s bakery, The Finest Flour, provided a daily drop off to the palace of a variety of breads and pastries.

Each morning at 6am, you traveled the short but grueling distance up the path to the royal gates. Almost every day, weather permitting, you made it to the gate at 6:15am. You were let in after a small security check where you would meet the Queen’s secretary. She would greet you with a kind smile and guide you to the kitchen's back door that led you down into the basement kitchen. After setting all the items on a small display board, you would bid the cooks goodbye and wish them luck on their day.

You began delivering at the age of 15 after your mother had died. Your grandmother asked you to take over the task before you went to school. Now at the age of 24, you have mastered the routine. The only thing that got in your way most days was Evan Buckley, third child, second son to the King and Queen. He was never supposed to be in the kitchen to begin with but as a young, rambunctious child, he would often neglect his royal duties and explore all areas of the castle.

During your teens years, he would annoy the shit out of you by moving a loaf of bread you had spent minutes placing just right. The Queen had instructions on which baked goods could touch others and at what angles she wanted them on the display board. You could never decide who was more annoying, the Queen or her son. After many years of dealing with the Buckley's, you decided it was the Queen.

When you turned 18, Evan went off to college which left you in quiet silence while you worked. You’d never admit it out loud but you missed having someone your age to talk to. By talk, you mean debate and argue with. But then when Daniel unexpectedly passed two years later, Evan dropped out of school to prepare for his future duty as King.

After the mourning period, Evan, now known as Buck to his friends (which he always said you were but you beg to differ), would stop by the kitchen to see you. He had grown into his personality, still wild and reckless and very outgoing.

Over the years, he gained a reputation of being a ladies man. He also became more flirty and cocky around you. This is when your dislike for him truly began. Deep down, you know it was because you had a crush on him but on the surface you were disgusted with his behavior.

You tried to avoid looking at him or even saying a word to him when you did see him but he always got under your skin and pushed enough buttons to get you to speak.

Today, as you make your way into the kitchen and to your surprise, Buck's sitting on the table, eating an apple and talking with his mouthful to the head chef, Bobby. When he sees you, he smiles wide and wipes his chin of the juice dripping down.

“What are you doing here?” You groan as you place your box of goods onto the table. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere being an ass?”

“What? I can’t be an ass in here?” He smiles, nudging Bobby. Bobby shakes his head before going back to cooking morning breakfast.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, figured you got yourself into some trouble.” You shrug before grabbing a pair of gloves and the wooden board you always use for your display.

“Missed me or something?” He grabs a pair of gloves and begins handing you items from the box as you place them on the board. You hate how helpful and sweet he's being.

“I wouldn’t say all that.” You roll your eyes. “Can’t you go bother someone else?”

“He’s already bothered me to my limits, it’s your turn now y/n.” Bobby chimes in.

“Hey! I don’t bother you. I’m just trying to learn how to cook, you know when I have a future partner, I’d like to be able to cook them a nice warm meal.” He defends.

“You? With a future partner?” You fake gasp. “That would mean you’d have to keep it in your pants long enough to keep someone around.”

“I keep it,” he emphasizes the ‘it’, “in my pants, alright?”

“Okay, sure.” You scoff. “Bobby, I brought an extra danish for you and Athena. Hope that’s alright.”

“That’s great, thank you.” He smiles. “You want me to make something for you and your grandma to go?”

“No thank you, we had bagels this morning. Maybe tomorrow though." You smile and wave, tossing the gloves into the trash.

“You’re not going to say goodbye to me?” Buck smirks, following you up the stairs and out of the kitchen’s back door. You roll your eyes again before grabbing your helmet off the seat. Buck steps forward and grabs the straps before you can.

You know you should slap his hands away, take a step back, even yell at him but you don’t. You make eye contact with him as he pulls the strap under your chin. He clicks the lock into place and runs a thumb along your chin. His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips then back up. “You’re welcome, y/n.”

You blink before stepping back, nearly knocking your bike over. “Whatever, Buckley. Don’t break any hearts today.”

He laughs before he walks backwards back to the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back. He watches you drive off and thinks how badly he wishes it was tomorrow morning already. When he reenters the kitchen, Bobby gives him a pointed look.

“What?” He asks, offended at the look.

“Don’t get any ideas, Buck.” Bobby sighs, watching as Buck grabs a croissant off the display.

“What?” Both Buck and Maddie yell.

“We think it’s time that you find a wife. You’re about to turn 25, Evan.” His mom says in a soft voice.

“He’s hardly ready to be a husband.” Maddie defends.

“What does that mean?” Buck asks her.

“Nothing Buck, I just think you’re too young to be married.” Maddie rubs a hand on his back. “Look at my first marriage, I was young and believed I was in love and things turned out bad. I’m not saying that will happen to you. I just want better for you, I want you to marry someone you love, not someone who just comes along or who is forced upon you."

"Bad is an understatement, Maddie." Buck rests his elbows on his thighs and dips his head between his arms, running his hands through his hair.

“In a few years, he’ll be King and it’s time to start preparing for that day. If you find a wife now, it’ll take less stress off of you later.” the Queen approaches him and raises a hand to his cheek, lifting his head. “You’re in your prime, Evan.”

“He’ll find a wife. And soon.” The King finally speaks. “We’ll have a ball, you’ll go and by the end you’ll have picked someone we see fit for the role.”

“So, really you’re choosing who I marry then?” Buck nearly growls.

“If that’s what it takes to get the job done, then yes. End of discussion.” His parents turn to leave the room and exit without another word.

Maddie and Buck are stunned in silence, even more so when hours later, they’re informed invitations have been sent for a ball happening in three days.

Buck knows there’s no going back now. There’s no changing the course of his life after this. The girl he wants can barely stand him and if there’s anyone he wants at the ball, it’s you. Did you even get an invitation? Would you even want to come?

He’s always liked you, even through the hookups and small town rendezvous, you’ve been in his mind. For a while you weren’t in the front, shoved deep down and far back but still in his mind nonetheless. It’s a shitty thought, he thinks. To shove someone as special as you to the back burner while he slept with random girls.

You could never like him though. To him, you were too good.

Pushing his thoughts to the side, he decides to take action. After changing out of his attire and into something more casual, as casual as he’s allowed, he grabs a bag and slings it around his chest.

Just as he’s exiting the palace, he hears an all too familiar voice. “Where are you going, Buck?”

“Just going for a stroll in the garden.” He slowly turns around to face the Sergeant of the Royal Guard.

“Nice outfit.” She points out. "This is a interesting path to take to the garden."

“Thanks, figured since it was a nice day, I’d double down on my attire. Well, I’ll see you around.” He waves, giving a close lipped smile.

“Hold on.” She holds a hand up. “Where are you really going?” When Buck opens his mouth, she stops him. “The truth this time.”

“I was just going to go into town. Only for a moment.” Buck pleads with her.

“You know, you’re not allowed to leave the palace. That’s the rules.” Athena raises an eyebrow.

“Please, I’ll be back within the hour. I’m going down to the bakery. That’s all.” He tries to give her puppy eyes. It works.

“Take Eddie with you.” She sighs and turns her back. Buck smiles triumphantly before he heads off.

“Okay, so your plan is to invite y/n to the ball and magically get her to fall in love with you so she can be your wife and future queen?” Eddie laughs as they walk down the stone path into town.

“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.” Buck shrugs, “I mean essentially that would be the best case scenario.”

“And worst case?” Eddie nudges his side.

“She doesn’t come and I’m forced to marry someone I don’t know.” Buck groans. “Ugh, this is the worst! My parents are literally the worst. I don’t understand why they won’t let Maddie and Chim take over. They love Chim.”

“Your parents are old school.” Eddie raises a brow.

“I wouldn’t say old school.”

“Well, I was trying to be nice about it but yeah old school isn’t the term I should use to describe them.” He laughs. “Come on Buck, we’re almost there and these boots are killing me.”

A few minutes later, you hear a bell ring signaling a new customer. “Welcome in!” You shout from under the counter, that dang coin you dropped is somewhere around here.

“Hello, would you like a sample of our new chocolate banana loaf?” Your grandma’s soft voice says from above you.

“That sounds great, thank you!” You hear his voice. You peek just over the counter to see Buck and his best friend and bodyguard, Eddie enjoying the sweet treat.

It’s only a moment before your grandma recognizes Buck. “My apologies sir.” She begins to curtsy.

“No need for that grandma, he isn’t king just yet.” You roll your eyes, slipping the coin into the register. “Didn’t bother me enough this morning, you just had to come to the bakery?”

“Y/n!” Your grandma scolds you, slapping your arm lightly with a hand towel.

“She’s right, no need to curtsy for me ma’am.” Buck smiles sweetly. “But y/n actually, you do have to bow to me. And that’s an order.”

“In your dreams, Buckley. Are you going to order or just stand there looking stupid?” You rest your elbows onto the counter.

Eddie snorts a laugh before meeting Buck’s eyes. “Go!” He whispers, hands at his sides but one of them rapidly moving back and forth, urging Buck to invite you to the ball.

“Actually, I came to invite you to the ball this weekend.” Buck steps forward.

“And why would I go to that?” You cross your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to one leg.

“It could be fun.” Buck shrugs, going shy. “We don’t hang out as much as we used to. Figured you could be my guest.”

“Hang out?” You laugh, “We,” You point between the two of you. “Have never hung out. I go to your home for work while you get to play around and do nothing all day. We, Evan Buckley, are not friends.”

“Y/n, that’s enough.” You grandma scolds.

“That’s okay, ma’am.” Buck coughs. He pulls an envelope out from his bag. There’s tension and awkwardness in the air mixed with the smell of cinnamon and sugar. “Well, in case you change your mind.” He steps forward to slide the envelope on the counter. “Thank you for the sample.” He smiles at your grandma before dropping his head down, chin to chest.

He exits with his tail between his legs before Eddie bows at the hip to you both, then follows after him. You hear the bell above the door ring and then your grandma sighs. “Was that necessary?”

“Grandma-” She shakes her head and heads to the back. You close your eyes, frustrated and annoyed and now stressed about your grandma's disappointment. You take one peek at the envelope before shoving it into the front of your apron.

Whether it’s the sad look on Buck’s face or the insistence of your grandma, something tells you to open it. You’ll decide later on when you can clear the thoughts in your head.

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next part

#911 abc #911 x you #evan buckley x reader #911 x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x y/n

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