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fioiswriting · 11 months ago

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The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Rating : will be explicit 18+ later, MDNI Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader later TW : mention of blood, mention of murder. TW will be added as the story progresses. Words count : 4361 AN : Hello everyone! I'm back from the deads hehe. Sorry, I've been busy with a lot of things lately, I've had a couple of exams and I'm also in the process of writing my (second) master's thesis. Sooo anyway, I've written the first chapter of my new fanfic. Yes, it is YET ANOTHER story that involves niece!reader x Aemond and it is adapted from an RP with my girlfriend. If you're tired of this trope, if you're uncomfortable with this dynamic, I suggest you find another fanfic (there are plenty of masterpieces on tumblr anyway!! 💕). It's been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found the time to finish this first chapter. I don't know yet how many chapters there will be or how often I'll post, but I hope you like it! 💕 As always, be nice, I know there are probably some inconsistencies, but we're here to have fun, right? (BTW, I've been bingewatching Vikings and I know the fandom is kinda dead, but I want to write some x readers now)

Also, English is not my first (nor second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes!!

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 1 : Silk Street

War of heart - Ruelle 🎶

The streets of King's Landing had the peculiar quality of being both enticing and repelling; like a unique, curious spectacle that you discovered with every hesitant step you took. The smell of fresh fish mingled with that of fire and sewers, tickling your nose with unfamiliar smells. It was new to you, these smells, these sounds too; the hammering of the blacksmith's tools on the metal, the shouts of the merchants, the rolling of the cartwheels on the cobblestones of the winding streets. It was different from what you were used to; the steady rocking of the waves, the calm of the rain, the ups and downs of the tides. The only turbulence in your daily life were the storms you were so fond of, and the thunder, the lightning, the wind that shook the stones and lifted the waves had an untameable yet terribly soothing aspect.

Unlike King's Landing.

If it wasn't the natural elements that threatened to unleash their wrath here in King's Landing, it was the unpredictability of the people in the streets, the danger lurking around every corner, the risk of disappearing forever into the shadows of a forgotten alley.

Apart from the hustle and bustle of the forbidden streets you were discovering for the first time after so many years - and the adrenaline rush of breaking the restriction on venturing there - King's Landing was, objectively speaking, a deadly bore.

But it was still less boring than going round in circles in the castle.

You knew it was the dream of every lady in the Seven Kingdoms to live within the walls of the Red Keep, for it had been yours for a long time. Back when you lived in your childhood bedroom - the one on the second floor - you had no trouble imagining yourself spending your life in the gardens of the Red Keep, with your husband, enjoying the strawberry cakes and the books in the great library.

After all, you and Aemond were inseparable.

But in the meantime, fate had decided otherwise, and the mild climate of King's Landing, where you were born, where you celebrated your first words and your first steps, had been replaced by the vagaries of Dragonstone's weather. It was the sea, the storm and the rain that raised you, and it was with your feet in the water, on the shingle, that you grew up.

Living in King's Landing now was different from anything you'd ever imagined before.

King's Landing tasted bland. Boring.

Your mother had promised that the stay would be temporary, a few weeks at most, just to settle some business with Alicent and Viserys - your grandfather. The aim was to find a way to keep the peace between your families, but you weren't an idiot. You knew that the rift between your families was growing wider and wider.

And that one of the only ways to prevent a total, irreparable rupture was a promise of marriage.

Then again, wasn't it your duty to be sold into marriage, to strengthen the bonds, to carry the family's shaky balance on your shoulders?

You already missed Dragonstone. You missed the sea. You missed walking on cold water.

King's Landing was like a golden prison you couldn't leave because everything around it was too dangerous.

And you were bored. You had been reading. You had been embroidering. You had wandered far and wide through the gardens. You'd listened kindly and attentively to Helaena talk about her insects, and you'd spent several afternoons sharing court gossip with Baela and Rhaena.

You spent much of your time avoiding your uncle. Or watching him from afar.

For he had changed terribly; for better or worse, you weren't sure. You only kept the memories of your shared childhood, somewhere in your heart, like a buried secret, like a triple-locked treasure you'd sworn never to open again.

The memories were painful. They created a lump in your throat, they kept you awake at night, they made your tears flow.

And that was why you locked them away and threw away the key that kept them locked.

You decided you weren't that child anymore - you stopped being that child when you went your separate ways, when you went back to Dragonstone and he stayed here. Now he wasn't the little boy you left either: he had become this cold, tall, ruthless young man. He had that cunning little smile, that air of self-assurance he wore with his head held high and his chin up.

Boredom drove you to follow Aegon into the city. He suggested it and suddenly all sense of reason left your body. Weren't you the most reasonable of your siblings, the most prudent, the most intelligent? An inexplicable feeling had urged you to accept, like two hands behind your back pushing you towards him, like a voice in your head encouraging you to abandon your model daughter's appearance: the call of transgression. Curiosity. The desire to be bold. The danger. For once you were making a decision, your own decision, without your parents or brothers knowing. You were the master of your actions, and in a way, it was an act of rebellion that gave you a feeling of freedom, that awakened a sense of excitement in you.

Ser Erryk protested, of course, when he realised your little ploy, but you had already vanished before he could stop you. You laughed as you followed Aegon, his mischievous smile at the corner of his lips as he led you through the secret passage that allowed you to sneak out of the castle, your hand in the crook of his elbow so as not to lose you.

And everything went well. You enjoyed your newfound freedom with a mixture of curiosity and fear, your body pressed against your uncle's, the hood pulled down over your forehead. You had the advantage of dark hair - the opposite of the Targaryens' emblematic features. It attracted less attention, you knew it. But your curious gaze, your round eyes that discovered the ordinary life of the lowborn must have intrigued the most observant ones, for Aegon nudged you in the ribs when he caught you looking a little too intently at the work of a craftsman.

"You make a poor peasant," he whispered in your ear. "Well... You're obviously too pretty to be a peasant, that's for sure. But try to be more discreet." He paused. "Those men are looking at you like hungry dogs" he lowered his voice. You rolled your eyes and patted him on the shoulder.

To tell the truth, you weren't comfortable with all those men giving you lecherous looks, but Aegon's presence was reassuring.

He showed you the shortcuts he knew, the secrets, the curiosities of the city, and he talked to you. You wondered if he, too, had changed. You wondered if he'd gone from that stupid, mocking, annoying child to a secretly vulnerable, secretly lonely young adult. You knew about his bad habits; alcohol and sex, but this secret escapade showed you a side of him you didn't know. When had he become nice?

"Wait for me," he said as you looked around. The streets had changed, they had become busier, and suddenly you realised that you were frightened. "I'll be quick. Don't move and keep this on your head."

You wanted to protest, to hold him back, but your uncle had already slipped away.

You were all alone in the Silk of Street.

Your heartbeat quickened. You weren't sure you'd find your way back, and Aegon had ordered you to stay there, not to move, not to talk to anyone. Fuck.

Fuck.

Had he done it on purpose? Was it a plan he'd been hatching all along, a bad joke he'd decided to play on his niece, on Rhaenyra's only daughter? Was he still the mean boy who bullied his little brother? Or did he actually have a real reason for leaving you there, all alone, in the street where brothels piled up and nobles went to satisfy their needs?

You were angry at yourself for trusting him. You blamed yourself for being so naive. You couldn't believe he'd really set a trap for you, not after the complicity you'd shared just before.

Or maybe he was just being Aegon; irresponsible and immature, oblivious to danger, and so stupid as to think that waiting for him here was a good idea.

You sighed. Tears tickled the corners of your eyes with fear, but you tried to chase them away, to swallow them down, to calm your racing heart. The last thing you needed was to draw attention to yourself.

But there were these men all around you, looking at you as if they were ready to pounce. Was this how you would end up, abducted, and sold into a cheap brothel? Murdered after serving the needs of a few old men? You shuddered at the thought.

The voices around you mingled with the tumult, blurred images drawing unidentified shapes before your eyes, and you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself, rubbing your sweaty palms against the fabric of your cloak.

"So? What do you say, girl?"

A hand on your waist.

You weren't sure you understood what the man in front of you was saying. The words were bouncing around in your head without you being able to make them out, but his hungry smile was enough to reveal their nature. You froze. He was joined by another man, and you took a step back, then a second. It was as if your body refused to obey you, as if your brain stopped working, and you hated yourself for it.

You hated yourself for being so weak.

You had a dragon. You were a Targaryen. So why were you trembling? Why couldn't you gather your courage and run, gather your courage and plunge your dagger into someone's chest, fight and scream?

One of them, the older-looking one, closed his hand around your wrist.

"Let me go!" You screamed, but the words caught in your throat, escaping your lips like a distorted cry. "Go away!"

Simple commands that couldn't get through the space between your lips with the authority you wanted.

You closed your eyes, trying to resist.

Fuck. You were going to die. You were going to be raped and then you were going to die, or be sold into sex work, or -

Something splashed in your face and suddenly you felt free.

"Didn't you hear her? She said let me go," a hoarse voice growled.

Your blood ran cold.

You knew exactly who it was.

That calm but sharp tone belonged to only one person: Aemond Targaryen.

How had he found you? Why had he found you? You opened your eyes instantly, your cheeks still red with shame. You knew you'd been irresponsible, and that wasn't in your nature at all, quite the opposite. But the fact that Aemond had caught you in such a weak position bothered and annoyed you.

It was supposed to be your secret, your act of rebellious transgression, your forbidden escapade with Aegon. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be Aemond rescuing you.

You opened your eyes. Facing you, the older man was kneeling on the pavement. He was clutching at his right side, blood trickling through his fingers to the ground. He was suffocating, blood pouring from his lips, but Aemond wiped the blade of his sword with a satisfied smile.

The crowd had gathered to watch what was happening, a mixture of fear and curiosity on their faces, but Aemond was already hastening to chase them away in a tone that left no room for discussion:

"There's nothing to see," he thundered. "Go away. All of you. Or I'll serve you as food for Vhagar."

The crowd dispersed, frightened; women grabbing their children by the shoulders to force them to move, barefoot beggars hurrying to gather their bowl and few coins to find another place, prostitutes closing the curtains with an irritated sigh, old men almost stumbling, and soon the street was deserted.

Despite the hood that covered his face, you could see the flat line of his grin and the cold, accusing look with which he stared at you. He was furious.

Perhaps he expected you to thank him, for Aemond approached you without a word. You looked up at him, your cheeks still red with shame. You were too proud to thank him.

And you were still too angry, too.

Angry at his silence all these years, angry that he'd let you down when you'd stood up for him, angry at the man he'd become.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked in his icy voice, his hand already closing around your wrist to force you forward, but you didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, frowning. You'd suddenly regained your repartee.

You knew you had to calm things down, thank him and follow him in silence. Accept the humiliation and beg for his silence. You knew you were making things more difficult than they already were, but that was Aemond. And once again, in front of Aemond, you had a pride to uphold.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated, his voice sharp. He froze, his dark eyes glaring at you as if you'd just insulted him. Suddenly you felt so small in front of him. "I should be asking you that question," he added dryly, obviously trying to keep the tone of his voice under control. "You're even more stupid than I thought."

The sentence had the effect of a slap in the face, and you felt your cheeks burning. Like a little girl caught red-handed, you lowered your head. What had been going through your mind? Why had you decided to follow Aegon in the first place?

Aemond lifted you with ease and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, as if he wanted to be sure you would follow him, as if he feared you would escape again, as if he didn't trust you.

And in the end, perhaps he was right.

As he carried you to the Red Keep, your fists pounded on his back. Small blows that he ignored, painless on the width that was his back.

He seemed to ignore you, perhaps more annoyed that you wouldn't stay still than anything else. But you didn't need him to play the perfect knight, not when he'd been ignoring you all this time. Not when he'd barely spoken to you on your return to King's Landing. Not when he drew a line under your childhood as if nothing had happened.

Not when he kept harassing your brothers.

It irritated you. He played the role of the ideal husband-to-be, impassive and calm; as if he'd always been the knight in shining armour he never was.

"You could at least let me go," you sighed, seeing that nothing seemed to disturb your uncle's icy calm. "I know how to walk. "

He had a moment's hesitation where he stopped, and then you felt him readjust your position with a flick of his shoulder. You had no trouble imagining the corners of his lips curling upwards, painting his face with his usual insolent grin, you had no trouble imagining him chuckling at your condition.

"Stop it, you are only making it harder for us," he growled in an authoritative voice. "And if you are not happy, I can always leave you here." He paused. "I did not know you dreamed of working in a brothel."

The comment was enough to send another wave of heat up your cheeks, colouring them red, but you tried as best you could to keep your composure, as if not to betray your embarrassment in front of the prince.

You refused to show him that his remark had affected you.

You just gritted your teeth and sighed.

The position was becoming uncomfortable: Aemond's bony shoulder was digging into your stomach and your legs were going numb, as if thousands of little ants were crawling all over them.

You hoped no one would see you when you got back to the castle. Your excursion into the city was supposed to be discreet; you weren't supposed to come back with a blood-stained tunic, nor hanging over your one-eyed uncle's shoulders.

If Aemond knew anything about the impending official announcement of your betrothal, he said nothing, walking ahead of him as if you were as light as a sack of grain.

"Qybor." You whispered again, this time using High Valyrian. Uncle. You hoped the nickname would make him react. "Qybor," you repeated a little louder. "I can walk by myself now."

If the nickname had any effect on him, Aemond didn't show it. But you had no trouble imagining the stupefaction you would have read on his face had you been face to face with him. You were proud of your skills in High Valyrian: you learned faster than Jace, faster than Luke, but then again, you'd always loved books and history, languages and learning. Aemond would probably remember that, it was what brought you together as a child in the first place.

You could see the tall towers of the Red Keep in front of you, their red bricks standing out against the blue sky. From a distance, you could understand the fascination of the people. There was something great, something sumptuous about the sight of this building, and you understood why it had taken three reigns to build it.

But despite your pleas, Aemond had not moved an eye. You knew that if your uncle hadn't intervened, you would probably have ended up in a dark alley, or in a filthy brothel, used as a plaything by a bunch of drunken lords, or in the dirty hands of ill-intentioned men. The thought made a lump grow in your throat that you found hard to swallow.

You were definitely naive and stupid for agreeing to follow Aegon like that.

Still, you hadn't bothered to thank Aemond.

You had too much pride to thank him, a flaw you'd inherited from your family.

You were stubborn, never satisfied, and always had something to say.

But Aemond, it seemed, had as much - if not more - pride than you.

Your engagement promised to be surprising.

"I am serious, Aemond," you added. It felt strange to call him by his first name when you hadn't addressed him that way for years. "I am a..." strong woman, you wanted to reply, but you chose another word instead, not wanting to give him the occasion to mock you: "independent woman".

As you approached the entrance - you prayed Aemond would choose one of the secret passages, you couldn't bear the humiliation of being carried off like a piece of merchandise by your presumed future husband - he stopped and set you down. His single eye searched your face, as if looking for the slightest trace of gratitude, but he knew he wouldn't find any; he knew it would have been too easy, and he knew it wouldn't have been you.

You weren't easy.

Pulling your arm to make you walk faster, Aemond forced you to follow him, around the ramparts, glancing around to make sure no one was following you. He pulled a little harder. "Mandianna," he began, his husky voice vibrating, the tone sending a wave of heat through your lower belly.

There was something incredibly pleasing about hearing the intonations of High Valyrian roll off your uncle's tongue.

But that was Aemond. And it was out of the question for you to feel anything for Aemond.

Around the bend in the ramparts, out of sight, he slammed you against the wall, both hands pressed firmly against your shoulders to prevent you from fleeing. "What exactly did you think would happen when you went to Silk Street, tell me?"

You knew what he was thinking. That you were irresponsible. That your actions were unworthy of someone of your station, and even more so if you were to be his future betrothed. That he wondered if your time on Dragonstone had made you reckless and wild, that he wondered if he might need to teach you some manners before he could marry you.

His judging gaze swept you from head to toe. As if to say that though your father's legitimacy was often questioned, Aemond knew that you were indeed Rhaenyra's daughter.

You avoided his gaze, your eyes fixed on a point beside his face. You wanted to say something witty, but the young prince had robbed you of any chance of intelligent thought, and you hated this feeling.

"I didn't think you'd come looking for me, Qybor," you replied with a grin as you looked up at him. "I thought you were a busy man."

You felt his fingers tighten on your shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of your cloak and tunic underneath. Your behaviour was childish, like a petulant brat, but secretly you enjoyed seeing Aemond lose his temper. You liked to push him to his limits. You liked to see the subtle signs of his irritation; the moment when he clenched his jaw, when he straightened his neck, when his breathing quickened.

If you were to marry him, then you would be poison, ready to corrupt his soul.

He grabbed the collar of your linen tunic and pushed you a little harder against the wall. "I thought you were smarter than to follow my brother into the city." His body rigid against yours kept you pinned to the wall.

The expression on his face betrayed his inner conflict: part of him thinking that he shouldn't care about his niece's actions, about you. Part of him reminding that you were soon to be betrothed.

And you knew that the thought of other men putting their hands on you, on his bride's body was lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

Aemond was a man driven by duty. On this level, you were the same; the model son and model daughter of your respective families, charged with performing your duties to prevent the gulf that separated your families from widening.

Both the eternal seconds of your families.

Both the pride of your mothers.

Suddenly he released you. His hand found your wrist again and he pulled you through the corridors of the castle. Had anyone caught you now, your hood pulled down over your forehead, your clothes hiding your appearance, they would probably have frowned and wondered if Aemond had suddenly decided to follow in his brother's footsteps, his taste for debauchery, by bringing a common girl or a cheap prostitute into his chamber.

For at that moment, you did not look like the daughter of royal blood that you were, not with your simple linen clothes, not with the thick cloak that covered your body, not with your hair tied up carelessly. You looked like a servant girl, a smallfolk girl, not like the Pearl of Dragonstone that you truly were.

Aemond's fingers burned around your wrist. You wondered if he felt it, too. If you were causing the same effect in him.

But he was impassive, always so difficult to read. He hid his feelings, buried them under a cold, mysterious shell, as if to protect himself.

He stopped in front of the door that led to your bedroom. Fortunately, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the courage to face your parents' disappointed looks, you didn't have the courage to realise that you had betrayed their trust, even if, for a moment, you had forgotten your duty, you had forgotten the responsibilities that weighed on your shoulders, you had tasted a feeling of freedom, so new, so delicious. A foolish act of transgression.

But you were safe and sound, and that was the most important thing.

"You'd better get changed," Aemond suggested. "It would be better if my mother didn't see you like this."

He clenched his jaw. He looked concentrated, as if he wanted to add something, as if he wanted to reprimand you but had to force himself to remain silent. An instant of silence hung between you. The urge to ask him if he was going to report your little escapade burned on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it.

Aemond's single eye was riveted to you. Piercingly. Fierce.

For a brief moment, a very brief moment, your uncle's ragged breathing caressed your face and your heart raced.

He was so close.

"Why? Don't you like to see me dressed like a common girl, my prince?" you asked, teasingly. Like a common girl you could bend over in some dark and gloomy street, you thought. But Aemond was not Aegon, and you felt him hesitate, as if the words had taken him by surprise. His hand, about to find your jaw and make you swallow your insolence, had stopped halfway.

You smirk. Aemond had nothing to worry about. For the official announcement of your betrothal, you had planned to wear a dress that would honour your Velaryon origins.

"Rest assured, qybor," you continued, taking a step in his direction.

Poison in his soul, you repeated in your head. That's what you'd be to your uncle. You took the time observe him, as if studying him, as if imagining the effect the words you were about to say would have on your uncle. Your eyes sparkled with mischief, and perhaps with something else. "Your betrothed is still intact for her wedding night," you finally whispered in his ear.

He held his breath. You knew that you would break down, brick by brick, the barriers he'd spent years building around his heart.

You wanted him raw.

But before you turned on your heel to enter your chamber, you summoned all the courage you had left in your body and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the prince's jaw.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue, my prince."

And then, you were gone.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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mazzystar24 · 8 months ago

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I totally get I just finished my exam week (I had to do a math test at 8am Sat😭). Wish you luck tho!

Also do you have any good buddies fics? Destiel too?

Math test at 8am is BRUTAL

Thank you I will definitely need it😭😭

Unfortunately I only have buddie fics to offer😔:

(Warning I do like a fair amount of angst)

Right where you left me - by hyacinthusbloom ( @thebloomingheather on here) - when I say I might be as big a fan of this fic as I am of the show I MEAN IT, you do not even understand how much I love this fic or how obsessed I am with it, I have reread it so many times despite it still being in progress that I think I may genuinely qualify it as addictive, me and @estheticpotaeto legit wait for updates like a dog at the author’s door istg, like everything about this fic is flawless and written with so much love and emotion and the way the writer captures the effects of trauma is just amazing because it’s so rare to find this level of diving into ptsd and the more uncomfortable aspects of it that are more taboo or less understandable to people, like I can yap for an hour about this fic but I’ll just say READ IT

Any fic by daisies_and_briars ( @cal-daisies-and-briars on here) but one of my favourites of his is Both blade and branch and muscle memory and four can keep a secret and appetency and the two she’s writing right now (change the prophecy and steal my sunshine) -wow at that point I should’ve left it as any fic because that’s a lot of favourites😭😭

Any fic by @loserdiaz plus with them you get enough lighthearted fics to even out the angst

Ooo I’m not sure what their username on here is but lizzybizzyzz is also another writer who I just love their fics

Fractals by hobbitprincess - one of those fics that make you squeak at how much love these fictional characters have for each other

Beneath my mother tongue by archerincombat - the angst the writing the way they hit every single emotional beat? Amazing

Anything by this_is_moony_lovegood

Leave the light on (I’ll be coming home) by HMSLusitania - the presumed dead Eddie fic of your dreams, a constant reread for me it’s just 👌

Anchored by adorkable_buddie - sorry Chris you gotta be injured sometimes just for us to get our buddie dreams hope you understand and we appreciate your sacrifice 😔🫶

empty, broken, lonely, hoping by daniweb - when I tell you I love the presumed dead trope you best believe I’m telling the truth because the ANGST?? Yes please, LISTEN it’s the closest you can get to the emotional beats of killing off a character without ever killing them off because you love them and happy endings too much so TIM MINEAR TAKE NOTES I KNOW YOU SAID YOU LOVE THEM TOO MUCH TO KILL THEM, anyways back to to the point this fic again is just flawless execution by the writer like absolutely love it

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall - emotional destruction and I absolutely love it, divorce era 2.0 and it HITS

Home is where it hurts- by rileyblue2001 - can you tell I hate the Buckley parents because I HATE the Buckley parents

The one with the return of the sex addiction by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) - I’ve reccomended so much angst so have a funny little light hearted buddie fic with the father bobby vibes we all love❤️❤️

Okay back to the angst tho 😭😭- out of ashes by Ashavahishta - AHHHHHHH THIS FIC JUST AHHHHH STOP THE WAY I WOULD DIE FOR A FOLLOW UP FIC TO THIS AHHHH I LOVE IT SM AND ITS LEGIT A ONE SHOT I CRIED SO HARD

Falling Slowly; Sing Your Melody (I’ll Sing It Loud) by Princessfbi ( @princessfbi on here who I also love sm of their fics so highly suggest just going on their page and looking through all the fics) - absolutely love it, legit gave me brain rot and got me obsessed for a GOOD while

I'm comin' back, don't let me go by wikiangela ( @wikiangela on here also love love their fics again so check them out but this one is probably my favourite of theirs)

Okay this is looking more and more like a uni reading list so I’m gonna shut up now but I hope you enjoy these fics and that a few of them emotionally damage you like they did me because I love to spread the joy (see: pain and suffering) 🫶🫶

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mylovelies-docx · 1 year ago

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Sorry, I Love You - Part 8

I apologize for not posting last week. How about this longer chapter to make up for it?

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: First day of HYDRA work, social gatherings

Word Count: 2,270

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7]

The next morning dawned bright and chilly. You only know this because you happened to pass by a window covered in frost on your way to one of the HYDRA labs within the facility.

Your first few hours on site had you running through various tests and exams to study your mental capacity and knowledge on the interest that HYDRA holds in the biology field. There was nothing shocking or unexpected that your new supervisors asked you, but the implications of what they expect from you sends shivers down your spine. You studied and memorized and read for weeks in preparation for this assignment last year, and you’re so glad that your brain retains this kind of information like a sponge – you’d have been disposed of on the spot if your background hadn’t checked out.

But now you’ve ‘officially’ joined HYDRA. The thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you wash it down with the knowledge that what you’re doing is going to help the world by eliminating whatever disgusting and horrible work is being done here.

The plan is to spend as much time as it takes to gain HYDRA’s confidence in your abilities and allow you access to the higher level projects – the world-ending projects. This could take weeks. Or months. Hopefully not years? Being Bucky’s sister for that long would drive you insane.

“You,” a scientist snaps from behind their desk as you pass their open office door. You stop in your tracks and peer into the dingy office, noticing scuff marks and mysterious stains on the floor. The man’s desk has every square inch covered in files and papers. So much so that there is a noticeable curvature on the desktop, the cheap material unable to handle the amount of weight it has been subjected to over the years.

��Yes, sir?” you inquire.

He refuses to look up from his work, instead opting to dangle a set of keys from his fingers in your direction. “Go and grab the files for project 0B276HG21 in storage room C.”

Repeating the string of numbers and letters in your head, you take the keys from his outstretched hand and make your way to the storage room. There are so many rooms within the facility that you would be lost without the information your informant sent the team. But even with it, the facility has undergone changes since the last facility plans were uploaded, so you run into dead ends where there should be access doors.

You can only hope that your experience and knowledge will allow you to work your way up quickly – you don’t know how long you can stand to be a lackey. You roll your eyes at the errands you’ve had to run so far, but you know that the new person never gets given the big jobs on the first day.

And so the rest of the shift passes in the same manner and you arrive back at your and Bucky’s house with little energy and even less information.

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” Bucky reassures. “Slow and steady wins the race, right?”

“That’s such a stupid fable,” you grumble. “The hare would have won if it didn’t have such an inflated ego.”

Bucky grins at your disgruntled face before you flop your head backwards to rest. You release a sigh and relax further into the couch where you collapsed after walking in the front door, relieved to smell dinner simmering away on the stove since you arrived home later than expected and hadn’t had the opportunity to grab lunch.

You tilt your head and watch as Bucky shuffles around the kitchen. He’s long since showered after his time at the repair shop: his hair nearly dry and the strands sticking out in a way that you know he tousled it with his towel and let it finish air drying. The new shorter strands allowed for the minimal work to pay off in dividends because it was damn near impossible to remember how soft his hair used to be and not be able to run your fingers through it now.

Your fingers itch to reach out, but you grip the cushion instead. No one said that this would be easy. Well, no one has said it’d be anything because Nat’s mission has her radio silent and Wanda is busy spending time with Vis for you to complain about your one-sided love with someone who doesn’t know the feeling. You know that if they knew what was happening right now, they’d be plying you with ideas on how to survive this mission with minimal heartbreak.

“The food is done,” Bucky says as he gathers plates and utensils to set the table. “Are you coming in here or do you want me to bring you a bowl?”

Unfortunately, your best friends aren’t available to provide their wisdom, so here you are: suffering in silence with no outlet.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you respond. You unclench your fist from the couch’s fabric and stretch out your stiff fingers. Rising from your seat, you make your way into the kitchen and take a seat at the table as Bucky brings the pot over from the stove. You stare intently into the soup as Bucky ladles it into a bowl and sets it in front of you.

“Did something happen today?” he questions with a worried expression.

“You know HYDRA,” you tiredly reply. Looking up into his eyes for the first time this evening, you see the crease between his brows and mentally slap yourself. “I’m fine, Bucky. They don’t have me working on anything specific yet.”

“I know,” he says, “but just be careful with those people, okay?”

You smile up at him and nod your head, your heart squeezing in your chest.

You’re both silent through dinner with the exception of your compliments on Bucky’s cooking. It’s hard to clear the air after bringing up HYDRA and their actions, even in the vaguest way.

***

The week stretches on for an eternity, but eventually Saturday rolls around and you and Bucky prepare to meet the neighborhood.

You arrive at the restaurant right on time. Light pours from the windows and the snow on the ground glistens gold. As soon as you open the car door, you hear laughter and chatter forcing their way through the walls.

“I hate entering a party where everybody is already best friends with each other and then you’re left standing there like a loner,” you decry, already dreading the feeling of ‘otherness’ you will be experiencing in a few short moments.

“You’re not a loner,” Bucky laughs. “You make friends as easily as breathing.”

“Not true,” you counter. “I can make ‘friends’ with strangers, but it’s never anything real. I’m a spy, remember? It’s literally life or death to get people to like me.”

“Trust me, doll,” Bucky says as he looks intently at you from across the car. “People can’t help but love you.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you hope the light from the restaurant isn’t bright enough to reveal them to Bucky. The feelings squirming around in your stomach feel suspiciously like hope, and you can’t have that. You deflect any seriousness by laughing off Bucky’s comment.

“Tell that to all the people I’ve thrown in prison.”

Bucky calls your name with some disappointment and a slight frown on his face. You shrug your shoulders and motion towards the entrance. “It’s time to head inside. Come on.”

You walk away from him and lead the way into the building. Upon opening the door, a blast of warm, humid air hits you. The smell of beer and sweat sweeps up your nostrils, and the interior design reminds you more of a local dive bar than a restaurant. But everyone is laughing and having a good time, so you plaster a smile on your face and look around for the Gretens.

You see Christopher speaking to a short, skinny man, deep in conversation and barely acknowledging anyone else. Tessa stands in a corner surrounded by three other women, all of them laughing and having a good time. Bucky walks up behind you as you stand in the doorway and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Divide and conquer?” he asks. You nod your head and make your way over to the group of women.

When you’re within ten feet of her, Tessa notices you. She beams at you and raises her hand to usher you closer.

“Ladies!” Tessa introduces. “Meet our newest neighbor!”

A round of introductions follows and you can’t help but admire how blatantly obvious these women are about their curiosity. Tessa seems to have already told them everything she knows about you, but they have to ask their own questions.

“And where’s that brother of yours?” one of them asks. “Tessa’s told us how handsome he is! I’ve got a daughter I’ve been trying to get out of the house for ages.”

You laugh through the twist of your guts, replying merrily, “Oh, I’m sure he’d appreciate the introduction.”

Before the woman can demand a personal introduction, Tessa interrupts when the entrance opens once again and lets in a blast of cold air.

“Petre!” She performs the same waving hand motion that brought you over earlier to the new arrival. “Come here!”

Glancing back, you see a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes making his way over to you. He stops in front of Tessa and wraps her in a quick hug.

“This is my son, Petre. Petre, this is our neighbor.”

Petre greets you warmly. “Hello, it’s nice to finally meet you. My mother hasn’t stopped talking about you since you moved in.”

You giggle when Tessa pats his arm roughly and shake his proffered hand. His skin is warm and dry, the skin on the back of his knuckles chapped from the winter weather. Tessa not-so-subtly draws the other women away from you and Petre and into another conversation, leaving you to speak with each other.

“Your mother seems to think we’d make a good pair,” you comment with a glance over at her.

“Ah, yes,” Petre says while fiddling with his shirt sleeves. “She’s been introducing me to every woman of marrying age. I think she’s afraid I’ll end up alone.”

You can’t help but laugh at his deprecating tone of voice. “We’re young – we’ve still got time.”

“Try telling her that,” he responds. “Being 30 and unmarried is one of the worst things you can be in her eyes.”

You chat with Petre between introductions for the next couple of hours. He sticks close by his mother which keeps him close to you, as Tessa demands everyone that walks by to greet you. Countless faces come and go, but there seems to be someone missing.

You turn to Tessa when the party seems to be winding down and a few people have started to leave. “Where’s your daughter?” you question.

“Kerri and Chrissie are right over there,” she nods, indicating the two young women in a cluster a few feet from you.

“Yes, I remember them from a little while ago. Where’s your other daughter? Sasha?”

At this, Tessa’s face drops and Petre looks at her worriedly. He places his arm around his mother’s shoulders and brings her into his side. “She’s not well,” Petre answers for his mother. “She has been sick for a while now.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s – it’s alright,” Tessa responds with a sorrowful smile. “She’s at home. Resting.”

“Well I hope she gets better soon,” you reply hopefully. Petre and Tessa nod tersely before steering the conversation off to something else.

It isn’t long after that when you feel Bucky sidle up next to you. He places his hand on your upper arm and pulls you closer into his side. “You ready to go?” he questions.

You hum and say your goodbyes to the people standing around you, promising to come out with Tessa to more gatherings. You and Bucky make your way back out into the cold night, the moon full and bright in the sky.

The car doors close behind you and Bucky starts the engine. You rumble along the road for a few minutes before Bucky says anything.

“Who were you talking to all night?” he asks you.

“Ah.” You sigh. “That was Tessa’s eldest son. The one she mentioned at dinner.”

“And?” he prompts.

“And…?”

“You were with him all night – what was he like? Anything seem off with him?”

You’re not exactly sure what Bucky is getting at, as he’d been talking with a couple of the same people throughout the night as well. “Well no, but it’s not like I could dig any deeper than surface level with so many people coming in and out of the conversation.”

Bucky hums noncommittally. You furrow your brow, but brush it off. “Did you find anything out from Christopher?”

“Not really. I did notice that one of his daughters wasn’t there tonight. Sarah?”

“Sasha,” you correct. “And no, I asked about her, as well. Petre and Tessa seemed really bothered when I brought her up: apparently she’s been pretty sick lately.”

“How sick?” Bucky asks.

“I’m not sure. It didn’t seem like they wanted to talk about it, though.”

“You think she’s been sick enough to require hospital stays?” he proposes, leading the conversation towards what could have possibly happened to the family’s financials that has lead to their worn down clothing and home.

“It’s worth looking into, isn’t it?”

Part 9

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #sorry i love you

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kamaluhkhan · 1 year ago

Text

maybe it's my fault

pairing: shuri x fem!reader

summary: lately, you've been feeling a ton of pressure, you're way too busy, and you're barely sleeping. life is taking its toll on you, but you drop everything to be with shuri when she needs you most.

warnings: angst! mention of illness and death (t'challa's, mostly). reader has a bit of a saviour complex. lots of plot w/ a little smut ;)

author's note: hi hi it's been too long since i've written a fic, but i just rewatched black panther so i decided to finish one of my drafts. this could be read as a part 3 to my other shuri fics, but it's wayyy more angsty than i usually write. also happy endings.....we don't know her! you've been warned.

you were in the kitchen, chopping up fruit for a smoothie, while sam and bucky were watching the news in the living room. you could only hear muffled sounds from the tv thanks to the lecture you were rewatching through your earphones, hyperfocused on absorbing as much information about genetic coding — the topic of your last exam before spring break — so it was easy to miss sam calling your name until he was practically shouting. you finally removed one earbud.

"yeah?"

“when's the last time you heard from your girlfriend?"

"i don't know," you answered, still mostly focused on your professor droning on about complex protein structures while you kept cutting up strawberries — and tried to keep your eyes open. you probably hadn't slept in 36 hours. "we've both been busy. why?"

there was no immediate answer, which you didn’t think much of until you looked up and saw what they were watching. in shock, you accidently let the knife slip, and it nicked your thumb instead of the fruit.

"fuck."

blood dripped from your hand, but your eyes stayed glued to the screen.

KING T’CHALLA, RULER OF WAKANDA, DEAD FROM UNKNOWN ILLNESS. COUNTRY IN PERIOD OF MOURNING.

you could tell from the way bucky and sam were silent that they were also overwhelmed with the news. t’challa was an avenger, a teammate — but he was also a friend. he was compassionate and wise and always made you feel welcomed, even when some of the elders disapproved of shuri dating an outsider. this hurt you, deeply, especially after losing so much of the team in the battle with thanos. but none of that mattered — all you could think about now was shuri….

you instantly pulled out your phone, and tried to call her.

it’s shuri. i’m probably designing better technology, so i’ll call you back with that.

you then tried the kimoyo beads on your wrist, but still no answer.

“i have to go.”

sam nodded. “just let me look after your hand first —”

“i’ll deal with it on the quinjet.” you ran to your room down the hall, and grabbed your overnight bag (thank Gods you hadn’t unpacked yet, even though you’d decided to stay over at Avengers tower this week). “i just finished fixing up the old one, so i’ll take that and you guys can still use the new one for your mission tomorrow. if i leave now, i’ll get to wakanda by morning.” or maybe midnight. or afternoon? there was also a time difference that you couldn’t quite remember. “i’ll call peter on the way, let him know what happened. can you tell the others?” whoever is left, you thought to yourself.

again, sam nodded. bucky mumbled a simple take care as you start to leave for the quinjet.

sam called your name, so you turned around before a few tears could escape. he brought you into a hug. you couldn’t help but stiffen, a reflex because of so many i’m sorry for your loss hugs you’d gotten used to. when sam pulled away, he put his hand on her shoulder, eyes sincere but sad. “it’s gonna be alright, kid.”

you really wanted to believe him.

shuri��s lab was all too familiar to you. there was something perpetually alive about the space: always people talking, inventions being brought to life, loud music blasting.

but, right now, it was silent. only shuri was there, designing something on the holograms and taking notes.

you hear her A.I. griot announce that someone had arrived, but shuri doesn't seem to care.

“i told you i did not want to be disturbed,” shuri grumbled.

“he made an exception,” you replied, trying to keep your tone playful.

shuri didn’t say anything and kept working. “did my mother call you?” she finally asked. “i told her not to.”

you moved closer to shuri’s workspace until you were right next to her, leaning backwards against the desk but keeping your eyes on shuri and trying to pull her attention away from whatever she was working on — a suit, you guessed.

“she didn't call me. i came as soon as i heard,” you answered, crossing you arms. “but i did talk to her and she seemed…worried.”

“there’s no need to be,” shuri said. “i’m fine. we had the funeral — it happened, it’s over.”

you uncrossed your arms, sighing deeply. “you know, your brother once told me that in wakandan culture, death isn’t the end. it’s a stepping off point. then, he told me that he believed, even if they’re gone from the physical world, the people we love never leave us. their lives aren’t over if we honor them, keep loving them.”

t'challa's thoughtfulness helped you after losing tony and steve, and it was something you wished you had heard earlier in life. something that gave you hope, made you feel a bit lighter when it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you.

but, hearing this prompted shuri to freeze momentarily, though she couldn’t bring herself to look you in the eye.

"i am not my brother.” she went back to working after that.

for a moment, you simply watched your girlfriend work. shuri’s hair was different — braids gone and shorter than the last time you had seen her. her jawline was also sharper and her eyes a bit more sunken, like she hadn’t slept or eaten in days.

when it became clear that shuri wasn’t going to stop, you turned around and focused your attention to the holograms she was juggling. it wasn’t a panther suit, but what looked like a deconstructed dora milaje armor that shuri was redesigning.

“you want this to fly?” you noted the thrusters placed on the feet of the suit.

shuri glanced at you briefly before enlarging the section in question. “yes.”

you hummed, reaching over to zoom out to a full view of the suit. “if you add small repulsors, the wearer will have more control over how and where they fly.”

“i was going to add something like that to the back.”

“i’d suggest the shoulders,” you said, tilting your head. “small, triangle shaped — kind of like angel wings. also, if you add reinforced plating to the shoulders and arms, you can redistribute the extra vibranium through the repulsor energy so the wearer can materialize a blade or a laser.”

“brilliant,” shuri mumbled under her breath.

you nudged shuri with your shoulder. “you would have figured it out eventually.”

“i know.” shuri leaned into you, a sign that she was softening. “that’s why it’s brilliant. i wish it'd thought of it sooner." she whispered the last part. there was a faraway sadness to her tone that made your heart ache.

you turned to face shuri, and gently put your hand on her cheek so she met your gaze.

"i think it's a sign that your beautiful brain needs some rest, baby." you knew what shuri was like, and based on your conversation with queen ramonda, shuri had locked herself in the lab for days.

shuri sighed, moving to kiss your palm before realizing the state it was in — freshly wrapped in a thin layer of gauze that you had bled through.

“what happened to your hand?” she questioned urgently.

“oh. nothing serious. just a slip of the knife.”

wordlessly, shuri brought you over to the medical bay and gestured for you to sit down on the table. you did, and shuri settled between your legs, using vibranium to heal your cut.

"shuri," you called after a few moments of silence, leaning your head down slightly to try and catch her eye. "you know i'm here for you, right?"

"i know." she finished cleaning the wound and wrapped your hand in a fresh vibranium-woven bandage. you wanted so badly to do the same — to wrap up shuri's grief, to protect her from pain, to help her heal.

"i mean that you don't have to, i don't know, act like everything is fine. we can talk about what happened — we can talk about t'challa."

"i know," she repeated, eyes finally meeting yours as she rested her hand on your knee. "i just....i can't. it's either i shut myself in the lab for hours or i think about my brother and want to burn the world down. and i can't...." shuri choked back a sob and her grip on your knee tightened.

you brought your hand up to her cheek, gently tracing the dark circles under her eyes with your thumb.

"well, what if we try another option?"

you spent the next few days in wakanda with shuri, ignoring your responsibilities in new york. most of the time was spent lazing around the royal palace, but with you shuri at least got enough sleep and food, even if you barely left her room at first. eventually, the two of you actually ate in the formal dining room. you could have sworn queen ramonda teared up when her daughter showed up again to share a meal since t'challa's passing. queen ramonda gave you a warm smile before the feast was served.

as you were walking back to shuri's room, stomachs full from a delicious dinner, your phone vibrated. you checked to see who it was: peter, texting to remind you of a lab assignment you had slipped your mind.

"oh shit," you groaned.

"what is it?"

"an assignment for my genetics class that i completely forgot about," you explained, rushing to open your laptop, which you'd left on shuri's nightstand after the two of you binged a few episodes of star trek (the original series). "one of our lab partners fucked up the results, so pete and i had to sort things out, but we've both been so busy...."

your phone vibrated once more, this time displaying an incoming call from jimmy neutron, your affectionate contact name for peter parker.

"i should take this."

shuri nodded. "let me help, yeah?"

considering how brilliant shuri was, you offered her your laptop without question. you paced back and forth, talking with peter over whether or not failing this assignment would mean you both failed the class, until shuri's voice cut through your conversation.

"why do you have a file with my brother's dna?"

you know exactly the file she was talking about, and it made you stop in your tracks to face shuri. you thought you were being too careful when you didn't attach his name to the file — but, apparently, you weren't careful enough.

shuri was sitting upright on the bed now, practically glaring at you as she waited for your answer. you tried to ignore your increasing heart-rate.

"pete, i have to go." you could hear him start to protest on the other end of the line, but you quickly ended the call. "well, we keep blood samples from every team member in case something happens."

hopefully your answer satisfied shuri.

it didn't.

"this isn't with your avengers files, though," shuri pointed out. you tried to grab the laptop back from her, but she moved it out of your reach. "and even if it was, you would have noticed something wrong."

"shuri," you warned, finding it harder to not let your voice waver.

"did you know my brother was sick?" her tone was harsher than before.

"shuri —"

"the samples show abnormal cell growth at an earlier stage than when i was working on a cure for him," shuri noted, turning the laptop screen towards you. like you, she must have spent hours looking at t'challa's dna to the point of memorizing its sequence. "so either you didn't notice that something was wrong, and we both know you're too smart enough to miss something that obvious, or — "

"shuri." this time, when you said her name, it was less of a warning and more of a plea. you did not want to go down this road. frankly, you were hoping you never had to.

"you knew my brother was sick and didn't tell me," she finished. shuri handed you the laptop and you closed it slowly, watching as she walked to the other side of the room before facing you again. "tell me that isn't true."

all you could do was bite back tears and hope the floor swallowed you whole. when it didn't, you took a deep breath and stood up.

"i can explain." you approached her, but she took a step away from you and scoffed.

"what's there to explain?"

"just....please." you walked back to the bed and took a seat. "let me explain."

t'challa intercepted you at your favourite coffee shop about four weeks ago.

it was march in new york, so hints of spring were starting to peak through the winter snow. you had back to back classes, but you always had time for a coffee in between.

the cold air hit you as you exited the shop, a drink warming your hand. you noticed him standing there: no dora milaje, no fancy suit, just t'challa. he wore sunglasses and a sleek black trench coat with a purple scarf, his silver necklace peaking out from the collar.

"t'challa?" you called, almost doing a double take. the two of you were friends, sure, and probably future in-laws, but the image of him waiting for you outside a student-run cafe felt too out of the ordinary. "is everything okay?"

he smiled softly, taking off his sunglasses. "of course," he said. then, t'challa did something that surprised you even more: he greeted you with a hug. as he pulled away, he added: "just in town and thought we could catch up. shuri said this was your favourite place for cinnamon lattes."

you shrugged. "my girl knows me well. could we catch up later, though? i have a class in...." you glanced at your phone. "right now, actually." you looked back up at t'challa, and something about how his smile faded away made you feel like this was more important. "you know what, i can get notes later. come on."

t'challa followed you to a bench nearby, scanning the area as you made the short walk. the two of you sat in silence for a few moments before you broke it.

"so, is everything okay?" you asked again, taking a sip of your drink.

"actually, no." he paused, voice low. you waited for him to continue, your heart beating fast as you tried not to expect the worst. "i'm sick, y/n."

"you're sick," you repeated slowly, letting the words sink in. "i'm....i'm sorry." you reached over and squeezed t'challa's hand. he gave you a sad smile in return. that was the thing about t'challa: he was always trying to put on a brave face.

"i need you to help me find a cure."

"of course," you answered instantly. you loved t'challa like he was family; you would do anything for him. but, something felt a bit strange about his request. "why not go to wakanda, though? i mean, i'd be happy to help, but the technology there is way more advanced than anything i could do in new york. shuri's lab has all the resources we would need."

t'challa shifted in his seat, breaking eye contact.

then, it hit you. the impromptu meeting, the uneasiness of t'challa's demeanor, the whispers as he explained the situation.

"she doesn't know, does she?"

t'challa shook his head. "she doesn't even know i'm in new york."

suddenly, you throat tightened and it felt difficult to swallow your coffee.

"am i the only one that knows?"

"you and nakia," he said. "i'd like for it to stay that way."

"but — but it's shuri. you're her brother and — and she can help us find a cure."

"so can you," t'challa countered. compared to your nervous stuttering, he kept his voice clear, measured. "you're studying biochemistry and cellular biology, correct? top of your class? my sister says you are almost as brilliant as her."

"almost," you laughed, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve before returning to your conversation. "t'challa, why not just tell her?"

t'challa reflected before responding, his eyes following a couple holding hand as they walked past you.

"my sister is happy," he finally said, turning to you. "i wish for her to stay like that for as long as possible. i believe this is the only way."

it broke your heart to know that, even as he was suffering, t'challa would do anything to protect shuri. you both knew what shuri was like: she would drop everything, go back to wakanda, spend many sleepless nights trying to solve this problem, to save her brother.

"are you sure?" you practically whispered the question.

"yes. i trust you can take care of this. in fact, i know you can. please, y/n."

his urgent tone, the sincerity in his eyes; t'challa was desperate, you could tell. this wasn't a decision he made lightly, to keep such information from everyone, including shuri. if you were the one he came to for help, help you would.

so, you promised keep his secret, to handle it yourself and carry on as normal. t'challa would return to his normal duties as king for as long as he could hide his illness. but, you set a term as well: if you couldn't find a cure within two weeks, when shuri went back to visit wakanda at the end of the month, t'challa would tell her and let her work to find a cure.

"one more thing," t'challa said after you had discussed your agreement. you were about to part ways, but you turned around when you heard him speak again. "shuri can never know that i came to you first. she's proud, my sister. if she finds out, she'd never forgive either of us."

you nodded firmly, but as t'challa turned to walk away, you called his name once more. you ran towards him and hugged him, tight. it startled him at first, just as you were when he greeted you, but he hugged back.

if you knew that was the last time you'd see him, you'd have held on longer.

over the next week or so, you worked relentlessly. you would've worked at the lab in avengers tower, but you knew you had more privacy at oscorp. occasionally, you went to class or had avengers business to take care of, but otherwise this was your life: rearranging dna sequences, examining blood samples, and mixing chemicals to try and find a cure for t'challa.

you came home one night, after hours in the lab. your only break was a brief stint stopping doc ock from robbing a bank. she'd managed to throw you around pretty hard — sleep deprivation made you an easier target, apparently — leaving you with a nasty bruise on your side. peter arrived to the scene just in time, and suggested the two of you celebrate with sandwiches as delmar's (where spider-man got a discount), but you made up an excuse so that you could return to the lab.

the apartment was dark when you entered, with only the kitchen light on, so you figured you were the only one home. you dragged yourself over to the sink to get a cup of water. you drank it in three gulps, and were reaching for another when you felt someone grab your side.

"fuck!" the cup fell from your grasp as you winced in pain. you turned around, too tired to even wonder if there was an intruder in your home, but met shuri's gaze instead. she was wearing boxer shorts and an oversized i ♡ wakanda shirt she'd gotten for you as a joke.

"shit. sorry." she knelt down to pick up the broken glass. you tried to follow, but winced again at the sharp pain in your side that prevented you from bending over. "don't worry. i've got it," she reassured, standing back up. "you've been busy lately. and pete told me about the fight with doc ock. you should rest."

you ignored her last comment. "i thought you were coming home late tonight."

shuri raised an eyebrow. "i'd say it's well past late." she gestured towards the clock on the stove. it read 2:27 am.

"right." between hours in the lab, with no cure in sight, and being thrown around by a scientist with metal tentacles, you were exhausted. it was the kind of exhaustion that settled into your bones, made everything feel heavier. not to mention the weight of the very big, life changing secret you were keeping from shuri....yeah, you weren't particularly in the mood to chat with your girlfriend in a dimly lit kitchen with broken glass at your feet.

before shuri could ask more about your day, you excused yourself to take a shower. you closed the bathroom door behind you, stripped yourself of your clothes, and hopped in the shower. you stood there for a few seconds, letting the warm water wash over you, until you were startled by the shower curtain opening.

"sithandwa, are you okay?"

"other than the minor heart attack you just gave me, yeah," you huffed.

shuri tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "are you sure?"

"i'm fine," you snapped. noticing how shuri's eyes widened slightly at your outburst, you tried again, your voice softer. "i'm fine."

you lifted your arm to close the shower curtain, but let out a strangled moan when the sharp pain in your side returned. shuri furrowed her brow at your reaction, until her eyes landed on the dark bruise forming under your left ribs. instantly, shuri joined you in the shower, fully clothed.

"you're not fine," shuri decided, placing her hand gently on your skin. "why didn't you go back to the med bay to have this taken care of?"

peter asked you the same thing when you parted ways earlier, but it was easier then to shrug off the severity of your injury. besides, you had to finish up some work at the lab. but here you were in front of shuri, completely exposed, no where to run.

"i...didn't have time. you can scold me later, okay? right now, i just want to relax."

you exhaled as shuri's fingers grazed your skin. with how preoccupied you had been — along with the guilt at hiding t'challa's illness from her — you and shuri hadn't been intimate in what felt like forever. it felt good to be close to her, for her to touch you again.

by then, shuri's clothes were soaked through, the white fabric of her shirt clinging to her skin, transparent enough to reveal her dark nipples underneath. you couldn't help but stare.

"like what you see?" shuri smirked. her fingers started trailing south, reaching your hips.

this made you roll your eyes, and you just had to smile at how cheeky your girlfriend was being.

"you know i do, pretty girl."

"hm. you said you wanted to relax?"

you nodded, and not even a second later shuri had her body pressed against yours. it sent a shiver through you, despite the warm water from the shower. she brought a tattoed hand up to your face, craddling your jaw.

"then relax," shuri whispered. she started placing kisses up your neck, and when she reached just below your ear, she added: "let me take care of you."

shuri gently pushed you against the wall, the ceramic tiles cool on your back. to your annoyance, she took her sweet time leaving kisses down your body.

"shuri," you whined when you felt her teeth graze one nipple while she pinched the other between her fingers.

"what is it, my love?" shuri pulled away from your chest. you knew she loved teasing you - something you mostly loved to hate. sex with shuri sometimes took hours: it was slow, deliberate, accompanied by an orchestra of laughter and moans and pleading (lots of pleading).

this time, though, she didn't even give you time to beg. shuri simply got on her knees in front of you. she briefly ran her tongue through your folds before tilting her head back to meet your gaze. "is this what you wanted?" shuri smirked when you moaned as she slid a finger into your cunt.

the shower went cold by the time you two were done.

you started drying off, carefully as to not further your injury. shuri left to put on fresh, dry clothes, leaving the ones she had soaked through in a wet heap on the floor. you were just slipping on your underwear when shuri returned, catching your eye in the mirror.

"what?" you chuckled at how coy she was being, hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

"i have a surprise for you," shuri sang. she moved from the doorway to standing behind you, the two of you looking at the mirror. "close your eyes." you complied and felt a coolness surround your neck. shuri placed a kiss on your jaw, which made you smile. "open them."

you were met with the sight of yourself, top half completely bare except for a deep purple pendant around your neck.

"do you like it?" shuri gently wrapped her arms around your waist, eyes never leaving your body in the mirror, and you allowed yourself to melt into her. "it reminded me of the sky on our first date, and how beautiful you looked." she reached a hand up to trace the silver chain. "i was thinking i'd remake this with vibranium, maybe make it so the necklace holds your suit like t'challa's. you'll have to wait until i get back to wakanda to make the upgrade, of course."

at the mention of her brother and her home country, you stiffened.

"shuri." you exhaled and you turned to face her. "are you sure that you don't want to go back to wakanda sooner?"

shuri tilted her head. "why would i do that?"

"i don't know. more time with your family...."

"i've spent my whole life with them," shuri countered. "i'm moving to new york so that we can start our life together."

"i didn't ask you to do that — "

"don't push me away, okay?" she interrupted, wrapping her arms around your waist once more as though they would keep you in place forever. "you've been doing that lately, and i know you're busy, we both are. but, life is crazy and scary and unpredictable, and all i know for sure is that i love you. and i need you."

you wished you could return her words, as you have many times before, but the sentiment now felt empty.

it felt wrong for you to let shuri love you passionately, when you were being so careless with her heart.

you tried to shake away that feeling, telling yourself that keeping t'challa's secret was the best situation to keep him healthy and shuri happy - to protect both of them from any pain or suffering.

you told yourself that enough times, you almost believed it was true.

shuri looked at you now, and for the first time, you felt the heat of her anger targeted towards you.

"how long? how long did you know my brother was dying and let me believe everything was okay? how long did you lie to me?"

you took a ragged breath. "two weeks."

"two weeks?" shuri shouted. "i couldn't save him because i didn't have enough time to find a cure. you took that from me."

"i spent that time trying to find a cure, but....but i wanted to protect you, at least for a little while."

"no one asked you to protect me!"

internally, you kept replaying what t'challa had said: he wanted shuri to be happy, yes, but she could never know that he came to you himself and told you he was sick weeks before he told her. you wanted to honor the promise you made him, even as you now felt shuri slipping through your fingers.

you were never a quitter, though. it was your best — and possibly most self-destructive — trait. you tried to approach shuri, to grab her hand, but the second you made contact, she jolted away.

"my brother is dead because of you."

her words felt like a knife. you felt dizzy — there was no way to stop the bleeding, so you sat back down on the bed to ground yourself.

"i....i tried to save him," you defended. "after i first found out, i tried to find a cure myself."

shuri scoffed, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at you. "you just had to be the hero, didn't you? running around, wanting to save everyone. like you're the only one who can."

"i really tried," you choked. by now, you were holding back tears, feeling your head start to ache. you started massaging you temple to relieve some pressure, but it didn't work.

"and what kind of sick game are you playing, coming here pretending to be supportive? you're just feeling guilty."

guilty was definitely something you felt, but it wasn't why you came here.

you got back up and tried to approach shuri one more time, walking over to her slowly.

"i came here because i love you, shuri." your voice was softer than it had been before. "i loved t'challa, too -"

"don't you dare say his name," she growled, once again moving away from you briskly. "and i don't care if you love me, because i can never look at you the same way. we're done."

hands by your side, staring at shuri from the opposite side of the room, you almost couldn't process what she had said. she repeated her last sentence, this time a bit louder, and you shook your head as though to wake yourself up.

"shuri, please, don't do this. we're both in pain — "

"you have no idea the pain i'm in," shuri interrupted, and you noticed how she choked back a sob. "you can stop trying to be a hero for me. i don't want you. i don't need you." she paused. "not anymore."

to prove her point, shuri finally approached you. she tugged your necklace — the one she had so lovingly given you — hard enough for the clasp to break.

both of you were startled by the severity of her actions, how final it all felt. shuri looked, almost regretfully, at the purple pendant in her hand, but never met your gaze. she then turned away from you, the room settling into an uncomfortable silence as she waited for you to leave.

and you did, a few moments later.

#shuri x reader #shuri udaku #shuri x you #shuri imagine #shuri angst #black panther wakanda forever #wakanda forever #shuri fic #shuri smut #princess shuri #shuri #Spotify #saf writes #black panther: wakanda forever #black panther #marvel fanfiction #black panther fanfiction #shuri fanfiction

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preludicrous · 1 year ago

Text

why i believe the prison break storyline was also sigma's entrance exam

the long overdue post that i teased literal months before posting it (sorry i am a college student and quite overworked)

[ massive spoilers for the mersault arc of bsd, including s5e11 of the anime and recent manga chapters. ]

sigma is alive

first of all: sigma's not dead.

sigma's not dead because his character arc is nowhere near over, and from a writing perspective, it doesn't make sense to kill him without drawing that out to some kind of conclusion.

for someone who had a pretty major role in recent arcs, whose entire characterization in the story has been set up around a deep need for belonging and a "home" and people who don't want to "use" him, the plotline so far sure hasn't wrapped up his story in any satisfying way. as far as it appears right now, he just kind of... touched fyodor and died. is that really it for him?

especially after he finally starts to reject fyodor's manipulation, and finally makes choices for himself, like the choice to side with dazai?

no, i'm not convinced he's dead- bsd's very guilty of fake out deaths, and there is no reason for me to believe that sigma's actually dead when his arc is still clearly unfinished.

sigma joining the ADA makes sense

in the mersault arc, it is established that sigma wants to join the ADA. fyodor even says it point blank to him, and he doesn't deny it. he thinks about the ADA and how they're "not using dazai, and dazai isn't using them". they are a group of people who care about each other and take care of each other of their own agency, no pun intended.

as i mentioned above, sigma's entire character so far has been revolving around belonging and how he wishes to find a home. a home suited for a bizarre gifted like him with no past, who doesn't understand why he exists. in many respects, a lot of the agency members share similarities to sigma in the sense that they also didn't understand their place in the world.

atsushi's an orphan who was told he should just "die in a ditch somewhere".

dazai's an empty man who sees no purpose in existence.

ranpo was a genius surrounded by monsters, and he could never comprehend why the world was so illogical and strange.

the character whose backstory is the most similar to sigma is yosano. like sigma, she had a powerful gift. like sigma, she was used for that gift. mori took advantage of her healing to create an undead army against her will. the difference is that yosano despaired, while sigma is resentful - yosano isolated herself since there was no way for her to live without being used for her gift, while sigma is bitter regarding the unfair nature of the world that he is continually used.

in the end, yosano is found by the agency and ranpo. ranpo says this:

the ADA is a place where ability users are valued for their personhood, not their ability. for sigma and yosano, who have only ever been valued by others for their powerful abilities, the ADA is the only place they belong, the one place they can live freely as full people rather than just vessels for their abilities.

sigma wants to join. it's the perfect culmination of his arc. he'll finally have a home, a place to belong. in his first decision he makes of his own free will, he chooses to help the ADA. plus, his ability is information exchange, which couldn't be more perfect for detective work.

it ties up all the loose ends neatly.

sigma's entrance exam

so, if the title didn't make it clear, yeah. i'm pretty convinced that sigma's entrance exam was the mersault prison break. i mean, he clearly wants to join the agency, and dazai's compared him to like half of the members already.

the armed detective agency fandom wiki has some information on entrance exams. (i know, i know, not a primary source, but I don't have that much free time to go source hunting for a tumblr bsd theory...)

we also have a few example of entrance exams that we can use as a reference: namely atsushi's, kyouka's, and dazai's. from these, we can synthesize a few defining characteristics of entrance exams.

(i made a table because i'm a pretty visual person, and this is a good way for me to organize information!!! this is essentially an adapted affinity map for my fellow nerds out there)

some key elements of entrance exams administered by the ADA include:

a perceived (real or fake) threat: in atsushi's case, this was the "bomber"; in kyouka's case, the moby dick; in dazai's case, whoever was responsible for the disappearance and subsequent murder of the yokohama visitors.

the threat's victims involve civilians/innocent people: for atsushi, the terrorist had naomi as a hostage; in kyouka's case, the entirety of yokohama was in danger; in dazai's case, the kidnapping/murder victims were all civilians.

the ADA candidate MUST (is pushed/forced/pressured/required to) play a major role in the resolution of the threat: atsushi must neutralize the bomber; kyouka is the only one who can stop the moby dick; dazai plays a very large role in stopping the azure messenger.

(optional) sacrifice: atsushi jumped on a bomb; kyouka crashed her plane.

(optional) a way to ensure the candidate's safety: for atsushi, the fact that it wasn't a real bomb; for kyouka, fukuzawa's ability and demon snow.

the ADA candidate is kept in the dark: atsushi was NOT told they were completing an entrance exam, or that the ADA even had such a tradition. kyouka knew she was doing an entrance exam, but wasn't ever fully explained the stakes; i.e. nobody told her that after passing she would be able to free herself and control demon snow.

the entrance exam is administered by a more senior member: dazai or kunikida, with the approval of fukuzawa.

now consider if dazai were administering an entrance exam for sigma during the mersault prison break. let's see if the key elements are present:

the threat: fyodor

the victims: the entire world

the candidate's pivotal role: sigma must touch fyodor to learn fyodor's ability

the sacrifice: sigma risks his life and touches fyodor, despite having been told that fyodor's ability might also work through touch, i.e. he risks dying

the failsafe: n/a, as far as we know currently (i can see an argument for chuuya but i personally find that's a bit of a stretch)

the secret: sigma has not been told that this is an entrance exam (neither has the audience)

the examinator: dazai

pretty neat. at least, no inconsistencies - and, considering the bigger picture, it makes sense.

a lot of things in the mersault arc also make sense under this interpretation. why did dazai pick sigma instead of a more "useful" escape tool? for recruitment. why did dazai promise and insist upon saving sigma? for recruitment. why did dazai shove sigma off the elevator even though he knew chuuya would break their fall and they weren't going to die? for recruitment.

it feels like a much better ending for sigma than just being... dead.

screenshot compilation

conclusion

you're so right.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd sigma #bsd #bsd theory #bungou stray dogs analysis #bungou stray dogs sigma #bsd spoilers #bsd season 5

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brighttearss · 3 months ago

Text

anywhere,anytime -

︶𝆹𝅥⏝ ◦ 𑁍 ◦ ︶𝆹𝅥⏝

You were so focused on your studies that you didn’t even notice Jinx arriving, even though the library was dead silent, with only you inside.

Jinx snuck up on you, getting closer and closer until she was right behind you, and then... "Boo!"

You jumped in your chair, almost tipping it over. Your calm expression instantly turned into irritation as Jinx burst out laughing at your reaction.

"Real funny," you muttered.

"Oh, I know!" she replied with a mischievous grin.

You rolled your eyes, giving up on scolding her, even though she probably deserved it. But what would be the point? You were too busy right now.

"Busy being a nerd again?" she teased, that playful glint in her eyes.

You gave her a sarcastic look, ready to fire back just as fast.

"Busy being a brat?" you shot back without missing a beat.

Jinx raised an eyebrow, surprised by your quick response. It was clear you were annoyed. But that familiar smirk crept back onto her face as she pulled up a chair and sat next to you.

"Oh my god,toots... are you really that mad? It was just a little scare," Jinx said, still giggling. She clearly enjoyed the fact that you could never seem to stay mad at her — or at least, that’s what she thought. To her, you were adorable when you got frustrated, which made it hard for her to take you seriously when you tried to show anger.

You sighed, softening your expression, realizing that maybe she had a point. Maybe you were just stressed. But only partially — because, honestly, she pulled this kind of stunt all the time. Sometimes you’d laugh, but other times, like now, it just annoyed you.

"Sorry... I’m just stressed about these exams," you mumbled, your voice dropping as the stress overwhelmed you.

Jinx propped her chin in her hands, her eyes locked on you, a smile playing at her lips. "Just a little stressed?"

She emphasized "a little," mocking the fact that you’d been studying for these exams for over a month and still felt unprepared. Meanwhile, she was the type of person who barely glanced at the books the night before — complete opposites.

Noticing your hand resting on the table, she started to absentmindedly play with your fingers, as if she couldn’t help but pull your attention away from your studies.

"Hmmh…" you murmured, trying to ignore her teasing.

You made a small pout as you stared at the book, crammed with way too many words.

"...You must have a talent for math, always getting top scores," you commented sincerely, not knowing Jinx cheated.

Jinx gave you a mischievous look, and her smile widened. Realizing your assumption was true, you playfully smacked her arm, drawing a theatrical groan as she rubbed the spot.

"I can't believe this!" you exclaimed, exasperated.

Jinx, seeing she was cornered, gave you her best puppy-dog eyes. She was annoyingly good at it — as cute as she was convincing.

"Sorry... I just can’t be as pure as you," she said with a dramatic sigh, dripping with irony.

As you tried to focus on the damn book again, Jinx’s hand began to slide up your thigh, her touch more suggestive than innocent.

She pushed your hair behind your ear, then leaned in to kiss your neck — nibbling, licking, teasing. You didn’t exactly ignore it, but you didn’t say anything either. And because of that, you were already starting to get wet.

Jinx’s hands roamed across every reachable spot on your body. Suddenly, she tilted your chin up and caught your lips in a hot, but surprisingly tender kiss.

Mixing your saliva felt like sugar — her lips were just that sweet. You responded to her touch as well, running your hands through her hair and down her hips and waist.

That cheeky grin returned to her face, and in the blink of an eye, she slid under the table, kneeling between your legs.

"W-what are you doing?" you stammered.

You knew exactly what she was about to do. The room suddenly felt much hotter than it had moments before. And even though you’d done this countless times, it always took you by surprise. Jinx had a way of pushing your boundaries just enough that you gave in — but you didn’t mind as much as you liked to pretend. Bathrooms, cinemas, dark alleyways, even your own home — the only problem was this was happening while your parents were asleep. Most of the time, it was because Jinx would sneak through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. Everywhere seemed like the perfect spot for your reckless adventures. You trusted her, and in a way, you trusted your luck not to get caught.

"Nothing muchh... just helping you relax a little," she said with that smug smile, clearly enjoying herself.

Her hand slid up your thigh, slowly, and stopped at the edge of your panties. The soft sigh that escaped your lips was all the confirmation she needed.

"We’ve got class in 20 minutes..." you whispered, not really wanting her to hear.

She heard you perfectly but ignored it, her fingers now teasing higher, pushing your skirt up.

"We’ve got time," Jinx said, like it was a final verdict. She was going to fuck you right here, right now.

She continued teasing you from your thighs to your hips, watching them like a hungry animal.

"You look so damn pretty in this skirt." Jinx bit her lip, teasing you further, and the more she teased, the wetter you became.

Five minutes passed, and Jinx slid your panties to the side. You didn’t stop her, but you couldn’t help glancing at the door. Instead of making you tense, though, it only made you wetter — something you and Jinx both shared.

She started by teasing your aching clit, which was begging for some kind of touch, making you squirm as you tried to stifle your moans. Noticing you glancing at the door every five seconds, Jinx gently grabbed your chin with her free hand, guiding your eyes back to her.

"And what if we get caught?"

"We won’t."

Without warning, she slipped two fingers inside you. Jinx glanced at the clock again — ten minutes, you were fine.

She barely needed to put in any effort. Her fingers slid through your slickness like butter, and as she slightly increased the intensity, you were already whimpering.

You started to lose control, so Jinx covered your mouth with her hand. When she saw you could keep your moans in check better, Jinx used her free hand to caress your body. You leaned your head back, knowing you could easily cum from just this.

"You're so beautiful like this..." Jinx whispered, admiring the tears of pleasure in your eyes, which she wiped away with her hand.

"My pretty little slut."

Jinx loved dirty talk, and it was something that never failed to get you soaked.

"Looks like your pussy’s ready for me anytime, huh?" Jinx gazed at the dripping mess between your legs before looking back up at you, waiting for a response.

"I-I... I..."

"You're gonna cum, baby?"

You nodded. Your legs trembled, eyes rolling back just as Jinx pulled her fingers out, leaving you whimpering in frustration as she sucked them clean, like they were coated in honey.

"What the fu—" you started to complain, but midway through, Jinx’s tongue replaced her fingers.

"Fuck meee," you moaned softly, begging the girl between your legs. Jinx rested your thighs on her shoulders, and when her tongue shifted from your sensitive clit — which was already driving you crazy — to your wet entrance, you felt like you were losing your mind. She licked you like her favorite popsicle — the best one she’d ever had.

You squeezed her head with your thighs, and she smiled, noticing how tight your walls were getting, too. Jinx knew you were close.

Then, finally, you came into your beautiful girlfriend’s mouth, your vision going white for a moment. Jinx drank every drop of your juices, as if it was water in the desert. She looked up at you, eyes closed, and smiled, satisfied with her work. After a minute, she slid back into her chair and wiped your fluids from her chin with the back of her hand.

Here’s the translation with a smooth, engaging tone and some added flow:

After you opened your eyes, Jinx grabbed your hands, gently caressing them before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. Right after, her hands slid down to your thighs, making sure nothing was messy.

"I lov you."

She said, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you too."

︶𝆹𝅥⏝ ◦ 𑁍 ◦ ︶𝆹𝅥⏝

Wc:1.485

Thanks for your attention!

#jinx arcane #arcane #lesbian #jinx × reader #arcane jinx #jinx arcane fic #jinx × fem!reader #jinx

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yoonzinhoe · 2 years ago

Text

pretty u ; vernon x reader

DETAILS theme: kilig, confession, fluff....just so much fluff,,,, au: college students, upperclassman!vernon, sophomore!reader ___

"Let's go out tonight?"

You shot your roommate a 'really?' look. "In the middle of the week before the week of exams, really?"

"I seriously want you to say that sentence and hear yourself again," she retaliated, rolling her eyes. "You're always in here lately,” she groaned, “you need a life!"

You shook your head, turning your head back to you readings. Your roommate, Kim always had it easy, being smart and all, even if she crammed the night before the test she'd probably still end up on top, or she wouldn't, well, either top or second top.

Regardless, it'd be better not to lose 3rd place, so—

Clack.

Your thoughts where interrupted by a faint tap coming from your university dorm window. Kim put her eyeliner pen down, sending a look over to the window and then to you, which you responded to with a shrug and a dismissive wave.

Her shoulders fell with a short sigh, walking towards the window. You noticed her eyes widen and a smile slowly form on her face as she tilted her head towards you as if she knew a secret.

"Dude, what?" You deadpanned.

Putting a hand on her mouth and the other on her hip, she replied teasingly, "Oh my God, you're gonna love this."

With yet another eyeroll you finally got off your desk, shutting your readings close and walking towards Kim. "Are you kidding me right now? I have like a paper due tomorrow and org work to finish and oh my God you're not even listeni—" you felt her fingertips on your chin as she groaned and forced your gaze out the window and down to the pavement, where a trio of upperclassmen in your department stood playfully gazing back— two of them on bicycles and one without.

You recognized the one without a bike first— Lee Chan, a blockmate of yours. Chan was known to many as ‘Dino’ so as not to confuse him with another Lee Chan in your grade. He always seemed to be surrounded by upperclassmen (they’re friends maybe?) and you remembered feeling sorry for him most of the time because he was probably being bullied for lunch money or homework answers or some other ridiculous crap. He was nice and friendly, though.

Boo Seungkwan made circles around him, poking him in the ribs occasionally to piss him off. Seungkwan was popular for his event hosting skills. Oftentimes he was selected to conduct culminating activities, but he was more oftenly requested to sing.

When Seungkwan finally got out of the way you met eyes with Choi Hansol.

Vernon.

An upperclassman of yours who was often seen reading in the library either dead alone or with 12 other people messing around him. There was no in between.

Vernon was always kind to you— you knew each other from the Literature Club and the English Society Organization along with Hong Joshua. There were multiple occasions wherein Vernon would come to your dorm or approach you at lunch to notify you of what you missed during the meetings you'd skip due to org overload, and even more occasions where he'd just recommend a good book.

It was funny. Anyone who had ever talked to Vernon could always confirm that he wasn't a talker. He wasn't necessarily antisocial but he was just a little more quiet when he wasn't with his friends. However your encounters with Vernon were always different, though, and you could complain about how he could talk your ear off if he really wanted to.

If you didn’t enjoy his chatterbox self, at least.

He waved at you, gesturing for you to come downstairs, and you smiled.

Kim smiled, turning her head, quirking a brow, and scoffing teasingly, "Oh my God??"

"Shut up Kim," you retaliated, clipping your hair up and putting on your university hoodie. You grabbed some tinted sunscreen and lipbalm to apply on the way down.

"I'm in literal tears you like him so much," Kim cackled, racing you to the door to milk the moment.

"Shut up actually!" you yelled back, swiping your phone off the dining table of your dorm. You turned to Kim, "I'll be back in a bit,"

"Take your time," she chortled with a shrug and surrendering hands,.

As the door shut behind you you couldn't stop the smile building up on your face any longer, looking forward to maybe another book recommendation or something-- to be honest, you felt kind of happy to see him out of the blue. Running down the stairs, you spread a drop of the sunscreen on your face before lightly patting to lock it in, hurriedly smoothing the lipbalm over your lips.

You made sure to quickly check your reflection in the mirrored glass surface before you opened up the door, only to be greeted by Vernon's sweet smile, he looked up shyly, "Hi."

"Hi, what's up?" you replied nonchalantly and totally not out of breath at all. You noticed Dino snicker behind him before Seungkwan pushed him away, hitting him with the palm of his hand ("Ah! Ah! Hyung what the hell?!" he'd yell, "We talked about this earlier?? Literally go! Go, go already!").

Vernon glanced at them and then you, gesturing to go somewhere. "Come with me to the playground?"

You smiled, eyebrows raised and a shiver down your spine, “In this cold? How do I know you aren’t going to kill me or something.”

"I think you know what I have to lose if I did that." He chuckled before swinging a leg over his bike, "Hop on,"

You looked away, embarrassed, before seating yourself behind him on his bike. "Hold onto me," he said, not even daring to look at you. You snaked your arms around his torso and you felt him tense up. "All good?"

"Yeah." You smiled, “let’s go.”

When you got to the park, you headed over to the swings-- the afternoon was cold and the sun was only setting, the golden rays feeling refreshing on your face. 'Maybe I should go out tonight, what's the harm?' you thought to yourself, the weather was so nice anyway.

You noticed Vernon walking over to you with coffee milk in one hand and redbean bao in the other. Two of each. "What's this?" you tilted your head as he offered one pair to you.

He crouched down in front of you. "Kim told me you've been busy with school lately." he said, eyes meeting yours.

"Yeah, week before the week of exams, you know," you replied, taking a bite out of the bao. Still hot. You blew some of the air out your mouth to cool down, "Can't study too hard."

Vernon stood up, looking towards the sunlight. You watched his hair dance with the breeze-- his face painted with a golden yellow shimmer that made him mistakable for a painting. "Don't work too hard,” he said, crouching to meet your eyes as he halted your swinging.

Taken aback, you flinched. "What?"

He looked down at you, and then away.

"You tend to overwork yourself often and you end up skipping meals. You should remember to look after yourself and take a break sometimes,"

"Is that what you're here for?" you laughed, "To remind me?"

The right edge of his lips curled slightly, “You just won’t let me be cute, huh?”

“Huh?”

"I have something to tell you," he sighed, cutting you off quickly. You could tell he was nervous.

"Yes?"

"I want to make sure you're safe and healthy. I want to remind you to take breaks and be there for you when you need help or anything at all. I want to treat you to breakfast, lunch, dinner, the movies," he paused to look up, like he was scared of the next few words, "I've never felt like this before-- so compelled to be close to someone like this." he maintained eye contact steadily, taking a breath.

"Don't take this the wrong way but I can't see anything but you," he held onto the tip of your chin, lifting it and causing you to look at him, "I just can't get enough,"

"I want to pick up all the pretty words and give them to you," he pulls you closer, "I promise myself every morning-- I promise I'll tell you what I've always wanted so say--", your eyes meet and he silently asks for permission. You grant it. "You're so pretty." he finishes and you feel him pull your chin towards his face before your lips are on his own.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #Seventeen #vernon #fluff

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reverie-starlight · 2 years ago

Note

hello, hope ure doing well :D may i please request an akaashi fic where the reader is going thru grief of the passing of their mother and can’t focus in class leading onto low grades for their semester exam making them feel even worse bc that’s not what their mom wants (reader always gets good grades) and reader feels like a disappointment and just breaks down one day?? i’m so sorry if this is too specific, just finding it hard to cope and no one understands!! thank you so much <3

ANON I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, but I have literally been dealing with exactly what you requested (still am, but now I'm on reading week so :P). And since I'm literally writing this immediately after a rough grieving session of my own, I feel like now I can tackle it and do it justice. bc... as someone who also used to get good grades before my mom died then started almost failing everything after... this hits hard!!

And just another little side note, I'm so sorry for your loss. if you ever want to reach out to talk to someone who's going through the same thing, my inbox or my messages are always open <3 dead mom club solidarity !! thank you so much for your request, anon and again i'm SO sorry this took so long.

{Grades and Grief- Akaashi}

warnings: death of mother (mentioned and focused on, no descriptive details), depression/grief, anxiety, this counts as hurt/comfort right? fluff and lots of support from akaashi. university life needs to be a warning tbh so its here.

gn!reader, timeskip!akaashi (except it's more like, in between the time skip cause it's university)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your heart dropped as you opened your emails and saw that the grades for your midterms had been posted.

on one hand you were hopeful. maybe you did better than you expected? maybe you would open up the online portal and see that you passed. just a pass, that's all you were hoping for at this point.

you ignored the way your stomach twisted at the fact that all you wanted was a pass. you used to be at the top of your classes in high school, and now you were barely scraping by.

but deep down you knew it would be a failing grade. it was getting impossible to hope for anything better. you could barely find it in yourself to go to class some days, let alone actually study. it required more brain power than you could expend.

and on the days you did go to class, you felt like a zombie. mindless, lethargic, stupid. definitely not in any condition to take notes that were good enough to aid you.

you opened the email and sighed. another fail. you tried to convince yourself that you'd do better next time. that you'd start studying earlier, you'd go to your professor's office hours and ask questions, you'd do the work that needed to be done.

your future was at stake, why couldn't you just put in the the work-

this was one test in one class. there would be other chances to raise your grade.

breathe.

how many times can I keep telling myself that before I stop believing it? before it becomes an empty promise?

breathe. you'll be okay.

it's self-sabotage, how much longer can I just stay like this? mom wouldn't have wanted this for me. she'd want to see me succeed. I'm such a-

breathe.

you tried to do exactly what your boyfriend kept telling you: be kind to yourself. "you're grieving the death of someone who was supposed to be there your whole life. the one person you never thought would leave. it's completely natural to be struggling with your mental health right now. don't be mean to yourself." is what he had said. "take the time to feel what you need to feel, bottling it up will only make it worse."

you sighed and curled yourself into a ball on your bed. you were finding it hard to breathe.

feel what you need to feel, huh? when was the last time you had a good cry session, anyway?

the tightness in your chest only grew as you started to tear up. you tried to keep the thoughts of being a disappointment to your mother away, but you glanced at the picture of her smiling face on your nightstand and winced.

if she could see you know, you wondered if she would be angry or comforting.

grieving was one of the loneliest experiences anyone could ever deal with. unique to each person, not one person to share the same memories with, becoming acutely aware of your own timeline. and not something that happens often to young people. none of your friends understood. they could try, but they'd never get it. and sometimes you felt like they didn't even care enough to attempt it.

you've never felt more alone and you've never been more aware of it.

"and if you ever need comfort, I don't know how much help I'll be, but I'm always here to listen. it's never going to be too much."

so instead of dwelling on it, you picked up your phone and called the one person who would.

it took three rings for akaashi to pick up.

the smile in his voice immediately soothed you. anything related to your boyfriend felt like a blanket to you. comforting, warm and soft. "hello, my love, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

you sniffed and tried to get some words out without choking up. "keiji," his name came out pitifully.

"oh sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"can you come over, please? I need you."

"of course I can, I'll be right there. I love you."

"I love you, please be careful."

the second you hung up the phone, you let more tears fall freely. you didn't even know what you were crying about anymore, there were so many emotions mixed up inside you. but for some reason you didn't want to fully let loose while you were alone. you wanted comfort when you were at your most vulnerable- comfort and validation you weren't capable of giving yourself in that moment. there was only one other person who could give you that now.

while you waited, you thought more about your mother. it really wasn't fair that you had to lose her, why did she have to go? it didn't matter how long it had been since she passed, this type of pain will be everlasting, you thought.

ten minutes later you heard the door to your apartment unlock and you got up to greet him. he had a bunch of bags in his arms that he set down the minute he saw you walk out of your room.

he held his arms open and you crashed into him immediately. finally you felt safe enough to let the dam break. akaashi shushed you as you sobbed into his chest, rubbing your back gently and whispering soft affirmations into your ears.

"what happened, my love?"

"I- I failed another test," you hiccupped. "and I don't know what to do to help myself get out of this hole."

"oh dear... it's going to be okay."

he tenderly picked you up and carried you to the bedroom and you continued to cry into his shoulder. his heart broke at the sound of your whimpers.

once you were both settled comfortably on your bed, you took one of his hands and played with his fingers. "keiji, am I a disappointment?"

he shook his head before you could even finish speaking. "never."

"I just feel like I'm letting so many people down, myself included, but mainly my mom... her one request throughout my whole life was that I do my best in school. and now I'm failing and I can't help but think-" your voice cracked and he cupped your cheek with his other hand.

"baby, look at me. you are not a disappointment, okay? you are so far from that ever even being a possibility. and she would be so proud of you."

you looked up at him and your eyes widened. "but I'm not living up to her expectations-"

"you're doing your best. she would understand that."

"I'm not, though!" a flash of red hot anger ran through you. "I'm not doing my best! If I were doing my best, I'd be passing. I'd be studying, paying attention in my classes and not just staying in bed. not just staring at the ceiling and dissociating for hours when I need to be working on assignments. I'm not doing my best and I don't know how to fix it!" instead of getting upset at you for blowing up, he just listened to what you were saying.

as you got up to pace the room, you kept ranting. "I know something needs to change, I can't keep going on like this, but it's like I'm stuck, keiji, I don't know what to do and I'm so angry. and I'm tired, exhausted, actually. I hate this, I feel useless. I'm in limbo. I don't know why I can't force myself to change, but I'm absolutely not doing my best."

true anger wasn't an emotion you felt often before your mom died, but now you were well acquainted with it. you thanked your lucky stars you scored a partner as patient as akaashi.

"have you considered that you're doing the best with what you have right now?"

you paused and looked at him. "what?"

he shifted and took your hand. "my love, you've been through something extremely traumatic. you've told me before that you've been in survival mode for a very long time now. that's not your fault. you can't control it on your own. keeping that in mind, you absolutely are doing your best. you get up and keep going everyday. even though it scares you. you're still kind, and actively striving to be a good person. this rough patch is temporary, everything will be okay. she would be proud of you for everything you've overcome so far."

you bit your lip and looked down, shaking your head. "what if this is 'my best' forever? what if I'm not capable of changing anymore?"

"anyone is capable of change at any given time, my love, you're the one who told me that. I promise you, everything will be okay. and besides," he tugged your hand to guide you onto his lap. "the willingness to change and not just refuse to heal is there."

"but what if it takes too long?"

"it won't. there's no such thing as too long, everyone's healing process is different. and you have me by your side as well, ready to help however you need." he finished his speech with a kiss to your nose and you smiled a bit.

"...thank you, keiji. I love you."

"I love you too, dear. I'll be here as long as you'll let me."

"forever, if that's alright with you?"

"of course, my love." his arms tightened around you.

"can we stay like this for a bit longer?"

"mhmm, you've had a big day. we can cuddle for as long as you need."

you buried your face into the crook of his neck and planted a few kisses. "I love you,"

he kissed the top of your head. "I love you too, sweetheart."

you repeated the phrase over and over again, smiling a little wider each time he returned the sentiment with a kiss to your face.

"can I ask you one more thing?"

"go ahead."

"are you proud of me despite me failing so much this year?"

"I'm so proud of you, baby. nothing would ever change that."

looking up at him with wide eyes, he just smiled and leaned down to kiss your lips. "so proud of my baby. always trying their best. so sweet, so kind, just needs to be loved on a little extra sometimes. all mine."

a happy sigh was released, and with it, most of the tension in your body, so you rested against your boyfriend. "all yours."

you felt a lot better now. not perfect, and still uncertain about some things, but at least with akaashi there you knew you didn't have to go it alone.

~BONUS SCENE~

after a while of cuddling in bed, a thought hit you and you shot up, obviously in a clearer, less fuzzy state of mind.

"love, what were all those bags you had earlier? did you stop somewhere before you came?"

his eyes widened a bit and a blush spread over his cheeks. "yes and no. uh... before you called, I was actually picking us up some food and other things for a stay-in date night. I was planning on surprising you today."

you could have burst into tears again at how cute his confession was. "keijiiiii, you're so sweet!" you ran your fingers through his hair a bit and he melted into the touch. "what a sweet boy I have," you cooed.

he made a noise of protest and you giggled. "can we go see what you bought? please?"

he nodded and smiled at you. he was so glad you seemed to be in better spirits now. there wasn't anything akaashi keiji wouldn't do to see you happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this was literally just me projecting holy shit. that was really a look inside my brain, wow. but anon I hope you enjoyed it!! and I hope it was worth the wait, I'm so so so so sorry it took so long. this is the first thing I've managed to write in a while (and I wrote this all in one sitting!!). But the ask was very therapeutic for me, I really need this type of validation :'D

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji fluff #akaashi x reader fluff #akaashi x reader angst #akaashi keiji angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader angst

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hats-off-to-nyx · 1 year ago

Text

Dear ....

The title of the playlist I sent you to catch your attention

Funny enough it did

You were nice... I guess, but made me fall for you twice as much nevertheless.

You didn't even wonder why I randomly sent it to you, only said it was cute and you'll listen to it too.

Damn, the effect you had on me was so huge. The mere fact you accepted my friend request sent butterflies bursting.

I was sick after exam week, Intramurals, PE day and some personal shit, but one interaction from you sent me smiling all week.

Talking with you was a roller coaster ride of emotions. One time I smiled too much it’d hurt my face, one time, my frown was so visible, my face looked like it was drooping.

Sending you songs I want to recommend for the sake to keep talking to you. You recommend songs back i'd listen to it until tomorrow.

My heart raced like it was in a marathon, other times it broke like bits and pieces like scattered stars on the cosmos.

My heart swooned whenever you talk about your favorites. How you gush over things you were passionate about.

How I really wanted to escape my house at dead midnight just to come to you and comfort you in your problems you cryptically relay.

Jokes, that I sometimes took seriously, haha sorry about that.

Words you wrote and symbols you accompany drove me in a whirlwind of thoughts

Candies, laughs, and you called me "sweet soul"

You had me wrapped…

But one faithful night I accidentally confessed

I feared I might've scared you off

It wasn't what I planned, being friends with you was already fine

You said we were totally alright, that we're better off friends, I accepted that

But...

That was the end

Was that the beginning I started to open my eyes...

Tiny little red flags I deliberately ignored.

It was always me who initiated the talk. You only reply fast if the topic only interested you

You barely even recommended songs to me?

It was always me...

Did you really even listened to the songs I sent?

A tornado of anxiety came rushing in

What if you mocked how stupid I was. Sent it to friends to have them mock me with you. Laugh at how stupid and desperate I was. How pathetically bullshit I was…

But hey, maybe I'm just overthinking? You're not like that right?

Maybe you were busy. I'm sure there are times you can't reply to your friends quickly

Haha…

Here I am gaslighting myself again

Convincing myself I've never made you feel uncomfortable

Or that you didn't long pressed my messages just because I'm a person in your life as irrelevant as the stranger you meet everyday

That you just had so much to think about

I guess?

Well…

That was until one night, something cleared out my suspicion

It was another Intramurals at school. I wasn't a student anymore because I stopped to focus on work.

I attended because I really wanna see my friends

To see you…

It was awarding night, I saw you with your team waiting for your time to get on the stage. You were on your phone. So I decided to chat you…

"Hey **** you at school?"

Was I too desperate? I don't know…

But you never replied, even viewed my message, nothing…

I wondered if you didn't receive it, but how? You were on your phone the whole time

You only replied hours later

Haha fck that kinda hurt

Was I not even your friend?

But hey... Who am I even...

So no biggie

I only got to see you when we finally approached you... You were so nice, made me forget you ignored my message haha

But, I was constantly reminded of that, everytime

Like a a ghost

That kept on haunting me

I'm no one

Just another one of your admirers

It's funny because, you were one of the reason why Intramurals was memorable

It started with Intramurals, and I think it ended with Intramurals

So I wrote this letter to pour out my emotions. Instead, it made me realize many things

I’m merely but an annoyance for you. And I apologize for that

I know you have someone you call your “mine”

I'll stop now before I fall even deeper into the rabbit hole I dug

This is fine

Maybe it's for the best

It is for the best

Consider this letter the last

Dear ....

#love letters #realization #limerence #Spotify

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nightshadesmusings · 1 year ago

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In The Fume Hood

Word Count: 1553

“Sorry, I can’t make it to Club tonight, I’ve got chem lab and piles of homework. I have so many midterms coming up.”

“Yeah, I know, again! It feels like I was doing this last week. I was doing this last week! Aghh, the curse of being a STEM major!” I hang up, sighing.

I look in the mirror, seeing the bags under my eyes. I think I got three hours of sleep last night. I haphazardly run a brush through my unruly hair, getting it out of the way just enough to put a hair tie around it.

“Gotta love zero-credit labs.”

“Werk,” says my roommate, a chemistry major who can empathize with my suffering. She was up as late as I was, both of us crying in solidarity over our assignments. By this point, we’re both caffeine zombies, trying to get everything done in the desperate hope that we can get a break. Or at the very least, a good night’s sleep.

I scarf down a granola bar and head to the science building for my chem lab, stopping at the campus coffee shop to get a cold brew.

I throw the empty plastic cup into the trash as I walk into the science building. The caffeine is kicking in, I think I’m alive right now. Then again, with the amount of sleep I’ve been getting, I could be hallucinating. Or the caffeine stopped my heart and this is just what hell looks like. If I am dead and in hell, I’ll leave a review on Yelp: “Zero stars, Dante was wrong. Too many exams, not enough fire and brimstone.”

I continue to walk on autopilot, trudging through hallways lined with research posters and the game of Pin the Element on the Periodic Table. I make it to the bulletin board covered in club and study abroad posters, the one with the orange sign held on the top with an unnecessary amount of staples, at least fifteen of them. It reads, “No staples on bulletin boards. Only push pins.” I take a left, ducking into the chemistry lab two doors down, feeling the rush of cold air on my face. They always keep it freezing in here. Perhaps this is a Dante-accurate version of hell after all.

That’s odd. The door is unlocked, but the lab’s empty. They don’t usually trust us in here without a professor, or worse, a TA. I make for the door, but it’s locked. There’s no way to unlock it from inside, either. Something’s up, it was clearly open when I walked in. I set my backpack in one of the side cubbies.

Whirrrrrrrrrrr…

The fume hoods seem oddly loud today. Maybe someone cranked them up, or something? We’re not supposed to be working with anything overly dangerous today. It should just be another round of titrations, standing at a lab table slowly dripping hydroxide into acid, hoping that the phenolphthalein will be in my favor and not turn violently pink after one drop.

Man, I hate phenolphthalein.

WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR…

Okay, that’s gotten louder. I’m going to assume the caffeine and lack of sleep are messing with my brain because there is no way a fume hood can be that loud. I really need to get my midterms over with so that I can sleep.

Curiosity gets the better of me. I walk over to the large fume hood. It’s empty. Why would anyone turn it on for this? I notice that its sliding glass door is slightly open. I move to close it.

WHIRRRRRR… WHOOOSHHHH…

Yup. That’s it. The caffeine stopped my heart and I’m in hell, grappling with a possessed fume hood. Who knew demons liked chemistry labs? This door refuses to close. I try to slide it open. It moves easily, opening completely.

WHOOOOOOSHHH… WHIRRRRR!

Barnacles. The door’s not closing again. My ponytail gets sucked into the hood. I try to brace myself against the wall, but this thing, this goddamn possessed hoover vacuum of a fume hood refuses to allow its sleep-deprived, overcaffeinated sacrifice to escape. And then I feel my feet leave the ground. The last thing I see before everything goes black is the hood’s door closing. Then there is just the roar of the wind.

WHOOOOOOSHHHHHHSHSHSHHSHHHH…

And now I’m falling.

Falling.

Still falling.

Darwin’s loathing of barnacles, how did I even get this high up?

“Oof!” I land hard on the ground, but not hard enough to get seriously injured. I lay here for a moment, winded.

It’s soft. My cheek is pressed up against the earth and I smell its warm scent. It smells alive. Slowly, I open my eyes. From my perspective, lying on the ground, the prairie grasses form a thick forest of stalks. I’m in a clump of goldenrod, many square feet dominated by its deep green stems and leaves, topped with golden-yellow groupings of flowers.

It’s probably a clonal organism. One root system sending up more and more shoots. Every plant genetically identical.

I feel a hard lump underneath me. I roll over to see a crushed goldenrod stalk with a thick gall halfway up its stem. There’s probably a gall fly larva inside. The fly lays an egg in the stem and stimulates the plant cells to rapidly divide, creating a ball of tissue to feed the larva. A tiny ant trundles over my hand as I lay here. Perhaps a nanitic, hatched from a new queen’s first brood and bravely venturing out into the world to find food for its starving mother.

I roll onto my back. Purple asters grow amongst the yellow goldenrod in greater abundance. The two colors are complementary, the contrast must look orgasmic to the pollinators that live here. Speaking of pollinators, there’s a bumblebee, its fuzzy, adorably chunky body maneuvering around the asters. It has a big black abdomen, which makes it a common eastern bumble bee.

I slowly start to sit up. I’m in a grassland so vast that it seems to go on forever. As I pull myself to my feet, I watch a dragonfly zoom by at high speed, making course corrections blindingly quickly. I watch in fascination as it chases a smaller insect, effectively predicting where its prey will go to plot its course. This skill is a sign of the dragonfly’s vast intelligence, its ability to handle such a complex cognitive task instinctively.

I hear the constant sound of the cicadas as I watch the grasshoppers launch themselves to hundreds of times their height. In the distance, a herd of bison grazes. Their saliva stimulates the plants that they graze on to grow more vigorously, the same way picking sweet grass helps it to thrive, so long as you only take half. Soon the huge mammals will move on to other pastures, allowing the grass to grow again.

I brush past the purplish spikes atop a big bluestem plant. I can hear the cicadas and the grass as it ebbs and flows, rustling in the wind. I see the dragonflies skimming across the grass. I see a falcon overhead, making its minute adjustments as it rides the wind. I feel the grass moving around me, brushing against me. I hear a few toads croaking; there’s likely a marshy spot nearby. I hear a rustle near my foot and I look down to see a garter snake slither past. Quickly but gently, I wrap my hands around it, picking the snake up. I admire the yellow stripe that runs down its back. All of this, alive under the blue sky, windswept clouds rolling across it.

And I hear it. I can hear the music. The great song of everything around me. It’s alive. Everything is alive. I gently let the snake go, falling to my knees. This whole time, I’ve been going through the motions, struggling as I sit at my desk, laughing at my pain to avoid confronting it. I cannot hear the music in a classroom. I cannot read the music from a piece of compressed dead tree in a book. In trying to find the music, I gave up the thing inside of me that allowed me to hear it.

So I allow myself to sit on the ground and cry as I come to the epiphany that I lost the thing that gave me life. I feel the tears running down my face as I hear the music weave through my soul again. I welcome it in its familiarity and its novelty; in its ever-changing symphony that sings the song of existence.

I realize that I finally have an answer to the simple question that has haunted me for so long, “So, why do you want to be a botanist?”

I want to be a botanist because I hear the songs of things that are alive, and I want to understand them. I want to be a botanist because their music brings me to life. I can take the pictures in my thoughts and expand them, inking in new details with every discovery.

By Chuck Darwin’s most hated barnacle, I feel alive again.

Perhaps the fume hood isn’t a demon. Perhaps it reminds us of what we lose when we stop listening to the music.

I suppose we all find ourselves in the fume hood.

#writing #creative writing #nanowrimo #nano 2023 #mental health #finding yourself #life #botany #science #short story

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takeeachdayonebookatatime · 2 years ago

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Why did you elbow me? 97

Achilles Castle part 2

Castle: pov it's 8am and Kate is still sleeping. I try to get out of bed to go to the bathroom but as soon as I put my foot on the ground to stand I let out a yelp as the searing pain hits me, Kate is immediately up and by my side. The pain is overwhelming, she manages to help me to the bathroom. She quickly got me and herself dressed. Her and Alexis help me downstairs to the car. It's decided we are headed to the Er since my leg is swollen. The ride to the Er is short.

Dave: pov it's a rush to get dressed, we help get Mr Castle get in the car. Me and Alexis run into the Er to get a wheelchair for her dad since it hurts for him to walk. Mr Castle is filling out some forms. After 30 minutes his name is called. I offer to wait here in the waiting room until he is done being examined.

Kate: pov me and Alexis wheel Castle into the exam room. The Dr named Clark is nice. We help Castle onto the exam table. The Dr feels around his leg/foot and says nothing feels broken but there is a lot of swelling and a small gap. He has Castle lay on his stomach so he can look at the back of his leg. I explain how he got injured, Dr Clark said why didn't he come in yesterday I mentioned he said he was fine. Also we had no power. They are going to take him for x-rays and more in depth scans. The Dr thinks it could be that something is pulled or ripped in his leg like a muscle or tendon which is scary and concerning. Me and Alexis are waiting for him to get back from his scans.

Castle: pov a nurse wheels me to the scan room so I can get an x-ray and a more in depth scan. Once the scans are over I'm then taken for an ultrasound of my leg. I tell the nurse my wife always tells me how cold the gel is but I never realized until today how cold it really is.

nurse Karla: pov well instead of seeing a baby you're seeing your leg muscle. How many kids do you and your wife have?

Castle: pov i tell her I have one from a previous relationship but other than that none together.

nurse Karla: pov Oh I thought because you talked about the ultrasound gel being cold that you had kids together.

Castle: pov no my wife has a heart condition, so she gets a lot of echocardiograms.

nurse Karla: pov I'm so sorry I had no idea. What type of heart condition does your wife have? He says ventricular tachycardia. I ask if she was born with it. He says no she got shot at her Captain's funeral she is a homicide captain out of the 12th precinct. He mentions she had to have emergency heart surgery, Wow.

Castle: pov I'm sent back to the exam room to wait for the results. 40 minutes later the Dr comes in and mentions an orthopedic surgeon will be brought in to look at my scans. He says I have a Achilles tendon rupture. That sounds awful, he goes over the options with us.

Kate: pov me and Alexis are in the room with Castle. The orthopedic Dr and surgeon are giving us options he says surgery might be the best option so this doesn't happen again if we had come in yesterday he might not have needed surgery. Since Castle is a writer he can still work while he is recovering.

Castle: pov I agree to have the surgery, I tell Kate to call my mother, Lanie and the boys. Kate says she will also update her dad. Since I haven't eaten since last night it means I don't have to wait to have the surgery. They go over my medical history with me while Kate calls our family and friends.

Lanie: pov I'm in the morgue examining the body trying to determine what killed him. I can tell he was already dead when his organs were removed. I pick up the phone and call Esposito to update him on what I found.

Kate: pov I call Martha first who is very worried for her son, the boys and Lanie have a homicide which means they can't come down right away but hope everything goes well, my dad is in a meeting so I left him a message.

Alexis: pov me and Kate are with my dad saying goodbye as they are getting him ready for surgery it's around lunch time now. In the waiting room Dave offers to get us food because we never ate breakfast. I get up and tell Dave what Kate can eat.

Castle: pov an iv is placed in my arm and I'm wheeled into the OR. The surgeon cleans the area he will be working on. The anesthesiologist puts a mask on my face and has me count to 100.

Esposito: pov I'm talking to witnesses of the crime to see if they saw or heard anything.

Ryan: pov I'm looking the guy up online and checking out his financial records. Lanie was able to I'd the guy thanks to his wallet being in his pocket. Esposito is getting in touch with his family.

Dave: pov I grab 2 sandwiches and for Kate a bowl of oatmeal, the lady gives me a bag so I can carry the waters. I hand Alexis her sandwich and water.

Alexis: pov Dave hands Kate her oatmeal and water which she puts next to her. I'm very hungry but nervous about dad's surgery. Gram should be arriving soon. Me and Dave manage to finish our food Kate hasn't touched hers yet. I ask her if she Is nervous about dad's surgery, she says yes, something bad could happen. I can tell there is more to it but won't press her on it. I tell her that she doesn't look good. To be continued. ………

#fanfiction #castle #caskett #katebeckett #stanakatic #richardcastle #nathanfillion #lanieperish #tamalajones #javieresposito #jonhuertas #seamusdever #kevinryan #tvshow

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ktheaven · 7 years ago

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💌

#my university really decided to give us a tough time in the end of it wow #can they really just stop :(#i am managing so many stuff at once right now #hopefully by the end of this week i will be free...#i will only have to pass exams #and that's it #i am so tired i want to sleep #bts new album and your guys well-being is all i am thinking of #hope you are doing great #i love you and miss you #i am sorry if i don't reply #or my blog is dead :(#i love you and can't wait to celebrate bts come back with you #🌈✨🌺🌹🌷💛🌸#♡.txt #weather: +19 ☁️#6:37p.m #❤️️💓💕💞💖❣️❤️️

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nishiannoya · 4 years ago

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HELLO,,, i randomly thought about this (you can do whatever you want with it bc i honestly just NEEDED someone to tell this to like !/!/!/ NEED)

okay so , listen.

angry sex with matsukawa because he decided to be a little bitch and make you horny before taking a midterm so you were just sexually frustrated while talking it and you weren't able to focus at all after weeks for preparing for it.

*does the yes dance* yo, you don't even know how perfect of timing this ask is. this could sort of fall under "something you wear that instantly turns them on" but like, super extended mattsun edition ;)

18+ Only - MINORS DNI

f!reader x matsukawa issei, college au, smut, language, friends to lovers, tsundere!reader, flirty!mattsun, fluff-ish, resolved sexual tension, just two total dumbasses crushin' on each other hard, test/exam stress, struggle for dominance, good ol' consensual boning, fingering, squirting, 'sweet heart,' 'baby girl,' little bit of biting and scratching, both of ya'll are gonna fail calc 2 (8.3k twc)

You are asking for it. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you got dressed in the morning - well, more like you're aware that you look good in your green crop top and you know a certain somebody is going to notice. Perhaps you should have chosen a better day to experiment with your wiles on your dorm neighbor and classmate, but you hadn't a clue as to how it could possibly bite you in the ass. It's just some harmless fun between friends.

Mattsun makes no secret of his attraction to you, always flirting and dropping hints that you could take advantage of him with no resistance, though he stays respectful of your space. The build up of little comments over the school year have become too much for you to ignore, and lately you've been a little bit more responsive to his provocations. He's hot. Everyone knows you two have something going on. You're a bit apprehensive to give in though - just that little doubt in your mind that he's messing around with you.

Right now, his knee is burning against yours as you study for calc 2 at the dining table of your dorm. His excuse is that you two can share a textbook even though you can spot the corner of his in the backpack he brought over. It started out as what could be excused as an accidental brush, until it happened about 10 more times, most of them his fault (most of them). And here you are, painfully aware of the fact that your jeans are the only thing separating your skin from his. He must be aware as well - the contact being too deliberate for him not to be, but when you glance over at him he seems focused on an equation in his notebook. He shifts again in his seat, knee lifting away from you for a second before rubbing a bit higher up on your leg.

"Sorry, that keeps happening," he says as if that last one wasn't on purpose, though the upward pull of the corner of his lips is a dead giveaway.

"S'okay," you mumble, trying to act like you haven't noticed the dozen instances before. You refrain from mentioning that it was his idea to sit so close to you, not wanting him to think that you don't like the contact even though you really need to concentrate.

Little aware are you of how many times his eyes have been darting your way since he joined you about an hour ago. That fucking shirt you're wearing is so stupidly hot: a shade of green that compliments your skin and makes the pinkness of your lips stand out, cut in a v-neckline that shows off a generous amount of space between your collarbones and the valley of your breasts, and cropped right below the ribcage accentuating the curve of your waist where just a small amount of skin peeks through before the rise of your pants takes over. He swears you solely exist to torture him. He'd never tell you that, though he can barely contain his actions.

You lean up from your chair to reach for the packet of twizzlers candy on the other side of the table and Mattsun suppresses a groan when the bottom of your shirt rides up your back. He wants so badly to just reach out his hand and let his fingertips graze across the exposed skin...

"Oi!" You yelp, ears burning and head feeling a little dizzy at the sudden touch. His eyes widen when you react and he realizes that he actually did that. You freeze on contact and almost drop the bag of candy. The skin on your back prickles as if you can still feel his fingertips there. You want to glare at him, but can only look surprised when you notice he almost seems flustered and it does something weird to your heartbeat.

"Ah- I just...your skin from the crop top," he says, shocked at his own actions.

Your face turns hot when you realize he must have been staring. It seems like you were right when you got dressed today, though you didn't think it'd be so effective. You self-consciously pull down your shirt and give him a suspicious pout, waiting for him to give you either an explanation or an apology. However, something else has his attention.

"Did you really get the goosebumps from that?" He asks while fighting an excited grin. His eyes spot all the places where your skin shows, trained on gauging your reactions to his flirting for some time now.

"Sh-Shut up! Need to study," you bark, turning your attention back to your notes to try and hide your face. If any more blood rushes to your head, your ears might pop from the pressure. Hopefully it doesn't show in your expression.

You can't fool him though. He stares at you for a moment longer before letting you pretend to work out a practice problem. As much as you desperately need to focus, all you can do is anticipate his next move. He knows you're aware of him now and you're trying to convince yourself that concentration will eventually come back to you if you fake it for long enough.

But Mattsun's found something he won't let go of. The equations infront of him swirl into nonsense as the gears turn in his head to formulate how to get another reaction like that out of you. He forces a sigh and leans back just a bit in his chair, throwing his ankle to rest on his thigh and pressing the ball of his foot and toes into the side of your knee. You pretend it's an accident and chew on your candy, but when he starts poking you with his toes, you cave to his demand for attention.

"What are you-? I swear," you grumble and whip him on the shoulder with a twizzler. You like the attention, especially from him, but you know the rest of the semester is just going to be worse when it comes to the difficulty of the course material.

"Oooooh, harder daddy," he coos in a fake high pitched voice. You almost laugh, turning your head away from him so he doesn't see you smile. God forbid you give him anymore clues that you actually find him entertaining at the moment.

"Quit messing with me. It'll be my hand next time," you say menacingly, though it sounds a little suggestive once it leaves your mouth.

"Oh? You'd indulge me that much?" He asks with quirked brows that you adore so much when he's not being a total imp. Okay, even when he is pestering you he's still gorgeous, but you really wish that wasn't the case right now.

"Don't test me, brat," you grumble, partially as the ongoing joke in your friendship that he wants to be dominated by you. "I need to do good on this midterm to make up for how shitty the rest of the semester is going to be. I already failed the first test."

"Fine, fine," he relents to your need to study, but only for a little bit. He really should respect your academic needs, he knows that. It's that you've been driving him mad ever since he found out you'd be living next to him and only made worse by sharing the same 8 AM calc 2 class. He had seen you around campus the previous year and could never find an excuse to talk to you. He almost wishes it could have stayed that way now that he's tormented everytime you walk to class together or answer his knocks on your door to do homework.

He might be the one purposely distracting you, but he swears he's going to grab you by the back of the neck and kiss you until you're breathless if you smooth your hair behind your ear one time. And why the fuck do you keep pulling at your bra strap? Also stop licking and biting your lips every minute, you're just being evil.

Lost in your own torturous thought cycle, the numbers and symbols in your notes make even less sense than they do in class. You smack your hands to your face and lean back in your chair with a groan, completely ignorant to your shirt once again riding up exposing a little bit of your stomach. However he's quick to remind you to be more on guard by poking your bellybutton, making you squeak and jolt in embarrassment.

"Mattsun!" You yell as you swat his hand, cheeks once again burning and tingling at his teasing. He's going to kill you or you're going to kill him at this point. All you want to do is leap into his lap and wrap your hands around his throat but also kiss him at the same time. Or maybe you just want him to stop fucking around and just throw you on top of the table to make a mess of the notes and each other already.

"I'm sorry! It's- I like your shirt a lot. Was gonna tell you when you greeted me," he says as he tries to process your hard stare. You really hope he can't see how hot your face feels at the implication that he's been checking you out this whole time - you knew, you just aren't used to anyone being so bold as to outright admitting it.

"Thanks," you mumble, squinting your eyes at him as if to say you know what he's doing and daring him to keep pushing his teasing. You're not quite sure how much of it you can take. Your eyes keep wandering to his arms, wanting to run your hands down his forearms and see if you could actually fit your hands around his strong wrists. You know in terms of size and strength you couldn't hold him down, but perhaps with all jokes aside he would actually let you.

Nope. No. Stop thinking about that. Math. Passing this class. Graduating. Getting a job. Finding a husband. Parenting 3 dogs and having a home with a yard. You have goals goddammit. Just gotta focus on studying to get there. Ignore your super attractive friend who just scooted his chair even closer to you so now your shoulders are touching.

"Issei, I swear!" You chide when he leans on you a bit. He's so big and warm and impossible to tune out. You want to give in to whatever he's playing at so bad you could cry.

"Swear what?" He perks up at the sound of his name in your voice, even if you were only saying it to be stern. He doesn't relent on the contact and his face seems to be getting a little bit closers to yours.

"Your flirting isn't helping me concentrate. If I remember, you failed to first test too," you remind him as you turn to stare intently at your notebook. Your try to hide the heavy beating of your heart in your chest with quick shallow breaths that only seem to heighten your awareness of his eyes on you. It would be so easy to just tilt your head and chin towards him just a bit and close the gap between your faces. And you want to, but you also wish this could have been any other time besides T-minus 10 hours until the dreaded calculus midterm.

"One, ouch. Two, maybe you need a distraction," he says cheekily as he rubs his arm against yours. It's so close to breaking you. He smells so nice and it takes everything within in you not to relax against him.

You stare at him blankly, trying to decide if you can even play dumb to such a straight forward offer. This is the most bold he's been with you and you don't want to turn him down in fear that he'll get the wrong idea that you're not interested. Your sight drops down to his lips for a moment. You know all chances of cramming would go out the window if you cave.

"Later," you say calmly despite your face feeling like it's going to melt off. It's painful to stave off the desire, but maybe it will be enough to keep him behaved for the rest of the night. "What I need now is to do good on this midterm."

"Later?" He repeats in question, trying to get you to elaborate.

"LATER," you confirm with no hint of movement in your voice. If you give him anything more, later will just mean 2 minutes later.

He relents on his lean on your side and studies your somewhat fair act of an academically focused student. Later is satisfying enough for him, though now all he can think out is when is later going to be and what would it entail.

Meanwhile you're berating yourself for giving an answer that you're not even sure you know the details of. Do you mean tonight? Tomorrow? Next week? Your head is swirling, eyes not even processing anything they scan in the textbook. He's too present at your side even if he's just poking something into his calculator.

Your eyes feel dry and tired from all the different strains and stresses of this cram session. All you want to do is fall into the solace of sleep and leave tomorrow's you to deal with it all. A cup of coffee could fuel you for another few hours, but what's the point - especially with your heart is already jumping to a mild workout pace everytime Mattsun so much as moves his pencil. It's not like you're going to actually learn anything if you keep at it with your head all muddled up like this.

You groan and throw your hands to your face before sinking down into you arms as a pillow on the table. You know your back is exposed again, you know it's coming, but you don't care. Your eyes barely peek open when you feel his warm hand at the vulnerable skin, this time staying put to rub soothing little lines into your back. You hum contentedly at the feeling, relaxing despite the occasional chill that runs down your body.

He continues to work with his hand like that for a while before removing his jacket and putting it over you. You're not sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you stir just a little bit when he copies your pose, elbow touching yours and eyes peering over his arms at you. You might be drooling a little and yet he still thinks you're the cutest thing in the world. His hand reaches out to you, tangling itself in your hair behind your head and thumb massaging affectionate circles against your follicles before succumbing to sleep as well. One of your eyes cracks open for just a moment to see him next to you and the unfiltered truth of a tired mind slips in: oh fuck, I really like him.

...

"y/n! Wake up, bitch! Your alarm has been going off in your room for 15 minutes," one of your roommates yells from her room and suddenly you jolt awake at the table. It's like you're in fight mode. Mattsun's hand and jacket fall from you as you bolt up to turn off your alarm and then return to frantically shove your candy colored drool stained notebook into your backpack. He's slow to wake up, muscles sore from being slumped over a table all night.

"It's fine if we leave in 5 minutes," he mutters after he checks his phone for the time. How on earth can he be so calm when you know he needs to do well on the midterm as well?

"Yeah, but I wanted to at least eat something and have some coffee," you whine as you double check to make sure you have a pencil and some back ups packed away. "A change of clothes would be nice too."

"You know I don't mind," he says with a lazy smirk that's met with your no-nonsense death glare.

"Save it, lover boy," you grumble. He chuckles at the taunting nickname and makes moves to gather his things as well. "Banana or tangerine?"

"Ooh? Feeding me breakfast?" He teases.

"Shut up, let's go!" You bark as you decide to toss him the tangerine and grab your backpack. What kind of pandora's box did you open last night? Though there's no time to think of an answer for that. Quickly you slip into some sneakers, not caring about denting them as you pop the backs over your heels.

You wait for him at the door, impatiently peeling your banana while he puts on his shoes. You try your best to keep from thinking how cute he looks with his wavy hair a little more tousled than usual, though it just spirals to wondering what it would look like after a night in the sheets. The bite of banana you just took struggles to be swallowed as your stomach clenches from how utterly fucked you are.

"Ready," he says and the two of you are off. It's a relatively short walk to lecture hall where your class takes place, but you still bug him to quiz you along the way.

"I'm just as stupid as you are in this class! I don't even know what to quiz you on. We'll be fine," he tells you.

"But you just said we're both stupid!" You cry as you grab and shake his arm like a child on the verge of a meltdown. He laughs and turns to look at you once you reach the building.

"Fine, I'm stupid. You are smart, hard working, and dedicated, and most importantly: you're hot, so you can always start an OnlyFans if you flunk out," he says earnestly as he opens the door for you.

You just glare at him, even if you're a little warm under his own brand of praise. It's his usual flirting, but today it sinks in deeper than usual. He tells you that he'll be your first subscriber as you search out seats near the smart kids even though the set up makes it near impossible to cheat. You shush him before any of your classmates can pick up on what he's talking about and take a seat. He sits next to you, or two seats away as required, and gives you a quiet thumbs up when you receive your scantrons and midterm packets.

The exam begins. Two hours on the clock. Your concentration lasts all but the first five minutes before it's wandering to the pathetic excuse of a study session last night. Remembering Mattsun's hands and eyes on you makes your whole body flush as your brain formulates fantasies of what it would be like if you two were to take your clothes off, rather than answers to the problems in front of you. You glance over at him at and your body jolts when you catch him staring at you. He just gives a silent chuckle when you send a glare his way that conveys a dozen fuck you's for multiple reasons.

You attempt a few problems, not even really sure if you're putting them in the calculator correctly. One of them looks like straight up hieroglyphics to you and you wipe a little bit of nervous sweat from your upper lip with the sleeve of your shirt. That's when you notice that you smell like him! You rub your nose on your sleeve again just to be sure; faded earthy body spray mixed with some kind of fragrant fabric softener. You vaguely remember his jacket falling off your back this morning when you got up. Right now all you want to do is bury your face in the scent, whether it be snuggling into his zip-up or rubbing your face in his chest.

You huff and anxiously tap the eraser of your pencil against your cheek as you try to recall anything you learned in the semester. Nothing that could possibly help comes to mind, only thoughts of his hands, thick fingers, and toned arms wrapping around the different parts of your body. His flirtatious banter repeats in the back of your head that has you wondering what kinds of devilish things he might whisper in your ear if...

The professor announces that 15 minutes are left and your heart drops into your stomach. It feels like maybe only half an hour went by and a lot of the problems in your packet are left unfinished. Frantically you just fill in gut instinct answers on your scantron and pray that luck is on your side today. You take a few deep breaths and do your best to numb yourself to the black hole that's forming in your chest. When it's over, you hand your scantron and exam packet back with a blank face and thousand yard stare while you try to sort out the unpleasant feelings whirling around inside you.

You walk back to your hall, refusing to answer Mattsun's questions of how you think you did. You're drained and all you can think of is how to recover from how disastrous that exam was. Plenty of people fail classes, right? Surely some of the greatest minds struggled as you are. Or maybe you could just target a rich man and drop out. Live your life on a yacht with some middle-aged billionaire playboy. No need to look at calculus ever again in your life. Ah yes, the ignorant optimism and idealism is so soothing.

You reach your building, just grunting at everything Mattsun says. You feel defeated, tired yet angry. He asks you something once you reach your doors, but it doesn't even register. You just grab him by the wrist and pull him into your dorm, but are greeted by your roommates sitting on the couch who all just smile at you when they see you holding onto him. They must have seen you two sleeping at the table, but today you hardly care about the teasing you'll get for it as you drag him to your room and swing the door closed.

"Fuck you! I did horrible on that!" You lament once you're finally alone and drop your bags. You step right up into his space and poke him in the chest. No longer are you able mask the variety of discomforts weighing down on you.

"Fuck me? I helped you study!" He says defensively, but doesn't back away from your distressed tone. If anything he thinks you look an arousing mix of cute and hot when you're mad at him.

"You did nothing but distract me with your stupid hands and flirty commentary! You think you're so cute," you say mockingly, making all kinds of crazy faces that are new and endearing to him.

"I think you're so cute," he twists your words and throws them back at you with a haughty smirk. It's the truth, but you also set it up so perfectly for him. The audacity to mess with you when you're so clearly pissed at him has your mind succumbing to a primal kind of rage.

"Fucking- ugh!" You groan as you go to spin away from him, but his hand on your shoulder stops you and pushes you back until your butt hits your desk. You sneer at him for daring to touch you, for daring to be so tall and to smell so fucking good when all you want is to be cross with him.

"It's later," he says and you're confused for a moment until you realize he's talking about what you said last night. Your face burns twice as hot with both the flames of embarrassment and anger. Why would he even have the balls to bring up...

"I asked you just outside when you wanted later to be and you dragged me in here," he tells you and you remember that you were actively tuning him out. His eyes seem dark as they stare you down, waiting for you to do something. He takes the step to close the space between your bodies, one of his knees pressing between yours that makes you draw in a sharp breath.

"I can't stand you," you hiss, feeling all the frustrations of the day starting to mix into one burning hot pit in your stomach. You grab a fistful of his shirt just below the collar, knowing you can't do much but glare at him. "Always teasing me. Always tempting me. This some kind of game to you?"

"Game? I just want-" He says, but you don't want to hear any of that from him right now. Your heart is pounding, body on fire, and head spinning with how much you wish he'd stop talking and-

You tug on his shirt, forcefully pulling his face into yours for a clumsy, bruising kiss. It doesn't matter to either of you though, quickly adjusting yourselves as one of his hands dives into your hair and the other drawing you in by the waist. His lips slot perfectly against yours and makes your eyes flutter at the climatic feeling of it all. It feels so good and right and relieving, and dear god does it make you angry that it is so. You release his shirt, opting to slide off his jacket that he hastily discards before grabbing your hips and pulling them up on his leg as he moans into your mouth.

"Shut up. Don't talk. You piss me off," you manage to say when you pull back to catch your breath before quickly falling back into your feverish passion. Your fingernails dig into the back of his neck and hair, forcing him even closer as your tongues clash. A familiar coil forms in your core, though all the heated emotions of the day allow it to pull in on itself tighter and faster than usual.

"To think you'd be so mean," he comments but does not seem upset by it at all. He smiles against your lips when he feels your hips rolling against him and realizes that you're working yourself on his thigh through your jeans. Despite the haste of his mouth, his hands move painfully slow creeping higher up your body until you can feel his fingertips underneath the hem of your shirt and just lightly brushing against your bra.

"Told you to shut up," you mumble right before sucking and biting his lower lip, earning you a low groan that sends a wave of need through your body. His cock pulses through his shorts and against your hip, and you swear you could almost come just from the way your whole core squeezes in reaction.

His hands drop to your ass without warning to lift you so he can take you to your bed. You land with a soft bounce off your duvet and he's instantly dropping his weight on you to shove his tongue even deeper into your mouth. He situates his hips between your legs as one hand grabs at your breast over your shirt, the other roughly cradling the side of your head in your hair. You squirm beneath him, part of you enjoying his hunger for you, but the other part telling you that he's greedy.

"Get off me," you growl when he moves his kisses down to your neck. A wanton mewl slips from your throat at the feeling of his tongue on your pulse. It makes your toes want to curl and you fight to keep from wrapping your legs around him. You manage a small push on his shoulders, but he just chuckles at the attempt.

"Oh? Think you can struggle against me?" He teases as his breath fans against the skin of your neck. He relaxes more his weight onto you making you feel small against his body. You wonder what happened to all those jokes about you being the one on top.

You draw your knees up to your chest and are able to wiggle your feet between you to push against his stomach with your soles. He backs off with a grunt and you use this opportunity to get him on the floor with another foot shove to the chest. He complains, but not fast enough to stop you from sliding into his lap for a quick kiss paired with a smirk.

"You're the mean one, ya'know. You don't even care that I'm going to flunk," you pout at him and lean back just enough to give your hands access to the button and zipper on his shorts. He watches you with amused eyes when he doesn't budge to let you remove the garment. Your glare does little to sway him into moving, however you feel his dick twitch at the close contact and you slide forward to rub your crotch against the hardened member under his boxers. Both of you maintain eye contact, cheeks feeling flush, and breath heaving in small fast pumps as you struggle to hold in your moans.

"And you're the tease, always wearing cute shit, doing hot shit - you don't even fucking know. Or do you, little minx?" He breaks first with a growl and wraps an arm around your waist to flip you around and pull you flush against his body. His breath feels ticklish behind your ear. Both arms are keeping you from moving around too much, though right now his words and warmth have you melting in his hold regardless.

Something between a squeak and a moan breaks from your lips when his tongue runs along the shell of your ear. One hand slips into the deep cut of your shirt and squeezes the soft flesh of your breast before tweaking your nipple ever so slightly. You shiver against him as he entertains himself in your breathy whines. Your thighs squeeze together with every pinch and twist while the threads that hold onto your mind start to snap.

The pleasure is so torturous that it feels like you're gonna choke on the neediness that's flooding your body. His other hand skillfully unbuttons your jeans and slides in over the fabric of your panties, discovering the slick you've worked up that soaks through.

"Fuck," he rasps in your ear, making you clench at how strained he sounds. He wants to taunt you more about being so worked up for him, but could only manage the curse. He removes his hands to tug down your pants and underwear. You lift your hips in compliance, not caring to fight him too much anymore.

"Holy fuck, I-Issei!" You cry when one of his thick fingers sinks into your pussy as soon as you're able to get one foot out of your clothes. Your dripping walls immediately grip the digit, vision shaking when he ever so slightly rubs the squishy flesh inside.

His other hand finds its way back under your bra to tease your nipple again as he toys with your cunt. It feels different from when you've tried yourself or with other guys. It's almost is if your breath is being stolen from you with every moment of his fingers. Another one of his digits slides in easily with a lewd squelch that has his dick twitching at your backside. Water wells up along the edges of your eyes from how good it feels to have him stretching you out and stroking a spot in your walls that you never knew existed.

"Feel good?" He asks in a low voice that makes something in your chest feel taut. You're not even sure if you can answer him with your voice taken over by pitiful little gasps and whines.

"Awful, you suck," you manage to say as tears fall from trying not to cum. You want to, but something feels strange and suspenseful, like pulling blocks from a jenga tower. You know some kind of climax is close, but it could be any little movement that could trigger it rather than the usual build up. Your eyes clench with every push and stroke, pelvic muscles tightening and core curling in on yourself.

He just smiles against your hair and lets the heel of his thumb rub against your clit as he continues to work your insides. Your hand flies to your mouth to keep from screaming, though you're sure your roommates have heard it all by now. All it takes is a few small like circles around the bud of nerves for a dam inside you to break.

You gasp, body nearly snapping forward when just one little graze of the fingertips happens to hit the right spot. Liquid gushing in a small amount from your cunt, but still more than you've ever experienced. Your eyes roll back into your head, crying as more splashes out while he continues to work his hands, dirtying the floor with your spills. You struggle to find a breathing rhythm and only catch little clips of his teasing praise.

"Good fucking girl. Still squeezing my fingers. Gonna cum again? Be a good girl and cum for me again," he commands, strong fingers curling and stretching against your walls. His other hand grips into the soft skin of your breast, trapping your sensitive nipple between his knuckles.

"I can't. Wait- I- Oh shit!" You sob as you try to hold onto your sense of self. It's futile though, this time more liquid that you have no idea where it came from, spurts from your pussy as if he's reaching deep inside you to pull it out with each pump of his fingers. You didn't even know it was possible to cum so quickly and powerfully one right after another.

"F-Fuck you," you gasp once his movements slow down, even though you're sure if he kept going he would definitely find a third orgasm in there. You wince when he removes his hand and fully relax against him as you do your best to regain your breath.

"Still got that mouth? How many more times do I have to make you cum for you to forgive me?" He asks after wiping his soaked hand on his shorts. He places an affectionate kiss to your temple and allows you the time to recover.

You hum in response, not sure if you have the capacity to form any thoughts with your brain. Though usually after two orgasms you'd be dead, but right now your body buzzes in excitement over the newfound pleasure. You turn around to look at him, pupils blown out and consuming the amused expression he gives you. Even if you're being stubborn about it, he's quite satisfied to see you waiting for his next move.

You twist more in your seated position, dropping your sight down to the massive bulge in his shorts that have shifted down his hips a bit since your unfastening earlier. You glance back up at him, licking and biting your lower lip, not so subtly hinting at what you want to do next.

"You know, I'd make anyone else ask," he tells you with a smirk. "But first, let's get you out of this."

He tugs at the very shirt that sort of started this whole thing, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Practiced fingers easily unclasp your bra and the look on his face is hard to discern when he sees you completely bare before him for the first time. He can't tell you how many times he's dreamed of the sight without incriminating himself. His dark eyes seem to grow larger as he reaches out his hands to touch you, anywhere and everywhere to confirm that you're very much real and tangible infront of him.

He swallows once, not allowing himself to suddenly feel shy about taking you, especially after you came so beautifully for him twice in a row. One more look into your shining eyes is all he needs push down any doubts. He leans forward to grab the back of his shirt, peeling it over his head and kisses you after throwing it amongst the other discarded clothing items.

Your hungry eyes widen when he stands up to remove his shorts and boxers. His tall presence looms over your sitting form as you anticipate seeing him just as bare as you are. You've heard a few rumors that he has a reputation for being endowed, though you ignored the gossip because it's not like you shop for men by dick size. Even if you had paid them any mind, it still would've have caught you just as off guard as you are now when he stands straight up after pulling off his bottoms, giving you the full view of his naked form.

Goddamn. For one, you knew he worked out occasionally and played for one of the intramural volleyball teams, and you've certainly noticed the definition in his arms and legs, but holy fucking shit you were not expecting him to be so cut. His lower abs even do that stupidly sexy V thing that guides the eye straight to the patch of dark hair that looks like it's been trimmed or shaved in the last week or so. And the star of the show; you can only describe as meaty, head glistening with a thin layer of smudged precum that makes your eyes shake and mouth water upon sight.

"Too big?" He asks, feeling just slightly conscious under your raking stare.

"You- You're so handsome," you stutter earnestly and your head feels light in your captivation, forgetting that you're supposed to be mad at him. Although who can stay cross when such a beautiful man forces 2 very wet and powerful orgasms out of you. "I mean, I knew that, but like this you're- Wow!"

He raises his brows in surprise at your words, suddenly turning a shade of pink and trying to hide his embarrassment. Last thing he was expecting was a compliment from you, usually you're much more taunting in your expression. Not only that, but he feels like he should be the one saying such things to you instead.

"I- Hold on," he says to avoid accepting your rare praise. He looks around for where he dropped his backpack and rummages through it, taking just a few moments to find whatever it is he's looking for. You look on curiously to see him pull out a gold colored condom packet and flash it in your direction.

"Can I put it on for you?" You ask, eager to see if his dick feels just as thick and heavy in your hands as it looks.

He agrees to it and tells you to sit on your bed, which you comply after struggling to stand up for a moment. He holds your arm as you wobble over and jump up so your legs hang over the edge, not worrying right now about dirtying your duvet with your sticky thighs and cheeks. You look him up and down again, settling on his face that you've come to enjoy seeing so much nearly every day. You pluck the condom from his hand and pull him in for a kiss.

The fiery feelings from before are softer but still present, like hot coals eagerly waiting for more kindling. You break open the wrapper and giggle as you fumble with the slippery protection device. Just a little bit nervous, you reach for his cock and the flush of heat that runs through you is instantaneous once you feel him in your hand. Your heart beats excitedly as you stroke him a few times, eyes struggling to focus when somehow he gets even harder at your touch and you can feel the blood rushing in his thick veins under your fingertips. Languidly you roll the condom on and shift your position so that your glistening cunt lines up with the edge of your school-issued mattress, letting it just graze his protected member that already has you drawing in your breath.

"You have to tell me if it hurts. I don't want to hurt you. Just want you to feel good," he tells you while looking into your eyes to make sure you know he's being honest. You nod in agreement and smile at the care he's taking with you. For the sake of friendship, you always refrained from imagining what it would be like to have sex with Mattsun, but even still you probably wouldn't have thought him to be so mindful.

"Is it okay?" He asks as he rubs the tip through your folds, sending a shiver up your neck and making your pussy clench when the head barely pokes at your entrance.

"Do what you want," you breathe, stars in your eyes beginning to blind you with need. You draw your knees toward your chest and lean back just a bit to allow him better access.

"I asked: Is it okay?" He reiterates firmly, eyes locking into yours that have you thinking for the first time that consent is sexy as fuck.

"Yes," you nod, feeling your heart spike in rate and your breathing increase at the confirmation. He smiles and kisses you before moving to grip the base of his dick to guide the head in slowly, the other hand on your knee for stability.

It's utterly insane. The way he stretches you out as he carefully pushes himself in, bit by bit as you get accustomed to the feeling of having something so massive inside you. You breathe laboriously through the motion, the only thing even keeping your mind tethered to your sense being while you struggle to not completely lose yourself to the feeling.

"Wanted to do this for so fuckin' long," he grunts, holding back from slamming into you like an animal like his body is telling him to. He leans into you more, keeping a watchful eye on your expression through the overwhelming pleasure of your connection. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous like this, sweetheart."

"I'm not swee-" You go to oppose the endearment, but the ability to speak is momentarily taken from you as he presses the rest of his length into you. Frankly he can call you whatever the hell he wants the way he's filling you up, leaving no space for you to even clamp down. Sweetheart, darling, slut, whore, all the terms you thought you hated would be acceptable coming from his mouth if it meant feeling as whole as you do now.

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, though you can hardly focus with the way your walls and his dick twitch against one another. You gulp once, managing a weak smile and a few quick nods that beckon him to move within you. He kisses you again, leaning into you so your back hits the mattress and your legs spread wider to accommodate his large form against you.

He takes it slow at first, but your little pleas as well as your back arching off the covers has his face scrunching and teeth clenching from trying his damnedest to not totally lose control in your wet hot heat. You're making it impossible though with his name paired with vain cries for the divine spilling off your tongue, and hips rolling to meet his movements. He drops his face to your neck, unable to handle the wantonly drunk look on your face without falling apart.

"So fucking big," you pant as you turn a little bit to his ear. The moan you're rewarded with makes you cry out as well, wrapping your legs around his middle to drive him into you more. His hand fondles and grips at your breast, the other tangling and grasping your hair while his teeth graze at your neck. So much stimulation is overwhelming, forcing you to clutch and claw at his back in a desperate attempt to not completely lose yourself.

You've heard people talk about "getting their guts rearranged" in regards to sex, but you're not sure if that's quite what you're feeling. Rearranged is certainly a word for it, but with every upward thrust of Issei's cock it feels like everything inside of your body shifts upwards: Like your stomach is where you throat should be, and your heart has taken place of your brain, and the brain itself is simply no longer in your body.

"Takin' me so well. Like your pussy was made to -nngh! take my dick," he growls against your skin. God, you are going to hear it from your roommates later between both of your voices as well as the cheap wooden bedframe supplied by the university thudding against the walls. The shame does little to quiet your voice however. Even sinking your teeth into his shoulder hardly muffles the sound of your moans and cries.

That feeling from earlier is coming back you; the one where you know you're going to break, you just don't know what's going to do it. The wet noises of his hips slamming into you fill the room as you try to relax but to no avail. All of the muscles in your body continued to tense up while the feeling of his cock dragging along the inside of your pussy threatens to make you snap.

"Issei, gonna cum. Gonna go crazy," you whine, tears falling from your eyes and you know you're as good as done for when you feel them roll down your jaw. His pace increases and your eyes float into the back of your head, vision beginning to go white. He leans up and off you, forcing you to unhook your legs from his sides so he can push you by the back of the knees so they're over your shoulders. Your eyes immediately snap back forward and go wide at the deeper angle, nearly screaming when the tip of his dick nudges your cervix. The quick pain only adds to the to the tension in your core, and you wince as you teeter on the tipping point.

"Do it. Cum on my cock, baby girl," he says smiling down at you, dark curls sticking to his forehead in sweat. He still smells so good when he bends down to swipe his tongue over yours that's lolling out from your panting.

The pet name does it for you, so sweet in his deep voice that's strained in pleasure for you. A lusty, breathy high pitched moan rings through your vocal chords at one drag of his dick along every crevice of your walls. He keeps his rhythm and your pussy squelches and spasms around him, sending a spike to his fever as well. Every push and pull keeps sending a flush of heat over you that renders you pliant beneath him as he builds the rest of his climax.

"Gonna cum too. Fuck," he groans and lets go of your legs to force his arms under your back and around your head. His hold on you is tight as curses rasp from his lips into your hairline, moaning and shuddering against you as he falls apart. You feel his cock jump with each release and you wish for just a moment that you could feel his load pouring into you.

You crack open your eyes, still damp and your vision almost back to normal. He's looking down at you, eyes still dark but soft before closing them to capture your lips for a kiss. You hum in content at the feeling, kissing him back just as sweetly.

He pulls himself from you and asks you where you keep a towel. You point him over to the closet where he slowly retrieves one and comes back to gingerly clean up the mess around your thighs before wiping his own and discarding the condom. He tosses the towel at what he assumes is your hamper and then crawls into your way too small for the both of you bed, and grabs you to lay against him.

"Well, I guess we should have just done that last night," you giggle as you trace the lines of his pec muscles and enjoy breathing in his scent. You just said it to break the silence, though you suppose it might have relieved at least some of your stress if you had just caved.

"I'm sorry. For distracting you from studying last night," he says, moving his head to look at you sincerely. You smile, nestling your face against his chest a little more.

"It's fine," you sigh, already coming to terms with the impending failure. There's still another test and a final if you work hard enough and someone comes up with an overnight genius serum.

"No, it's not. I should be able to control myself better. It's just that you drive me crazy whenever I'm around you," he confesses. "Sorry, I know that's not a good excuse."

You blink at him, a little flustered by his words, though you hardly mind being irresistible to him.

"Not a good excuse, but doesn't mean I don't like it," you say truthfully with a little grin. "I suppose maybe I could have chosen a better time to wear something I knew you'd like."

"You were teasing me!" He gasps and grabs your head to knock his forehead against yours. You both chuckle before you relax on him again.

"Maybe," you say sheepishly. "I'm glad though."

"Yeah, me too."

The Next Day - Omake

You: Oh shit, professor posted the grades already.

Mattsun: Go on, just check it.

You: 55. Fuck. Goddammit.

Mattsun: Got a 42.

Mattsun: Don't worry, I'll take it again with you next semester.

You: You're paying for this class when I get my student loan bill after graduation.

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