#but bc of his reputation they all think it's a heated glare

[wormspoodle]

spreading my raph has mediocre vision and probably needs glasses agenda

#idk guys he did get blinded in that one episode #maybe it left a lasting effect on his eyes #shrugging my shoulders in a casual yet insinuating manner #also i just think itd be funny if half the time he was squinting #but bc of his reputation they all think it's a heated glare #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 donnie #tmnt 2003 raph #tmnt 2003 mikey

[tallulah477]

loving how fleshed out this royalty au is getting KFNFNFDN and see i cant be descriptive like u my brain cant do all that LMFAO i love ur writing style for this and overall

but oml i imagine their first time would be after a heated argument its midnight everyone but the guards and a few employees are asleep and here loak and princess!reader are having a huge argument (basically a lot of confessing of how they both didnt want this marriage to be a thing stuff like that) and theres a quick pause between them bc theyre catching their breaths from arguing sm and they just start full on making out though princess!reader is super inexperienced and os trying to keep up with loak whose had a few one night stands here and there

loak telling her how pretty she looks pissed off at him (and everyone), how no one would put up with her attitude (not even neteyam) but him bc he finds it hot lw — meanwhile her brain is malfunctioning bc hes touching her everywhere and its getting her all hot

and when they do start fucking? as much as i would like for him to be put in her place for being a brat i 100% believe he would be super soft (yet still dominate) their first time, loak who already has had a few ons and is usually just there to fuck and dip actually takes his time with his future wife

eating her out, fingering her trying to stretch her out to fit him while his other hand was on her stomache to pin her down and shes covering her mouth so they wont get caught

and when he puts it in he goes slow, watching her reaction, kissing her temple, cheeks, eyelids anywhere saying shes taking him so well, how she was made for him, how he cant wait to have more nights like this with her - lots of praises which she cant handle bc shes not use too it and shes getting all flustered as shes getting fucked lol her nails digging into his forearms or going down his back - her eyes rolling to the back if her head bc he feels so good and so full

and loak making out with her so she wont moan too loud (he doesnt really care if they caught but she knows her reputation within high society is kind of bad so anything to avoid a scandal for his future wife <333)

— 🤍

The way this past week has kept me so busy and all I could think about was your asks 😩 😩 😩

Me too, babes! I’m living for this AU lmao. Idk though, you seem like you’re doing a great job at being descriptive 👀 but I’m glad that you’re liking my input. I think we make a good team!

Everyone knows you’re the mastermind behind this AU though, I’m just here for the ride lol 🧡

Catch up on the story:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Extra: One | Two

CW:// Smut

Their emotions are so high!

This has been a long time coming - it's been nearly a year of back and forth. Nearly a year of glaring, of snide comments and sneering remarks as they're forced together 'for the good of the kingdom'. Nearly a year of heated arguments and even more heated glances that catch on the a long column of throat or the swell of a breast.

It's getting close to that time when Jake and Neytiri are set to step down from the throne. Both Lo'ak and Princess are old enough to take their place. Princess has been trained her whole life for this, she's ready - knows the ins and outs of royal life and how to handle foreign dignitaries and council issues without even having to bat her perfectly curled eyelashes. Lo'ak, on the other hand . . . well, he's good enough. He still learning; it will take YEARS for him to fully learn everything that Neteyam had been taught to do and handle since the moment he was born. But he's getting there - he's much smarter and more capable than his parents or Princess ever give him credit for.

But it's still intense. Nerves are getting the better of them, their anxiety is through the roof. The stress that they're going to fuck up somehow is making them worried and frustrated and they're snapping at each other even more than usual. If Lo'ak messes up, it's going to be proof to him and his parents (and the entire kingdom) that he will never be as good as his brother, and he hates that he can't even go one day without being compared to Neteyam. If Princess messes up, her life is over. Lo'ak would be upset if he messed up, but he would be okay. But she's a woman, and worse - she's a woman trying to maintain a position of power. She already has people rooting for her to fail. If this goes south for her, just one mess up, and she's done.

So they're both not feeling their best when they return to their rooms after their official engagement ball. They were paraded around, told to be quiet, to stick to the speeches written for them, to "Smile, for God's sake! Can you at least act like you like each other?"

The were forced to roam the ballroom, arm and arm, large smiles plastered on their faces as they talk to important person after important person, answering the same questions over and over and over again.

"Are you excited? You should feel very blessed,"

"How do you feel stepping into your brother's shoes?"

"Have you heard from Prince Neteyam at all?"

"Is it true he ran away with a maid?"

"How long after your marriage and coronation can we expect an heir?"

They danced together, bodies moving to the rhythm of the perfectly performed orchestra as they twirl together almost seamlessly across the shiny ballroom floor. Their eyes don't leave each other as they dance, spinning to the music and seeming to notice nothing else around them except for each other before the coda plays and the dance comes to an end. They bow and curtsey respectively, eyes narrowing briefly at the other as they both try to push the annoying thought of how effortless the entire piece was and what that might signify.

Lo'ak's not in his room for five minutes when a knock on the door sounds. He's still in his fancy clothes, and the only thing he's managed to remove is his waistcoat. He's still working on unbuttoning his ruffled shirt when Princess's maid enters his bedchamber.

"My Prince, my Princess is requesting your presence,"

Lo'ak frowns. "For what?"

"She would like to discuss with you some matters regarding tomorrow's meeting with the council members,"

"No," Lo'ak scoffs. "I'm tired. We can talk tomorrow."

The older woman nods, understanding. "Yes, my Prince. However, my Lady does want me to insist and remind you that she has been training for this life far longer than you have and it is within your best interest to heed her suggestions,"

Lo'ak's hands drop from his shirt, a deep growl bursting from his throat at the slight coming from an infuriating girl currently located across the castle. He barrels past the maid, cutting through hallways until he's outside Princess's door. His knock is rough and angry, and she's still in her ball gown when she answers, a small smirk playing at her lips with a cocky, "Oh, good. You're here,"

"You summoned me?"

She has about two seconds to gloat and take pride in his pissed off expression before he's yelling at her. Harsh words spill from his lips - "you're a spoiled brat" "you're nothing without me" "You wouldn't have this chance anymore since Neteyam left if not for me,". The words aren't new, he's said them before - but this time they hit harder, and her carefully crafted visage of complete emotional stability and self control come crumbling down around them.

She's yelling at him back, interrupting his scathing words and spitting her own about how he'll never be like his brother, how if she leaves then it will be on him to look as a failure in front of his father, how she doesn't even want this marriage, never wanted it, but she has to if she ever wants any kind of a life.

They're both breathing heavy when the yelling stops, glaring daggers at each other as they try to calm their breathing. She can't help when her eyes trail down to his torso, taking in the fully unbuttoned shirt hanging open around his muscular chest, mixed metal necklaces contrasting nicely against his dark skin. His eyes are on her too, locked onto the soft swell of her breasts heaving in the tight corset top of her dress.

It's pure instinct as they come together, neither one making the active decision to lunge forward and press their lips together. Yet, here they are - in the middle of the quiet hallway, Lo'ak gripping Princess's face in his hands as her own latch onto the strong muscles of his arms through his frilly shirt.

Lo'ak's mouth on hers is sure and practiced, moving against hers with the expertise of someone who has had his fair share of women. He licks at the seam of her own trembling lips, letting out a soft breath at the shaky moan he receives for his efforts and bites gently at her plump bottom lip.

Princess's head is reeling, nervousness and desire pooling in her chest and making her shake against him. She doesn't know what she's doing, and it shows through her inexperience as she desperately tries to keep up with Lo'ak as his tongue curls against hers. And, despite the heated screaming match that brought them to this point, he's surprisingly gentle with her.

It's only when they part, just enough for them to breath, that Princess realizes they're now alone in her room. At some point during their kissing, Lo'ak must have walked them in and closed the door behind them, shielding them from any prying eyes who may have stumbled upon them even in the dead of night. She feels something build in her heart at the realization he did it for her.

She doesn't expect to lose her virginity that night. She always thought it would happen on her wedding day and even then it would be something that she has to do - an obligation that comes with the role of a future Queen. She's never wanted someone like that before.

But here with Lo'ak, it's different. He's looking at her, head tilted down as she stares up at him, his dark eyes boring into hers so dark she can practically see her own flushed reflection starting back at her. And she wants.

And then they're kissing again, slow and gentle and oh so good. Her hands slide up the flat planes of his stomach, fingertips caressing the soft skin so lightly as she drags them up and around that they tickle his ribs. His hands are back on her face, large palms cradling her cheeks, thumbs dragging slowly under her eyes as she sighs into his mouth.

Without thinking, her hands push off his opened shirt, sliding the fabric from his shoulders. His lips move down to her neck, kissing at the delicate skin and sucking on her hammering pulse point as she gasps. His hands move to the back of her dress, playing with the zigzagging ties and loosening them up with skilled fingers. She holds her breath as her dress slides off, self-consciously avoiding Lo'ak's gaze as he marvels at her naked body.

"You're so beautiful," He whispers, breathless, and she knows he means it.

He prepares her properly, like a true gentleman. Licking up her juices as he eats her out, sucking on her clit to hear her pretty moans but biting on her thigh in reprimand when she gets too loud. His tongue dips inside her and her thighs squeeze his head as she shoves her hand over her own mouth in an effort to quiet herself.

He makes her cum twice before he even gets his pants off. Once on his tongue, his eyes rolling back into his head at the taste of her orgasm, and once on his fingers, carefully pushing them into her drenched cunt, mindful of the fact that she's nervous and definitely hasn't done this before. His fingers curl inside her, thumb playing with her clit as he stretches her out to take his cock, whispering sweet praises in her ear about how perfect she is, how she's so fucking beautiful when she's angry and how hot he gets for her when she's pissed at him.

And when he pushes inside her, groaning in pleasure at the feel of her wet, warm walls hugging his cock, he kisses the tears from her face and praises her more. He tells her how he's dreamed about her, how she's doing such a good job, being such a good girl for him and taking him so well. He starts up a slow tempo, a gentle rocking of his hips against hers as he moves inside her, cock dragging against her gummy walls as she whines and moans, nails digging into his back as she tries to pull him even closer, overwhelmed by the very feel of him. She feels so good, so full - so so full. His cock is so deep inside her, rubbing a special spot inside her that she didn't know she had but makes her see stars.

"You wouldn't have been happy with Neteyam," He moans, and he shocks himself with how quickly the realization hits him. "You were made for me,"

(HELP the way this is long enough to be an actual fic lmao)

(Side note: what does lw mean?? Cannot for the life of me figure it out 😂)

#talie talks ♡ #🤍 anon #royalty au

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

This is so random and idk why I was thinking about it but... Hawkmetri hand kiss. Like maybe when everyone goes to prom together, they all start pairing off, and since Yasmine is out of the picture at this point, Demetri looks at Hawk and takes his hand & 'jokingly' is like "I guess it's just you and me" and then BOOM hand kiss. Or it could also happen during the prom photos they're all taking beforehand (bc I'm imagining this as Miyagi-Fang going to prom in a massive group) or maybe on the way into the building?? Idk I'm just a sucker for hand kisses and I would like to hear your thoughts

“Since Yasmine is out of the picture at that point” HA yeah, I like how we all seem to agree in the Binary Boyfriends fandom that there’s no way in hell those two would last XD

I can absolutely see Demetri especially giving Hawk hand kisses and Hawk’s entire face just goes REDDER THAN A GODDAMN LOBSTER and he starts stuttering and grumbling and being like “sTOP IT DEMETRI we have a REPUTATION to uphold” and Demetri, shit-eating smirk on his face as always, is like “Ah, but we ARE upholding it--by being the classiest ones here! No one is more suave than us, my dear Hawk” (going along with my headcanon that Demetri calls Eli “Hawk” when he’s roasting/teasing/flirting with him) and then he gives Hawk another little hand kiss and Hawk is just like “JXJNBIUBSDOVOYVSDYV”

Bonus points if this happens after Demetri and Yasmine have a big fight--like maybe they go to prom together, but Yasmine bitches about Hawk hanging out with them (because Hawk doesn’t have a date, and of COURSE Demetri invites him to third wheel because he wants his best friend around literally as much as possible since he got him back). After all, Yasmine’s reputation is already in shambles, and the LAST thing she needs is to be seen with the bed-wetting lip scar mohawk kid. And Demetri is like “Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talking about, and if you don’t like him being here, you can take a fucking hike” and Yasmine takes her corsage and just THROWS it in Demetri’s face like “Well, I hope you like going back to being a fucking freak who’s going to die alone, because you don’t have a prom date anymore!” and storms off. There’s a bit of an awkward silence for a while, and then Demetri turns to Hawk like “Well...I guess you have to be my prom date now, to save me the terrible embarrassment of having to go stag for the rest of the night after being dumped. Shall we?” And he just grabs Hawk’s hand and kisses it and starts leading Hawk toward the dance floor and Hawk fucking SHORT-CIRCUITS more than the crusty old computer lab desktop they worked with at coding camp.

Cue Demetri spending the rest of the night leading Hawk around by the hand and lifting his fingers up and kissing his knuckles and OBVIOUSLY it’s totally a joke, just “acting gay For the Memes” and to amuse all of their friends, OBVIOUSLY they’re not actually prom dates now--just Joke Prom Dates. And Hawk feels weird, because his stomach is all woozy and why the fuck should it be, if this whole thing is just an Elaborate Comedy Routine of sorts meant to make the school hoot and holler about the “gay karate couple”??? And then some slow song comes on, and Demetri’s like “Come now, Hawk, my avian love, let us dance to it!” You know, For the Lulz. Obviously. And Demetri pulls him out on the dance floor and the next minute he’s putting his goddamn bony, gangly hands all over Hawk trying to find where you’re supposed to hold someone during a waltz (like either of these boys know absolutely jack shit about traditional ballroom dancing) and goddamn it, if Hawk’s heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest at being this close to Demetri, at seeing green eyes inches away just glinting with smug amusement, like they so often do, at feeling his skin heat up a little every place Demetri’s long fingers brush up against his suit, at swaying in sync with Demetri in time to cheesy music. And Demetri’s humming along and insists on spinning Hawk a few times (which Hawk ABSOLUTELY does not enjoy, he will HAVE YOU KNOW), and at the song’s last Loud Triumphant Chorus, Demetri just suddenly full-on dips Hawk (when the hell did he get strong enough to do that??? Hawk wonders) and kisses him on the mouth. Once he processes what’s happening, Hawk shoves Demetri off because okay, that’s taking it WAY too far and he just GLARES at him and hisses “Okay, knock it off, asshole! I KNOW you’re just doing this shit for show.” And Demetri pauses for a minute, his entire expression just wilting, before he frowns and says “This was never for show, Eli. I just...I just figured you’d never want to do any of that kind of thing with me if it wasn’t just...just some joke. And I guess I indulged in it a little bit because I’m selfish, and I got caught up in the fantasy that we could...actually be something. But I know you don’t want that, and I should have respected that. I’m sorry.” And Hawk is just lost for words, because...Demetri was actually serious about all this??? And thought he was the one who wasn’t??? And how is Demetri so stupid that he doesn’t realize Hawk’s not pissed because Demetri’s getting too into acting gay--he’s pissed because it fucking hurts for Demetri to act like the concept of them ever being together is just some laughable joke???And--wait, why does that bother him so much?!

And then Hawk Moskowitz does his signature move--Flipping the Script like a total badass, and throwing caution to the wind. He sighs and grabs Demetri, muttering “you fucking MORON” before leaning up and kissing him hard (and he HAS to lean up, because fucking hell, Demetri is a goddamn snarky giraffe of a human). Pretty much the entire dance floor snickers and chortles but Demetri and Hawk just. Don’t. Care.

Meanwhile Yasmine roams the prom, finding the least-ugly guys going stag and hitting on them because it turns out being dateless isn’t nearly as fun and freeing as she thought, even if she ditched Demetri to Make a Statement. But alas, no one is interested in having Front Wedgie as a hot date.

Cue Aisha showing up out of absolutely nowhere, crashing the prom just long enough to give Yasmine another wedgie in front of the entire dance floor and then vanishing from the show again. Everyone begins to call Yasmine Double Wedgie. People are still calling her this at their high school reunion, 30 years later. Yasmine is not pleased.

#hawk x demetri #demetri x eli #binary boyfriends #hawkmeat #eli x demetri #demetri x hawk #elimetri #demetri cobra kai #eli moskowitz #yasmine cobra kai #aisha robinson #cobra kai #cobra kai season 4 #hawk #demetri #eli #my askbox

[unstoppableforcce]

always

—CHAPTER THREE: careful

pairing: obi wan kenobi x princess! reader

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: oof long wait but I think you’ll agree that it’s with it? or at least I hope you do !! bc I do !! let me know what you think !! and I apologize for any obi wan hyphen errors :))

(side note, this update came bc I love and adore @freyafell, so say your thanks)

The whole morning had been this hot. This disgustingly hot.

The second the sun rose above the horizon, it had you tossing sleeplessly in your exquisite sheets. Drifting off for a minute and suddenly you were shooting up, chest heaving out of breath as you wiped a bead of sweat from your brow and kicked your sheets off your legs.

Maybe it wasn’t solely the heat in the air that was keeping you up, maybe it had something to do with the steaming thoughts plaguing your mind.

Maybe the heat boiling within your chest was separate from the one outside...

You wiped at your brow again before sliding out of the sheets entirely and stripping your night robes to the cooler marble floors. Hanging off your mirror was the thinnest gown you owned, hand stitched with flowers from the hem to the low hanging neckline.

Fresh air was what you needed, you told yourself as you pulled it on, that would set your mind straight.

Wandering out in the gardens was the best place to find that fresh air, the orchard teeming with maids picking the vibrant red apples down from the trees.

The perfect distraction.

At least it should have been, you thought as you climbed up the ladder into the shaded leaves of the tree. But nothing was ever perfect.

From this height, above the treeline, you could see out into the adjacent open field, your stare landing on the royal guards out for training under the boiling hot sun. Specifically, onto the shirtless General with his dull long sword drawn, battling it out with the younger recruit across from him.

The sight alone enough to drop the perfectly crisp and delicious apple bite you had taken straight from your mouth, all princess-like decorum leaving you for the briefest moment.

The royal guard had been out training since before the sun rose in a desperate attempt to get some of the more strenuous training in before the heat settled. But it was no use. It was barely morning and they were all stripped of their tunics, drenched in sweat and glistening under the early morning sun as it glared down onto them.

Sweat dropped off every sharp angle of Obi Wan’s face, even his hair which had grown longer than he typically preferred it was drenched and stuck to his forehead, forcing him to swipe at it between nearly every lunge of his sword.

How long had he been living the high life of being your personal guard? He was exhausted and it was barely morning. He had a whole day left training the new recruits and Stars, he wiped at his brow once more, if it kept up like this, he’d be dead by the day’s end.

His battleworn body just wasn’t used to the strenuous days work anymore, yet none of his soldiers, new or old, dared to call him on it. With his chest and arms coated in scars, he had seen enough fighting to secure his reputation even as his chest heaved for every breath.

And you couldn’t pull your eyes away once you caught sight of him, prudent or not.

It was a hot morning in more ways than one.

“Your highness?”

Glancing down the ladder, you found one of your most trusted garden maids waiting for you with a full basket of apples in hand, her hair tied back in exquisite braids.

“Yes, Padme?” You called back, taking a bite into your apple to hold it as you climbed back down, jumping the last few rungs to land with a barefooted thud in the grass.

“You zoned out, your highness...” she smirked, her stare cutting through the final line of trees to steal a sly glance of her own out to the guards on the field.

“Seems it afflicts us all.” You laughed out some as you saw most of your maids sparing glances to the field between picks. And that was when an idea sparked in your heat stricken head, one you had no business having. “Are these apples meant for something, did the kitchen ask for them?”

“No your highness, would you like them sent to your chambers—“

“I have a better idea.”

With a wave of you hand, you created a small pack of garden maids, apple baskets in hand, to follow you as you made your way towards the field. The length of your gown was just long enough to tickle the grass around your ankles as you walked through it, warmth coating you head to toe.

And it showed in your smile, shining bright enough across the field that you and your group quickly caught the attention of the sparring guards as you drew closer. One by one, they all froze, each catching on in their own time, the strawberry haired man they looked to lead them being the last to turn and spot your approach.

But when his young opponent froze, lowering his own dull sword, Obi Wan finally caught on, turning and wiping his sweat soaked locks from his face in one swift motion.

His stare landing on you and only you as you stopped at the edge of the area they took over for training.

“Good morning General Kenobi!” You shouted through the group as they began to part, giving you a direct line of sight to the man you had seen in your dreams no less than an hour ago.

“Your highness,” he shouted back with an almost playful use of your title as he bowed his head, the rest of his men following suit in the show of respect.

Though your stare leveled on him and him alone.

“I hope we’re not causing too much of an intrusion,” you smirked, gesturing back to the baskets of freshly picked apples and the women holding them. “But we’ve got extra and you looked hungry.”

His guards looked to him with expectant stares, ones he couldn’t ignore.

He was as famished as they were.

And looking from the bottom hem of your thin gown up to your eyes, much bolder in his scan than he ever allowed himself to be, he figured himself famished in more ways than just one.

It was a terribly hot morning.

He bowed his head, matching your smirk with his own, not afraid of his guards looking on as he answered with an easy, “always, your highness.”

The guards jumped at that. Moving in the most respectful wave their eager and towering figures could muster, the guards fought towards the apples while you carved an easy path moving the opposite direction. Kenobi held his ground, leaning on his sword tipped down into the earth, waiting for you.

“Pardon the disruption...” you mused playfully as you passed him a fresh apple. “I had imaginary fruit overlords to appeal to...”

He laughed at that, a true and genuine laugh, one he hadn’t managed in what felt like years, yet it flowed so easily when it was you it was flowing for.

Maybe it was his full body exhaustion, the fact that he was feeling his mortality in ways he hadn’t since he was a fresh faced recruit himself, or maybe even just the heat, but he felt loose. Loose enough to let the laugh slip, loose enough to even let you step closer than he should have.

Close enough to catch a few of his guard’s stares as they bit into the freshest fruit they had likely ever tasted.

And he didn’t care. Stars, he even enjoyed it.

Moreso than he should have allowed himself to.

Taking the apple from your grip, he tipped it to you easily and took a bite, not even minding the fresh juices that slipped from his lips. He only mindlessly wiped at his chin with the back of his hand and nodded. Once swallowed and not a second before, he smiled, “a welcomed intrusion.”

“Please tell me you won’t be out here in this heat all day,” you said, the heat easily tripled from what you had been feeling in the orchard now that you were out on the field. “It’s deadly.”

“I assure you that I can handle it, your highness.” He mocked back simply, now hyper aware of his bare chest as you stole a glance down to his scar covered skin.

“Never doubted it, General.” You bravely took another step closer, letting his title slip off your tongue more charged than it had ever been before. “These young recruits are truly learning from the best.”

“They are quite young...” he sighed, glancing around to see his training partner off flirting with your garden maid. “Anakin more than the rest.”

You hummed as you looked over your shoulder, “well at least he has good taste.”

“As do you.” He said easily, pulling your attention back to him as he took another bite of his apple. This time as the juices beaded on his lips, your stare followed closely, tracking his tongue as it darted out to contain the mess.

It stole your attention for longer than you would have liked, only the interjecting voice from behind you snapping you out of it.

“I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a fresh apple, your highness.”

Turning quickly over your shoulder, you found the familiar tan face and broad chest of Obi Wan’s second coming around to settle in next to him with a firm slam of his hand onto his General’s shoulder.

With a laugh, you easily replied, “I don’t know when my gardens became so exclusive, Commander Cody, but you should consider yourself welcome any time.”

“You may not have any apples left if that’s the case.” He countered and your laughter easily continued out of you.

“Then we’ll plant more trees.”

Obi didn’t have nearly enough resolve to hide his laughter, he barely even had time to muffle it by dropping his chin to his chest. What was up with him? He was the model for respectful composure around you even in his weakest moments, but throw in a little sun and your bright smile and he was what? A giddy idiot?

The heat must have been getting to his head. Or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, it was downright dangerous.

Too dangerous...

“Well, we should resume, hopefully we can finish before the heat become unbearable.” Obi nodded to Cody and he quickly began rounding up the troops, leaving the two of you just a foot or so from one another.

“It’s already unbearable,” you countered, brushing your hair back behind your ears, your favorite nervous tick. “Promise me you won’t kill yourself out here?”

He just couldn’t stop smiling, not as you radiated such a happy gravity, pulling him in and brightening everything around you as you shined under the sun.

Even if he knew better.

“I wouldn’t be much help in keeping you safe if I died, would I?” He countered.

“Well I care about you more than just your position as my protection, Obi Wan...” you hummed slyly as you took a hesitant step away. “But you’re right, neither dead men nor those with heatstroke make for very good bodyguards.”

He nodded, the smile never disappearing from his lips. “I keep my men safe, your highness, no need to worry.”

You hesitated as you backed away, stopping and taking a step forward instead, bringing you as close as was safe with nearly every pair of eyes in the field turned towards the two of you.

“I have to worry. You keep your men safe but who watches you?”

He froze at that, more than he had when you had suggested so easily that you cared about him more than just as your personal guard. He froze and you wore a look of victory, the effortless back and forth between the two of you coming to a close with a smirk on your lips.

“Kenobi! Let’s get back to work!” Cody shouted from back in the fray of guards, snapping him from his you-centric haze and allowing you to take another step away.

“Thank you for the apples, your highness.” He added softly, just loud enough for your ears only. “And your company.”

With one last laugh, you turned away, but your head turned back as you walked away to add, “Always, Obi-Wan.”

And from there, his stare followed you and the rest of the maids back into the garden.

You were radiant against the green of the grass, your exquisite gown sparkling and still not coming close to the shine you were emitting. Radiant. Absolutely radiant.

“Kenobi!” Cody shouted, snapping his attention back to the resuming chaos around him, the clank of swords and the show of sweaty chests taking over his attention now. And as Cody jogged back to his side, he added carefully, “you are playing a dangerous game, General.”

He knew better than to steal a glance back to you now, his throat going dry.

“I’m not playing any game, Cody.”

Cody has the audacity to laugh at him as he fought back, not even stopping as Obi passed a stern glare his way. “Sure, I’ll just pretend I saw none of that.”

This time, Obi Wan dared to steal a glance over his shoulder back to where you were retreating to the garden, and his heart fell when he found you looking back at him over your shoulder as well. The maids around you were bubbling with excitement, and you were still glowing, a decadent design as you floated back up the gentle slope of the hill.

And you were looking at him, your bubbling happiness shifting to a smirk as you caught him looking.

“I’m not playing a game.” He sighed, bringing his stare back to his commander.

“Does she know that?”

—

The dull blades for training were meant to protect those using them, that was the whole point of having dull blades.

Yet, here Obi Wan sat, at his desk in his small living quarters, trying to read by candle light to distract himself from the sharp pain radiating out from the gnarly gash Anakin had delivered to his shoulder earlier.

It had been a slip, nothing even a practiced soldier hadn’t done a thousand times, but this one caught his bare skin and left a bruised gash along his skin. It wasn’t bad, not even close to bad, but it was just painful enough to be annoying.

An apt description of his apprentice Anakin as well.

Especially as a knock came to the door of his quarters, surely Anakin coming by again to check on him despite having been sent out on night guard duty in the East wing with the rest of the recruits.

“I swear to the stars, Anakin, I am okay—“

Swinging the door open, his words fell dead on his lips as his stare landed on you.

You in your short night gown, the bottom hem of the navy fabric only dropping as low as your knee, and with a similarly silky robe in a matching shade of blue, wrapped tight around your body.

It was out of place on you, he was all too used to seeing you in your exquisite royal gowns. And you were out of place down in the guard chambers, out of place enough to concern him deeply.

“Is something the matter, your highness?” He lowered his voice, careful going steal a look around the common room behind you, grateful to find it empty.

If being alone with you in your gardens was dangerous, having you alone in his personal chambers was toeing the line of an execution on his end. You had to know that.

So why did you just quirk your smile back to him and lean casually into his doorway.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you hummed, “can I come in?”

“You shouldn’t be down here, your highness, if you needed me, you could have hailed me to your—“

“Let me in, Obi Wan.”

Against his better judgement, he took a step back and did just that. What was more treasonous? Letting you into his meager living quarters or denying your requests...

He’d feel safer with the door open, at least he could defend you being there professionally if he kept the door open, so why was he closing it? Why was he firmly securing his fate?

Maybe it was just the power you had over him, the power he should have never let grow to the tremendous size it now occupied within his chest.

“One of the men at dinner mentioned you were hurt...” you hummed as you paced around the small square room, moving over to his desk to drag your fingers along the close spine of the book he left by the candlelight.

“It’s nothing, your highness.”

You chuckled at that, somehow managing to be just as bright as you had been this morning on the open field under the glaring sun in the dark confines of his musky room. “Will I ever get you to call me by my name?”

“Your highness, I—“

You raised your hand before he could continue. “Just, don’t call me anything if you won’t use my name, please.”

He nodded even if his heart was screaming in opposition where it pounded in his chest. Your title was his last line of defense, it was the last thing keeping him away from you, keeping the relationship between the two of you professional.

And now you were stood in his room, letting your fingers dance over the rough blanket covering his bed, and he had no defense to mount against your dangerous game.

Especially as you turned back to him, stepped directly in front of him, and reached out for the neckline of his tunic, pushing it aside to reveal the small wound. “You didn’t get it looked at?”

“It’s nothing, your—“ he stopped himself, swallowing the rest of your title down. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing...”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He sighed, carefully reaching up to nudge your hand away but you were persistent. “Please, I’m fine—“

“Let me worry about you, Obi...”

He opened his mouth to protest again but you dropped your hand and moved past him, pushing into the small bathroom attached to his room.

What the hell was he doing? He sighed as he sat back against his desk and waited for you. He couldn’t run over his face enough to snap him out of it, he was trapped inside this dream and he didn’t trust himself.

When you came back out, he’d have to tell you to go. He’d have to—

With a wet towel in your hand, you emerged from the bathroom and crossed the room in two steps to land yourself directly in front of where he sat. Laying the towel down on the desk next to him, you moved the candle over for better light and began working the injured shoulder out from under his tunic.

And he couldn’t find it in himself to tell you to stop. He just didn’t want you to.

He reached up and helped, pulling the tunic the rest of the way off for you to survey the whole wound.

“You know how to clean a wound?” He hummed carefully as you brought the towel to the cut and he swallowed his grunt.

“Don’t tell me you think I just pick fruit and look pretty all day?” You laughed, the sweet sound on a direct wavelength into his ears. “I know how to make myself useful.”

He turned his head to carefully watch you, closer than he had ever allowed himself to be to you. He could see every curve of your face, every line from your hairline to your chin, from your neck to the dangerously low neckline of your dress and every inch of skin in between.

“I would never doubt it.” He sighed breathlessly.

You shook your head, a playful smile toying with the edges of your lips. “You respect me too much, Obi...”

He grunted as you pressed harder into the wound, biting his bottom lip to keep quiet as you turned to watch him.

“Given the men you spend your days being courted by, I thought that would be a welcomed change.” He hummed, dangerously aware of your dutiful hands slowing in their motions. Your head quirked to him and he quickly caught himself, “Allow me to apologize, it’s not my place to say—“

“You don’t get it...”

You had that right, he didn’t understand any of what was happening as you dropped the towel and turned to face him completely. You were close now, close enough for him to feel the gentle touch of your silk dress dancing against his pant legs.

“Your highness—“ he tried to recoil, terrified of over stepping, but you just recovered the distance back as you leaned forward.

“For once, can you please just disrespect me...”

What kind of soldier would he be if he didn’t follow orders...

Your hands, still slightly damp from having held onto the damp towel, dug into his fluffy locks in the same second that his hands found your silk covered hips and tugged you in even closer than you were already standing. He didn’t know what he was doing but at the same time, he had never felt so confident doing something so wrong.

Inhaling a sharp breath from the twist of his shoulders into you, he ignored the pain and pressed the last inch into you, your lips finally meeting his.

Your sweet, sweet lips... sweeter than the freshest apple of your exquisite orchard.

Even after an exhaustive day out in the sun, he had never felt thirstier than when your lips met his. He needed you. More of you. You were an oasis in the desert that was his loneliness and he couldn’t pull you any closer if he tried.

And he tried.

Stars, did he try.

His calloused and rough fingers dug into the pure fabric of your dress, cinching the loose fabric around your waist as he pressed every inch of your front into his bare chest. Never in his wildest dreams could he have ever imagined feeling you like this.

And he had dreamed about it, ever since he had been assigned to your personal detail. But you were the princess and he was your bodyguard and this was all so wrong.

But it was all so real...

You were so real under his touch, so addicting on his tongue. How could he be expected to let go?

One of your arms draped over his shoulder, his uninjured shoulder, and fully pressed yourself into him as he pulled the silky robe down your arms and onto the hard comcrete of his floor around his feet. He could feel your heart threatening to beat of your chest in time with his own.

Best after beat as his lips dropped to your neck and your fingers began to pull at his hair, tugging sections between each knuckle to drag a groan from his lips as his tongue on your neck pulled one from you. He couldn’t get enough of you, he would never get enough of you.

“Obi...” you moaned out as the straps of your dress began to slip off your shoulders, tugged down from his clenching grip around your hips. “Please...”

He would do anything for you. Anything in the world you could possibly ask for, you had to know that.

He ventured out to let one of his hands trail even lower down your body, down your ass to hold you in between his legs even tighter now. He wanted his hands on every inch of you, he needed—

“General Kenobi!”

You flinched back from him the second you heard the violent scream from out in the common room. It wasn’t the scream of a man in any situation other than his most desperate and it shot Obi Wan onto his feet instantly.

His stare moved frantically to you but you just grabbed his tunic and pushed him to the door, “go, I’m okay.”

“Your highness—“

“Go.”

Opening the door as he slipped the tunic on and reached for his sword, he saw one of his new recruits out of breath, huffing in the entry way to the common room.

“What’s wrong?” Obi asked with a similar level of desperation in his voice while he moved with practiced fingers to strap the sword onto his hip. “What’s going on?”

The young recruit struggled for every breath.

“There’s...” in and out, “there’s an incursion...” in and out again, “in the East Wing....” in and out one last time as he doubled over, “Commander Cody hit... they need help...”

No. No this wasn’t happening.

Not with you in his quarters, the definition of unprotected.

“Wake everyone up, get them to the East Wing, reinforced every inch of the wall.” He ordered, waiting for him to leave the room before slipping back to his own and opening the door up to find you waiting close on the other side.

With your robe back on, your arms crossed tight over your chest, your hair back behind your ears and your lips still swollen, his heart began to break in his chest.

“I need to—“

“I slipped down here, I can slip back up, don’t worry about me.” You said quickly, glancing out to ensure the coast was clear before walking out with him. “You need to go.”

“I need to make sure you’re safe—“

“You have fresh recruits on the East Wing tonight, you need to be there.” You fought easily, “go, Obi.”

He glanced to the door to see the shadows of his few sleeping guards moving from their quarters out into the hall and the commotion just kept getting louder. He had no choice, you were right.

Anakin and all the young recruits were there. He had to get out there.

“I’ll come check on you when it’s safe,” he sighed, pressing a weak kiss to your cheek before taking off in the direction of all his guards.

Leaving you, your silky robes and you swollen lips standing alone in the guards room.

—

tags: @none-of-your-bullshit @elizzysnow13 @binaryssunsets @pennyllanne @mistermiraclee @haztory @dark-academics-and-florals @obi-wan-kanboneme @cyarikaaa @catsandbats13 @justrunamok @voidmonny @ravenclawbitch426 @lysawayne @thinemineours (open + if I forgot you, please let me know)

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #bodyguard au #princess au #always

[poptod]

hey can u do a snafu x reader where she’s a marine corps engineer stationed with him and he’s likes her and hits on her but she always rejects him and when new recruits flirt with her he scares them away bc she’s “his girl” and like fluffy at the end? i know the engineer thing is weird but i’m an engineering student so... yeah. thanks and i love ur work! also i know i typed “she” but it can be gender neutral

Notes: I have a fic similar to this called 'Trouble won't let you forget' but i really wanted to write this anyway. it seems like a super interesting prompt and i've never written an engineer type character except once, but that was only kinda, so thanks for requesting! i don't feel fantastic about this but i hope you like it anyway. also sorry for the length.

You'd bet good money that out of all the soldiers on this godforsaken island, you'd been here the longest. There was hardly any question about it – you set up the original tents. You built the bridges, you set the trenches, you planted the landmines, and that made you an original. It was high time for you to be sent home, but the order never came, and all you could do is keep working.

The perks of being here since the beginning numbered few, but the one that gained you the most attention was the fact that you knew everybody. Every single person here had personally come up and had a conversation with you, filled to the brim with questions, wondering of how life worked and what exactly they'd be doing. Oftentimes people would come up and ask about other people – it was one of those ways people tried to know someone without actually talking to the other person, and you were happy to oblige. From this dependency on your library of knowledge, a deep-rooted respect had grown for you in the encampment, a respect that very few people dared to break.

There was a man who, like you, had yet to be sent home, and had been on the island for a good amount of time. Not as long as you of course, but a fairly long while. You didn't get on particularly well with him, which was unfortunate, considering it was likely neither of you were going to be sent home anytime soon. It wasn't that you wholly disliked him, either – it was more that he didn't like you. He never trusted you with anything. You'd get orders to build something, to scout out a new area, something like that and he always insisted on joining you, spouting bullshit about how you couldn't do it yourself, despite the fact that you've done this far more and for much longer than he has.

"Every single order for the past month, every one of them you've sent me on that dickhead -"

"Don't get snarky, Corporal," your CO interrupts you, his arms crossed as he sits leisurely behind his large, wooden desk, looking like he thinks he knows everything.

"You have to see my side of this, though," you plead, practically ready to get on your knees and beg.

"He don't have ta' see anythin', jus' that ya can't be left alone," Snafu, that asshole, that fuckface, drawled, a mocking laugh leaving him. You didn't bother to glare at him – it never worked.

"It's better for your own safety anyway," your CO says, a technically valid point, but your distaste for Snafu had grown that validity didn't matter. "Can't carry a gun in your arms if you're settin' out trenches."

With your fists curled so tightly that your nails almost dug through your skin and into your blood, you turned and left, seething with annoyance. Snafu followed after, walking by your side with that trademark smirk that did nothing but make you want to punch his face. You wouldn't, of course. Probably.

"Let's get this over with," you grumble, grabbing pikes out of one of the large, wooden crates sat beside your CO's tent. Stuffing them into your bag you turn, stumbling backwards when you find Snafu directly in front of you, close enough for your chests to be touching. Now greatly unsettled you circle around him, watching him the entire time to make sure he wasn't going to try anything.

You make your way through the camp, avoiding the larger crowds before finding yourself (and Snafu) in the wilds of the forest. Looking to your left you find bare ground, rich with fallen leaves and crumbles of dirt and mud, and to your right you see the already-dug trenches filled with puddles and forgotten trinkets. Pulling out one of the pikes you set it into the ground, stabilizing it just enough so you could stomp your foot on it, digging the marker deep into the earth. Snafu doesn't help – no, all he does is watch you sweat in the humidity caught beneath the canopy of trees, with his gun slung over his shirtless back and his boots pressing large footprints into the ground.

About halfway through you begin to have difficulty, which is fortunately something you expected. Thirst gets the better of you with your empty flask, but you don't dare ask Snafu for help, as you know exactly what his response would be. Something about how helpless you are, how you need him – something that both demeans and makes fun of you. You bite into the inside of your cheek in hopes of the preemptive anger dissipating. Instead of saying anything at all, you set another pike in the ground, practically pile driving it with the heel of your own boot.

"Lookin' pretty sweaty there," he says in that soft voice, that wonderfully soft voice that you would've adored, had you not understood the words he was saying.

"Cause you're such a prize? Look at yourself. You're sweatier and fuckin' filtheir than me too," you grit out, digging into the earth with your bare hands until you finally pull out the large rock in the way of your plans.

"No need ta get angry, doll," he laughs, pulling a cig out of his pocket and lighting it. With the obstruction his words are even harder to understand, slurred and blurry, and you already have enough issues with the left side of your face, what with the eye injury and the bomb damage. "Want one?" He says as he offers a cigarette to you.

"No," you mumble. "That shit'll kill you."

Considering the amount of times he's called you doll, one would assume you know what the nickname means. You don't. Most people call you Foxeye, and Snafu calls most people by their usual nicknames, but not you. Nope, he has to make your life harder in every aspect, so of course that means giving you a new, separate name that you have to respond to. Even the way he speaks that name is demeaning – like you're something precious. Like you'll break.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and actually help me for once?" You ask when your trail begins to circle back to camp, pounding another pike into the ground.

"Nah... I like t' watch ya sweat," he says with an obnoxious grin.

"I can't wait till you go home," you grumble.

"Me too, doll."

+

To your dismay, neither you nor Snafu are sent home before the next installment of men comes in. You're sitting on the beach, trying to draw one of the crabs scuttering about on the sand when you spot the massive boat, first only a grey speck on the distant horizon. Over time it grows closer, and by midday you can tell for certain it's a boat with a new installment. By the afternoon it docks near the bridges you helped to build, and the men come out. Each of them have fresh haircuts, with clean-shaven chins and bright eyes. It isn't the hair or the happy eyes that sets them clearly apart from the others, though – the major difference between you and them is that they're clean. You can see the actual color of their skin, and their clothes are neatly pressed.

From your spot on the beach you admire them. Love for men is not something you share with many people. Actually, you don't share it with anyone, as any mention of it would seriously damage both your reputation and your relationship with your CO and the various companies gathered here. Still you watch in silence, heart racing when a brunet with a sharp jawline and dark eyes meets your gaze and smiles. He smiles at you, and instantly you can feel blush fill your cheeks. Nothing will come of it, you know that, but it's a pleasant feeling that has you upbeat the rest of the day.

Several days later you happen to have an actual conversation with the man, but it's nothing more special than what people usually talk to you about. The sun overhead burns warmth into your skin, and as you stretch out in the back of one of the trucks, your eyes close. Heat is generally despised around here mostly because it's always hot, but every now and then it can be pleasant. This is one of those times, where a quiet happiness bubbles in your stomach. One of the men the handsome stranger is walking with notices you, mumbling something you can't quite hear, but the group approaches you. When one of them clears his throat you pop open your one good eye, sitting up when you notice all of them looking at you.

"You're Foxeye?" One of them asks with a furrowed brow.

"What gave it away?" You say with a pleasant yet distant smile. Reaching for your hip you pull out your flask, unscrewing it and taking a long sip, one you know shows off your own jawline and your permanently bloodshot left eye.

"You've got quite the name around here," the handsome one from before says, leaning against the truck in a positively tantalizing way. You're good at not letting it show, so you just shrug, turning to him with a soft grin that manages to make his cheeks turn a pretty pink.

"Seems like you know me already. What are your names?" You ask, doing a quick survey of the group before turning back to the handsome stranger.

"I'm Mark. Lester," he says, offering his hand for you to shake, which you gladly accept.

The others introduce themselves after him, and although you try to remember everyone's names, the introduction is cut short by that guy. Snafu worms his way through the crowd, pushing anyone who tries to stop him out of the way. You try to ask him what the hell he's doing this time, but before you can say anything at all, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down from the truck bed, pulling you out and away from the group of new soldiers. Trying to yank yourself out of his grasp you pull, scratching at his fist and groaning with the effort.

"What the hell are you doing!?" You finally ask when the group is in the distance. Only there does he release you, turning round to face you with almost... angered eyes. Why would he be angry with you?

"I ain't doin' this for myself," he tells you, gritting the words out. "Captain wants t' speak with ya."

"Oh," you mumble. "You could've just told me, instead of fucking – it looked like you were gonna kill me."

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even smile, and he certainly doesn't carry his usual lax body language, something that does its' job of unsettling you. All he does is turn and leave, leaving you alone in front of your CO's tent. All you want is for him to like you, but no, he has to refuse, and further than that he has to be an asshole about it. Slow with shock you open up the door, entering the tent to find it empty, many of the classified documents scattered about his desk. It doesn't interest you greatly – most people are already willing to tell you their secrets, considering how well you keep them, but what does interest you is what you see past the mesh of your CO's tent.

Snafu's talking to Mark. Neither of them look particularly happy, but you couldn't imagine any situation where they'd get on anyway, what with their massive personality differences, but this isn't normal. They're pissed. Snafu doesn't get incredibly angry, but now he looks outraged. You're too far away to hear what they're saying, but soon their words turn to yelling, and you can do nothing but stand there and watch as other men start getting involved. One group is trying to calm Snafu down and the other is trying to reason with Mark, and as they yell louder you can just barely make out their words.

"You're a fuckin' pussy, Marky!" Snafu yells, kicking his legs into the air as two men grab underneath his arms, lifting him up and trying to carry him away.

"I'd rather be that than an asshole as fucked up as you," Mark says, spitting at the ground.

His actions do nothing more than rile Snafu up further, till he's writhing in his friend's grasps, pushing and pulling so harsh that he falls to the ground and starts in a dead sprint towards Mark. Mark is fittingly terrified by this, backing up into the large gathering of men behind him, but it's not enough. He ends up falling back into them as Snafu practically launches himself at the man, landing on a pile of bodies that quickly squirm out of the way as Snafu pounds his fist into Mark's face.

"You fuckin' touch 'em, even look at 'em ever again I'll give you a real beating," Snafu says when he stands, leaving Mark in a daze from his fist. To finish it off Snafu lands a harsh kick to his chest, dramatized by the heavy fall of his boot, drawing a harsh cough and breath from Mark.

It's only when the crowd disperses that you realize your mouth has been hanging open, quickly rectifying that with a quiet embarrassment. In a reflex you pull your flask from your hip, opening and taking a long swallow from it. Part of you wants to go help Mark, another part wants to go yell at Snafu, but the part that wins over is your curiosity. You don't want to ask Mark what happened, and you don't want to ask Snafu either – Mark may be handsome, but you don't know enough about him to trust he'll give an accurate description of events. Snafu likes to make your life a living hell, so you can't depend on him for truth either, leaving you with one choice.

Wandering around the camp you find a group of men smoking together in general silence, a group neither Mark nor Snafu is in. There you stop, not bothering to ask if you can sit down with them before you do so. Again, you're well known – no one besides Snafu has any issues with you. So you ask them.

"What the hell were they fighting about?" You ask amidst the quiet, knowing they would all know who you were talking about. One of them looks up at you, a pipe hanging out of his mouth, and a single eyebrow quirked.

"Are you being serious?" He asks you as the others pointedly ignore your conversation.

"... yes?" You say, feeling less sure of yourself the more he stares at you.

"Just go ask Snaf. He'll tell you better," he says, and after that he returns back to his magazine. A small sigh leaves you as you stand, brushing off your already dirty clothes.

Every part of you screamed that Snafu wouldn't tell you the truth, so you leave it at that. You're happy to stay in the dark as long as it means you avoid having another excruciating conversation with that man. You’re done trying to win his favor. For the next several days you even do your best to avoid him, ducking out of the mess tent when he enters and walking the other direction when you see him down the path. In fact, you do such a good job of it, that you only talk to him again when you're setting up the rest of the trenches. Once more he's managed to convince your CO to send both of you on to chart out the remaining trenches, even though the job is rarely dangerous, and you did it fine before he ever even came to the island.

Once more you find yourself ignoring his incoherent ramblings, drinking a long swig from your flask before letting out a sigh, driving another pike into the ground. Sometimes you can barely even hear him – this is one of those times, and these times make it easier for you to do your job. If you cared about Snafu you might've made an effort to understand him, but you don't care about him. At all. He could choke on his dinner and you wouldn't raise your head.

"I've got a question for you," you grunt out, knelt beside a pike that just won't go in. There you begin to dig at the earth with your hands, trying to find the hard ground or the rock stopping it.

"Go ahead, doll," he says when you pause in concentration.

"Jesus –" you mumble beneath your breath, your annoyance spiking at the nickname. "Saw you and that new recruit duking it out. What was that about? No one's willin' to tell me."

He went silent.

Snafu never goes silent, especially when the subject of a fight he won is brought up. Even when you move onto the next pike he doesn't speak, so you turn to him, sitting down in the dirt and looking up at him.

"What? I say something wrong?"

He still doesn't say anything, but he drops to his knees, almost right between your legs as you looks to you with a reverence so deep and pure you think you're imagining it. But you blink, and he's still there, one hand wrapped around your ankle and the other right beneath your raised thigh. Your breath catches in your throat, but from what you can't tell – is it surprise? Horror? Intrigue? All you can feel is the way his bare skin moves against your clothed legs, clouding out all thought of your racing heart.

"Y' ever hate someone?" He asks in the softest voice you've heard him use. Words fail you, so you nod, thinking only of him. "Is it me? I don’t blame you."

Well, you don't hate hate him – it was more of a he hated you, so you hated him in return situation. Nonetheless you nodded, curious to see where this was going.

He surges forward, and in one fluid motion he's kissing you, pressing you up against the bark of the tree behind you. Your immediate reaction is to try and crawl backwards, try to get away from him, but you're stopped by the tree, and he uses it to his advantage. The hand around your ankle moves, coming up to your head and tangling in your hair. There he pulls, drawing the smallest whine – not a moan, you won't let it be a moan – from your unwilling mouth. He presses himself impossibly close to you, till you're chest to chest, his hips practically grinding into yours. The way his lips move – soft against your own, needy and full of an ardor you didn't know could exist, especially not within him, but it's there. God, it's there, it's all you can feel as he nips at your lip, soothing the burn he leaves with his tongue. In that tiny motion, that semblance of caring you melt. Only then do you return his kiss, letting him pull at your hair, letting him have this control that is so rare to find in such a place as this.

"I told him you were mine," he mumbles when he pulls away, his breath warm against your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear, all the way leaving tiny kisses. "Fucker thought I was lyin'. You're mine."

"Yeah," you breathe out, regaining control of your limbs just soon enough to hold his cheek in your palm, drawing him back to you and pulling him into a kiss you control. "I - I thought you hated me."

"Nah," he says, chuckling against your lips. "Jus' lookin' out for ya."

Now that was a surprise – and for once, it’s one you like.

#merriel snafu shelton #snafu x reader #the pacific hbo #rami malek #rami malek character #gender neutral reader

[httpjeon]

❝ collateral damage ❞ pjm ― m.

― summary: you’re a simple bank teller and you certainly didn’t expect to be taken as collateral for outlaw bank-robber park jimin.

outlaw!jimin/reader ― ft. jungkook & taehyung | wild west!au | fluff, smut | 5.2k ↬ content warnings: basically pwp. kidnapping, guns, old timey bank robbery, referenced off screen murders (non-explicit), yoongi gets choked a bit, light thigh riding, sexual punishment, cunnilingus, dirty talk, light sir!kink, blow job, hair pulling, vague pain kink, pet names

a/n: this fic is part of the under fire collaboration for the summer smut project by @btssmutclub! be sure to check out the other writers’ fics for this collab! > disclaimer: i’d like to point out there is no real violence towards the reader in any capacity in this fic. she remains safe and unharmed throughout the fic, just spooked bc of jimin’s reputation as an outlaw and crimes!

→ blog masterlist      →collab masterlist

You huffed, covering your eyes with your hand like a visor as you stared out in the blistering heat of your city. It was hot enough to cook an egg out, no doubt.

It was a peaceful, small town that you had lived in your whole life. Everyone knew everyone and there was rarely a problem that arose.

"Mornin' _____!" The local mercantile owner, Yoongi, beamed at you.

The two of you had become good friends as your job at the bank was located right next door to the mercantile his family owned. Often, he would bring you little snacks during work and you frequently picked up your groceries and essentials from him.

"You hear they've up and found some gold nearby? I expect we'll start to get a lot busier now!" He smiled, mindlessly sweeping the front steps of his store.

"Oh really?" You hummed. "I haven't heard much. But with tons of towns popping up everywhere with the gold and silver bein' found, I guess it's hard to keep track. I didn't think there'd be some nearby here though!"

"Why? You wanna go and search for some gold?" Yoongi snickered.

"As if," You chuckled. "I'm doing well enough here, I don't need to risk my life for the sake of greed.”

"If you say so," He teased, finally turning and heading back into the store with a casual wave of his hand.

You sighed, wiping the sweat off your brow before turning on your heel to get back to work.

After that, it seemed Yoongi's prediction was right. You had people coming in, asking for loans and coming in to exchange their gold and silver for cash money.

Unfortunately, the peaceful reputation in your little town wouldn't stay that way for long.

Another terribly hot day that had you heaving against your desk — hoping the wood would somehow cool you down. The doors opened and several footsteps entered, making you look up.

"Hey there, sweetheart," A pretty-faced young man leaned against the counter.

"Welcome, how can I help you?" You asked, smiling up at him.

He had black hair that stuck to his forehead from sweat, a wide-brimmed hat on his head to shield his eyes from the sun.

He was good looking, no doubt about it.

Behind him stood two other men near the door, as if guarding it, and a feeling of unease began to wash over you.

"I'm awfully sorry about this but," You gasped as he pulled out long-barrelled gun, pointing it directly at you. "How about you hand me that little box back there and give me all the money you got, sweetheart?"

"I..." You trembled underneath the weight of his glare and the gun.

"Hurry it along, darlin' we ain't got all day," One of the other men called, his hand on his gun which sat in its holster.

"A-Alright...just hold your horses," You grumbled, grabbing the box and placing it down for the man. He chuckled, lowering his gun as you finally opened the box for him to take the money from.

He eagerly stuffed fistfuls of cash into his pockets with a grin on his face. You thought you were in the clear, breathing a sigh of relief as he began to back off, showing no intentions of actually hurting you.

That is, until the door opened and Yoongi walked in with a smile.

"Hey ____—" He was cut off by one of the men aggressively grabbing him, wrapping their arms around his neck to choke him as he slammed your friend harshly against the wall.

"Don't hurt him!" You cried, rounding the counter to try and come to your friend's aid.

Unfortunately, the man who took the money grabbed you, holding the gun to your temple making you cry out in fear and shock.

"Now, you're gonna behave mister and let us leave in peace alright?" He hissed. You met Yoongi's eyes, noticing how red his face became with the lack of oxygen. "And we're gonna take this here girl as collateral. We're gonna get out of here and get nice and far, and if we make it out safely...we'll let her go."

"Y-You can't..." Yoongi choked out, no doubt worrying for your well-being.

None of the men seemed to listen. Yoongi was released, falling to the floor with a heavy thud as he gasped for air. He was too weak to do anything to stop you from being dragged out.

“Remember,” One of the other men mumbled to Yoongi, bringing his finger to his lips in a shush motion. “Not a peep.” 

The streets were bustling more than usual, on account of all the traffic picking up lately, and you were easily manhandled onto the horse tied out front of the bank. Jimin hopped on behind you, his spicy scent permeating around you. You were sitting sideways on the horse in front of him, boxed in by his arms as he held the reigns.

"This is...crazy," You grumbled as the man kicked the horse, making you jerk forward in surprise. Glancing over the man's shoulder, you could see his two lackeys following.

"Sorry about this, we planned just a clean ol' robbin' but..." The man shrugged, trailing off before clearing his throat and looking down his nose at you. "What's your name anyway?"

"Why should I tell you?" You grumbled, wondering why you were acting like a brat to the man who literally had a gun pointed at you moments before.

"Well I'm Jimin...Park Jimin,"

Immediately, your body stiffened as a shiver of fear raced down your spine. You knew that name. His wanted posters were posted all across town, all across the state no doubt.

He was an outlaw wanted in several states for various crimes — mostly robbing banks and trains. He even had a few murders under his belt.

Okay, so he could kill you at the drop of a hat. Maybe you should be on his good side and not piss him off.

"M-My name is _____," You stuttered out, suddenly very aware of how you were hanging onto the fabric of his plaid shirt in order to keep yourself stable.

"Well, nice to meet you, _____. I hope we can get along well," He smiled, a rather cute eye smile for a wanted outlaw.

Why did your abductor have to be cute?

Still, with the memory of the cold steel of his gun pressed against you, you had no hope of escape anyway. You could jump off the horse but that would no doubt seriously injure you at the speed you were going. Plus, he'd probably turn around, angry, and shoot you in the end anyway.

You sighed, making him chuckle against your back.

"Now, now sweetheart it ain't that bad," He said. "Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen to you with us, I promise. We'll just keep you around until the heat dies down and we'll send you on home.”

"Unless you want to stay~" One of his companions said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Jungkook," Jimin scoffed, shaking his head but still smiling.

"Unbelievable," You whispered, noticing that you were beginning to slow down.

Looking around for the reason, you saw a little shack up ahead. It was out in the middle of nowhere, way off the beaten path, and you doubted you'd be able to find your way back to town because you had no clue where you were. Not like you were exactly paying attention to the route anyway. You didn't exactly frequent the outskirts of town, the desert was no place for someone like you — with the snakes and coyotes roaming about. You weren't very fond of the idea of being a wild animal’s snack.

Finally you came to a full stop and Jimin hopped down from the horse, holding his hand out for you. When you hesitated on it, he sent you a small glare that had you reaching down for him to help you. He kept his grip on your arm as he began to walk towards the house...or shack.

"Taehyung, you hitch the horses up, alright?" Jimin called over his shoulder, a short 'yeah' from one of the men came in reply.

You were tugged inside, which you were grateful for because the summer sun was literally 2 minutes from actually killing you. It was still hot inside but at least you were out of the sun.

The place was scarcely furnished — a worn couch, a little coffee table, and a couple sleeping mats. There were also some metal bowls sitting on the counter of the tiny kitchen.

"Have a seat, sweetheart, make yourself at home," His voice was soft but held a tone of authority that made a shiver travel up your spine. You were always weak to voices — that's why you liked to hear Yoongi talk so much.

At the thought of your friend, you frowned. You hoped he was okay and safe. Jimin dropped down in the empty seat beside you on the couch and pulled out a flask, handing it to you.

"Drink?"

Your eyes narrowed. "I don't drink."

"It's just water, darlin'," He said with a shrug, urging the flask towards you. "I know you gotta be thirsty bein' out in the heat."

"This isn't a trick?" You asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I promise it's just water," His voice and face turned serious as he said the words.

Sighing, you took the flask from him and turned it up — immediately you felt refreshed by the cool water. Taking a few mouth sips, you handed it back to him and thanked him which earned you a smile.

The door slammed open and the other two men came stomping in with groans about how the heat was killer. The one named Jungkook swiped some sweat off his brow before dropping to sit on the floor with a thud. The other, Taehyung, followed suit except sprawled out across the floor like a starfish.

"That floor can't be clean," You muttered, making Taehyung open on eye to peek at you.

"You worried about my health, honey?" He asked, a smirk gracing his lips when you narrowed your eyes in a glare.

"I'll have you know I can that floor meticulously every day," Jimin piped from beside you, taking another sip of water.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" You shot back, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed the dusty, dirty, scuffed floor the two men were laying upon.

"Why on Earth would I lie to you?" Jimin asked, raising a brow.

"Do you want the honest answer?" As soon as the words left your lips, Jungkook began chuckling from where he was leaning against the wall.

"Aw man, she's cute and funny," He muttered through his giggles. You felt your face flush at that, making you feel even hotter than you already were.

"Alright boys," Jimin stood up. "We should start getting ready for the night."

You remained seated, watching as the men began to bustle about. Jimin was in the kitchen cooking dinner, you assumed — which was weirdly domestic thinking about it. Jungkook went out to collect water and Taehyung was setting up the beds for the night.

"I guess you can sleep on the couch," He said when he noticed you watching.

"I can't believe this..." You grumbled, flopping back onto the couch with a sigh.

"Oh we're not that bad!" Taehyung pouted as he took a seat behind the small table in front of the couch.

You didn't offer a reply, only sighed.

The rest of the night wasn't anywhere near as bad as you expected. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook laughed and joked with one another as they chatted. You ate some soup, which in the heat was torture, but it tasted good nonetheless and it felt good to have some food in your stomach. 

You were restless as you laid down on the couch that night. You could hear the even breaths coming from the three men scattered on the floor. It was strategic, how they were laying. Jungkook was sleeping right in front of the door so you wouldn't be able to get out. Jimin was sleeping right in front of the couch so you couldn't move without him knowing. And Taehyung was in between as an interception if you were to attempt to run away.

You were positive it was the worst night of sleep in your life when your eyes fluttered open, still heavy and stinging with exhaustion. Jungkook and Taehyung were gone and Jimin was sitting at the table cleaning his gun. He looked up when you sat up and smiled.

"Good mornin' sunshine," He grinned when you groaned in response. "What's the matter? Didn't sleep well?"

"I miss my own bed," You complained.

"Well that's just too bad," He sighed, placing his gun down. "We're keepin' our hands on you for awhile longer."

"This isn't fair!" You snapped, stomping your foot on the ground. "You stole the money, I don't want any part of this! I just want to go home!"

In the blink of an eye, Jimin was in your face, nose brushing up against yours as he glared.

"Better watch your tone, pretty girl," He growled, making your heart stutter in your chest.

Then as quick as he was there, he was standing and moving into the kitchen. You placed a hand against your chest and sighed while his back was turned to you. Your cheeks felt hot and you silently cursed him for being so damn attractive.

The longer you spent with Jimin, the more you began to see he wasn’t scary at all. He attempted to put up a front when he caught himself slipping but in the end, his true personality began to shine through.

“Jimin?” You asked one night while Taehyung and Jungkook were out. He hummed, looking up from where he was shining his boot. “Why did you become an outlaw?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “What kinda question is that?”

“The normal kind?” You shot back, raising a brow.

“Well,” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes people do what they have to do to get by. I discovered a knack for thievin’ and I stuck to it. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that,” You scoffed, making him look at you with a frown. “There’s lots of things you could have done instead of stealing.”

“My decisions in life don’t concern you, little girl,” He snapped, making you flinch. His eyes were alight with anger at your words and you immediately quieted down.

He continued to glare at you for a minute, as if wanting to say something more, until the door opened and Taehyung and Jungkook came back in. Jungkook dropped onto the couch beside you and stretched his arms above his head until his joints popped.

"We're going to bed," Jimin snapped suddenly, making the other two look at him in shock.

"It's still early though!" Taehyung complained.

"You'll do as I say!" Jimin shouted, making everyone collectively jump at the volume.

Immediately the two scrambled to get into their sleeping arrangements. You sat on the couch, avoiding Jimin's gaze as he continued to glare at you as he placed his boots beside the couch.

No one uttered a word as Jimin turned the lamp out — casting the room in complete darkness save for the moon's light.

With a sigh, you collapsed onto your side and shut your eyes in an attempt to get some sleep as well.

"Wake up," Jimin uttered, shaking your shoulder until your eyes popped open in surprise. "Need you to go collect the water pails from outside. Taehyung and Jungkook ran off without bringin' them in."

You sighed as you sat up, blinking sleepily until you felt coherent enough to stand. Jimin was silent as he followed you out, watching you leave the house before turning back to sit on the couch and kick his boots off.

By the time you got inside, placing the water buckets down, Jimin was fast asleep on the couch with his mouth open. You stood and watched him for a second, eyeing the open door.

No one was watching and you could make a run for it. If you were quiet, Jimin wouldn't even wake up.

You squinted at him, feeling quite petulant over the problems he had caused you with literally kidnapping you and making your heart stutter in your chest over his stupidly handsome face. Sneaking out of the doorway, you tiptoed around the brush against the side of the building.

A sneaky grin crawled over your face as you heard the tell-tale signs of a snake warning you to stay away.

You dropped onto your knees and circled the creature until you got behind it. Reaching out with a steady hand, you quickly pinned its head and took hold of it to keep it from turning and biting you.

Then with a stealthiness that surprised even you, you snuck back inside and ever so easily dropped the snake into Jimin's boot.

Standing up straight and casting one last glance at Jimin, you turned and booked it out of the door.

The sun was still beating down, the summer heat making you break out into a sweat immediately. Your feet pounded against the ground with every step you took and you were quickly panting and running out of stamina — the heat literally sucking everything out of you.

You could have cried when you saw Taehyung and Jungkook riding up on their horses. There was no hope to escape; they'd already spotted you and you couldn't outrun their horses.

With a resigned sigh, you stood there and glared until Taehyung stopped beside you. He stared down with a brow raised.

"That was a close one, huh?" Jungkook uttered, saddling up on the other side of you.

"Hop on, don't be a pain," Taehyung muttered, though he sounded more bored than angry with your attempted escape.

You heaved a big sigh as you mounted Taehyung's horse, holding onto the back of his shirt as they rode back the short distance to the house. You could see Jimin was still asleep on the couch through the open door.

Jungkook was snickering as he hopped off his horse. He lifted his hand and helped you down off of Taehyung's and began to lead you inside the house, still holding your hand.

"Hey Jimin!" He shouted, taking both you and Jimin by surprise.

"What?!" Jimin shrieked as he sat up so fast it made your head spin.

"Almost had this one run out while you were gettin’ your beauty sleep," Taehyung muttered as he finally walked in, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Jimin growled as he stood up, shoving his feet into his boots "This is—SHIT!"

"What?" Taehyung and Jungkook cried at the same time, watching as Jimin kicked his boot off, making it fly across the room and hit the wall.

The four of you watched as the poor snake slithered out of the boot and disappeared around the corner to the kitchen.

"There was a snake in my boot," Jimin muttered, glaring at his boot.

There was a beat of silence before Taehyung and Jungkook physically doubled over as they howled with laughter. You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you watched Jimin's bottom lip poke out in a pout.

After you all finished eating dinner, a rabbit Jungkook had caught earlier in the day, they decided to set back out once again.

"I heard that the law was starting to extend its search for us, turns out word’s gotten out we’re around the area, so I think it'd be a good idea to make sure there aren't any nosy people driftin' around," Taehyung said as he and Jungkook mounted their horses.

Jungkook slipped his hat on his head and gave you a little wave before taking the reins of his horse and following after Taehyung. You stood and watched, feeling Jimin's eyes on you, as the two vanished into the darkness.

"You know," Jimin said from his seat on the couch, voice a few octaves lower. "I don't really appreciate you making a fool of me today."

You felt a shiver go down your spine at the way he spoke, words full of unspoken promise. You could hear his boots against the floor as he walked up behind you, breath fanning over your neck. He swiftly pushed the door shut and turned you around, slamming your back against its surface.

You gasped, meeting his dark gaze, goosebumps rising over your skin at the look in his eyes; dark and lustful. Never before had you felt so drawn to a man — he was dangerous, charismatic, and so attractive that it almost made you crazy.

His plush, full lips met yours in a kiss that started off heated immediately, not wasting any time showing you what he wanted. You whimpered, reaching up to fist his dark locks and pull his body even closer to yours.

His hands became busy immediately, reaching behind you to pull free the buttons of your dress, the fabric pooling on the floor around your feet.

"So pretty," He whispered, gripping your waist and grinding his hard length, hidden in his jeans, against your hip.

You gasped, tightening your hold in his hair. Before you could deepen the kiss further, he was pulling away and pressing his lips against your neck. You moaned, tilting your head back to allow him more access. He reached up, cupping your bare breasts in his warm, callused hands and you whimpered — the rough drag of his palms against your sensitive nipples making your knees buckle.

He chuckled, working his thigh between your legs — your weight falling on his thigh to keep you upright. His jeans ground against your clothed heat as he continued to palm your breasts.

Tilting your head back against the door, he dipped his head down to take one of your perked, hardened nipples into the heat of his mouth. Holding back a whimper, your clung onto the back of his shirt as his tongue flicked the bud.

With his free hand, he gripped your hip and began to move you to grind against the firm muscle of his thigh.

"J-Jimin—" You whispered, eyes rolling slightly at the pressure against your clit. He pulled his mouth away from your breast and licked his lips, sharp eyes cutting up to look at your blissed expression.

"I think you should be punished, you know?" He asked, teasing tone apparent. "For trying to run away and for that mean prank you pulled."

"N-No...don't punish me," You whimpered, beginning to desperately grind against his thigh.

"Oh? You don't want to be punished?" He asked, straightening his back. The added height made him look more intimidating, especially with the way his sharp eyes were filled with hunger.

"No please," You whimpered, licking your lips as your core throbbed with need at the dominant energy he gave off.

"Then I think you owe me an apology," He whispered, lips moving to brush against yours.

"I-I'm sorry, Jimin," You gasped.

"Sorry for what?" He urged, tongue sneaking out to run over your swollen bottom lip — plump from biting it.

"F-For trying to run away a-and putting the snake in your boot," You whimpered, nearly sobbing when he sharply pinched your nipple.

He hummed, rolling the bud between his fingers. “Apology not accepted.” 

“What—!” You were cut off by him aggressively shoving you to your knees. 

“How about you really show me you're sorry,” Your arguments were cut off when he pulled his cock free from the confines of his jeans. 

Unable to help yourself, you leaned forward and enveloped the head of his cock between your lips. He hissed at the sudden contact, your tongue catching the precum beading at the tip. It was a little salty and slightly bitter but with the way his thighs trembled the deeper your took him, you could ignore the taste. 

His fist tangled in your hair and his head rolled back as he began to shallowly thrust his hips. He pressed against your gag-reflex and you pulled back with a cough. 

“You've got a sweet little mouth, you know?” He smirked, wrapping his fist around his cock and spreading the mixed saliva and precum along his shaft. 

You blushed, opening your mouth for him to slip his cock back inside. He groaned, eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly began to suck his cock. His grip in your hair tightened and the tinge of pain had you gushing into your panties. You whimpered around him, clenching your thighs together to hopefully ease the pressure forming between your legs. 

“Stand up,” He groaned, shuddering at the way you whined when his cock fell from your lips. 

Before you knew it, you were being pushed onto the couch, your ass in the air as he pulled your panties off. A string of wetness clung to the material as he pulled it from your legs. He groaned, catching it with his fingers and popping the digits in his mouth. 

“So sweet,” He growled, falling to his knees. 

He pulled your folds apart, exposing your clenching entrance to his hungry eyes. His cock throbbed when you gushed — sweet, creaming juices from your entrance. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and slid his tongue over the expanse of your pussy. He could have came right then and there at the obscene cry of pleasure you emitted at the feeling of his tongue swiping over your clit. 

He chuckled, taking the swollen bud between his lips and circling his tongue over it until you were clawing at the couch beneath you. It was too much, your inexperienced body trembling at the overwhelming pleasure on your sensitive clit. 

“J-Jimin…” You whimpered, eyes rolling as you mindlessly ground your hips against his tongue. 

The introduction of his fingers had you letting out a long, drawn out moan as he sunk the digits into your spasming cunt. 

“Shit, you're tight,” He muttered swirling his tongue over your clit as he pulled his fingers back out, scraping over your g-spot in a way that made you sob. 

You cried out his name again, the only thing you could think of as the coil tightened in your stomach— winding up until your whole body was locked up. 

With a well-timed thrust of his fingers as his tongue circled your clit, you came. 

He worked you through it, wrapping his free hand around his cock to keep himself from cumming untouched at the incredible display of you cumming for him. Before long, your whines turned into those of overstimulation and he pulled back, getting to his feet. 

“Are you ready now?” He asked, nearly groaning as you arched your back for him — your swollen, gushing folds making him want to dive back down for another taste. 

“Yes sir, please,” He growled at the title and eagerly began to push into your tight entrance. 

The two of you cried out in unison at the feeling — him stretching you deliciously and the hot tightness of your walls enclosing around him. You were wet enough for him to easily sink in completely. 

“Look at you,” He chuckled, pulling back to quickly push back in. “What would your friends say if they knew you were letting a wanted criminal fuck your little cunt?” 

Your walls clenched at the idea and he chuckled, picking up his pace. He nailed your g-spot perfectly and you buried your face into the couch cushion to muffle the complete sobs of pleasure. He growled, not appreciating you attempting to quiet yourself, and wrapped your hair around his fist and yanked up until you were on your knees only. 

The change in angle has him fucking against your spot even harsher, and your eyes rolled back at the feeling. It felt like you were losing your mind, losing yourself on his cock. You were soaking his member, gushing and dripping down your thighs. The sounds emitted every time he moved within your cunt were obscene and you would have been embarrassed if your mind wasn't completely fogged over with pleasure. 

“They'll be back soon,” He grumbled, reaching around to find your clit with experienced fingertips. “Better hurry up darlin’ or else they might come in and see you creaming all over my cock.” 

His filthy words paired with the deft circles over your bud sent you over the edge. He let your hair go and oh bonelessly fell back onto the couch, trembling through your high. 

Before you could even get through the aftershocks of your orgasm, Jimin pulled out and wrapped his fist around his cock — working himself to his own orgasm. Ropes of cum splattered over your ass and you sighed at the feeling, licking your lips as you wished you could taste it. 

As you both came down, he dropped onto the couch beside you and sighed. Running his fingers through your hair, he pulled the knots that formed, from his pulling, free. 

“Let's get you dressed,” He muttered, smiling when you whined as his warmth left you. 

You sat up and allowed him to help you dress back up — just in time for Jungkook and Taehyung to come barreling in. 

“We've gotta go,” Taehyung growled, grabbing Jimin's pack off the floor and tossing it to him. 

“W-Wait!” You gasped as Jimin grabbed your hand and pulled you off the couch. 

“You go with Jungkook, he'll drop you off closer to town so you can get home,” Jimin muttered, watching as Taehyung and Jungkook swept the area to make sure their belongings weren't being left behind. 

“Wh-Where are you going?” You asked. 

“Probably gonna head on to the next state, get away from the heat here,” Jimin grunted as he mounted his horse. 

“Take me with you!” You cried, wincing when three pairs of eyes were on you. “I...I want to stay with you, Jimin.”

“Shit, you got it bad,” He chuckled, narrowing his eyes at you. “Cute little girl wanting to come with the outlaw, huh?” 

“I…” You suddenly felt embarrassed, realizing he most likely didn't feel any real attachment to you like you felt. 

There was a beat of silence, Jungkook and Taehyung mounting their horses. 

“Hop on then, baby,” Jimin chuckled, holding his hand out. “We've got a long road ahead of us. I'm sure you'll enjoy it though.” 

You grinned, fighting the stinging tears of happiness in your eyes as you took his hand and let him help you onto the horse behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his back. 

With a swift kick to the side of his horse, the three of you were off. You turned and watched the little shack disappear from view in the darkness and you realized you didn't even feel sorry about your leaving. 

Maybe one day you'd see Yoongi again but deep down, you knew you were excited for the new adventure ahead.

© httpjeon 2019. do not modify or repost.

#btssmutclub #bscproject #bts smut #jimin smut #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #bts imagines #jimin imagines #bts reactions #jimin reactions #bts preferences #jimin preferences #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin/reader

[ajokeformur-ray]

It tastes like you // Patrick Verona x Lilith // soft comfort.

I guess the reader and Pat don’t get much sleep bc they work so much so they just kinda give up tossing and turning in bed and make hot chocolate together 😂 at like 2am. ~ @jokershyena​

I suppose this is a good time to announce I now write for Patrick Verona too?????? Pffft surprise. I’mma sort it all out later lmao but for right now -

Also lmao it’s 2 am and I cried writing this because he’s too beautiful and his character is gorgeous on the inside too and i’m a weak bitch i guess lmao 

Word count: 1, 407 (under a thousand words you said... PFFFT have you met me????)

You had asked Patrick to spend the night with you under the pretence of working on a “group project” together. It was your excuse, anyway. Both of you knew the real reason:

You just didn’t want to leave Patrick’s side this night, and truth be told did he not want to leave yours, either. The two of you understood each other. You saw the other for who and how they really were, for what they really were, and in this mutual trust and understanding had the two of you formed an intense, close relationship. 

Neither of you had asked the other out, not really. You had just... kissed each other early one morning by way of greeting just before you went in for a test which neither of you had studied for. It had been completely unexpected and out of the blue, but it had felt right. 

And here you were, many kisses and a handful of months later, at two o’clock in the morning. You were lying side by side in the dark, your bodies protected from the natural chill of the night with the duvet which surrounded your forms. Patrick’s fingers had crept underneath your shirt, so important to the two of you was skin on skin contact, and he lazily dragged them up and down in fluid motions, his nails lightly scratching. Patrick was on his back but you lay on your side facing him, a leg hooked over his hip to keep the two of you anchored together.

“Starlight?”

You could hear his smile even through his hum to acknowledge that you had spoken.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Lil, it’s - “ Patrick craned his neck to get the glaring red numbers on your alarm clock. “Two in the morning. Bit early for sugar, isn’t it?”

“Pfft, no. You kissed me, like, two seconds ago.”

“... Yeah, fair point. Come on then, needy. Let’s get you some more sugar, hm?”

You whined as Patrick’s fingers slid out of your shirt, and he chuckled as he stood up with a cute little bounce, extending a hand out to you so that he could help you up. His fingers slid into the spaces between your own as he led you through the apartment into the kitchen, not letting your hand go as with his other hand did he effortlessly reach up into cupboards to pull out everything you needed for hot chocolate.

“How... do you know where everything is?” You were drowsy with sleepiness, intoxicated by Patrick’s scent, the ghost of his touches along your side and the weight of him so solidly pressed against you. So little did you sleep, especially with your anatomy assignment which was due tomorrow, and Patrick, never one to leave his loved ones behind, stayed up with you even when he was exhausted.

Patrick eyed you with slight concern as he raised your joined hands to his lips, peppering kisses all over the back of yours. “I know a lot more than you think I do, love.” With a smirk so wicked that it sent a chill down your spine did Patrick duck his head to kiss you, his full lips warm and soft against your own. He hummed appreciatively as you took a small step forward so that the front planes of your body were aligned, an arm snaking around your waist to pull you up flush against him.

“Hey, Patrick?”

“Hm? What?” He spoke against your lips, his hands gently cupping your face, his fingers splayed behind your ears and into your hair.

“Who’s my pretty baby boy, hm?”

A delighted gasp as did his eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Me! I’m your pretty boy. The prettiest. Right?” His smile died and a hint of insecurity crept into his voice as he gazed at you with those fathomless chocolate depths.

“The prettiest.” You kissed the tip of his nose and then reluctantly pulled yourself away from him so that you could make the hot chocolate. Patrick, bless him, decided to ‘help’ you by wrapping his arms around your waist and peppering your neck with kisses as he stood behind you.

When at last was the hot chocolate done did you fix two mugs of the same; for Patrick wanted it exactly the same way as you had yours. You had to take a drink from both mugs just to satisfy him, always did he claim that yours tasted better even though the drinks were exactly the same. So, to save your own drink, you made sure that Patrick saw you take a swig from both.

“Here, baby,” Your fingers brushed against his as you passed him the mug, the whipped cream on the top in the shape of a heart, and Patrick winked at you with another flash of that sinful smirk as he raised it to his lips and drank some, a pornagraphic moan leaving his throat as he did so.

“Oh,” Patrick’s eyes slid shut as his hot pink tongue darted out to lick the corner of his mouth where some cream was clinging to him (not that you could blame it, really), “This tastes almost as sweet as you. I ever tell you that?”

Were you blushing or was it the heat from the mug which you were cradling with both hands near your face? “Mm, once or twice. Tell me again?”

A dark chuckle as Patrick put his mug down and took yours from you, as well, ignoring your whine as he cupped your face in his hot hands, warmed were they by the drink, “You are the sweetest,” A kiss to your left cheek, “Most wonderful,” a kiss to your right cheek, “sexiest”, a kiss to your forehead, “hyena” a lingering kiss to your lips, “that I have ever met. I love you, Lil.”

Oh, your heart. “I love you too, baby boy. So much. You’re so precious and I love you.”

All the stars were in Patrick’s eyes as he gazed at you with sheer adoration. 

“Tell you what,” Patrick trailed his hands down your face, down your neck, down, down your arms, his skin ghosting across the surface of your own and making you shiver deliciously as once more did he take your hands in his larger ones, “Why don’t we take these to bed, put the books away and just... enjoy tonight? What d’ya say?”

You hesitated. You dearly wanted to but your parents, well... they knew so very little about just how hard you had to work and as a result were they a little harsher than they should be on you and your grades, just numbers were they but so weighted by expectation.

“I want, but - “

Patrick shook his head just once, his brows furrowing in slight impatience. “But what? Your parents? No, Lilith,” he sighed and cast his eyes upwards for just a minute before he put his hands on your shoulders, your palms suddenly feeling cold and empty with the ghost of his solid touch. “You can’t live your life by other people’s standards. You can take one night off. Don’t think I don’t see how far you push yourself for others. It’s great, and you should work hard, but not at your own expense. Now c’mon, let’s take these to bed. It’s cold.” Patrick frowned but you knew it was just a deflection; occasionally and without thought did he fall back on his hard ass reputation.

It was needless but you understood it more than most. How often had you done the same thing just to survive?

You picked up both mugs, the whipped cream melting now into the hot chocolate, flavoured with french vanilla creamer, and faithfully followed Patrick back through the apartment and into the bedroom, the bedsheets rumpled and already cooled.

Leaned up against the headboard as you were did the two of you talk quietly, enjoying this serene moment carved out of a hectic lifestyle and cruel reality together, the mugs quickly growing cold and kept warm only by your hands, so entranced by each other were the two of you that neither of you noticed the sun beginning to kiss the horizon as easily did time slip through your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

Time spent in love and in fun is never wasted, and with Patrick Verona (and he with you) did you each get to experience both things in abundance.

#patrick verona #patrick verona imagine #patrick verona x reader #10 things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you imagine #10 things i hate about you x reader #heath ledger #heath ledger x reader #heath ledger imagine

[zukofenty]

day 25: mona lisa

➜ Summary: The one where Zuko and Katara make a pact to (fake) rush Asian Greek life because they were giving out free tacos.

“Whoever becomes an official sorority sister or frat brother wins!”

“Can the prize be health insurance?” Zuko doesn’t have the energy to muster his patented glare.

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, FratBrother!Zuko, SororityGirl!Katara, scamming, dildo stealing 

➜ Words: 6.6k

➜ Warnings: they stay in an airbnb instead of a hotel bc who has the schmoney for a hotel room😩

AO3, @zutaramonth hi!!!

Zuko’s grabbing at Katara’s arm while she’s carefully sipping water (only water, she swears) out of a red solo cup. She’s in her “whore fit” (her words) with larger than life fake eyelashes that could propel her into the sky a la Icarus if she blinked a little too quickly. She was in the middle of readjusting her crop top for the umpteenth time that night, because of course she forgets her strapless bra chicken cutlet contraption at home, so of course she does the most reasonable thing and takes a regular bra and just tucks the straps in. Because as much as she is a proponent of #freethenipple, her nipples could probably slice open a radiator with how fucking cold Ba Sing Se was. 

 “Please take this shot for me,” Zuko reasons with her, trying to make it seem as though he was handing off a shot to a clueless lightweight sorority rushee he was hoping to nail later in the night. For reputation’s sake, Zuko could not afford to fuck up tonight. He was in too deep. “Please, my Pepsin hasn’t kicked in yet. Asian glow is not the look we’re going for tonight.”

 “I hate you.” Katara munches on her (free) taco, and effortlessly throws back the shot: no chase. Zuko looks back and sees active members of Pi Alpha Psi giving him a thumbs up, hooting, hollering, being dumb. One salaciously thrusts his hips to the beat of “Big Bank,” pathetically hoping he could emulate YG in support of Zuko supposedly getting some Deltas pussy. 

 Asian Greek life was fucking stupid. 

 Tonight was the night of the Deltas Sorority and Pi Alpha Psi Fraternity rush party, the most important party so far during rush week. Because Greek life was entirely stupid , of course they had to hold the fucking party on a Tuesday night, when Zuko had an econ pratice set to get done by midnight, and Katara needed to get to Ochem at 8am the next morning. It was their fault, really. A punishment from God herself (Rihanna) for trying to scam the Greek system. 

 It all started because Zuko and Katara had no fucking friends. 

 Besides each other, but that was also up for debate most days. Especially the days when Zuko would remind Katara whenever her foundation didn’t blend down her neck. He always thought he was being helpful. Katara’s long given up the urge to slit his throat. 

 After high school, when you still believed you were going to do something with your life and be important and make a difference and didn’t know about income tax, they had kept the dream of Ba Sing Se University alive while they attended community college. Uncle Iroh and Hakoda weren’t exactly rolling in tuition money, and financial aid was a stingy bitch. While Zuko had considered reaching out to his estranged father, the owner of a multi billion dollar pyramid scheme, he suddenly remembers the time his dad tried to burn his face off after a particularly heated episode of Maury , and then books another therapy appointment. 

 It was the top university in the nation, promising a gateway to accounting jobs and selling your soul to work for immoral tech companies to pay off your student loans in a timely manner. They had prayed for the day they could call the school home. The day they could leave their small town and finally make it in life. Katara and Zuko were inseparable growing up, even if at the surface they bumped heads. They were at each other’s throats whenever the going got tough, slinging petty insults at each other. 

 “I told you this was a bad idea. They don’t have fucking non-dairy options. Wait until my anus starts beatboxing in the bathroom in 20 minutes. Then you will see,” Zuko grumbled. Katara was always doing this, dragging their group of friends to “fun” places whenever Yelp sends her a notification a new restaurant opened up in their shithole of a town. It’s always some boba shop that was secretly a front for a Scientology cult’s money laundering scheme. 

 But Katara’s the only one who is able to scare Zuko (dairy induced) shitless. She’s always able to send him a glare that screams don’t you dare fuck with me, I know you masturbate to Hatsune Miku moan compilations. And he instantly starts sweating .

 At the same time, she was the only one to truly get him. Even if their friends were perfectly content to stay in their town, doing the same things, being the same people, Katara and Zuko always knew there was so much more out there. So much more to the world than what they had grown up in. So they kept the dream alive. Even if their friends had rightfully doubted them. No one made it out of their town. You find a partner from the same people you grew up with, have kids you grow to hate, hide your husband’s infidelity, and either choose from two options. Grow old with him and resent him and then have a kid to try to save the marriage. Or, go Gone Girl on his ass. 

 “Women really need to go back to poisoning their men. Like the good old days,” Katara’s eyes were narrowed into slits as she focused on taking clandestine photos of Mrs. Kim’s cheating, rat-faced husband. For a few months, she was under the tutelage of the town’s private investigator, June. It paid well, and she felt she was contributing to the feminist movement at the same time. 

 “Uh-huh, right,” Zuko eyed her warily. Dubbed lovingly “Katara’s Uber Driver,” he also got paid by June to drive the Nyla Mobile around during their late night ops. 

 He couldn’t wait to leave this shit fuck of a town. 

 While their friends and family were tearfully embracing them on their final days at home, a patented group hug forced upon them, they shared a secret smile. Their dream was coming true. They were going to a school in the city with minimized debt. Plus, though neither of them would ever admit it, they also had each other to rely on.

 //

 “What the fuck do you need? I swear to Rihanna, you only text me when I’m trying to masturbate. Please, make other friends,” Katara nearly screams into the phone. Her roommate, Suki, groans at the volume coming from Katara’s side of the room, but doesn’t get up. Her stomach is still sensitive from the Blue Razz Four Loko she downed at some frat house Katara had to drag her back from. 

 Zuko had the decency to sound sheepish. “What are you doing tomorrow?” 

 “I hope you understand, I am too tense right now to pretend I like you. Go. Make. Friends.” 

 Because Zuko is a fucking child , he starts groaning and Katara could hear him petulantly slamming his Amazon memory foam mattress with his fist. He’ll get angry that the mattress is preventing any real satisfaction from hitting it, and then hit it a few (approximately 3) more times. She hears the pounds, and smirks. She doesn’t know whether or not to feel disturbed that she knows him so well. 

 “I miss you,” he whines.  

 “I don’t.” 

 Zuko gasps dramatically. “How could you say that? Sandbox love never dies!” He wants to yell into the darkness of his room when she hangs up on him. It was valid, of course. But that doesn’t mean his feelings can’t hurt. He’s always sensitive during the Mercury Retrograde. 

 Being a transfer student is hard, as much as he hates to admit it. There’s only two years to pad your resume and make lifelong friends and learn how much cocaine is too much cocaine for your body. College was hard. While Katara’s roommate was able to introduce her to people and Katara made a group of friends almost instantly, Zuko wasn’t nearly as pleasant to be around. It wasn’t his fault he was nervous . When he’s nervous he looks more mean than usual, and his roommate, Jet, was wary around him since the day he moved in. He couldn’t even be mad when he spotted Jet hiding his box cutter’s accessibility. 

 “Katara!” Zuko rolls his eyes at her lack of response. “Katara!” He repeats. “I know you’re just listening to “Like a G6” on a 10 hour loop. Don’t pretend to look so concentrated.” 

 She glares at him. “Let me have this one thing to myself.” She still begrudgingly takes out her airpods.

 “No.” 

 Katara wants to throttle his long ass neck. “Zuko, be honest with me.” 

 “Ok, yes! When you put your hair in a ponytail you look like a cage free egg.” Zuko stares at her in confusion when she starts playing with her hair. “What are you doing?” 

 “I’m trying to hand over my wig. You fucking scalped me, and I had nothing to say back. Just take it. You deserve it.” He smacks her hands from messing with her hair. Other patrons in the cafe near campus glanced over in amusement, as Katara pokes him in the neck and he yelps. 

 While he rubs at his neck to lessen the sting from Katara’s acrylics, she worries at her lip. “Be honest. Do you think Suki hates me?” 

 “Yes.” 

 Katara slams a hand on the table, causing his croissant to quake in fear. “You’re supposed to be comforting and trying to console me! Do it over, say no.” 

 “No.” 

 “Zuko, do you know how close I am to biting your nipple right off?” 

 He rolls his eyes. Katara specialized in empty threats (most of the time). “Don’t get mad at me just because Suki refuses to talk to you.” He relishes in her frustration. “Again, whose fault is it that Suki has to go to court for reckless driving?”

 “She was the one at the wheel!” Katara throws her hands to the air, before petulantly slapping them into her thighs, for emphasis of her point.

 Zuko pinches his nose bridge. “Well, you were the one who convinced her that she shit herself!” 

 Katara takes a neat, clean sip from her iced coffee before calmly responding. “She was the one doing 88 in a 65 trying to get to the bathroom. How was I supposed to know she did anal the day before and it was just cum!” 

 Zuko smacks his forehead in frustration after seeing identical blushes on the sea of patrons, now very much intune with the turn of the conversation. “You really don’t know how to act in public, do you? Like you think all the shit coming out of your mouth is important enough for it to just be said. You couldn’t have let that be a passing thought? Or learn how to fucking whisper?” 

 Katara sighs, closing her eyes and folding her hands over each other, because she’s dramatic. “All I had today for lunch was lip gloss. Let me be.” 

 “Again, if you, I don’t know, learned how to apologize to someone and admit you’re wrong then maybe Suki wouldn’t have hidden all your stress snacks. And, I don’t know. Maybe if you knew how to say ‘sorry’ she wouldn’t hate your fucking guts.” Katara simply turns her head into the air at Zuko’s words, refusing to acknowledge them. He’s itching to take a hit of his Phix with how on edge he was, and then remembers Katara had sold it on the school Facebook sell and exchange page as revenge. Apparently, Katara snaps if you send her one too many Tom Holland and Nicki Minaj fanfiction stories. Not that he’s speaking from personal experience. “You know what, you’re almost as stubborn as Wendy Williams when she refuses to pronounce Dua Lipa’s name correctly.” 

 She petulantly swivels her gaze to Zuko, nose still pointed to the sky. “Dula Peep is iconic for that reason.” She breathes out, letting her body go lax. “Please, shut the fuck up. I’m sad. Why would she leave me alone in the middle of the Mercury Retrograde like this? I didn’t think she hated me that much.” She drops her defensive stance, and rolls her shoulders, eyes focused only on the table. “I thought, what we had. It was real friendship you know? I made a joint for her using the orientation leader recruitment flyers because we were out of rolling papers. That’s true love. That’s sisterhood.” 

 //

 “Please, I can’t poop right now! I can’t poop when I’m scared. I’m poop shy!” 

 Zuko audibly groaned. “Then why the fuck would you take a shit at my apartment? Yours is literally a 4 minute walk away, according to motherfucking Google Maps. 5 minutes if you use Apple Maps.” 

��“I don’t know, ok! I saw the baby wipes and I just kinda went with the flow, sue me!” Damnit, she knew she tasted real milk in her strawberry banana smoothie. God, the price of being ethnic in this dairy filled world. 

 “I called you over here to explain the plan! So I don’t bother you mid masturbation! And you just had to take a dump, didn’t you? On the plan, and my fucking toilet, too!” 

 She was weary after her back to back classes from 9-5 when Zuko excitedly called her up to come to his place. As much of a bitch baby Zuko could be, Katara tries to visit his place as much as she can. His apartment was just upgraded, meaning he had a state of the art microwave. One that doesn’t third degree burn her ham and cheese Hot Pockets, but rather cooks them perfectly to the tune of the package instructions, and makes them all fluffy and culinary excellence. Plus, he lives further from the heroin infested park she lived right next to, meaning his building smelt like a Clinique cosmetics counter (or: old lady) rather than pure urine like hers. And he didn’t have to run home in fear of being chased. 

 Besides, he’s all she’s got right now. He explained his plan as the roof of her mouth is assaulted by the gooey cheese of the Hot Pocket. Zuko eagerly handed over the flyers that were shoved into his hands as he was walking to campus. 

 “Do you see the funds these bitches got? We have to go! We need to become part of Asian Greek life!” 

 Although Katara did enjoy seeing the copious amount of free food potential, she was skeptical. “This is all free?” 

 “Yes, oh my god! Read the damn flyer! They’re living it up while we try to fit spinach in our budget to buy White Claw. Free alc, and free tacos! C’mon, we don’t even have to get into the sorority or frat. Just go through the rush process, and try to get as much free food as possible.” Zuko sits on his bed beside her, and even shakes her by the shoulders for emphasis. She swats his hands away while he chuckles.

 Katara side eyes him. “Aren’t you already behind on your lectures? I don’t know, do we really want to waste time doing this?”

 Zuko sends her a sheepish smile, but grabs her hand. For reassurance purposes, of course. “It’s just one week. Let’s just let loose. Maybe we could walk away from this with a few friends. So I don’t bother you mid beating your meat.” Katara can’t help but laugh. 

 On the first night, she was nervous. Zuko was clearly his indifferent self, but deep down she knew he was scared, too. Katara and Zuko weren’t exactly Greek life material . 

 “They thought you were hot, that’s why they flyered you!” Katara yelps while digging through his closet. Zuko ignores the blush growing on his face. “Let’s find a fit that emphasizes that bad boy aesthetic.” 

Katara never did anything half assed. That’s why if they were going to play hot, ignorant Asian Greek lifers, they were going to be the goddamn best. Academy Award nominated and then played by Scarlett Johansson in a biopic type of acting. 

 “What’s wrong with what I usually wear? Is the leather jacket not, quote unquote, bad boy enough?” Zuko runs his hands through his shaggy hair, which Katara had encouraged him to not style. She’d never admit it, but maybe her sexual awakening coincided with Zuko growing his hair out. Maybe. 

 “Yeah, yeah. Maybe to Tumblr , but not for fuckboys.” She groans because of course Zuko has good fashion taste. Maybe him being hot helps with how clothes looked, but they all screamed fashion and not basic fuckboy . Which was the vibe of the night. “God, do you have the entire Forever 21 Black t shirt aisle in here?” 

 Before he could retort, Zuko’s interrupted by Jet coming into their room to grab his dumb Hydroflask. It’s dumb because it’s so goddamn big, for no good reason. 

 “Hey, Katara,” Jet is smirking. Ew . 

 Zuko feels jealousy, the type that makes your body grow all hot and makes you want to punch a mattress and Jet’s pleasantly symmetrical face. God, why is he so fucking pretty? He reminds himself that Katara was entirely off limits , and schools his face. He gets these types of pangs of envy once in a while, usually during the Mercury Retrograde. Ever since they were kids, he knew Katara was going to be in his life forever. He wasn’t about to fuck that up. Not with emotions or anything. 

 “Hey, Jet!” Katara chirps. She couldn’t help it, her pussy is weak for pretty men. She knew that look on his face. The eyes that roamed her body clad in the tight top and jeans that made sure her ass looked like she paid for it. Thank you, Fashionnova. 

 He gives her a hot guy half hug, and she’s melting. Calm down, girl Katara warns her pussy. “See you around. Zuko, I’m going to Target, do you need anything?”

 Zuko frowns at the sight of a fangirling Katara. “Nope.” Jet nods, and even offers up a smile. He hates that he smiles back. 

 Katara swoons. She flops on Zuko’s bed, eyes all dreamy and starry. “That’s the vibe you need to give off!” 

 “What, that I have HPV?” 

 “Exactly! See, that’s the type of fuckboy you need to be. You can have the same pussy clenching effect with the right, basic clothes. You’re hot, and you have a badass scar. You just need a striped Guess shirt and white Nike Air Force 1s to complete the getup.” 

 So, Zuko digs through his closet from his hypebeast phase to find a pair of white sneakers (“Reeboks aren’t basic enough!” Katara protests) and borrows the Guess shirt from Katara, and they were ready to scam.

 Fuck. The damn tacos. And then it was all you can eat Korean food. Then it was free avant garde ice cream at that one place that cost you an ovary to even sample the vanilla bean flavor. 

 The first night of rushing, all you can eat Korean food, and they were already putting on the pounds. 

 “ Holy fucking cheese dick! I think I gained the weight of a Kardashian ass filler in just today alone! I can’t breathe. Zuko, hold up.” She puts her hand out, halting their walk back to her place. “I need to unbutton my pants.” She had one too many plates of kimchi spam fried rice.

 Zuko burps graciously. Goddamn kimbap. He swallowed that shit whole, choking a few times throughout the night. “Me fucking too! Oh my god, I can’t breathe.” 

 “In through your nose. Out with your dairy shits.” 

 As soon as they got back to her apartment, they immediately reached for Lactaid, and then went over the events of the night. 

 “What do you think of Ty Lee? All the guys were drooling over her,” Zuko asks. Katara ditched her elaborate makeup, scrubbing her face clean and was in one of Zuko’s t shirts he’s long given up trying to get back from her. She’s twirling an expensive mechanical pencil between her fingers, the kind that has super precise lead and matches her pencil case and laptop. For the aesthetic. 

 “She’s the type of bitch to eat salt and vinegar chips at 9 in the morning.” 

 “What’s the difference between girls who eat salt and vinegar chips in the morning, and girls who eat Hot Cheetos in the morning?” Zuko’s scratching at his head, brain still foggy from all the Doritos he’s practically inhaled. He’s topless, and has one of the many sweats he leaves behind at Katara’s because their sleepovers were some of his favorite memories growing up. Even if they have to squeeze Zuko’s six foot tall ass in twin beds now. 

 “One has class. The other needs therapy.” 

 He squints from his spot at her desk, typing interrupted to push up his round glasses. “I see.” 

 “I saw you really hit it off with Mai,” Katara made sure to keep her voice even. “She was really into you.” 

 Zuko whips his head around to her. “Really?” He yelps. “Stay out of my business!” Katara throws her hands up in mock surrender. “...Did she say anything about me?” 

 “She said she was so tired of medium ugly frat brothers and that you showing up sent her cooch into anaphylactic shock,” Katara deadpans.

 “Really!” Zuko’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

 “No, she just said you were handsome. And then I told her ‘don't call him handsome unless he's about to hand some money over,’ and then she laughed and then thirst followed you on Instagram.” 

 Zuko scrambles to check his phone. “Oh my god, she’s so cute,” he whispers, eyes enraptured by her Instagram feed. Katara rolls her eyes when he jumps into her bed, knocking her work aside to shove his greasy iPhone 6s in her face. 

 Katara slaps it right out of his hand. “Ugh, not the 6s.” 

 Zuko practically melts. “You said she thinks I’m hot, right?” Katara pokes at a man tit before curling up at his side. 

 “You’re annoying.” 

 Zuko grabs Katara's hand, playing with the tiny fingers. “I’m adorable.” 

 She snorts. “You know, we should make a pact. If we’re getting this invested into the whole process. Whoever becomes an official sorority sister or frat brother wins!”  

 “Can the prize be health insurance?” Zuko doesn’t have the energy to muster his patented glare with Katara cozied up next to him. 

 //

 The second night, ice cream night, and Katara was slipping. 

 “What do you usually look for in a guy?” 

 “I usually just look away,” Katara admits, shrugging. She doesn’t forget to plaster a well practiced, non threatening smile on her face. 

 “Preferred places for guys to cum?” Another sorority girl asks. Other rushees are nodding enthusiastically, carefully preparing their answers. 

 “To his senses,” Katara huffs. 

 “I usually like a backshot!” Ty Lee says enthusiastically, despite the other sisters eyeing Katara warily. Ty Lee insisted that Katara would be a good fit for the sorority. She looked like the only one on her side.

 While the girls were excitedly dancing along to the music playing in the shop, Katara’s eye twitches. It was the feminist in her. “If you still like Chris Brown, you’re ugly,” Katara is adamant, not relenting despite the incredulous, wide eye stares from the gaggle of sorority girls. 

 “Well, I guess I’m ugly then!” Mai yelps, hands crossed over her chest defiantly. 

 Katara smiles carefully. “You sure are, bitch!” 

 Fuck Katara was messing this up. She needed to make sure that they were convinced Katara was sorority girl material to move onto the next level of the secret invite only event. Fuck, fuck, fuck . 

 She wasn’t about to let Zuko win at anything!

 Mai squints at her. “Are you a clit being handled by a frat brother? Because you’re really rubbing me the wrong way.”

 Ty Lee gasps. “Please excuse her, Indica makes her grumpy.” 

 Katara glares. “None taken.” 

 She likes Ty Lee, that much she’s gathered. And, it seems as though Ty Lee had grown to like her back, making sure Katara gets enough ice cream throughout the night, even turning her head when Katara pulls out a Tupperware from her backpack to bring back the dessert to her apartment. 

 That was until Ty Lee remembered she had a flask hidden up her skirt, a necessity post fuckboy cheats on you .  “I-I just called to say I don’t miss you! And that your dick smells like a stapler that has been microwaved for 25 seconds. Like, you can block me all you want. But you can’t uneat this ass. Sorry, I don’t make the rules!” Katara does damage control, and dutifully snatches the phone from her hands.

 Crossing her arms like a mother disciplining her child, she levels Ty Lee with a concerned look. “What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

 Ty Lee gets up and stumbles on her way to hug Katara. “I can’t leave him! I love him so, so much. He’s my fucking ride or die, the Quavo to my Saweetie! The pitchy singing to my Selena Gomez! The Marlene to my Rosa! The badly glued fake eyelashes to my Asian sorority girl,” Ty Lee is crying and loud and her anime like tits are bouncing with every sob that comes. 

 Katara takes the flask of peach vodka from her trembling hands, and shakes the girl. “Look, bitch. You’re better than this.” 

 “No, I’m really not!” 

 Katara pokes the girl in the forehead. “Yes, bitch you definitely are. You’re a bad bitch that got adicktated. But that’s ok.” She tilts the red faced girl’s head back, making sure the cup of water goes down her throat. “So what if you fell in love a little? You’re in your bag bitch, you don’t need provolone smelling dick to dicktate your life!” 

 She rubs at her snot filled nose, and then wipes her fist on her mini skirt. “You really think so?” 

 “Bitch, I know so . Go be a slut, forget about Chan’s ass flake. Now hand over your phone. Drunk yelling over the phone is not the move for the night.” The other active Deltas sisters were running back from a group bathroom visit, after realizing it was Ty Lee’s bad decisions o’ clock . They came back to see the chastised girl determindly eating Ube flavored ice cream, without a phone to do dumb shit in her hands. Mai can’t help but start liking Katara. 

 //

 The third night, and it’s the Deltas Sorority and Pi Alpha Psi Fraternity rush party, the most important party so far during rush week. IT was a slam fucking dunk. They had gotten catering from everybody’s favorite taco place at the Pi Alpha Psi frat house. And a fucking DIY boba bar. A boba bar! A goddamn boba bar. Katara had a ziplock baggie filled with the tapioca pearls in her left jean pocket. 

 All Deltas rushees were meant to be socializing with Pi Alpha Psi brothers. The active sisters were trying to see who were the classy whores in the group. They didn’t want admitted whores, just subtle ones. After fending off another medium ugly brother from trying to stare at her tits, Katara corners Zuko, who hands her another shot to take for him. “Why was that guy dressed like an uninvolved father?” 

 “What’s that supposed to look like?” 

 “Sweaty, and smells vaguely of disappointment.” 

 Zuko coughs. “I’m sad that hit way too close to home.” 

 Katara looks devastated for a split second, until Zuko starts laughing at his own joke. Then, she smacks him upside the head. “You know, you should be thankful for me. I got you looking exactly like a Pi Alpha Psi brother. Even down to the shoes.” Katara glares ahead. “God, I hate that we have to wear shoes on in this house. I hate looking at Haru’s Black Air Force 1s. Anything but those. Anything but those .” 

//

 The fourth night and they had successfully scammed the Greek system. 

 “Zuko!” Katara screams, bursting through his door without preamble. “Look what Ty Lee sent—wait a minute. What the fuck are you doing?” She pauses in shoving the phone in his face to see him face down in his calculus textbook. 

 “I’m trying to find a natural way to stay focused.” 

 Katara crosses her arms. “Have you considered adderall?” 

 Zuko snorts, clearly annoyed. “That’s literally prescription meth.” 

 “And what about it?” She slams her body, face first into his bed. “‘ Hey get ready tomorrow because we have an exclusive, invite only clubbing invite and the girls and I really really want you to come! ’” Katara reads the Instagram message verbatim from her phone, her chest swelling with unbridled pride. “I deserve an Academy Award.” 

 Zuko plops his body right on top of hers, relishing in how she groans under his added weight. “Run me my Golden Globe because according to Chan, my ‘ass better be ready to get nasty at Club Nyla .’” 

 “Shut the booger sugar up!” 

 So (on a Thursday night ) Katara and Zuko crowd in the party bus the generous Asian Greek system had funded in the name of “cultural bonding.” She can barely breathe, tits pushed in the most fuckable way possible, and she feels her face heating from the shots forced down her throat because her (potential) sisters had insisted on heavily pregaming. 

 While the frat brothers were perfectly content to sitting and not making any sort of movement whatsoever in the name of looking cool , the girls on the other hand were having the time of their lives. 

 “Oh my fucking god, for the last time Ty Lee, I cannot join the grind train, I do not have mental stability to keep my balance and shake my ass at the same time,” Katara lightly chastises, shoving the drunk girl gently off of her. Ty Lee simply shrugs, and then continues to gyrate on the gaggle of girls. The music was pounding, everyone was sweating from the amount of unrestrained dancing happening, and Katara’s pretty sure some girl just bruised her pussy after accidentally smacking it (hard) on the bus’s stripper poles. Disco lights bathe the entirety of the vehicle, enveloped in the screams and squeals of Asian girls trying to twerk and scream along to lyrics at the same time. 

 It was pure fucking chaos. But so goddamn fun . The girls kept constantly grabbing her hips in an attempt to yike on her helpless ass, which Katara abruptly stopped by flicking off their hands. All to the tune of “The Box” by Roddy Rich. 

 “Let me hear everyone loud and clear! ‘Fuck 12!’” Katara screams to a crowd of bewildered frat brothers. 

 “Katara, no,” Zuko’s laughing too hard, the alcohol making him feel lightheaded. Heavy rap music permeated the walls of the bus, and he feels a headache building. But he feels a little better seeing Katara having fun, nearly choking to death after taking a hit from some brother’s joint. 

 “Don’t laugh, I don’t smoke that often!” She insists. 

 Zuko throws his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to him. “If you die, at least it was in a party bus while Travis Scott was playing.” 

 “I’d rather die in an Acura!” Katara yelps, getting up in mock frustration. While Zuko is simply losing his mind at her attitude, she accidentally stumbles as the bus comes to an abrupt stop, and lands in Zuko’s lap. 

 She’s chortling, moving about to get up. Zuko tries his hardest not to let his heart pound impossibly loud. 

 After IDs were checked, and a Drake song was forcibly requested by the obnoxious group of frat brothers, the clubbing event was in full swing. Yet, it paled in comparison to the fun and chaotic energy of the party bus. Frat brothers were attempting to dance, Asian girls were trying their hardest to twerk. 

 Katara is doing her duty as the most sober one out of the bunch and pushes random guys away before they could grab at her sisters’ hips. “You know, God gives flat asses to his strongest soldiers,” she mumbles, lips dangerously close to his ear. They were sitting down in the private seating area near the dance floor, exhausted beyond belief and watching the sorority girls’ attempts at clapping what little cheeks they did have. 

 Ty Lee clumsily grabs at Katara, screaming about having to piss and call her ex. Her cue to save the day. She gives Zuko an apologetic look, and whispers “I’m gonna win” before grabbing Ty Lee’s hand. 

 While he’s checking on his Neko Atsume cats, Chan’s Pepto Bismal smelling self is sidling up to his side. “Bro, you should fuck her. She’s got amazing tits.” 

 Zuko smirks, before schooling his features. That was already an observation he made when he was 16. Nice try, fuckboy. Chan continues, not caring if Zuko responds to him. “Pound that pussy like rent is due tomorrow! You have to get at that big, fat, moose sized pussy at the Airbnb we’re headed to after this.”

  Ty Lee is blubbering, snot running freely down her face as though she was a 5 year old at Chuck E. Cheese realizing they didn’t have enough tickets to afford a beaded necklace. “Every time he goes down on me, it feels like my pussy’s getting colonized. Is that what love is supposed to feel like.” 

 Katara paused in rubbing her back. “Oh my god.” 

 Ty Lee grabs at Katara’s shoulders, toilet and unsteady stomach forgotten. “Please, for the sake of the female population. Fuck Zuko. We need to know if he’s packing that schmeat.”

 Katara gasps. “No fucking way, we’re just friends!” 

 The inebriated girl clutches Katara’s face in between her sweaty palms, lowering her voice in a volume she thinks counted as a whisper. It was more of a scream than anything else. “We always try to get the hottest rushees to fuck each other at the Airbnb. Then, you’ll definitely make it into Deltas. Because if anyone deserves to throw that neck back on Zuko, it’s you.” 

 “Well gee, thanks. I’m touched.” 

 //

 “Moan harder! Don’t sound like I’m forcing you to fuck me! This isn’t no 90 Day Fiance shit! I thought you were an actor. Where is the commitment to the craft? You sound like you’re a dying tractor. Do better!” Katara continues jumping on the bed, trying to emulate a good old fucking. Zuko breathes in, before an unrestrained groan comes from his lips. Katara’s cooch instantly quakes.

 Their shoes were off, at her insistence, sheets already strewn about to make it believable. She could hear the snickering behind the door she’s triple checked to make sure it was locked and unable to be seen through the keyhole, her thong shoved in front of it to ensure their privacy.  

 “Zuko, Zuko, Zuko!” she pants, makine her voice sound as fucked out as possible. “I can’t!” 

 He continues smacking his arm, trying his best to replicate the sound of cheeks being clapped. “Baby, yes you can. You’re taking me like a fucking champ.” 

 Katara almost couldn’t hold back her giggle. This was all so fucking ridiculous. Taken straight out of a Larry smut scene. But they had a job to finish, a lifestyle they needed to live out, a pact to win. She whines, he lets out a moan. They bite their fist before they lost their minds and ruined the scam. She could imagine the title to their terrible porn video: college girl takes BEC (big emo cock). 

 “So, so good!” Katara made sure to make her voice sound as strained as possible, jumping even harder on the mattress. Zuko is ashamed to say his dick twitched in his pants the slightest. “So goddamn big. I feel so full!” 

 “Thanks for thinking I have a big dick,” he mutters, before letting out another wanton cry. 

 “Please be quiet!” Her little faux whimpers are simply killing Zuko, a blush creeping on his neck. He may or may not be jerking off to a sound now burned in his memory. 

 “Ready for the grand finale?” Zuko’s bewildered, pausing in his erratic jumping on the mattress. Katara jumps as hard as she can three times, before landing a punch square into Zuko’s stomach. It’s unexpected, and he doubles over, wheezing and pathetically gasping for air. 

 “Baby, cum in me!” Katara mewls, a devious smile on her face. 

 Zuko frowns, rubbing at his sore stomach. “Really? You’re that invested in this role? You would hurt your bestest friend in this world?” 

 “Shut up! Let me bully you.”

 They leave the room, ensuring their hair looked as disheveled as possible, clothes put on backwards, and Katara’s lip gloss smeared across his face. It tasted like Starbursts and scams. 

 The pair were suddenly enveloped in violent cheers. Muscled frat brothers were taking their beefy arms and slapping Zuko’s chest in celebration. Zuko could see Katara blushing, acting bashful and even tucking a strand of hair behind her ear for emphasis. He rolls his eyes, and deftly decided his heart was indeed forever stolen by the bat shit crazy bitch. 

 “My man!” Chan howls, grabbing Zuko in a signature bro hug. “Any other Deltas you want to raw dog tonight?” 

 Zuko’s gaze was focused on Katara’s smiling face. “This dick belongs to one woman.” 

 //

 They sorority and fraternity wearily climbed back into the party bus in the wee hours of the morning, needing to make the trek back in time for classes. Everyone was to stop by the Psi Alpha Psi house to collect their stuff, and then make their way home. 

 Zuko’s nodding off, too tired to continue breathing when Katara pokes him expertly in the arm. “What?” 

 “We’re going to steal the house trophy when we get back.” 

 He gasps. “Not Beatrice.” 

 “Yes, Beatrice!” 

 “Why do you want a $9 dildo from Amazon anyways?” 

 Katara sighs. “I overheard them this morning. The Deltas and Psi Alpha Psi. They were running through photos of girls and guys that rushed that didn’t make it through the process. And they were so fucking mean , Zuko. Like I almost cried, and they didn’t even roast my ass. Like Co-Star level bullying. They don’t deserve Beatrice. We do.” 

 “So, bet’s off?” He cracks his knuckles in anticipation. She simply nods. 

 //

 “You bitch. You didn’t have to slam me so fucking hard!” Katara reprimands. Zuko silences her with a passionate kiss that has every emotion she could possibly feel tingling throughout her whole body. She’s pushed up against the fireplace, clutching the wall behind her as though finding something to grind her against Zuko’s fiery passion. They were simply mimicking the rest of the group coming back, girls pressed against the frat brothers, trying to make the most of their remaining high instead of heading to class. 

 They pause to take a breath of air, (they could hear Mai mock gagging in the back) before sending each other a secret nod. 

 “You feel that pucker in your asshole? You know shit’s about to get real,” Katara says in a low voice. 

 Zuko’s slamming her against the fireplace once more, this time Katara’s hand now finding contact with Beatrice herself. In a flash she’s shoving the phallic toy in her jacket, sprinting for the door. 

 Chan, eagle eyed as ever, and experienced in the art of recognizing dildo thievery, instantly shoves Ty Lee off his lap. “Don’t you dare take the fucking house trophy, bitch!” He barely finishes his sentence, before he’s shoved to the ground by an enthusiastic Zuko, who grabs Katara’s hand and breaks into a run. 

 They run, run, run until they reach Zuko’s apartment, collapsing on the patch of fake grass at the front of the building. He still has his hand intertwined with hers, her other hand having a vice like grip on the sex toy. 

 “You know what, I don’t care about making other friends. You’re all I need.” 

 “I know.” Katara can’t stop the smile from growing on her face. 

#zutara fanfiction #zuko x katara #zutara #zutaramonth #zutara month 2020 #day 25 #they share a hotel room #but it's an airbnb bc i said so #atla

[kyufiber-moved]

hogwarts!winwin

member: winwin // nct

genre: fluff

a/n: so anyway winwin is coming for my bias list and there’s nothing i can do to stop it :’) 

sicheng isn’t like the traditional gryffindor tbh

while the gryffindors have a reputation for being rowdy and loud, sicheng is quiet and had a habit of fading into the background

whether intentionally or not

and some of the more cocky older years make it clear they don’t think he belongs

you’re a fairly popular gryffindor yourself

and you fit the stereotype

boisterous, loud, and always ready to cause a ruckus for the fun of it

you’ve never really noticed sicheng until you come across a face off in the corridor

three seventh year slytherins versus sicheng and two of your friends, johnny and lucas

they’re standing on either side of him protectively

glaring at the three slytherin boys

“what’s going on??” you ask, sliding an arm around johnny’s shoulders

“they said he doesn’t deserve to be a gryffindor,” johnny eyes them warily

“he doesn’t even say two words to defend himself, much less belong in the house of the brave,” one of the boys sneers

your gaze hardens 

and without so much as a thought, you draw your wand

and everyone else follows suit within a second

before anyone can start shooting spells, professor mcgonagall rounds the corner

and before any of y’all can blink you’re in her office being scolded

“- can’t believe any of you would dare to perform magic in the school hallways!! i’m sure all of you are well-aware of the rules, which state -”

thankfully nobody gets detention bc no spells were actually cast ya know 

but from then on you adopt sicheng into your friend group

he’s sitting alone at lunch?? not anymore!

he’s studying alone in the common room?? not anymore!!

he doesn’t having a partner during class?? n o t  a n y m o r e

you aren’t sure if he’s mostly alone bc he has no friends or bc he likes it 

but if he did like it,,,, the poor boy

the only person you’ve ever seen hang out with him besides your own group is yuta nakamoto

one of the actually friendly slytherins and dotes on sicheng like his child

one day, in the library, when your group tries to swoop in and steal sicheng, yuta won’t let go of him

and sicheng ends up getting caught between lucas and yuta, each boy pulling equally hard on each arm

until hufflepuff younger year zhong chenle shows up and distracts everyone long enough for sicheng to escape

“you think we scared him off??” 

lucas fixes you with worried puppy eyes and you ruffle his hair playfully

“well maybe you didn’t have to play tug of war with his body, y’know??’

later, when all your friends are off somewhere

((probably pranking someone or generally getting into trouble))

you find sicheng alone in the common room, curled up in the armchair closest to the back of the room

his textbook is limp in his lap and his eyes are tight shut

he must’ve fallen asleep while studying

a small crosses your lips and you can’t help but study his features

which are so delicate for a boy

you get so caught up in staring that it takes you a moment to realize his eyes have opened

you jump back, face red, but try to conceal your embarrassment

he looks around in fear in a split second

and you chuckle

“it’s just me,” you smile “all the guys are out causing trouble”

he relaxes

then glances down at his lap

“you fell asleep while studying??” you question

even though you’ve technically been his friend for over a week now, you’ve barely heard his voice

he nods

“what were you studying for??”

“transfiguration,” he responds, and you swallow

his voice is soft but surprisingly deep for how cute he is

“are you having trouble?? transfiguration is my best subject!!”

after a moment of thought, he nods

and so begins your studying sessions

it doesn’t start out intentional

but you two always somehow end up studying together

and it becomes a periodic ritual

“so you do this hand movement??”

“yep!! instead of a swirl, it’s more like an O with a swish!!”

and not only do you help him with transfiguration, but he helps you with charms

you hate charms

but he convinces you that it’s necessary to pass the class 

and you give in

bc he’s adorable

when mid-year exams begin, the studying sessions come to an abrupt halt 

and you don’t see him for almost a week

but the day the exam scores are released, you dash around the castle trying to find him

your scoring sheet grasped in your hand

and you eventually come across him in the courtyard, flipping through a book under one of the trees

“sicheng!! sicheng!!” you call, out of breath from running

when he looks up, you fix him with a huge grin

“i got ‘exceeds expectations’ on my charms exam!!!” you squeal

he fixes you with a cute little smile

and a “good job!!”

and the next words that come out of your mouth are a result of speaking before thinking

“i’m so happy, i could kiss you right now!!”

both of you freeze

and your face goes bright red

“i mean- i don’t- i didn’t- that’s not what-”

and because the universe is cruel, that’s the moment that lucas appears right behind you

“oh,,, you have a little crush on sicheng here, huh??”

"no!! i just meant- i mean that i’m happy-”

“so you wanna kiss him??”

a blush is creeping up your neck by the time you shove lucas

“stop it or you’ll find puking pastilles in your breakfast tomorrow”

he gasps, feigning hurt

without looking at sicheng, you rush off back into the school

later at dinner in the great hall, lucas slides into the seat next to yours

you pretend not to notice

“y/n,” he nudges you

you ignore him

“y/n,,, i’m sorry... i didn’t think you actually liked him,” he mutters sheepishly

your face flames up again and you jerk your head to face him

“how did you find out??”

“you just told me,” he smirks triumphantly

and you resist the urge to hex him

instead going back to pretending he doesn’t exist

the next couple weeks, lucas is incredibly obvious in trying to get you two alone

like he’ll blatantly feign sickness so he can’t hang out

or he’ll drag the others away when you two are together

and one time after a particularly obvious show, sicheng turns to you

“y/n??”

“hm??”

“do you like me?”

you almost fall out of your chair

“u-uhh, no,,, why would you?? think that??”

you’re a terrible liar clearly

“well,, lucas always-”

you’d rather jump into the lake than have this conversation

but alas

lucas is a dumbass

“okay,, well,,, i might like you,,, but don’t be creeped out!! or anything!! i won’t make it weird!! i know you probably just want to stay friends and you probably think i’m loud and annoying but-”

you’re cut off by his laugh

it’s the first time you’ve ever actually heard him laugh

and you can’t quite help the increase in your pulse at the sound

“i don’t think you’re loud and annoying. i think you’re cute,”

“i’m not cute!!” you protest fiercely “i’m a badass,”

his eyes crinkle as a smile appears

“well,, what i wanted to say was,,,” 

he plays with his fingers absentmindedly “i don’t want to stay friends,”

“me neither,” you murmur

and he brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes

and suddenly you’re hyper aware of what he’s about to do

he leans closer

you feel your heart pounding a mile a minute

but just as he’s about to kiss you

jisung and jeno explode through the door 

you two jump apart, faces flushed with heat

“oooo,” jisung coughs, dragging jeno back out the door “don’t mind us!! continue on!!” 

“i hate them,” you mumble, looking very intently down at your lap

he chuckles

and suddenly you feel him press his lips against yours

before pulling away all too quickly

your cheeks light up with a fiery red glow and you mumble about how you have to do something somewhere

before rushing off

unable to wipe the smile off your face

#nctwriters #winwin #sicheng #dong sicheng #nct #nct 127 #nct 2018 #kpop #fluff #au #hogwarts #harry potter #hp #hogwarts!au #harry potter!au #hp!au #hogwarts!winwin #scenarios #winwin scenarios #sicheng scenarios #dong sicheng scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #kpop scenarios #fluff scenarios #winwin au #nct au #kpop au #hogwarts!nct

[welovekpopscenarios]

Friction (Fallout!AU Woozi x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

With your rifle damaged, you had no other choice than head to the nearest city to get it repaired. You didn’t expect the person doing the job to be such an insufferable jerk, however. But things become interesting the more you get to know the man repairing your weapon. Fallout/Post-Nuclear War!AU.

Fandom: Seventeen

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Woozi x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, Woozi and Reader being assholes to each other

Word Count: 3955

A/N: Will I ever stop writing for Seventeen? No. Will I ever stop writing game au’s? Probably not. As I said in my Mingyu one, don’t get put off by this being a Fallout AU, it isn’t that central to the story, and I hope it’s still enjoyable for everyone to read, but just ask me if there’s anything you’re confused about, I’ll be happy to answer! I wanted to write for Woozi bc I absolutely adore him and why not write for your bias wrecker haw haw help. But yeah, this is a classic enemies to lovers trope bc I’m a sucker for that type of stuff. Also just picture Jihoon being like, a weapons mechanic or whatever and being sweaty and working hard and ugh stop it. I really hope you give it a chance and enjoy it! Happy reading, ily all!

 - PART 2 -

The heat of the sun bore down on your skin, sweat pooling into nearly every crevice of your body as the sun seared into the leather bonds and cotton long johns that sat on your frame as a pathetic excuse for armour, leaving you more than irritably sticky and exhausted. The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you made your way through the tore up streets, dodging stray pipes ready to slice your head off from their position in the walls and climbing over car wreckages whose engines have long been silenced over 200 years ago, eyes half-heartedly scanning the corners for raiders or thugs ready to point their pistols at you and steal the caps stashed at the bottom of your rucksack.

Not that you felt like you cared at the moment, to be quite honest. The blaring sun and the hours long walk, sneaking past enemies and taking out the ones who caught you have, to put it frankly, completely drained you faster than you drained all your water supplies in a single day. A raider could easily pop out from whatever hidey hole he’s dug himself, put a shiny one right between your half-closed eyes, and you’d thank him for putting you out of your misery. You were that tired.

And what made this hellish journey even worse was your destination – and your problem. Some time ago your favourite rifle took a tumble from your position on the broken, open second floor of a house you were staying in one night, and when you hopped down to retrieve it, you were heartbroken to find it smashed at the barrel, trigger bent sideways, and completely useless.

Normally you would just toss the weapon aside and grab the newest one you could find, making do, a common occurrence in the wasteland. But this rifle meant something to you, it was special. It was your first one, given to you by your father before he…well. It was important to you, and you needed it fixed. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to repair the thing, and so that brought you to start your trek towards the last place you wanted to be.

Diamond fucking City. "The Great Green Jewel" of the Commonwealth.

Diamond City – while a hub of trade, services, security and life – was also home to complete nutters and crazies, and that wasn’t even counting the ones trying to kill you yet. Brawlers, thieves, con-artists, and now synths were apparently added to the mix, the city was a complete shitshow, to put it kindly, and to put the icing on the sweetroll, it was all controlled by a racist asshole who liked to keep his civilians as obedient as he thought he could. But, that being said, the city was the only successful one in the Commonwealth, booming with activity, and the only one you somewhat trusted closest to you.

And so you walked for days on end; starving, parched, and sick of it all. Your lips were cracked and drier than the trees standing in the countryside, feet more swollen than a Super mutants head, and limbs moving slower than a Brahmin cow. But still you walked. And by the grace of whatever sadistic deity left above, you reached the entrance of the city, the guards shifting in their positions and shooting you suspicious glares. The one directly outside the gates lifted his gun to you, standing straighter, prepared to shoot you down where you (barely) stood should you try anything. Not that you had the energy, even if you wanted to.

“Hold up,” he grunted, shoulders hunched into a defensive position while you wavered in place, swaying slightly side to side in order to keep yourself upright. “Who’re you and what’s your business here?”

You tried to reply, you really did, but all that came out was a lousy croak of your name, followed by a short coughing fit. “I’m here for weapon repairs,” you managed, breathing heavy, and so completely done with this conversation already. As if you were going to make the city any worse.

The guard shuffled, moving his balance foot to foot, as he mulled you over, eyeing you head to toe. A guard taking watch on the rafters whistled to grab his attention, the young mans’ eyes flitting upwards to him in surprise.

“Let em in, Kookie. They ain’t gonna cause any problem, and they’re just here for business. Just let em through,” he ordered, the toothpick in his mouth moving with each syllable that rolled off of his tongue, scratching at his back lazily as he leaned against the railings. The guard – Kookie – furrowed is brows in uncertainty, eyes flickering between your deadpan face and the other guard. He licked nervously at his lips, fingers fumbling around his rifle.

“But, Johnny, Mayor McDonough said-“

“McDonough said keep the bad ones out. And my excellent judge of character says they ain’t a bad one,” he drawled, fixing Kookie with a look that screamed ‘are you that dumb?’ “McDonough also don’t want anything stopping business in his city, especially a greenie guard. That’ll look very bad on you, kid.”

Kookie look like he wanted to say more, but what could he say? He was only new, and Johnny has been manning the entrance for years. He has to trust his superior. Nodding in satisfaction at Kookie’s compliance, he turned his gaze to you, flashing a smile enough to rival the Cheshire Cat’s you’ve seen in those books your father showed you when you were little. “I’ll open up the gate for you. Head on in, dollface. Welcome to Diamond City.”

You were too dead to make a comment on the nickname, instead throwing a lacklustre salute in Johnny’s direction and ignoring Kookie’s scowl as his eyes followed your form, heading deeper into most popular civilisation in the Commonwealth.

What struck you first was the lights, the entire city lit top to bottom in various types – open flame, bulbs, neon signs, even floodlights – the entire city illuminated and glowing, which only served to highlight the mass of citizens sprawled throughout the area. The noise levels were high, something you weren’t used to unless it was from the occasional scream of pain in the distance. The noise was filled with chatter, people actually having conversations, or promoting their trade from their stalls scattered throughout the centre, and music from the city’s radio station echoed throughout the space faintly, creating an almost happy atmosphere as you walked to the centre.

It was completely alien to you, to see this many people together and not have them try to shoot you, or watching them fight, or any other negative you could find in the book. It also made you do a double take on the city’s reputation. While you were cautious of the metropolis, a seed of mistrust planted firmly in the pit of your gut, you reasoned that the city wouldn’t have stood for as long as it did if it really was full of lunatics and thugs. Maybe this place wasn’t that bad.

Maybe.

When your jaded eyes landed on what looked to be a restaurant in the very centre, manned by one of those Protectron robots and wearing what looked to be an absurd chef’s hat placed neatly on his metallic head and stirring a large pot, you nearly wept with relief, dragging your heavy legs and plonking yourself on one of the stools, burying your head into your arms on the counter in front of you and heaving the longest sigh you think you’ve ever made in your existence.

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

You slowly raise your head from its place in your arms, eyes searching around the area for the person who addressed you, only finding one guy sitting a seat away from yours, slurping on noodles contentedly.

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

You faced forward, the lights on the Protectron gleaming as he spoke, the waves in his voice bouncing with an electronic twinge. You shot him a confused stare, but he was unperturbed as expected of a robot, continuously stirring his large pot of noodles automatically.

“What?” you asked, positively baffled. Were you too tired to understand basic speech now?

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

You heard a chuckle resonate near you from the only other occupant at the noodle bar. He shot you a friendly grin when you turned your head, still chuckling in pity at your expression.

“Just say yes,” he told you ominously, and while you narrowed your eyes in distrust, you did as instructed.

“Ye-es,” you dragged out the word, confusion lacing your tone and a brow raised on your dirtied face. The robot’s metal claws picked up a bowl from the table, monotonously spooning noodles into the chipped ceramic dish and pushing it towards you when he was finished.

“That’s Takahashi, he cooks the noodles here,” the man explained, inclining his head to the robot who happily stirred his pot. “The noodles cost 20 caps, just put em in the box on the bar.”

Nodding in understanding, you took the sufficient caps from your bag, placing them in said box and promptly digging in, practically inhaling the food your stomach cried out for in the past few days, barely even feeling the burn on your tongue as you swallowed the savoury substance, eyes nearly falling shut in happiness.

“Thanksh man,” you mumbled around a mouthful, too impatient and hungry to stop eating and address the guy who helped you. He smiled slightly at you as you ate, spooning his own a lot more gracefully into his mouth.

“No problem, I was confused when I first got here too. I’m Scoups,” he introduced, hand reaching out to shake your own, his nearly encasing yours whole with how large it was. You returned the greeting once you swallowed. The red glow from the fairy lights strung around the tarp of the noodle bar cast shadows on his smiling face, a genuine smile, such a rare sight in the wasteland. “So, what brings you to Diamond City? Looking for a place to stay?”

You licked sauce off your lips, swirling your noodles absentmindedly in their bowl. You nodded, nails tapping against the table. Scoups bobbed his head in understanding, folding his thick arms on the countertop. “Do you know anyone who can repair weapons?” you asked, and Scoups grinned, mischief swirling in his dark orbs.

“Look around,” he laughed, a wave of his arm accentuating his words, your eyes roaming the space that was littered with all types of services – from mechanics, armourers, merchants, even a hairdresser. “The better question would be where can’t you get it repaired. Pick your poison. But if I were you, I’d go see Woozi. He’s the best in the City for a reason. I’ll take you to see him after you’ve finished eating. You look exhausted.”

You smiled at him in gratitude, one he returned amiably, and finished your meal, listening to him as he explained the layout and manners of the infamous Green Jewel that was Diamond City. A short while later with a belly blissfully stuffed and feeling rejuvenated, you followed Scoups as he led you to one of booths in the city, this one covered with various bits and pieces from weapons hung around the sides and a simple metal sign with ‘Woozi’s’ carved into it hanging high above. Scoups didn’t walk the full distance to the stall, only pointed out its location and mumbling a ‘good luck with him, you’ll need it’ and a ‘see you later’ before he was heading off in the direction of what looked to be a bar.

Edging closer to the stall, you could see the parts more clearly, the grey of the booth littered with scopes and barrels along the walls, some weapons sitting on display on random boxes for all to see, looking in better condition than any gun you’ve ever seen, even shiner than anything you’ve ever seen. Standing at the entrance, the stall was smaller than expected, only bearing the essentials and locks for protection. Sitting at a workbench was who you suspected to be the man himself, fiddling with a shotgun and a look of utmost concentration upon his face that could only ever be found on the most skilled marksmen.

Sweat lined his forehead, falling from his hairline and down his temple, and the occasional oil mark was splattered across his face, on his cheeks, chin, even the bridge of his nose. His teeth bit into the skin of his lower lip, the flesh red and plump from constant worry, and his eyebrows were furrowed almost angrily, as if frustrated with his work, twitching every so often in annoyance, nostrils flaring with every heavy breath that ached to leave his chest. He was definitely one of the better-looking men you’ve seen in the wasteland – a strange feeling in your chest spreading through your tired limbs the longer you stared at him. He had a strange allure, certainly, a man dedicated to his craft with an air of no nonsense about him that was a well needed trait for survival. And that tingly feeling in your stomach was certainly strange, perhaps even more alien to you than the city you stood in.

“You’re in my light.”

Huh?

“What?”

A sharp exhale left the lips you’ve been focusing on far too much to be normal just moments ago, his gloved hands placing the shotgun down carefully and shifting in his stool to face you, pulling the gloves off finger by finger as he stared at you with an expression that almost made you flush with embarrassment, as if you had just done the most stupid thing possible.

“I said,” he spoke deliberately slow, like one would when dealing with a child who didn’t understand what they’ve done was bad, and it had sparks of annoyance flashing through you. The nerve of this guy! “You’re in my light. Or are you deaf? Too many beatings to the head?”

You now understood why Scoups wished you luck when dealing with this guy. You needed it, because each passing second only made you want to punch this guy so hard he’ll be headed straight for New Vegas on the other side of the country.

“There’s light everywhere, jackass,” you retorted, glancing around and at the sky. It was still midday, still hot as hell, and just when you thought you were feeling better, you get sent to this jerk who’ll be responsible for fixing your rifle. If you’ll even let him, at this point. “Or are you that petty?”

Woozi looked untroubled by your comment, resting his left elbow on the table and leaning his weight on it, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. A smirk you wanted to kick right off his pretty face.

“I need to be able to see what I’m doing. You don’t get to be the best in the city by doing a half-assed job,” he boasted, looking as smug as a raider who just found a huge box of caps on some poor helpless traveller he butchered.

“Then I suggest find a candle and some matches, day light doesn’t last forever,” you suggested cheekily, pleased with the scoff he gave and downturn of his lips. God, this was infuriating. You don’t know why you’re getting so worked up over this. “I need my rifle repaired,” you settled for getting straight to the point. The sooner you could get into a bed, the better.

“Well, no shit. It’s kinda what I do,” he sassed, his stupid perfect brow raised and dark eyes scanning your form, head to toe. You squirmed under his scrutiny, suddenly conscious of the dust caked on your face, the scars littering your body, the dirt hidden beneath your nails. It was foolish, really. Things like good looks and hygiene weren’t a priority anymore, but for some reason you felt like you should have at least scrubbed up a bit before coming to see this man.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. It’s not like you had to impress him.

Certainly not.

You barked out a sarcastic laugh in response, face dry and showing no semblance of humour whatsoever. “Funny, twerp,” his lip curled into a snarl at the insult, “I know that. I was told to come here because you were apparently good. Scoups sent me.”

“Scoups?” he questioned in faint surprise. He hummed, regarding you thoughtfully before eventually sighing in resignation. “Show me this rifle of yours, and I’ll see what can be done,” he sat up straighter, hands facing palm up and awaiting your prized possession. You reached into your rucksack for the rifle that lay sadly at the bottom, dragging it out carefully and placing it into his hands, watching as that concentrated expression from before returned to his face, looking much older than you expect it to be.

His slender fingers toyed with the weapon, running up and down the barrel, pushing the trigger around and giving it a shake, an awful rattling noise resounding from the simple action and simultaneously putting a grimace on both your face and Woozi’s. After another moment of inspection, he placed the rifle down on the table next to the shotgun and left his stool to rummage through crates of spare parts and tools, metal clanging bouncing against the walls of his booth.

“I’ve never seen a barrel that badly smashed before,” he observed, planting various tools onto the surface of the workbench, the table soon filling with wrenches and screwdrivers and pliers, more than you’ve ever seen in one spot before. Taking a seat once again at the table, he placed the shotgun to the side, focusing his attention on your rifle again as he brought it to eye level, a tut of frustration leaving his mouth. “I can fix the trigger no problem, but the barrel is another story. If I was you, kid, I’d just dump it and get a new-“

“No!” you blurted out, panic putting a fresh weight on your chest. You needed this to get fixed. Woozi stared at you in bewilderment, eyes wide in confusion and fingers stalling their movements. There was a beat of silence as you simply stared at each other; Woozi silent as he awaited and explanation, and you silent in shame, heat crawling up your neck. “Please,” you plead, voice near mute but heavy with desperation. “This gun means a lot to me, and I really need it fixed. I can’t do without it. Please.”

It must have been the waver in your voice, or perhaps the shake of your hands, or even the dulling of your eyes that had Woozi’s hardened stare softening until was just blank, returning his gaze to the weapon in question. His tongue poked at his cheek and you watched the action, a cold feeling freezing your body in place as you waited in horrible anticipation. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, swiftly looking away when he met your saddened expression, a faint blush blossoming on his skin, and then he was rolling his eyes, huffing out a quick breath and turning his body around.

“It’s gonna take some time, and a lot of supplies,” he announced, his glare having lost the venomous edge it had and instead just a plain old bothered expression similar to an old man’s. “But, I might be able to get it fixed. No promises though,” he added quickly, but you were too elated to really care, body sagging in relief and a grin stretching ear to ear on your muddy visage.

“Thank you so much,” you beamed, that heavy weight lifting off your chest and your heart feeling brighter for what felt like the first time in months. The blush on his face grew darker as he saw you smile, his own smirk growing on his lips as he gave you a sly look.

“Gonna cost you a good amount of caps too so don’t look too happy, sugar,” he drawled, and your joy began to deflate slowly like air out of a tire. Right, the cost. Shit.

“What’s the damage?” you inquired, forehead creasing in worry as you thought of the little cache in your bag. Fuck, you didn’t need this to burn a hole in your savings, you still need to find a room to stay in and get food and drink. Woozi examined his tools and the rifle, mentally calculating the effort it would take to repair it.

“Giving the time and supplies I need, I’d say around…500-600 caps.”

“500 fucking caps?!” you shrieked. “I don’t even have half of that! And I still need to find somewhere to stay!” Fucking hell, you really couldn’t get a break, could you?

Woozi made a hissing noise that sounded like it was half in mock sympathy, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘what can you do about it?’ sort of motion. “Well, I guess you’re gonna have to find some work around the city then. Plenty that needs to be done, I’m sure. In the meantime, I’ll be slaving away over your precious rifle. But it’ll be done. I’m not a genius for nothing. So, will you have the money or does this conversation end here?”

Your fists clenched at your sides, once again supressing to urge to knock his teeth out of his skull, and clearly, he could tell, smirk growing and eyes narrowing in a challenge. “I’ll have the money. Just…please fix that rifle. I’ll pay you when you’re done.”

“Don’t worry, your rifle will get repaired. But I only accept half up front, and the rest when the jobs done,” he explained. Ah, just another bit of Deathclaw shit dropped on top of your day. This’ll leave you with a dent in your caps, hopefully you can find some work soon, or else you’ll be broke and living on the streets without any way to pay for the gun you’ve walked miles to sort.

“Fine,” you grumbled, hands hurriedly pulling the box out from the bottom and pouring them directly onto Woozi’s workbench, watching as some toppled off the edge and onto the floor of his workshop, loud clinks ringing in their wake. At least you still have that other little bag of caps hidden in your spare clothes. Woozi looked pissed at the mess you made, chest blowing up and deflating thickly as he tried to contain his anger. After all, he couldn’t really say much, you had given him the caps.

“There should be around 220 caps in that,” you announced, closing your bag and shifting it on your back. “I’ll have the rest when you’re done. Bye”

And then you were off, walking back into the throng of people of Diamond City, eyes open for any opportunity for work and shoulders slumped in misery. Woozi was baffled by you, to say the least. In all his time working in this God-forsaken shithole of a city, he’s never met anyone quite like you, quite so…like him. He’s met compliant, kind customers, and he’s met outright assholes who he almost refused to service if the pay wasn’t worth it, but you were different. He got a kick out of how much he pissed you off, how your lovely face would scrunch up in irritation, and tasted his own medicine when you threw it right back at him. Definitely more than meets the eye, with you. But as he stared at your rifle, thumbs rubbing against the dents and cracks, he figured that he’d be done with you soon once this was over and never have to see you again.

Oh, how wrong he was.

And oh, what an interesting week this will prove to be.

#mimi fics #kpop #kpop scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fics #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen reactions #woozi #lee jihoon #woozi scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi angst #woozi fluff #s.coups #jeonghan #joshua #jun #hoshi #wonwoo #dk #mingyu #minghao #seungkwan #vernon #dino #the8 #seungcheol #soonyoung

[glaceontea]

Cheerleader - pt.6

ITS (mostly) A ROYALITY FRIEND-DATE

bc i was told by a certain someone (thanks lisa) to include more royality friendship lol

well, this isn’t going to last long- i mean what this chapter is them getting their hair dyed and more. have fun.

Tagged: @starlight-sanders, @sanspie122, @80s-addict, @watch-me-introvert, @princeyandanxiety, @imin-loveanon, @the-real-numba-one, @gaysonofjafar, @gotta-love-dem-sides, @just-a-random-word​ (if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list, just ask!)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex/sex appeal?, homophobia :(

Ships: Logicality and Prinxiety, hinted Royality??

Previous Part | Masterpost | Next Part

"Okay girls! And you two! Go have a break!" The coach yelled. Roman and Patton walked over to where their water bottles sat. At that exact moment, Roman was struck with, what he thought to be, the best idea of his life.

"Patton, I just had an awesome idea," Roman began. Patton looked up from his phone, curious as to what the idea was that his friend had conjured up. "Let's go get our hair dyed!" Patton grinned at him, already thinking of the colours he could wear on his head.

"Why?" He asked. Patton already knew he wasn't going to deny Roman's request, but curiosity got the better of him. Maybe Logan was rubbing off on him.

"To be gayer," Roman answered, making Patton laugh. Of course. "I mean, we already look hot, and it has gay flair, so..." Patton rolled his eyes, taking a seat and looking up at Roman. "Also, it would increase your sex appeal," Roman stated, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Logan's asexual," Patton deadpanned, causing Roman to blush and apologise. "Besides, I don't think me having blue hair would make me sexy." Roman looked Patton up and down with a smirk.

"I don't think you need to increase your sex appeal, it's already way up there, but it would definitely work," he stated with a wink. "Also, you're getting blue?" Roman asked, surprised he'd already decided. Patton shrugged, desperately trying to hide his blush.

"I don't know, maybe?" He squeaked.

"Alright ladies! And you two! Break's over!" The coach yelled, and both of the boys began to make their way onto the court.

"We'll go this afternoon," Roman decided. Patton nodded, a small smile on his face.

-

"I think I'm going to get my hair dyed turquoise. It's one of Logan's favourite colours and it just looks good, you know?" Roman nodded in agreement as they walked towards the hairdressers.

"Honestly, I think it'd make you look even cuter than you already do." Patton ducked his head and blushed again, gosh darn it as Roman pulled him into a side-hug and continued walking down the path."I'm going to get this pinkish-red colour. It's technically flamingo pink actually, it's a great colour." Patton looked up the colour 'flamingo pink' on his phone as Roman continued talking, releasing the boy from his grasp. "Yeah, I'm getting it because Virgil thinks I look good in pink and I think I look good in pink and everyone thinks I look good in pink." Patton laughed, agreeing with the statement as he slid his phone into his pocket, the pair entering the hairdressing salon.

Roman quickly told the receptionist what they wanted and the pair sat down on the couch in the waiting room. "Obligatory selfie because you're fucking adorable and so am I." Patton felt his face heat up lightly as Roman pulled out his phone, taking the selfie and uploading it to Instagram, adding the caption 'getting our hair dyed! xx'.

"Patton?" A lady asked. Patton stood up, making his way over to one of the many seats in the salon. They went through the usual wave of questions a began the colouring, as Roman was called up to do the same.

Roman continuously posted pictures of himself and Patton to his story throughout the nearly two-hour process, making Patton protest every time he noticed his fellow cheerleader was filming.

Soon after Patton's hair had been dyed, his phone buzzed in his pocket, showing a text from Logan.

Nerd boi™: You're getting your hair dyed? What? Why? WHY WASN'T I TOLD?!

Patton simply responded with an image of himself and his freshly-dyed turquoise hair. Logan freaked out, talking about how pretty of a colour it was and how he couldn't wait to play with it and run his hands through it, making Patton smile like a lovesick fool.

"You look fabulous, Patton! An amazing colour choice indeed!" Patton looked up from his phone and gasped, grinning at the now pink-haired Princey.

"That is such a good shade of pink. But now I want ice-cream. Can we get ice-cream?" Patton asked, standing up and paying at the counter as he batted his eyelashes at the other.

"This is turning into a bit of a date of sorts, isn't it? A platonic date. I can't believe we haven't done this before!" Roman laughed and linked their arms as they walked out of the salon, beginning to skip down the street.

"Look, you're awesome Roman, but stop embarrassing me. Please." Roman simply shook his head in protest but unlinked their arms, skipping ahead further. He turned around and skipped backwards, making Patton giggle at the boy's antics.

Soon, the two arrived at a local ice-cream parlour. Roman ordered his ice-cream, then Patton ordered his own, and both sat down to eat outside. The parlour had a vintage feel to it, the general theme being pastel pink and white.

"So, you finally went on a date with Virgil, huh?" Patton asked, leaning his elbow on the table and placing his chin in the palm of his hand. Roman blushed bright red, trying to hide his face behind his phone.

"Yeah, we're sort of boyfriends now. No biggie." Patton gasped.

"No way! It's such a big deal, Roman, you talk about him non-stop! What's it like dating a bad boy?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"He's not actually like that, he just sort of... pretends? Claims he has a reputation to uphold, but he is actually the sweetest person on the planet. I figured out that I can make him blush really easily, he's so fucking adorable. He tries to act really edgy all the time, I love it." Patton grinned.

"Awe! Dating him sounds awesome! Logan's kind of the same, but he's a massive flirter. He says he has no emotions, but he has a lot of love. He's so sweet, he texts me every morning to make sure I slept well, and every evening to say goodnight. He's a dork."

"Oh, well Virgil sends me photos of things that remind me of him." Patton raised an eyebrow. "They're usually just photos of things like garbage bags, or bins, or trucks, but still!" Roman squeaked, making Patton laugh. "We should start heading back to school, we've got to perform tonight, remember?" Patton jumped up immediately, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm so excited! Virgil's coming, right?" Roman nodded as the pair wandered down the street again, heading back to school to get ready for the game. "Wait, are you not playing?" Roman shook his head.

"No, the younger team's playing. They're not as good as my team, obviously, but it's still an entertaining game."

-

"Here, boys, your outfits. Nice hair, by the way." Patton and Roman grinned at each other, taking the cheerleading outfits from their coach. Black and white, the skirt was relatively short (no shorter than what either would normally wear, however), and the top was cut into a v-neck.

"Okay girls, and you two, this is the first game of the football season, and I know you're going to smash it. Roman, good luck to you, I'm sure you'll be amazing. Now, quickly warm up and stretch and do what you need to do, we're on in 10." The pair left to get changed.

"You nervous?" Patton asked as he stretched his legs out, looking up at his friend as Roman checked himself out in the mirror.

"Yes. This means a lot to me, if I stuff it up I would be teased for being bad at something. I can't have that. It would suck." Patton brushed his turquoise hair out of his face, and made a face of concern. "Don't worry about it. I know I'm good at this. I've been told by you guys so much." Patton smiled up at him.

"Everyone will love you as much as I- we do soon." Roman beamed and grabbed Patton's hand, dragging a blushing Patton off.

-

"Okay girls, we're doing routine two tonight." Most of the cheerleaders began doing little moves to go over that particular routine. "Roman, you're a flyer for that routine, are you sure you're good to do it?" Roman nodded at his coach in response.

"Yeah, it's all good." He sent a small smile to Patton, who grinned at him in return.

"On you go girls, good luck!" Coach whispered excitedly. The cheerleaders ran onto the field, waving at the crowd and, well, cheering, as they took their positions.

The squad performed the routine almost perfectly, Roman didn't mess up a single move (as per usual) and the crowd cheered like crazy, especially when Roman was up in the air. Patton couldn't blame them, he was incredible up there.

A couple of times the boys caught their boyfriends' eyes in the crowd, noticing how they were freaking out at their performance.

The cheerleaders left the field to cool down after the routine was performed. Patton's eyes were sparkling and Roman smiled at the boy's pure excitement as they entered the locker rooms once more. Roman grabbed a towel from his locker to dry the small layer of sweat that had accumulated on his skin.

"Come on girls, you've got to encourage the audience! In line and on the field, now!" The coach instructed. Roman and Patton rushed out of the locker rooms, tagging onto the end of the line. The cheerleaders began circling the field, ducking down at the appropriate moments (to allow fans to watch the game) and hyping up the audience during the game. Roman loved the attention, until some of that attention became negative.

"Fucking faggots! Fuck off!" A man shouted from the stands, along with a string of curse words and slurs. Roman glared in the direction of the voice, then glanced at Patton, who seemed thoroughly distressed. The boy tried to keep his smile up, but he was visibly shaking. Roman grabbed his hand and marched on, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry about it, he's a dickhead." Patton nodded, tears pricking at his eyes.

-

"You okay?" Roman asked Patton once they got back to the locker rooms. While Patton had continued encouraging the crowd, Roman could tell something was off.

"Yeah," Patton replied quietly, packing his gear into his bag.

"What that guy said... don't let it put you off. You're allowed to do what you want to, and there's nothing wrong with being gay. You know that," Roman comforted, trying his best to reassure his friend.

"It's not about that," Patton murmured. Roman turned around from his locker and looked at him, noticing how badly his hands were shaking. His breathing was off, the sharp intakes and shaky exhales echoing through the room, making Roman wonder why he didn't hear it before. He felt concern bubble in his chest for the uncharacteristically anxious boy. "I- I need to talk to you, Ro."

"What's up?" Roman asked, leaping over the wooden benches in the middle of the room and sitting next to the other's bag. Patton looked at him, pushing his glasses back up onto his face with shaky hands. Patton inhaled deeply, steeling himself.

"Roman... I-" Patton gulped, looking anywhere but at Roman, "I think I have a crush on you."

#cheerleader #bree's scribblings #sanders sides #royality #patton #roman #logicality #prinxiety #virgil #logan

[blinder-s]

Rose Garden / Part Two

YO SO I HOPE U ALL LIKED THE FIRST PART BC THERES MORE COMING :-) (so i mean it sucks if u didnt)

thank u for liking it !!!! it rly means a lot life is shite nd this is what makes me feel happy so I’m gna do it more lol HOPE U ENJOY - evie XX

words: 1,302

warnings: none!

gif creds to the owner! :))))

The next couple of weeks in the library were fairly mundane and boring. You spent most of the time with Helen, gossiping about whoever she had a crush on that week and how she hated men and so on and so on. Your boss had returned the following day, so you hadn’t been expected to go and collect any fines, which was a shame since it was slightly more interesting than stacking or issuing books.

“Emillie?” You heard your boss shout from the front desk, as you and Helen were hidden behind the religion section giggling like schoolgirls, “could you come and help me please?” 

You rolled your eyes to your ginger-haired friend, who stuck her tongue out at you, before heading over to the checkout desk, where your elderly boss was drowning in customers. You hadn’t even noticed how many people were in the library, though you and Helen were sharing your sexual exploits behind the Bible.

You took your space next to Tim, your boss, and began issuing books out to customers, “name please?” You called out, not bothering to move your head up to the man in front of you. It had become a habit, but you were far too tired to smile for five hours on end.

“Alfred Solomons,” he replied, a familiar voice grumbled above you. You took his card, and looked up and the boasting figure stood before you, “nice to see you again, Emillie.”

“You too, Mr Solomons,” you said, stamping the due date in his book. One you had never expected to see a man of his characteristics read; Pride and Prejudice. You looked up at the man, an eyebrow raised.

Alfie noticed your gaze and coughed slightly, embarrassed, “I thought I’d start with the classics.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, trying to cover his flushed cheeks.

“It’s my favourite,” you said honestly, biting your lip to stop the smile from breaking out on your face. His mouth broke out into the widest smile you’d ever seen on a man in your life, as you looked at him through your lashes. You continued to stamp the return date of the book on the front; a weeks time.

“I’ll let you know how I get on, Emillie,” he picked up the book carefully and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, careful not to tear any pages.You grinned as you watched him leave, even thinking that his back looked attractive. 

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts as Helen came waltzing past, a knowing grin plastered on her face. “Who was he?” She asked, cocking her left eyebrow and leaning one elbow on the wooden desk. Helen’s poker face stayed stationary until you lost the unofficial game of chicken.

You sighed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, “he’s the owner of a bakery in town.”

“And?” She pressed, her green eyes sweeping over your uncomfortable demeanour. Tim, an elderly man of over eighty, just looked at you back and forth before rolling his eyes and dismissing you both to stacking books in the far corner of the building.

You busied yourself, hoping Helen had forgotten about how you were sat staring at the back of a man you barely knew. But her face popping up in between two cookery books told you that she hadn’t.“I met him when I went to go and collect a fine last week, remember?” You explained, placing a book next to where her head was resting on the shelf. She coughed, expecting you to continue. “There’s nothing else to say, Helen.” She looked at you, an unimpressed smirk displayed on her face, and you groaned, “Helen! I’ve only met the man twice!”

“Do you like him?” She pressed, urging you to spill your inner most thoughts- something you weren’t all that comfortable doing.

“I hardly know him!” You marvelled, cautious about keeping the volume down. You especially didn’t need Tim on your back, not with Helen already doing your head in, 

“Yes, but do you fancy him?” Helen nagged, wandering to shelve a book away in the non-fiction section.

“I think he’s quite attractive,” conceding, you shook your head at your best friend’s triumphant face, “but don’t say anything! I barely know the man, Helen. Plus, I doubt he’d be interested in me, he’s at least ten years older than me.”

“Who knows? He could be your Mr Darcy,” she laughed, a knowing glint in her eyes. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might fall out of your head, but continued to do your work, leaving her to bask in this new found information.

Your shift ended at five, an hour before the library shut for the public. As you left, a smell of coffee was brought to your attention, making your stomach grumble with hunger. It was coming from the little patisserie across from the green grocers, a small walk away.

Deciding to follow your nose (and stomach), you ended up in the shop, ordering  a cup of coffee and a piece of Victoria sandwich. The evening was cool; a breeze nipping at your shoulders and dancing around the ringlets of your hair, but still warm enough to sit outside.

Half way through your drink, a man sat opposite you; George Wicker.

“Oh, hello,” you said, putting your drink down and looking up at the man who you’d been all through school with. Despite being very attractive, you could never think of George as anything but the boy who pushed you over in the mud when you were seven years old, “can I do anything for you?” 

He smiled, looking deeply into your eyes. You blushed without meaning to, but the intensive stare just kept your cheeks growing redder and redder- until you resembled the same colour as a tomato. 

“How about accompanying me to the pictures tonight?” He proposed, a hand going to touch your thigh under the table. You flinched, nearly knocking over your drink.

“Oh, no thank you George. I already have plans; I think Helen is free tomorrow, though,” you said, moving his hand off of your leg, and continuing to eat your cake in peace.

“Go on, Em,” he moved his hand back, tracing lines up and down on your bare skin, “it’ll be fun- plus I don’t like Helen. She’s far too eager.”

Your conversation continued for a while, neither of you giving up. It was only when George’s hand travelled further up your leg did you feel extremely uncomfortable, and end up knocking your steaming hot drink onto his hand. It was an accident, but you still thanked your lucky stars and whoever was looking out for you.

Needless to say, George left rather quickly, and you were able to get away without a date. There was no way in hell you’d ever date that boy- his reputation was a bit too much for handle, and considering you thought of him as a weird little boy who made friends with ants, it wasn’t likely to happen.

You made your way back to your place, the streets darkening and goosebumps appearing on your skin. It wasn’t a far walk, but you still felt tired as anything when you finally arrived at your door. Your neighbours were in, the glare from the lights peeping through their net curtains. You could hear the couple squabbling about something; probably the same thing they’d squabble about every single night since you’d moved in. 

Sighing, you unlocked the door, immediately going straight to your bedroom. It wasn’t that late; but suddenly you felt your eyes becoming droopy and struggled to keep them awake. Maybe it was George causing you stress; or maybe it was your body telling you to dream about Alfie.

Either way, you knew men were the problem.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #Alfie Solomons #Tom Hardy #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Why Can’t You See Me? (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Sehun x Reader / Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: Request based, Angst, Romance

Description: Hii, can you write a scenario where both sehun and kyungsoo love you. But you chose sehun in the end bcs you had been loving him long before you knew kyungsoo? Thank you love.

A/N: Lol i might have gone a bit away from what you expected/wanted but I will stay true to the request. I’m just going to have a bit more fun making it stressful because I like complicated hahaha

Part 1 + Part 2

“Are you sure about this? Don’t you want to drink?”

“I mean yes, but I’m fine being DD,” Kyungsoo says with a smirk as he puts his car keys in the ignition of his car. The car rumbles to life and he looks over at you with a look akin to mischief. “Besides, I don’t want everyone at the party to see me drunk. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

You laugh to yourself and buckle in your seatbelt as he pulls out of your apartment’s parking lot. “What reputation? This is your cliques party.”

“We aren’t a clique.”

“Mm. I beg to differ. You look like a clique to anyone who isn’t a theater nerd. Aka me.”

The two of you stop at a light and he looks at you with wide eyes smiling in disbelief. “We aren’t theater nerds!”

“All of you are in the theater program, and all of you have a huge hard on for acting. So yes. You are theater nerds.”

“It’s like you want me to turn this car around-”

“No!” you laugh and grab at this arm playfully as he continues driving towards your destination. The sound of him laughing alongside you fills the small space inside the car making your insides feel unruly, and you loosen your grip on his bicep, but not being able to force yourself to let go entirely. “It’s okay. Even if you were the biggest theater nerd on campus…I’d love you regardless.” At the…confession you guess you’d call it, you let go of his arm and settle into your seat trying not to think too hard about the deathly quiet that follows.

Heavy silence takes over until you hear him hum out a soft, “Mm.”

You stare out the window at the passing lights in silence for the rest of the ride.

People are hanging outside on the porch and lawn as you and Kyungsoo walk up the driveway to the open door where music is pouring from the house. Some people are holding cups full of whatever drinks are offered inside and some aren’t. You assume the ones without drinks in their hands are the designated drivers for the night.

Like Kyungsoo.

You see him frown ever so slightly at one of the other guests holding a cup merrily. You pat his shoulder in comfort with a chuckle. He wants to drink too you see it in his eyes, but if he drinks you’ll have no way home. Neither of you have the money to pay for an Uber home and then back in the morning to get his car. “You offered to drive. You can’t complain now,” you say half teasing him, half serious.

He huffs and walks ahead of you towards the house while you clumsily follow behind. You don’t know many people at this party. You only came along because Kyungsoo asked you to and because you heard that there was going to be free alcohol. You couldn’t turn down your friend.

But you definitely couldn’t turn down free alcohol.

The college kid budget is so real.

The party is just as loud as you expected. A whole table is set up dedicated to booze, and music pumps steadily from the two speakers belonging to the owners of the house. As the two of you enter people cheer upon seeing Kyungsoo and you hurriedly move away before he gets crowded by his adoring peers.

They just finished their last play for the year and although he wasn’t the star actor (this time) he still stole the show. You don’t remember the name of his character, but you remember the play was dark as fuck and he played one of the sons of the main character. Titus Andromecus you think it was called. You had forced Sehun to come with you and both of you were watching the entire thing in horror. Hands cut off. People raped. Numerous deaths.

It was heavy.

You shiver at the memory of the play, and make a b-line for the liquor to get rid of the initial nervousness you feel when you show up to parties that you weren’t personally invited to. Even as Kyungsoo’s guest you feel sufficiently out of place, but it’s nothing a couple of drinks can’t fix.

When you arrive to the table you see a few bottles of mainly cheap vodka and a huge bin full of hunch punch.

You have no clue what might be in the mystery punch, but it’s better than drinking straight vodka so early on, so you grab a cup and scoop some of the red drink up. It takes a single sip for your face to scrunch up in disgust.

You feel Kyungsoo’s presence beside you then. He peeks over your shoulder, all wide eyes filled with unspoken amusement at your expression. “Why’d you run off?” he asks looking at the punch in the clear bin. You cringe as you take another sip before answering.

“I knew your fans would hound you, so I went ahead and escaped. You needed your time to shine without me looming behind you,” you explain honestly.

He seems a bit unhappy with your words but doesn’t ask you to explain any further. “What’s in the punch this time?” he questions while grabbing your cup from your hand and sniffing it. He recoils and all but shoves the cup back into your hand. “Holy shit. It smells strong.”

“It is,” you croak out, throat burning. “It tastes like…everclear and some kind of strawberry punch.” You take another sip and stick your tongue out in disgust. Kyungsoo laughs and you smile through your disgust. “Poorly mixed everclear and strawberry punch,” you clarify with a laugh.

He grabs your free hand and pulls you away from the table. “Don’t drink too fast. We have a game of beer pong to win first,” he says. You see the competitive spark in his eyes that he usually tries to hide and you feel yourself giving in to him.

As you always do with Do Kyungsoo.

The beer pong game doesn’t get finished because the two guys you were playing against had started singing the entire Wicked musical during one of your turns to which your partner joined in, and soon everyone in the house was belting out the words to “Defying Gravity”. The music being played from the speaker goes from pop music to songs from various musicals and you roll your eyes as Kyungsoo’s words come back to mind.

Not theater nerds he says.

You’ve never been to any other party where musicals are played instead of regular music. No parties except theater kid parties.

And it happens every time.

You know that this means that at least half of the attendants are dead drunk at this point. You only feel slightly buzzed after having finished your first drink. With a faint smile on your face you watch Kyungsoo lean on one of his friends singing his heart out to “Morning Glow” from Pippin.

Time for another drink.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket as you make your way back upstairs after having played beer pong in the basement and you pull it out with slightly shaky fingers.

Fuck. That drink is starting to hit you.

Sehun’s name shines brightly on your screen as he calls and you don’t hesitate to swipe your finger across the screen and bring it to your ear.

“Hello there,” you chirp into the receiver.

There’s a pause before he responds. “Are you drunk?”

You snort. “I wish. No. I’ve only had one drink so far. Going for number two and three as we speak.” You hold the phone to your ear as you scoop more punch into your cup and lift it to your lips.

“Where are you?”

“At Soo’s theater party.”

“That was tonight?”

“Yep. It’s not over yet though. You could still make it if you tried, but I warn you they’ve gone into musical mode and I don’t see them leaving it any time soon.”

“…I don’t know I’m kind of tired.”

“Come on! You’ll be stuck in labs for the next two weeks. I miss hanging out with you, you know?” He starts to make excuses and you listen with a frown. He always has some reason or another not to come out. You watch the people around distractedly and smile as someone you actually know approaches you. “Kai! Hey!” you call out interrupting Sehun.

“Oh Jongin’s there?” Sehun asks in your ear. You grunt and smile to the handsome friend of your friends.

“(Y/N) right? You came to the musical party last semester with Kyungsoo didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I was at literally every show. Moral support and whatnot,” you shrug shyly and remember you’re still holding Sehun on the phone as you chat with the (you think) dance major in front of you. You fumble over your words before trying to address the guy on the phone. “Oh, uh Seh-”

“When did you and Kyungsoo start dating?” Kai cuts you off, leans on the table behind him and crosses his arms over his chest, a small smirk on his face as he looks at you. Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as you’re left without words.

You feel your face heating up at the question and at the memory that you’re still holding Sehun over the phone. Why haven’t either of you hung up?! “Uh…I uh,” you cough nervously. You cup the receiver with your hand and whisper, “Uh Sehun I’ll call you later-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m on the way. Be there in 10,” he says before the line goes dead. You blink down at your phone dumbly and then back at Kai who is looking at you highly amused with his stupid pretty eyebrow quirked as he patiently waits for your answer.

You bring your drink to your lips once more, after shoving your phone in your pocket, and swallow the rest of the slightly less alcohol saturated version of the hunch punch as you think of what to respond with. “We uh…we aren’t going out. We’re just friends,” you tell him truthfully, your words muffled by your cup.

His head tilts curiously. “So…are you dating the guy you were always sitting with at the shows?”

“Sehun?”

He brightens and smiles excitedly. “That was Sehun!? Whenever I asked him if he same to see me dance in the show he said no!” he pouts to himself and glares at nothing in the distance. “That brat.”

You chuckle. “Yeah he came with me.”

“Then he’s your boyfriend-”

“No. I’m not dating either of them. All of us…are just…friends. Okay?”

He narrows his eyes and leans forward to take in your expression. It’s then that you can smell the slight alcohol from his breath. “For some reason…I don’t quite believe that’s the truth-”

“Kim Kai!” Kyungsoo’s voice startles you and Kai apart and you bring your cup to you face again to hide the heat once more rising to your cheeks. You and the guy weren’t doing anything illegal, but you feel as if you’ve been caught in some forbidden rendezvous with him.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in your system making you feel so…weird. You scoop up a bit more punch from the bin next to you.

“Kyungsoo! I was just talking to (Y/N) about you.”

Kyungsoo looks surprised when he looks at you and you shrug noncommittally at Kai’s words, choosing to nurse your drink and get as much out of this whole free alcohol thing as you can without seriously endangering your health. “What were you asking about?” your friend asks.

You panic. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself is the reason why you do what you do next. You yelp and grab Kyungsoo’s wrist to pull him away before Kai can make anything awkward. You haven’t known the taller long, but you know enough about him to know that when it comes to Kyungsoo…he keeps no secrets.  

His laugh trails behind you and your heart flutters because there’s just something about his laugh at makes your insides flip happily. Something about being able to make him laugh that makes you happy.

You stop once you’re outside and for some reason can’t get yourself to face your actor of a friend, but when his hands cup your cheeks and force you to look at him, you give in.

Like you always do with Do Kyungsoo.

His hands are cool on you hot cheek sand his gaze is almost intimidating as he smiles and looks at you in the dim light of the yard. You feel your body swaying, but it’s not severe enough for you to care.

It doesn’t help that he’s holding onto your face so securely and making that dumb face where he’s laughing and his face squishes up and his head tilts back. Once he recovers and you’re able to get yourself to stop gushing in your head over how cute he is, he squeezes your face a bit tighter. “You’re going to be so sick tomorrow morning.”

You snort. “Am not.”

His smile widens at your denial. “Yeah you are.”

His hands squish your face lightly and he even goes as far as mocking your expression. Through your pursed lips you mutter, “I’m so sober right now. I’m fine. I’m a capable adult.”

He laughs once again and unwanted thoughts run through your head. Maybe it’s because you’re nearly drunk, but Kyungsoo looks really handsome glowing in the dim lighting of the yard at a place where he feels truly comfortable. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and Kai’s words ring inside your head. Why aren’t you dating Kyungsoo? He’s your neighbor. He’s nice. He’s all you could ask for in a boyfriend.

He cooks -hell he likes cooking-, he has a knack for taking care of those around him, he’s funny when he’s in the mood. You can’t count the number of times he’s had you in tears at the stupid things he does when he feels humorous.

You want to kiss him. Just to see what it would feel like. Just to see if it would be anything like you imagine it might be. You swallow nervously when you look back at his eyes to see him watching you carefully. The hint of a smile still lingers on his lips as he seems to sober up ever so slightly. Did he catch you looking at his lips? Oh shit how do you explain yourself? You can’t even try to tell the truth because you know that your thoughts weren’t innocent and what lie can you come up with you cover yourself-

“I like you…(Y/N),” you hear him say and your heart nearly stops beating. “I like you,” he repeats, voice steady as he speaks. “A lot.” He says the words breathlessly with no regard for the people around you, but no one seems to care about your conversation. No one seems to pay any attention, even as you feel your world closing in on you. Your heart races and you figure that it’s a mix of the alcohol in your system, your nerves, and the fact that you kind of already knew. You already kind of knew about his heart. You had a feeling, but hearing him say it aloud doesn’t floor you any less.

Speechless. You can’t find any words and you can’t get any cognitive functions to fucking work and it’s frustrating because it’s Kyungsoo. You’ve known Kyungsoo since you both somehow got stuck together in a class project with 3 other useless classmates 2 years ago. You and Kyungsoo were the only ones who actually put any work into the assignment and met up fairly often trying to get the thing done before the due date. Late night conversations. Hushed cursing. Jokes at the expense of your peers.

And…you became friends through a mutual frustration with your classmates. You learned about his interests. Started going to shows to see him outside of class. Traded numbers to keep in contact after your class ended for the semester.

Alright maybe you like him just a little more than you should a friend.

His hands don’t move from your face as you soak in his words, his confession. Not drunk enough to completely lose sight of your senses, you notice him leaning closer. Farther down towards your mouth. Your lips.

Why don’t you date Kyungsoo?

It would be so easy…

Eyes flutter closed and breath ghosts over your lips as you wait for his to make contact with your own.

“(Y/N)!” you name is called cheerfully from a distance away, and you know that voice. Know that tone. Know that feeling at hearing your name coming from his mouth.

Sehun.

Oh yeah. That’s why. Because of Sehun.

Kyungsoo and you separate quickly right as his lips almost touch yours. The ghost of the potential feeling of his lips is all you’re left with as you turn to find Sehun walking towards the two of you. You plaster on a smile when you see him approaching. Half of your heart hurts at having turned away from Kyungsoo so quickly, but the other half is beyond excited to see Sehun.

What can you do? You’re in love with him.

“You made it!” You call out cheerfully. His handsome face smiles happily and he drapes one long arm over your shoulder in a half hug. You avoid Kyungsoo’s eyes as Sehun and him greet one another.

Kyungsoo knows that you like Sehun. He knows that you like him more than you should, but he stays by your side and continues to be more than you deserve to have. Hurting himself for your sake.

But for some reason you can’t let him go.

Why won’t you stop stringing him along and let him go?

Sehun continues to talk to Kyungsoo and you accidently catch the shorter’s eyes. He flushes and looks away only to point behind himself. “I’m going to go finish something up inside and then I’ll be back out.” He smiles and cooly walks inside, but you see the way his hands clench nervously at his sides.

“Wah, you really are drunk aren’t you?” Sehun asks, bending down to meet your eyes. Face too close. You shy away and push yourself from under his arm. You like Sehun, but you don’t know if he likes you. Why won’t he stop stringing you along and let you go?

When will he see you?

“Your cheeks,” he says poking your face lightly “they’re really pink,” he says, taking your silence for confusion and your blush for nothing but a product of your drinking.

Chosing not to directly answer his question, you ask your own. “How’d you get here? I don’t see your car.”

“I caught an Uber. I finished up my work and came from my dorm,” he explains. His face, that neutral intimidating expression that scares a lot of people away.

That expression that for some reason just makes you fall for him more and more.

You’re so fucked. You know it, but you can’t control your heart. You can’t help that you fell for the boy who sees you as nothing more than a friend. Can’t help that you didn’t fall for someone like Kyungsoo who isn’t hidden from you.

You sigh internally.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go in and sit down?” he asks, concern showing on his face. You blink slowly as you take in his face. Do you want to go back in?

You smile half heartedly and wobble on your feet. “No. I need more air. I’ve…I’ve drunk enough and if I go in I know I’ll end up picking up another cup if I see any more alcohol. Go say hi to Kai and apologize for lying to him because he knows you lied to him you dumbnut. Why would you lie about not coming to see the musical he was so excited to see-”

His large hand covers your mouth and it takes you a moment to realize why your words are coming out muffled in your ears. When your mind catches up with the world around you, you take in Sehun silently laughing at you. Doing that adorable laugh where he’s smiling and his shoulders are shaking but he isn’t making much noise. Not laughing wildly and loudly.

Your heart constricts.

“Wait here. I’ll come after I find Jongin,” he says smiling in a way that hurts too much to explain. Friendly. The only thing in his smile is friendliness. Sehun runs off and you settle on the grass surrounded by drunk partygoers.

You exhale heavily.

What the fuck does Jongin know that you don’t?

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