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dolce-peach · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I love ur writing so much btw!💖😄 could do a Wanda x reader where he reader is bffs with Loki and always rants about her crush on Wanda to Loki and Loki is sooo done with the pining because Wanda also rants to Loki about y/n and in the end Loki is like so done lol. So basically they both have to go on a mission together 😏 and there is only one bed and and fluff ensues 😁

matchmade

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: fluff

a/n: kinda going out of order with requests trying to push through some writer’s block, but i had a lot of fun writing this, anon! hope you guys like it! ❤️

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

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“She changed her hair.”

Loki looked up at you from his book. “I beg your pardon?”

Your eyes were fixed on Wanda as she greeted Steve and Nat across the room. She had just come home from a recon mission in Sokovia to help with the disaster efforts. Though she looked tired, her long hair was lighter than before, lightly curled at the ends.

“Wanda,” you clarified. “She changed her hair.”

Loki sighed and went back to reading his book. “Women happen to change their hair often, Y/N. It’s a fact of life.”

“Now that’s just sexist,” you pointed out.

“You’re right. I suppose Stark spends more time grooming himself than you and Maximoff combined,” he snickered.

You rolled your eyes as Wanda walked over.

Her eyes were bright. “What’s so funny? Did I miss something?”

“No,” you replied quickly.

“Yes,” Loki groaned without looking up.

Wanda raised an eyebrow before quickly brushing her thought away. “Anyhow, Cap wanted me to tell you that we have a mission tomorrow overseas.”

You glanced at Loki before giving Wanda a concerned look. “But you just came back.”

She shrugged. “Duty calls,” she said. “Besides, I don’t mind going if it’s with you.”

“Sounds like fun,” Loki drawled as he flipped a page and continued reading.

Wanda sent you the smallest wink before going off to file some reports with Steve.

You found yourself exhaling sharply, realizing that you were holding your breath the whole time Wanda was in front of you. You tried your best to catch your breath, but you kept thinking about her smile.

Loki glanced over at you and scoffed. “You are absolutely smitten,” he said. “And incredibly lame.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve felt the same way about someone before,” you protested.

“Kitten, I invented love, but no one here is worthy of it.”

“Of course,” you deadpanned. “You and your incredibly high standards.”

He shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Okay, but what am I going to do?” you groaned. “I’ll be going with Wanda to God knows where, and I can barely function when she’s around me!”

“Right,” he said, setting his book down. “Allow me to make a suggestion.”

You leaned closer, partially curious as to what he had to say.

He sighed. “You’ve had your eye on Maximoff, and I’m sure she’s noticed by now. Maybe you should stop worrying about that and just be yourself.”

“Be myself...?”

“Well, yes,” he said. “You’re a lovely human, the best I know. She’d be a fool not to accept you.”

You bit your lip. “Okay, but if I make a move and it turns out badly, then I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“A reasonable deal,” Loki said with a grin before going back to his book, leaving you to worry about packing for your impromptu mission.

You yawned loudly, causing Wanda to laugh as she drove your tiny getaway car through the narrow streets of Edinburgh.

“Sleep much last night?” she asked.

“A little,” you admitted. “Just mission jitters, that’s all.”

She hummed.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. Truth be told, you got absolutely no sleep the night before. Usually missions included at least a few more people, but now that you were alone with Wanda, it seemed too good to be true. You were excited, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with her.

After a full day of scouting, the two of you checked into a small hotel.

It was a cozy building, the last of its kind on the bright, modern street. It spoke of a time that was long gone, giving off an almost whimsical feeling to passerbys.

And the rooms were small.

Very small.

You stared at the one bed in the middle of the room, gulping nervously.

It’s okay.

It’s just a bed, and we’re just friends.

You sighed. Be professional, Y/N!

“Something wrong?” Wanda asked, observing your inner turmoil.

“No, of course not!” you exclaimed.

She set her bag down. “Steve thought it’d be a good idea to get a smaller room. Lower profile,” she said. “I could take the couch if you want.”

I should’ve thought of that!

You shook your head, trying to act as cool as possible. “It’s fine!”

She smiled. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll shower first, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you replied.

You found yourself looking out the window, and as soon as you heard the bathroom door close with a click, you sighed, sitting back on the bed.

“Maybe you should stop worrying about that and just be yourself.”

You nodded to yourself. You hated to admit it, but Loki was right. If you wanted to make it through the night without being completely incapacitated with awkwardness, you had to take a step forward. Maybe you wouldn’t confess outright, but at least try to carry on a conversation without blushing madly.

You didn’t notice Wanda coming back out, drying her hair with a towel.

She sat down next to you, making you jump. “You okay, Y/N? You’ve been really weird all day.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. You felt your breath hitch as she stroked your hair gently. “Just on edge, I guess.”

“I get that,” she said. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have any sort of responsibility, you know?”

You nodded. “But we’ve got each other, right?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

You smiled back, finding your body moving closer to hers until your lips brushed over hers.

You pulled back, your eyes wide. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed before running to the bathroom.

You locked the door behind you, sinking to the floor. Involuntary tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to stifle your cries. You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

“Y/N?”

You hid your face in your hands.

“Y/N, can you please come out?”

You slowly stood, wiping your eyes before opening the door.

You barely had time to respond before Wanda backed you into the sink, her lips on yours. Your eyes widened as she gently rested her hands on your waist.

You caught your breath as she pulled back. “Wh-what...?”

“I’ve loved you for the longest time,” she said. “Just couldn’t find the right time to say so.”

Shock made you speechless. You searched her green eyes for any sort of lie, but you found none.

“I always thought you and Loki would eventually get together, but after talking to him about it, he said that wasn’t the case at all,” Wanda explained. She laughed nervously. “I’ve ranted to him about you ever since, especially when I couldn’t necessarily contain my feelings about you.”

You thought you were dreaming.

“Sorry it took so long,” she said.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied. “I’m sorry too.”

She laughed.

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And that was where you left it.

The two of you cuddled comfortably on the bed, eventually waking up in each other’s arms. The soft morning light made Wanda’s hair glow against the white bed sheets.

It took a moment for you to remember what happened the night before, but when you did, you felt giddy all over again.

You just couldn’t believe it was true.

When you finally returned to the compound, the first person to greet you two was Loki, who was leaning against the door frame, smiling smugly.

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out.

“You didn’t need to,” you said. You held up your hand, which was holding Wanda’s ever so gently. “You were right. You happy?”

A smile grew across his lips. “Of course,” he said. “And now I get to stab anyone who tries to hurt you two.”

You and Wanda exchanged glances before laughing.

Loki chuckled along with you, watching the two of you laugh together.

He meant every word.

You had to be protected.

74 notes · View notes

terrifying-testicles · 5 years

Text

Sugar Daddy!Bakugou x Reader Ch. 2

All right you heathens, it’s here! I want you all to know that pretty much all of this gets written in my free time at my internship lol. I was asked to tag someone in future updates, so if you want to be tagged in the future just lemme know!

The outfits mentioned in the fic appear in this order: 1 2 3

Words: 5.8k

_-_-_-_-_

Bakugou stares at his laptop screen, a deep frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. It had been a week since his friends had suggested being a sugar daddy. Sero and Kaminari had been making jokes at his expense any chance they got. Between missions and patrols, texting him horribly lewd memes. The last time it had happened, Kaminari had been two floors below Bakugou. He was awfully surprised when the ash blond barged in on him training, strolled straight over to Kaminari’s gym bag, grabbed his phone and looked him dead in the eyes as he blew it apart. Mouth agape, Kaminari was speechless as he watched Bakugou saunter out smugly. Kirishima had the decency to only bring it up when they were hanging out outside of work, and was serious about it. Sometimes he threw a joke around, but he chose his words wisely. Bakugou grumbles as he drags his hands down his face. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been curious about what it would be like to be a sugar daddy. He scoured forums and read accounts from daddies and babies alike, as well as suggestions. The more he considered it, the more he was into the idea. The only problem now was that Bakugou had no clue what to do about his profile. He’d compared different websites used for arrangements, and once he chose one, he went to sign up but…he was unsure. Grey catches his eye, Bakugou turning his head to find dark orange eyes staring back at him. He sighs through his nose and scoots his computer further down his lap. The cat’s eyes light up and he leaps up, settling against Bakugou’s chest. The hero brings his right hand up to scratch between his ears. “Katsuuuuki!” A shrill voice rings out, followed immediately by the slamming of his door. Bakugou groans loudly. Footsteps echo through his apartment before pink fills the doorway to his bedroom. Mina leans against the door frame, hands on either side, reminding Bakugou of a pin-up girl. “How’s my favorite blasty boy?” she asks, grin full of pearly teeth. “Who the fuck gave you a key?” Mina laughs and strolls towards the bed, reaching out to pet his cat. “Senshi, actually.”

The cat purrs loudly in response. That stupid cat adored Mina, always preferring her over any company if she was present. He wouldn’t put it past the ashy feline if the damn thing wasn’t such an idiot most of the time. Mina looks over to the laptop on Bakugou’s knees and gasps loudly. “Is that a sugar daddy site!?” she shrieks. Bakugou sputters and reaches to slam the screen closed but Mina is already snatching it up and jumping over him to land on the bed with a subdued bounce. Senshi leaps off of Bakugou, the Chartreux settling into Mina’s side, purring not unlike that of a boat. Bakugou scoffs at the traitor. “Give that back, freak!” He reaches for his computer but Mina slaps his hand harshly. “I would if this were a joke and it wasn’t you.” The pinkette fixes Bakugou with a sly look. “So, have you made an account, yet?” Bakugou narrows his eyes. “…no.” Mina squeals. “Good! I can help you, then!” “No way!” Bakugou tries once again to take his laptop and is, yet again, smacked away. “Oh, come on,” she whines. “There’s no way you could make a profile that doesn’t come off as scary or too vague.” “Shut up, just give it back.” “No!” Mina brings her legs under her in a crisscross and turns her back to the blond. Senshi yowls in complaint. “I won’t question your decisions, because let’s face it Katsu, you’re hot as fuck and you’re letting it go to waste! I just want you to be successful in your sugar daddy endeavors.” Bakugou had pressed himself against her back, reaching around to grab the laptop, but stops his struggle as Mina finishes talking. He frowns, staring at the Log In or Sign Up page, mulling over her words. Prideful as he is, Bakugou has to admit she’s not wrong. He’s not the most charming person, and he’s not the best at talking about himself in a way that isn’t pure bravado or defensiveness. Mina, on the other hand, is stupidly charismatic and knows her friends to a terrifying degree. Bakugou growls. “Fine, you can help me, but nothing gets posted unless I say so.” Mina whoops and gets to work signing him up. “Hot stuff?” Bakugou asks incredulously. “I’m not going to make you Lord Explosion.” She quips without taking her eyes away from the screen. He just huffs and settles his chin against her shoulder. “I’m guessing you don’t want others to know you’re a pro hero, right?” Mina feels him nod. “Hmm…” Bakugou glances at her, whose brows are drawn in a determined fashion, lips pursed. After a moment she grins and begins typing away, Bakugou barely able to keep up with her wild key strokes. “Hey, don’t make me sound too cocky.” he snaps. Mina rolls her eyes and deletes a few words before rewriting it. “How’s that, then?” Bakugou gives a scrutinizing look, but Mina knows it’s only for show. When he finally nods, Mina tosses the laptop to the side, earning a surprised sound from the man behind her. “Now we need a picture,” she pulls out her phone. “Normally, I’d say only a partial face pic, but it might be easier to recognize you as a hero that way. Plus, you’ve got a killer profile and it’d be a disservice to every prospective baby to hide it.” Bakugou wants to protest, but Mina’s flattery gets her surprisingly far with him at times. This is one of them, so he just puffs out a tired sigh and gestures for her to continue. “To the balcony!”

It’s well past dark when Bakugou finally manages to usher his friend out. Living in the same building as her proved to be a test of his patience on many occasions. Since he got her out, he’s been busying himself with browsing through profiles of women in his area. He’s not sure how to approach anyone on here and suddenly wishes he hadn’t kicked Mina out. Some babies play up the innocence, reminding him of actual adolescent girls, so Bakugou avidly avoids those profiles. Some express their sex appeal loudly, which is definitely not what he’s looking for. He’s getting ready to throw the damn laptop when a familiar face catches his eye. Bakugou clicks on ‘AngelEnergi’ and blanches at the picture. [h/c] ringlets cascading delicately over [s/c] shoulders and exposed collarbone, framing [e/c] eyes and pouty lips. A beautiful sigh, but all Bakugou can see is the mocking face of the woman who took his job into her hands. Bakugou can’t believe his luck, jaw clenching at the embarrassing memory. Her face had been haunting him all week, anger at her actions flaring up at full force and— And what? What could he do? Bakugou isn’t the kind of person to turn her in for unlawful quirk use when she still saved someone. He wasn’t going to message her just to bitch her out, either. In all honesty, he’d been intrigued by her. Loathe as he was to admit it, whatever drove her to act as if a pro hero, while irritating, was still attractive. Not everyone is made to be a hero, but she stepped up, despite the risk she faced. It’s an admirable trait. Bakugou takes a breath to level himself. He scrolls down and looks at her full profile. ‘You can call me Angel, though I may not always be one ;) I’m 23 and work all day in a lab, so from time to time I’d like a little luxury on the side. I’m great conversation and don’t mind being pure arm candy. I’m sweet enough~ My arrangements are preferred to be nonsexual. If you’d like to work something out, just give me a time and place for dinner – has to be somewhere public! – and I will let you know if I’m interested. My available times are below.’ Bakugou glances over the times before opening up her photo album. Beside her profile picture, there’s one of her in a blue, form-fitting evening gown, and another of her in a lingerie set from only the neck down. Bakugou flushes at the last one, quickly clicking out of it. Sure, she’d put the picture up willingly, but he wasn’t one to ogle unless they were face to face. That thought sends the hero into a full force blush that extends down his neck and across the tip of his ears. Senshi pads across the couch and nestles himself against Bakugou’s thigh. Said man scratches the cat’s head with a long sigh. “What do you think?” He glances down at his furry companion, who gives a full-body purr. Bakugou snorts. “Of course you do.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………

You open the bathroom door, steam pouring out into her living room. You step out, towel around your chest and are wrapping another around your hair to set atop your head. You smile at the dog lying on his back in the armchair, snoring loudly. You start to head for your room when your phone dings. Curious, you cross to the coffee table and wake up your phone. The screen lights up with two notifications. You swipe away the game alert, but your thumb hovers over the alert from the dating site. ‘HotStuffZero has sent you a message.’ You raise your eyebrows. It’s been a bit since anyone has messaged you, so you’re somewhat surprised by the late-night contact. You tap the notification and unlock your phone. The message just says, “Friday @ 6” and a link. When you check it, you see it’s an upscale restaurant only a twenty minute train ride from where you live. You tap on the profile and can’t help the way you smile at the handsome face before you. His profile picture is of the man’s side profile, looking out at a presumed skyline, if the cityscape backdrop is anything to go by. His pale blond hair is wild, but his face is stern, all angles. You can’t help but admire the cut of his jaw for a moment. It’s the only picture on his profile so you move on to his bio. ’24, Taurus, feisty. Looking for someone to spoil with gifts and take to events. If you’re seeking out fancy dinner dates, extravagant galas, and no-limit shopping sprees, then let me know. No expectations.’ He’s young, you think. You had yet to meet a sugar daddy on here younger than mid-thirties. It was a pleasant surprise, though the last bit confused you. No expectations? Of me or of him? Either way, you could handle whatever came your way. You returned to your messages and shot off a quick “See you there” before locking your phone and throwing it atop the coffee table. This should be fun.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Bakugou really wasn’t a fan of upscale restaurants like this. Sure, he could afford it, had more than enough money to enjoy bougie spots and high-end meals, but he surely didn’t have the patience for the pompous pricks sat around him. They’d pay him no mind until he opened his mouth, then suddenly everyone within earshot was aghast, but would listen intently as if filling up their gossip arsenal. An ideal date for him would be set at home where he could cook a meal far better than some high-strung chef. Yet, all that he hates about these upscale places are exactly why he’s here, right? To show that he could afford something to ostentatious, that he was more than capable of spoiling his potential baby with absolute ease. Bakugou frowns, realizing he still doesn’t know her name. He can ask once she shows up, but he hates not knowing more about her beforehand. He likes having eh ball in his court, with every advantage he can manage. He made it here half an hour before their set time, with a seat near the back of the restaurant to give him a perfect view of the door and most of the establishment. He already has a wine picked out, waiting until she gets here to order it. Hell, he even knows that they’ve met before, while as far as she is aware he’s nothing but a stranger. Checking his phone, he sighs. Still fifteen minutes before they’d agreed to meet. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so early. His nerves are high, leg bouncing so badly the table has started a light tremor. It’s just a date, not even with a potential partner, but someone who doesn’t even have to like him, so long as the money is good. Bakugou’s stomach goes sour with that thought.

You shuffle up to the restaurant, anxiety nestled between ribs. The exterior is extravagant, taupe sponged brick and burgundy awnings sprouting forth above arched, stained windows. The doors are a dark oak with bronze in-lays that swirl along the edges. One heavy door is propped open, giving way to an even fancier entrance, the host dressed in a deep red dress, looking all the part of someone who belonged here. So much as you craved a luxurious lifestyle, it was still a foreign concept to you. You hadn’t even made it inside but you already felt like you stood out. You were happy to lounge at home in sweats and a tank top, though pants were optional if you had nothing to do that day. You walk in and take deep breaths through your nose and you approach the host stand. The woman glances up and gives a wide smile. “How may I help you, ma’am?” her tone is sugary, and you’re certain she’s actually genuine, your nerves settling somewhat. “Um, I’m meeting someone.” “Name?” the woman asks, opening up the black leather book on the stand. You bark out a laugh, shifting your weight between feet, and clear your throat. “Actually, I don’t know his name.” The host glances up at you, raising a brow. You bite your lip for a second. You almost make an excuse before wondering why the fuck you care what some host you’ll only meet once draws conclusions about from your dilemma. “He’s blond, spiky hair, very handsome,” you trail off, unsure the hostess would have any cue who you were talking about. “Ah,” the woman leans to the side, glancing around the slatted wall behind her to look across the dining room. She points to the back. “He should be right back there.” You smile and thank the hostess before making your way between tables. You spot him, drinking from a glass of water. He’s wearing a maroon button down, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the top two buttons open. The table cloth hides the rest of him but you’re sure he’s sporting nice shoes; he seems the type. He sets down his glass and suddenly vermilion stares back at you. Heat washes over you in a wave, a shy smile pulling at your lips. When you make it to the table he goes to stand, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine.” You pull out the chair and sit, taking a deep breath. “I realized I probably should have asked your name.” you laugh. The man across from you curses under his breath. “Bakugou.” You smile “[L/N].” Bakugou clears his throat. “Uh, you look nice.” You were wearing a silver gown, off the shoulder, a quartz studded belt encircling your waist, the rest of the dress cascading in squared off bunches. Bakugou had caught a glimpse of strappy shoes and a toned thigh peeking through the slit in your dress. He was definitely not prepared to be left breathless by this woman. When they met, you were casual and he wanted nothing more than to tear you a new one. Now, you’re elegant and your smile is mesmerizing. Bakugou doesn’t know what to do about it. “So, um,” your voice brings him back. You had one hand on your glass, fingers tracing the condensation. You look nervous, so different from the defiant fire to your eyes from the previous week, and Bakugou is torn between hating it and loving that it’s probably because of him. “I’m not the kind of baby that asks for money up front, just so you know. I don’t want an allowance or anything like that.” “Right to business, huh?” Bakugou leans forward on his elbows, hands clasped in front of his mouth. You shift in your seat at the intensity of his gaze. You laugh curtly. “Yeah, I just like to get all of that out of the way so it’s less awkward when we get to know each other. I hate having it nag at me the whole time.” You take a sip of your water and glance around the restaurant. You don’t understand why you feel so nervous. Maybe because he’s the youngest sugar daddy you’ve met. Maybe it’s the heavy weight of those piercing eyes. Maybe it’s how unbelievably hot he is. Or is it D, all of the above? You think “So, what are you wanting, then?” You blink at him. “Oh, well. I guess I’m just looking to be pampered.” “Why—” “Good evening,” Both of you look at the server. Bakugou curls his lip, irked by the interruption. You greet him kindly before they are asked what they want. Bakugou orders the bottle of wine he’s been waiting for and turns to his date. “Know what you want?” he asks. You blush and quickly snatch the menu up. “No, I’m sorry.” He’s somewhat satisfied by your flustered state. “No worries. I shall return in a moment with your drinks.” The server leaves as quickly as he appeared. You chuckle nervously. “I should’ve checked first, sorry.” “Stop apologizing.” He snaps. He hadn’t meant for it to come out, but it’s become a reflex at this point after years spent shaking Kirishima out of his self-deprecating mindset. You look surprised for a moment, until a sly smile quirks the corner of your mouth. You are suddenly made aware that your date may be less reserved than you originally thought. “You were saying?” you prompt. Bakugou furrows his brows a moment before remembering what you’re referring to. “I was gonna ask why you don’t just date someone instead.” You purse your lips. He’s definitely bold, not holding his tongue for the sake of being polite. You appreciate it. “Well, I spend a lot of time at work and don’t really want to invest myself in looking for someone and settling down. I can’t risk being held back for a partner, no matter how much my mother hounds me for it.” Bakugou can’t help the smirk that makes its way to his expression. He’s quite similar in his reservations. “What about you?” she asks, eyes trained on the menu as she searches for something that sounds good. “I don’t have time to fuck around when I’m working to be the best.” He notices her quick glance up at the curse word, but she otherwise seems unbothered. “Interesting,” she murmurs, loud enough for him to hear. You are smirking, still reading the menu, not giving any explanation for what you mean. The server steps up to the table, wine bottle in hand. He pours you each a glass and sets the bottle on the table, taking your orders and scurrying off again. You drink from your glass while staring at Bakugou. He quirks a brow at you, one hand fiddling with his silverware while the other lays, palm flat to the table. “What?” You set your glass down but keep fingers wrapped around the stem, stare unwavering. “Have…you seem familiar.” Bakugou grins in an almost feral way. Your eyes narrow. You know that smile from somewhere, teeth bared in a subtly dangerous way. Wild hair and piercing red eyes… You open your mouth to speak, but Bakugou beats you to it. “I feel like I should be offended,” he leans in, smirk widening, and you tense. “After showing me up, playing hero,” At that your [e/c] eyes go wide. “you’d think you’d remember me.” You bush your chair back. “I’m sorry, I just– listen, I—” you start to stand, panic overtaking you, until fingers wrap tightly around your wrist. You heart stops for a second, meeting his stern glare. “Hold the fuck on. I’m not here to get you in trouble, idiot.” Bakugou wants to smack himself. He’s not trying to scare you off but he’d doing a damn good job of it. You hesitate. Slowly, you sit back in your seat, arm still held in a vice grip. “You’re…not? Even though I used my quirk in public like that?” He sighs and lets go of her wrist, leaning back in his chair. “No,” he takes a large drink of his wine before continuing. “When I realized it was you I was tempted, but…” Bakugou purses his lips, unsure of how to continue. “I don’t know. I wanted to see what kind of person pulls that kind of shit. I guess.” You eye him. He seems almost skittish, shoulders tensed up and holy shit you can see the muscles rippling under the button up. “I…so you’re Ground Zero?” her voice is barely above a whisper and Bakugou is thankful for the discretion. He nods. You nod in return, thinking. “I couldn’t help it. I just reacted, I guess.” Bakugou leans forward, prompting you to continue. “I always wanted to be a hero. My quirk is perfect for it, too.” You give a strained smile. “Energy manipulation and absorption. My hair acts as a conductor for me to draw in energy. Electric, kinetic, even drawing it from people if we touch skin-to-skin.” You wiggle your fingers around for emphasis. “I can take it and put that energy into my movements. As long as I move around I can channel it. Put extra power behind punches and jumps. Problem is, overuse leads to nosebleeds, migraines, and most importantly seizures.” You let out a heavy sigh through your nose, scooting your chair closer to the table and leaning forward. You keep your eyes off of Bakugou’s face, not keen on seeing how he reacts. “I had a pretty bad seizure when I was 14 and the doctor said if I pushed it I would be more prone to having them with future quirk use. So, being a hero was no longer an option. I mean, who wants a pro to go down in a fight due to a seizure? Too much risk.” Your voice trails off and you bite your lip. You glance up at Bakugou. His brow is pinched, a hard frown in place. “I didn’t mean to make it awkward—" “Shut up.” Your jaw clacks shut, eyes wide. Bakugou turns his head away with a huff. “It’s fine.” He flicks his eyes to match yours, one hand clenching and unclenching on the table. Bakugou wasn’t expecting that response. He’s only spoken with you for less than twenty minutes but he’s starting to understand that the woman seated across from him will not be anything he expects. It excites him. “What do you do instead?” he asks to change the subject. You light up almost immediately, smile spreading and bunching up your cheeks. Cute, he thinks. “I work in a lab! I’m the supervisor for my lab, actually. It’s a University funded lab, and my team works on experiments and studies related to physics with a little bit of kinesiology thrown in. Since my quirk has a lot to do with kinetic energy, I love conducting studies around it. We share somewhat with a team of chemists, but we generally get along.” Bakugou listens intently as you gush about your work and the seemingly crazy group you work with. Your food arrives and the two fall into a relative quiet as you eat. Bakugou is surprisingly comfortable with the lull in conversation. He’s used to Kirishima, who talks while stuffing his face, which usually turns into a lecture from the ash blond. On to pof that, his ex would get so caught up in talking that she’d let her food get cold. Bakugou finishes off his wine to drown the memory. You are mostly done with your meal when you prop your head in one hand and watch Bakugou. When his gaze lifts to yours, you smile softly. “What made you want to be a hero?” you ask with genuine curiosity behind bright [e/c]. Bakugou could give you an honest answer. He could tell you how he grew up being a big fan of All Might, became inspired by the number one hero to work hard and be even greater. If he were honest, he’d tell you that he still looks up to the former hero and has a faint desire to prove himself to his old teacher. But honesty is vulnerability, and Bakugou may as well have censored the entire concept of vulnerability from his mind entirely. Instead, he gives you a cocky smile and says, “With a quirk like mine, I knew I had to be the best.” You arch a brow, lips pressing together in a thin line. You hum noncommittally and Bakugou can tell you think his answer is bullshit. So used to his friends, he expects to be called out without mercy. For the third time that night you completely throw him for a loop. “Well, you’ve certainly made your way up there. Probably one of the best pros climbing the charts right now.” You know that he knows it’s purely said to sate him, but you bit back a smile when he visibly puffs up, a haughty demeanor taking root that’s near impossible to miss. “I’m not sure I ever imagined that the great Ground Zero would ever seek a sugar baby, much less of me.” You are pouring yourself another glass of wine as you say this. You lift the glass to your lips and lift your eyes to meet his. You’re startled by the sharp gaze that greets you. “If this is gonna happen then there’s gonna be rules,” he starts, tone eerily even. “First rule: don’t fucking sell yourself short. I’m the best and only accept the best, so quit shitting on yourself. I don’t wanna hear that self-deprecating bullshit.” All you can do is nod, throat tight. “Second,” Bakugou lounges back in his chair, not unlike a King who knows the power he holds over his court. You grip your glass tight, eye wide and attentive. He feels something warm swell in his chest at your undivided attention, warmth spindling up behind his sternum and into the dip where his throat meets collarbone. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m a sugar daddy. I don’t care what people think of me, but my PR agent would have my head if rumors like that went around. In public, we’re together, but no one needs details.” “You’re a private person, I take it?” your voice is quiet as you sip at the wine. “If I want someone to know my business, they will. My fans and the press don’t need to know shit about me outside of when I’m kickin’ ass.” He punctuates the sentiment with a deep scowl. You nod, smiling softly. “I agree. I’m not the kind of person to share my life with the world, only what I want them to see of me.” Bakugou grunts. “There’s gonna be events I take you to, public shit with press and all those fucking vultures. They’ll probably ask you about ‘us’ but you don’t gotta answer anything.” He narrows his eyes. “And if you do, watch what you say.” You chuckle. “You don’t need to worry.” Your smile widens, teeth on display and a playful glint in your eyes. “Do I get to call you any pet names?” “Not if you want to keep your tongue.” At that, you bust out in laughter. Patrons seated around you shoot glares your way, though neither seem to care. When you settle down, you tell him, “Noted. Anything else?” Bakugou flexes his jaw in thought. “Not right now but I’ll tell you if I think of anything.” The two fall into another comfortable silence as Bakugou finishes his meal. You observe the people around you, the way they hold an air of superiority about them despite no effort on their part, elegance second nature to them. You had worried that your date would leave you feeling inadequate, making you hyper aware of the role you were playing that felt so unfamiliar. Yet here you were with your favorite hero, feeling free to be as much yourself as the situation allowed. Hell, more so, even. The server comes by to leave the check and take their plates. Bakugou glances over the ticket, then reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. You expect a credit card, like the dates before him, but instead he pulls out large bills and tosses them onto the table. He stands and quickly moves to pull out your chair. He even goes so far as to offer his arm. You take it with a bashful smile. Once outside, you take a deep breath of the city air. This side of town was quieter, less pollution and traffic. Bakugou pulls away and faces you. “I’ll call you a cab.” “Oh no, I can take the train.” He shoots you a look that says ‘Excuse me?’ so you shut your mouth and look to your feet. The hero takes out his phone and taps away before putting it back in his pocket. “Are you telling me you took a fucking train to get here? In that?” Bakugou gives you a once over, jealously flaring inside his chest at the thought of others eyes you up like this. He’s unsure why he feels so strongly about it, but he’s long past the days of shoving his emotions into a box and wishes he just knew how to make the ugly feeling fuck right off. “Uh, yeah? I don’t have a car.” You shrug. A growl bubbles up from Bakugou’s throat and he takes a step closer to you. You straighten, face now mere inches from his, those vermilion orbs pinning you in place. “From now on, when we meet, I’ll pick you up.” You can only nod, voice gone under his gaze. He nods, stepping out of your space. You take a deep breath now that you feel you are able. “There’s a stupid gala in a week and a half. I’ll give you details later.” Bakugou holds out his hand and for a moment you stare at it, confused. He clears his throat. “I need your phone, dumbass.” You jolt with an “oh!” before pulling it from your purse and handing it to him. “It’s some fundraiser my agency and a couple others are throwing. I don’t remember what for, but heroes and other celebrities are gonna be there.” He hands you back the phone. “Be sure to dress nice. This is your debut.” As he says the last bit, he pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and holds it out to you. You balk, taking a moment to stare before your fingers timidly curl around the paper. “Buy something that’s solid. Even Mina is ditching print.” You have no idea who that is but just nod your head in understanding. He keeps making you feel like words are impossible to conjure. No one has ever made you so speechless. A car pulls up to the curb and Bakugou has the door open and is ushering you in before you even realize. From your seat, you blink up at your date owlishly. He leans on the car door, dim fairy lights casting a warm glow behind him. “And one last thing,” Bakugou leans in, forehead almost pressed to the car’s cool metal lip. His voice drops to a level only you can hear, a purr edging his words. “I better be the only you call Daddy. Got that?” You feel pins and needles prodding your cheeks and numbing your fingers. You nod dumbly. He shakes his head, arching a brow in expectation. Swallowing, you shift in your seat. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper shyly. He rewards you with a wide smirk, teeth peeking out behind pink lips, and leans back, hand gripping the door and fuck you can’t stop gawking at those biceps. Bakugou feels pride at the way you eye his arms, and maybe he flexes a little just to show off. “Night, baby.” With that, the door slams shut and the car pulls away from the restaurant. You raise your voice enough to tell the driver your address, then return to the daze the hero had left you in. It takes a few long minutes before you are able to pull it together. You flip through the cash he gave you, eyes growing to saucers when you see he gave you a whole ¥50,000. You couldn’t believe he’d give you so much, and for a dress! You stuff it into your purse and pull out your phone, staring at the new contact. You huff at it, Bakugou having put his name, just plain and boring, and edit the contact, changing the name to Daddy followed by an explosion emoji. You pull up a new conversation and shoot off a text to ensure he has your number. The whole way home you grin like a maniac, a light buzzing resonating through your entire being. You’re in a daze as you climb up the 4 flights of stairs to your apartment, humming something random as you unlock your door, only grounding when Rōrupan barrels into you and sends you right on your ass. You place both hands on either side of the dog’s face, scratching intently and sighing dreamily. “It seems things are turning out pretty good for me, Rōru.” The rest of your night is a haze of excitement humming in your veins.

Bakugou makes it home, thoughts stuck on the woman he spent his evening with. When he walks through the door Senshi immediately appears at his feet, rubbing himself across Bakugou’s leg, purring loudly like he has a car engine for a heart. The blond picks him up and scratches under his chin while wandering around the loft aimlessly. He’s left with a light feeling, energy swimming through his body and he doesn’t understand it. All of this from one date? Bakugou scoffs as he sets Senshi on the bed. “You should have seen how gorgeous she was,” he mutters to the cat. He removes his shirt, receiving a chirp in response from his companion. “You’d like her…but I guess you’re a whore for anyone who will give you attention, huh?” Senshi rolls onto his back, wiggling and mewing, as if to say, “Why don’t you give me attention?” Bakugou rolls his eyes affectionately, then continues to get ready for bed. And if he dreams of carding his fingers through [h/c] hair and kissing soft skin, that’s only between him and his cat.

_-_-_-_-_

@sessi03

#my writing #bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugouxreader #guys i was starting this chapter and then had an epiphany #during a nap i realized that i was going to turn what was intended to be a couple chapters at most #into a fucking slowburn #i hope you bitches are PREPARED #cause i'm not #but it literally keeps me awake at night thinking about where this shit's gonna go #i have basic ideas for the main shit but the rest i'm just like #whatever lets see what happens ig

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myforeverforlife · 6 years

Text

home is with you.

Your boyfriend is extremely important to you — but so is your job. When you’re offered the opportunity to do work abroad for the summer, you jump at the chance. Jongdae is understanding, the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. But even kind words meant to comfort aren’t the same as having your best friend, the love of your life by your side.

Word Count: 5,904

Masterlist

You weren’t always this lucky to have time to call Jongdae nowadays.

”And then, Jongin realized that he had left his keys inside his car, but the door had already locked behind him! He had to call a locksmith to get him in.”

You laughed along with Jongdae, hand coming up to cover your mouth in a half-hearted attempt to stifle yourself. “Was it the same person as last time?”

“The exact same one. They looked pretty annoyed,” Jongdae told you, chuckling to himself from his side of the phone.

“He should just leave a spare key somewhere, for the next time that this happens.”

“You know Jongin, he’d end up losing that one too.”

You hummed in agreement, rolling onto your back and pressing the phone closer to your ear. It was 5:18 in the afternoon in Seoul, but 10:18 in the morning for you. You were currently on a summer trip with some other professors and a handful of graduate students from your university studying a small sample of the wide variety of languages spoken in South Africa. The hotel you were staying at in Johannesburg was beautiful, but it didn’t have the same appeal as home.

Especially when your favorite person was almost 8,000 miles away.

“How is your work going? Fluent in any new languages yet?” Jongdae asked, a crinkling noise carrying through the phone as he moved around.

“I wish I was that good,” you said with a giggle. “We’ve been focusing on finishing up our lessons on Xhosa first before starting on Zulu next week.”

“Oh wait, Xhosa’s language that they used in Black Panther, right? The one with the clicks?” Jongdae gave a small click of his tongue himself.

“Yep! I’m surprised you even remember that.”

“I learned from the best.”

You chuckled, never failing to be flattered by the way Jongdae dropped compliments on you out of the blue. He always did it so easily, you couldn’t do anything but accept them gratefully. “I can only hope that my students think the same thing.”

“I’m sure they do. You always have a bunch of students talking to you and trying to get in touch with you. Speaking of, you have some letters in the mail from some of them.”

“Did you read them?”

“No. Did you want me to?” You heard a creak and guessed that he’d gotten up from his seat, heading over to the counter where you keep your unread mail. You could picture it so clearly, Jongdae’s slipper-covered feet padding across the floor as he flipped on light switches in the hallway until he reached the mail. The thought was so vivid, you felt a familiar wave of uneasiness come over you. These periods of homesickness still came to you often, even though you’d been in Johannesburg for almost a month already.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the present. “No, it’s okay. How many letters are there?”

Jongdae hummed to himself as he counted, and you knew that he was flipping through the letters one by one, movements swift like they always were. “Four. Are these all your senior students?”

“They might be. Actually, can you open them up and send me pictures of them? They might be urgent.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks, Dae.” You stretched out on your bed, sighing as you felt yourself physically relax. “I miss being home, even with all the work.”

“I miss you too. Eating at home by myself is getting pretty old.”

Your eyes closed shut at this, a grimace finding its way onto your face. “I feel so guilty. I wish you could have come with me.”

“Oh babe, I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t feel bad, please? I’m glad you got the chance to go on this trip. How often do you get to go travel, especially to places far away like South Africa?”

“I know, but still.... I miss having you with me.”

“I miss you too, Y/N.” Jongdae’s voice was more quiet, taking on a more somber tone. “But it’s two months away from home, and you’re already halfway through. Before we know it, you’ll be back home.”

You smiled to yourself at these last words. Home. Back home with Jongdae, in the comforts of the apartment the two of you have been living in for a couple of years. “You’re right. I’ll be back home and leaving my lecture outlines and worksheets all over the place like usual.”

Jongdae laughed, the sound light and cheery like always, reminding you of sweet lemonade on a warm day. “I found a page from one of your lectures the other day. It was under the table in the living room. I didn’t realize how much I really missed you until I started getting all emotional over a piece of paper, and it was like the most boring of papers you could have ever imagined. It was a sample page from a dictionary, your freaking Latin dictionary, can you believe it? I was tearing up over that?!”

A snort escaped from you, and you fought back the giggles as you heard Jongdae joke over the line about how it wasn’t supposed to be funny, it was supposed to be touching and romantic.

You’ve missed talking to him like this.

A couple of days later, you were sitting beside one of your colleagues in a private bus on your way to your destination: the University of KwaZulu-Natal. The trip would be long, almost six hours if you were lucky, but the dean of your department had a close friend who taught Zulu at the university, and had arranged for him to get your travel group familirized with the language. You were looking forward to a change in scenery after staying in Johannesburg for the past month, and thankfully the hotel that you would be staying at in Durban was close to the ocean.

You stared out the window aimlessly, watching the other cars and people as they passed by while the rest of your colleagues chattered amongst themselves. Since you were so caught up in your own thoughts, you almost missed the slight buzz coming from your cellphone.

Quickly, you pulled it out of your pocket, letting out a sigh of relief when you saw who had texted you: Jongdae.

JD: did you sleep well? :)

🌷: I did! 💕 what are you doing right now?

JD: missing you

🌷: jesus CHRIST dae

JD: i love you!!! so much

You giggled softly to yourself, garnering the attention from your seatmate, Nari. She had been teaching at the university a bit longer than you had, and she was like an older sister to you. “Texting your boyfriend?” she asked with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows.

“The one and only,” you replied, sending Jongdae a text before putting your phone down so that you could talk to your colleague properly. “He’s been extremely cheesy lately.”

“He must miss you a lot.”

“Yeah.” Nari didn’t fail to notice how your face fell, and she gave your arm a light poke.

“Look at you, Miss Lovebird over here,” she sang with a childish grin. “I bet you’ll be the happiest out of all of us when we get to go home.”

Her efforts to cheer you up didn’t go unnoticed, and you were overcome with gratitude for this entire experience. Not only was the trip extremely well-planned out, but your colleagues and seniors were also friendly and kind as well. You really couldn’t ask for a better trip.

“I guess so,” you replied, resting your head against the back of your seat. “Although I heard that you’ve got someone waiting for you back home too.”

“What?! Who told you?” Nari exclaimed in a hushed whisper, quickly looking around to make sure no one had heard. “I didn’t even say a word about him to anyone!”

The next hour was filled with soft giggles and gossip about the budding romance between your colleague and another professor in your university’s History department.

When the long drive was finally crawling to an end and you were able to catch the sight of the rippling crystal-clear ocean by the coast of Durban, you let out a sigh of relief. Being landlocked didn’t suit you, and getting even a small glimpse of the water was enough to put you at ease.

The hotel was situated close to the beach, promising you a beautiful view of the sunrise and the sunset every day for the remaining month in South Africa. Eager to show Jongdae, you stepped out onto the balcony of your room and held your phone up, snapping a vibrant photo of the landscape before you. Without hesitation, you sent the picture to Jongdae before remembering that it was almost midnight over in South Korea.

JD: you’re at the beach??

🌷: close to it, our hotel is like right by it sorry, were you about to fall asleep?

JD: no i’m over at minseok’s house he and chanyeol say hi 👋🏻

🌷: tell them i say hi too!! babe, we’re coming here together someday so we can stay in this hotel

JD: YES!!!! ✈️

🌷: lol i love the enthusiasm!

JD: you know me, your trusty hype man always on hand

🌷: true, true 😂 do you have time to talk? not facetime tho, i look so sweaty ugh

A couple of seconds after sending the last text, your phone screen changed to alert you of an incoming call from Jongdae. You smiled at the profile picture you had set for him: one of him grinning widely as he stood with his arms wrapped around you from behind. It had been taken at your birthday dinner last year, and you could never find the will to change the picture. “Hello?”

“Babe!” he yelled, a laugh filled with giddiness filtering out through the phone’s speaker. “I want to go over there to see you right now,” he said, a wistful whine seeping into his voice. “And you know I don’t care how sweaty you are,” he added in reference to your last text.

Before you could answer, another voice broke in. “Y/N!” You easily recognized the voice as Chanyeol’s. “Hurry up and come back, your boyfriend’s going crazy without you!”

“I am not!” You heard Jongdae yell, and the sounds of scuffling as you assumed the boys were fighting over the phone.

“Dae? Hello?” you called out, rolling your eyes as they continued to wrestle over the phone. Suddenly, as if at the flick of a light switch, all traces of the boys’ fight were gone, leaving only an empty silence on the other side of the phone. “Dae?” you tried once again, eyes growing shifty as you tried to figure out what had happened.

“Hey, Y/N,” a new voice spoke. “I stole the phone from these goofs before they could break it.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding. “Hi, Minseok. I hope Dae hasn’t been bugging you too much. How’ve you been?”

“Eh, same as usual.” You could tell the older boy was smiling, the thought of his wide grin bringing back memories of home with your friends.

“Hey, give me my phone back! I was talking to the love of my life!” Jongdae yelled out, probably from behind Minseok, you guessed.

Minseok sighed, pretending to gag before you heard him yelp. “It was nice talking to you, Y/N. I’m giving the phone back before Jongdae punches me again. Enjoy the rest of your trip!”

“Thanks, Minseok!”

A breathless Jongdae was heard once more, panting slightly as he spoke into the phone again. “Hi again, babe.”

“Dae, why are you breathing like that?”

“Have you ever tried to grab a phone from Chanyeol? That monster’s like two buildings tall.” You heard the sound of a door clicking shut. “I’m hiding out in Minseok’s bedroom now so they don’t try to steal it away again.”

“Mm, good thinking.”

“So, where were we?”

“I honestly don’t even remember. Probably something along the lines of us missing each other a lot.”

“Yeah, that sounds like us.”

“Just four more weeks, and then I’ll be back home. I can’t wait to show you all the pictures I took. And the beach here is so pretty! I mean, I haven’t gotten a chance to actually go down there yet, but I’m planning to whenever I can.”

“Is it prettier than the ones here?”

“Nothing beats the beaches back home.”

“We should go on a trip together someday, but your semester’s coming up soon and I’m always busy with work.” Jongdae made a small noise, a small humming as he tried to think of a solution.

“We could always leave work behind and go on a surprise trip,” you teased, knowing both of you would never actually do such a thing.

True enough, Jongdae laughed. “Even I’m not that spontaneous, athough the idea is tempting. I’d love nothing more than to just have more than a couple hours just for the two of us. No work, nothing to worry about.”

“Same.” You thought back to your last date with Jongdae; a trip to the movie theater to go see Infinity War. Both of you were entirely too busy to have more than the weekends and the occasional day off. Even then, it seemed like some parts of your minds were always reminded of something that needed taking care of at work.

The door to your hotel room opened behind you, and you spun around to see Nari’s head peeking out from behind. Her eyes glanced up to the phone at your ear before she tapped at her watch, then held up five fingers.

You looked over at the clock on your nightstand, surprised to see it was almost time for dinner. With a grateful smile to your roommate for the reminder, you watched as she silently closed the door behind her. “Dae, I have to go. The rest of the staff is meeting downstairs for dinner with the dean, and I can’t be late.”

“Yeah, no worries! I’ll text you later before I fall asleep.”

“Okay, bye Dae. I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.”

The next couple of weeks passed by so quickly, you were almost convinced that they had been a dream. Your team got to learn from some of the university’s professors not only about the Zulu language, but also about the culture and the history of the people who spoke it. The professors were kind and accommodating every step of the way, and you had been over the moon when they gave you copies of some of the materials that they used to teach in their classes. The appeal of having new material to share with your students and colleagues back home was so great, you almost forgot about how homesick you had been at the beginning of the trip.

Before you knew it, it was your final week in South Africa, and you had almost everything prepared for your return trip back home. Your suitcases were nearly packed with your belongings and souvenirs for your loved ones waiting for you, a daily reminder that soon, you would be back. It seemed that the feeling was contagious — the number one topic that you and your colleagues all talked about was what it would be like when the plane landed back in South Korea.

“The first thing I’m gonna do is run back home to visit my mom,” Justin, a professor in Ethnic Studies, spoke up. You were all gathered around a set of tables at a restaurant, lazing around and relishing in the easy conversation that came to you all. Drinks had followed after the savory dishes, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t feeling a bit tipsy at this point.

“Because you miss her?” someone called out, too far down the table for you to see who it was.

“Well, yeah, that too. But also because I miss her cooking.”

The table broke out into groans and chortles of laughter as Justin’s voice grew louder. “What?” he asked, face red from the drinks he had earlier and his embarrassment.

“I never would’ve guessed that alcohol makes our friend Justin here all sentimental,” Nari whispered to you, hiding her smirk behind her hand.

You hummed in agreement, downing the rest of your drink before setting it down on the table. “You’re one to talk,” you said with a laugh, the sound more of a silly giggle as you let yourself relax. “Remember that time we went drinking to celebrate you getting approved for tenure and you cried for hours at the bar?”

“She did what?!” Justin yelled, eyes bugging out as he glanced from you to Nari. Who would have imagined calm, always-prepared Nari as emotional when drunk?

She shot you a glare, but you pretended not to notice and continued on. “If you ever see Nari drunk, she gets all sappy and basically starts giving speeches about how much she loves every single person in her life. That time, I was worried until she started talking about how thankful she was to everyone she worked with. In. Full. Detail. We were there for practically the whole night.” “Alright, and alcohol turns you into a chatterbox,” Nari interrupted, pulling you up along with her. “I’ll be taking this girl back to the hotel before she gets even more intoxicated.”

The rest of your drinking party shouted out their farewells, some of them advising you two to stay safe as you stumbled out of the restaurant.

“I’m not that drunk,” you grumbled, although you let Nari hold onto your arm for safety. As you continued to walk, you found yourself leaning onto her more and more, your steps growing heavier.

“Yeah, okay. I’m pretty sure your boyfriend would lose his mind if I let you do something crazy.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Jongdae, and you clumsily got the clasp of your bag open, rummaging through it for your cell phone. “I should call him! I can’t remember the last time I even texted him.”

“Y/N, I saw you texting him an hour ago. He’ll live without you texting him until tomorrow morning.”

Despite her words, you finally got your phone out and began typing out a text to Jongdae.

🌷: dae i loove yiu

JD: babe? are you okay??

🌷: aveolutelyy fome

You squinted at the screen of your phone, trying to decipher your own text while Nari stood beside you and tried to call a taxi. Your phone suddenly started to ring, the familiar ringtone that you reserved for Jongdae playing in your ears.

“Y/N?” you could hear him say, and you pressed the phone lazily to your ear. “Where are you?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Out eating. And drinking.” You stifled a small burp before continuing on. “I love you, Dae.”

“I love you too babe, but are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”

Nari leaned closer, rolling her eyes at your statement. “Jongdae? This is Nari, your girlfriend’s pretty drunk so I’m taking her back to our room.”

“Thanks,” Jongdae sighed out in relief.

“He says thanks,” you relayed to Nari. “But you’re wrong — I’m not pretty drunk, I’m only slightly drunk.”

Nari snorted at this, continuing to look for a taxi while you heard Jongdae speak up through the phone. “I really doubt that,” Jongdae said with a chuckle. “Get some rest and I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

“Okay. You better remember.”

Jongdae let out a breathy laugh before making a sound in acknowledgement. “I will. Goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight,” you murmured before hanging up, the phone cold and heavy in your hand.

A taxi suddenly drove up to the sidewalk, and Nari patted your shoulder softly. “Come on, Miss Lovebird. Let’s get you back so you can catch some sleep.”

You let her help you into the cab, leaning against her shoulder as she gave the hotel’s address to the driver. “Nari?” you asked, watching the lights of other cars whiz past as you looked out through the window.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for always looking out for me.”

She glanced down at you, brows raised in surprise. “Yeah, of course. It’s nothing.” As your best friend, it was second nature for her to have your back. Of course, she didn’t tell you that before this trip, Jongdae had asked her to keep you safe as well.

“That boyfriend of yours is a real gentleman,” she told you, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You guys are so cute, it makes me sick.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “Jongdae’s the cute one.”

“Okay. Just go to sleep, dream about Jongdae or something,” she teased.

You didn’t answer, the only indication that you had heard being a small nod.

You didn’t remember much of anything else, except for being woken up by Nari, heading up the elevator and then a fluffy blanket being draped over you.

And silly as it was, you did dream of Jongdae.

The countdown to your flight was drawing excitingly closer, and you felt as if you were all the way up on cloud nine with no intention of coming down. But of course, something managed to bring you down anyways. Multiple things, in fact.

The first disappointment came a couple of days before your flight was scheduled to return home. Jongdae had called you just as you were about to leave the university and head back to your hotel, his words coming out in a blur.

“Babe, I’m sorry, but something came up and I can’t pick you up at the airport when you get back. But I’ll send someone to come get you, I promise!”

“Dae, don’t worry about it. I’ll grab a ride from a friend or something,” you told him, even though you did feel slightly let down by this change in events.

“No, I’ll make sure there’s someone there to get you! I don’t want you to have to go home by yourself.”

Even with the sudden drop in your mood, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at Jongdae. Whenever things fell through, he always found a way to make up for it. “Alright, Dae. I’ll see you soon.”

The next blow hit you when you were finally, at long last aboard the flight and realized that you were missing a USB full of notes and assignments you had collected during your summer in South Africa. The files contained things you wanted to include in your lectures for the new semester, and after failing to find it in your carry-on with your laptop, you could only hope that it was with your luggage. It really wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was, considering the fact that you could email the professors in South Africa and explain the situatoon to them. But with tensions already high and fatigue riddling your brain, the USB remained a dark cloud over your thoughts. For the rest of your flight, you were constantly plagued with the worry that it had been left behind in South Africa, now thousands of miles away and laying abandoned on a polished hotel table.

When your flight finally landed after an excruciating twenty-seven hours up in the air, you grabbed your belongings and headed out to where Jongdae had texted you to wait for your pickup. At that point, you were so tired that you forgot about looking for your USB, and you were determined to catch some sleep in the comforts of your bed with your favorite person.

You had said your goodbyes to everyone else, giving Nari a hug and promising to call her before heading over to where Jongdae had said your ride would be. You were walking with your bags in hand, looking down at your phone when someone called out your name, the voice all too familiar. Looking up, you saw Junmyeon waiting for you, waving his hand and holding up a sign that read: “Professor Y/N, welcome home!”

“Jun!” you screamed excitedly, or at least, as much as your jet-lagged, exhausted self would let you. You came closer with arms outstretched, leaving the suitcases a couple of paces behind.

“Welcome back!” he greeted you cheerily, returning your hug and then taking the suitcases himself. “How was your flight?”

“Long. I honestly just want to sleep for decades. Oh!” You suddenly remembered the USB, explaining the story in full detail to Junmyeon even as he looked over you warily.

“We can look for your USB later, I think your health is more important. Plus, Jongdae will be pissed at me if you end up fainting from exhaustion. Come on.”

You lumbered into Junmyeon’s car, letting your head rest on the window as the two of you talked. Junmyeon filled you in on everything you had missed: from Jongin and Chanyeol’s joint cafe venture being a success, to Yixing’s latest return from Changsha. You gave him the gist of your trip, elaborate stories shortened down to small summaries in your weary condition, but Junmyeon knew he’d end up hearing the full stories sometime later on once you were well-rested.

He pulled up to your place, immediately getting out to grab your suitcases for you. “Will you be okay getting this stuff up by yourself?” he asked worriedly, his feet shuffling slightly as he thought.

“Yeah, I’ll take the elevator, don’t worry. Is Jongdae home?”

His eyes widened briefly before he looked away, clearing his throat before he spoke. “Uh, I don’t know. He didn’t tell me anything before I came to pick you up.”

Too worn out to question his behavior, you gave little thought to his response. After waving goodbye, you managed to get all of your belongings inside, up the elevator and to your floor. The wheels of your suitcases made a hushed, rustling sound as they rolled over the carpeted hallway. There was no one else out yet, seeing as it was still only eight in the morning and on a Saturday, no less. You let out a small huff of exhaustion as you got to your door, unlocking it and pushing it open with your shoulder. What lay beyond the threshold, however, left you speechless.

You were taken aback to see papers scattering almost every available surface of your home, each one slightly different from the rest. From where you stood at the door, you could tell that there was a line of text on each one of them, although you couldn’t tell what they said from this distance.

After switching your shoes for your well-missed slippers, you ventured closer to a sheer of paper laying on the floor next to the shoe rack. A smile lit up your face as you realized what was on it: the words “I love you”. A glance at the pages nearby showed the same phrase, but in other languages.

A small journey around the room had you gaping in awe at the diversity of the langauges scattered throughout it. “I love you” in Korean stared up at you from the couch, one in Italian was taped to the TV. You were even impressed to see it written out in Icelandic and even Xhosa and Zulu, the two languages you had been studying during your summer trip.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, taking precious time to study each sheet of paper, every symbol on them all written in a hand you knew too well: Jongdae’s. “Dae?” you called out, stepping over a sheet of paper in your way. “Are you in here?”

You turned the lights on as you made your way to the bedroom, the bulbs sputtering to life as they lit up overhead. When you finally got there, pushing the door open cautiously, you were disappointed to see no sign of Jongdae anywhere. Upon further inspection, you caught sight of a small, yellow envelope resting on top of the blankets.

Careful to take your time in reading, you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face and the sudden warmth settling in your chest.

“Welcome home, babe! I’ve missed you, I hope you enjoyed the small surprise I set up~ I’m sure you’re wondering where I am, right? Meet me at the place where we first met, I’ll be waiting for you there ❤️”

The place where you first met? You remembered first meeting Jongdae at a mutual friend’s housewarming party, but you were confident that he didn’t mean for you to meet him there? Surely you were missing something...

You paced around, the envelope in your hand as you willed yourself to think. “Come on brain, work with me here,” you pleaded, throwing your head back to stare up at the ceiling as you continued to walk around in circles.

Circles. A hand came to your mouth as the answer suddenly hit you like a flash of lightning. The party was the first place where you two had actually spoken to each other, but you two had met each other for the first time while walking in circles at the botanical gardens close to your university. You were there on a lazy Sunday afternoon with Sehun taking pictures to fit his Instagram aesthetic when he had spotted his friends, Jongdae and Kyungsoo. Jongdae had assumed you two were dating at first, and he had later confided to you that he was glad the opposite was true.

Quicker than you would have thought physically possible, you were back downstairs and beginning to worry about how to get to the gardens when you recognized a car parked outside.

“Jun? What are you still doing here?” you asked, peering into his car.

Junmyeon rolled down the passenger window, a playful grin on his face as he unlocked the doors. “Need a ride?”

“You’re in on this too!” you exclaimed, hopping into the car.

“I’m guessing you know where we’re going?” he asked, already setting off.

“Seoul Iris Garden!”

The drive was far too long for your waning patience, your feet tapping against the floor of the car as you fidgeted in your seat. All of the fatigue that had been weighing you down earlier was gone, a sudden rush of adrenaline replacing it.

“Will you at least tell me where he’s waiting?” you pleaded, for what was probably the fiftieth time since you got in.

“It’s a secret. And if I tell you, it won’t be as fun.”

“For you, or for me?”

Junmyeon ignored this with a knowing smile, pulling into the parking lot. Before he could even put the car into park, you were out and jogging into the depths of the gardens.

The gardens were peacefully quiet, only a couple of people walking around in the early morning. You, by contrast, were out of breath and starting to get sweaty with all of the running around you were doing. You had seriously underestimated how difficult it would be to find Jongdae.

As you dashed past patches of flowers, you finally caught sight of a small figure standing atop a bridge spanning a small stream. “Jongdae!” you chirped out, a triumphant laugh leaving your lips as you approached him.

He turned around, his grin spreading on his face and his eyes alight with mirth as soon as he caught sight of you. A burst of laughter bubbled out of him as you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close to you as you rested your head against his chest. “You found me! And you saw all the papers back home?”

“I did! I can’t believe you had me run over here in my airport sweats though, especially now that I see what you’re wearing,” you joked as you loosened your grip to look him over. Jongdae stood before you in a button-down you had bought for him a couple of years ago, with a pair of black pants and shiny dress shoes.

“You know it doesn’t matter to me even if you’re even out in pajamas,” he murmured. He lifted a hand to your face, running his thumb over your cheek as he gazed into your eyes, as if he couldn’t believe you were really there before him.

“So what’s the big occassion? This is all a bit much just to welcome me home, isn’t it?”

“Well...” Jongdae cleared his throat before dropping his hand from your face. He held onto both of your hands in his own, his thumbs running over the back of them nervously. “I missed you so much, more than I even expected.”

“I missed you too, Dae.” You leaned up to press your lips to his, the sensation of his lips against yours something that you had been longing for ever since you left.

Jongdae pulled away, much too quickly before your liking before resting his forehead against yours. “This trip was an eye-opener to me. I mean, I already knew that I loved you, but I didn’t know that I had room in my heart to love you even more until after you were miles away from me. I looked forward to every text, every phone call, every picture that you sent me. Chanyeol wasn’t kidding when he said I was going crazy with you gone,” he added with a small chuckle. “I think I went over these plans like crazy for the past month or so.”

“And it definitely swept me off my feet. Thank you, Dae.” You nudged his nose with yours, giving a hushed giggle when he pressed back, just as gently.

“There’s still one more thing.”

Jongdae let go of your hands, and before you knew it, he was down on one knee and pulling a small box out of his pocket as you gaped down at him. With trembling fingers, he got the top of the box open, revealing a delicately designed ring inside, the diamonds there sparkling in the light of the morning sun.

“Y/N, I love you. So much. I can’t imagine a day without you in my life. I love hearing the sound of your laughter, the way you whisper to me when we’re falling asleep at night. I want to wake up beside you everyday for the rest of my life, not just as your boyfriend, but as your husband. Will you marry me?”

You were nodding even before he could finish his question, dropping down beside him and catching his lips with yours in a kiss. “Of course,” you breathed against his lips. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Jongdae beamed at you with a smile so full of love, you weren’t sure how any single person was capable of carrying around so much affection. You let him slip the ring onto your finger, the cool metal resting there as if it had been there all along. He brought your hand up, his lips brushing over the ring as you felt a flush start to dust your cheeks.

Your relationship was strong enough to withstand time and distance, something both of you had learned through this trip. Together or apart, you two would always come back together. Home was with Jongdae, and his was with you.

And now, the two of you would create a new one together.

A/N: i knew going into this that there really was only one option for the ending — absolute fluff haha! i hope that you guys enjoyed this and that it was worth the wait! this fic was inspired by exo-cbx’s “miss you”, which talks about a long-distance relationship as well (and also the song is just really good, so that was definitely on repeat while i was writing this) also fun fact: i almost majored in linguistics, and then decided against it because grammar is my #1 enemy 😅

@mikapeanut

#kpoptrashtag #exo #jongdae #chen scenario #jongdae scenario #chen fanfic #jongdae fanfic #exo scenario #writings

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avengerdragoness · 7 years

Text

∑=MC^2 [Spencer Reid x Reader]

Requested by anon: “Could you do the anything you write on your skin appears on you your soulmates skin au with Reid”

A/N: I wasn’t too sure on what this AU was but I had it explained. I also made it so that names and places of living wouldn’t work because that would be to easy lol.

________

You didn’t really understand the whole, write on your skin and it shows up on your soulmate’s skin thing. There were limits to it and rules. Knowing that you couldn’t put down your name or where you are because it wouldn’t show on their skin.

But what you also didn’t understand was what the hell your soulmate was constantly writing on his arm or hand. So many math equations and book references. Often times people would look at it and ask what the writing was, you’d simply answer “I guess my soulmate’s a math nerd?”

Not knowing how incredibly right you were.

You’re a simple grad student. Studying to become a psychiatrist, wanting nothing more than to help people. So all this writing on your arm was a bit distracting. Did your soulmate not know about the bond? Or just not have the time to find paper?

Who knows at this point, right now you were just trying to decipher what all of it was.

Sitting in a coffee shop you stared at your arm. Examining every piece of information. Letting out a huff at the undecipherable letters and numbers, except for the formula ∑=MC^2 which you recognized from senior year physics.

Giving up you clicked the power button on your computer. The screen lighting up before turning back off again. “What the hell?” you mumbled jamming the button a couple of times. “Shit” running your hands through your hair. “No, my resume. I didn’t save it.” groaning to nobody in particular.

“Fear not!” a voice said from beside you. It startling you. “Oh god” holding your hand to your chest. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you” A blonde woman said smiling. “I just saw you having computer troubles and I know my way around a motherboard so may I?” she gestured to your computer.

“Have at it” you pushed it toward her.

Shocked when witnessing her having it up and running within a few clicks. “What? How’d you?” reaching and moving the touch pad. Immediately saving your resume on the page. “Thank you so much! You just saved my future”

“No problem, I’m Penelope by the way” she held a hand out to you. “[F/n]” taking it while introducing yourself. Though her eyes widened at the mathematical equations and information on your arm. “Whoa” she said but soon recognized the handwriting.

“Oh my god you need to come with me!” She began to smile excitedly. “Um okaay?” you said before grabbing your things and following her. Luckily not having any other plans that day.

Not expecting to end up inside the FBI building. “Am I allowed to be in here?” asking while following her through a hallway, to a pair of double glass doors.

“Yes, as long as you’re with me. I think.” Penelope said excitedly.

“Good morning princess” A man said coming over to you both. “Not now chocolate thunder I need to find Reid.” she held a finger to him while passing. “Um ouch” he commented catching up to you “I’m sorry who are you?” smiling at you.

“Uh [F/n], Penelope saved my computer, and told me I had to come with her here now. I’m just as confused as you are” you shrugged and he laughed. “Well that’s Garcia for ya. I’m SSA Derek Morgan, nice to meet you” offering you a hand.

“Likewise” shaking it in return. Walking into the bullpen Penelope yelled “REID!” startling you again. Damn she’s good at that.

A man looked up from his book to see the woman running over to him. “Come here” she pushed him toward you. “[F/n] meet Spencer, Spencer [F/n]” she quickly introduced you.

He smiled at you awkwardly, as you gave a simple “Hi” the other members in the area just watching confused.

“Uhh Garcia what’s going on?” Another blonde haired woman asked from her desk.

“J.J. Shh, [F/n] and Spencer are going to compare arms!” She turned back to the both of you. “COMPARE ARMS!” she yelled.

You pulled up your sleeve to reveal the writing on it. Spencer’s eyes widened before he did the same. “Boom soulmates! You’re welcome” she cheered as everyone, including you and Spencer, just stared shocked.

“Uhh” you said looking down at your arm. “Alright then. Just a few questions. What the hell is going on? What the hell is written on my arm? Are you some kind of Einstein or something? And do you want to get dinner this weekend?” your rapid tone disorienting a few of the profilers.

He processed your words for a moment before answering “Honestly couldn’t tell you. It’s a series of equations used from a case we just solved. I have an eidetic memory but that’s what some people say. And yes I would like to.”

You smiled, “Well glad that’s cleared up”

“I am as well. I look forward to getting to know you better” He smiled. Surprising all of his co-workers with his calmness.

“Did Reid just get a date?” Morgan looked at the other members confused before back at the pair of you. “Oh it’s the end times” Rossi commented before the whole team nodded.

Even a room full of profilers couldn’t decipher what just happened.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #jennifer jereau #request #anon #anonymous

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audreysl0ve · 7 years

Text

Signed Sealed Delivered: Jealousy

Written for a prompt SSD: Robin is jealous (actually ended up filling at least one other prompt too).

And okay, you guys know that my fics are usually a bit raunchy but i’m letting you know that this is VERY raunchy.

Thanks SO MUCH to everyone for keeping me going on this fic and telling me not to delete all the porn and make this PG rated. @somewhereapart, @repellomuggletum15, @the-alpha-incipiens, @starscythe, @brookeap3, you guys are the best.

special thanks to bea for being my beta, and to Jen for great sex toy advice, lol. The toy featured in this fic is the womanizer and everyone should have it.

He hadn’t been snooping. Truly.

He’d just been using her computer to check his email, just to make sure nothing pressing was happening in that full week between Christmas and New Year’s. He’s taken the whole week off after Christmas Eve, and despite it being a verryyy last minute vacation, his employer had understood, assuring him it would a slow week, and it would be unlikely any clients would call with pressing needs. Besides, as his boss Carmella had conveyed, he needed another mini-honeymoon with his wife.

So he had just been reading over his emails, calming any anxiety about his impromptu holiday. And then the chat window had appeared out of nowhere.

Hey, beautiful. Long time no chat! I texted you but I didn’t hear back. Just checking— are we still meeting next week?

His breath is still caught in his chest, heart still racing as he pours over the message for the fifth time..

He shouldn’t click that chat — he really shouldn’t. But he does anyway, because he’s a weak, sad little man.

It takes him to Regina’s profile.

He can’t breathe. Good god on high, she’s so bloody beautiful in the photos she picked. It’s nothing sexy, just these very natural, candid shots of her — two of which he can remember taking himself — and she just looks, well, perfect.

Roland is not pictured on her profile but she mentions him, and the fact she’s a package deal and those who cannot love children need not contact her.

It seems this requirement has done nothing to take down the amount of suitors, however.

He should not be looking, but he’s so hurt and scared, he can’t help him himself. He goes to her inbox and checks recent messages. Of course her page is full of messages from men. Of course it is.

He swallows down the bile rising up his throat as he reads messages from men to his wife, his, dammit.

It cuts deeply, and it’s terrifying. He knows Regina is a catch, he’s never lost sight of that fact.

But these men, some of them aren’t really bad men (he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be looking at this). They are good looking professionals. Doctors and engineers and architects, a vice president of a large tech firm… wealthy men. Powerful men.

Men who might be able to give her a better life than he can.

It’s strange, though. She doesn’t reply all that often. He can see a day or two where she responded to a couple of men, with something short, but there are no long conversations (he should not be looking at this, should not at all, the voice repeats in his head like a dull drum beat he’s set on ignoring, apparently). She’s very selective. But there are a few men she’s responded to, and this guy who recently messaged her appears to be one of only a handful that she’s ever written back. Someone she talked to quite a bit (he sees the string of messages and resists reading it and pouring through every last word).

Robin snoops on this guy’s profile (his name is Andrew, but the man doesn’t deserve a name at all in his opinion).

This is a man who, he recalls, has Regina’s phone number, fuck, she trusted him that much. He’s a pediatrician who works in the city and lives in Mclean, Virginia. He’s has dirty blonde hair and these bright blue eyes and has a six-year-old son of his own.

Robin hates him. Hates him, despite the fact that on paper they seem like they would get along just fine. They both enjoy rugby, a good lager, and activities Robin has come to enjoy in the states like whitewater rafting, skydiving, and mountain climbing. And he loves his family, two brothers and a very loving mother and father who love their grandchildren.

He thinks of his wife going on long camping weekends, his child playing with this guy’s child, and it’s enough to send him into a mini-panic attack.

He almost lost everything.

Everything.

Almost, but he didn’t.

Right?

It’s been three days since Christmas Eve, and Regina and Robin have… been a little preoccupied. Each day has been filled soaking up every activity they can milk out of Roland, and quite frankly they have fucked each other into exhaustion every night (not that he is complaining).

They haven’t really talked too much about the future yet, besides the little talk on Christmas Eve where Regina made it clear she wants him to live with her. She made her choice, he knows she did. She’s not leaving him. They are together.

But some deep rooted insecurity inside him has him wondering why the ivy-league, all-American doctor with a mansion in McLean and a beautiful family isn’t a hell of a lot better than Robin. He won’t be able to afford that, he can’t give her first-class trips to Rio and Peru and Tokyo. He can’t give her a picture perfect family right out of a Hallmark movie. His family is broken and messy and complicated and not what she deserves.

And it sounds silly but he worries maybe she didn’t make the right choice.

He closes the browser and deletes the browser history, his mouth dry and his stomach flip flopping.

He should not have seen this. It’s an invasion of her privacy, and shamefully pathetic that he even looked at all. He should just pretend he never saw it, right?

He shouldn’t talk to her about it. He has no right to be upset or hurt. She did nothing wrong.

But frankly he promised her honesty and the thought of keeping this from her seems worse than confessing.

He’s still trying to work out what to do when she comes into the den, oblivious to what has just happened.

“Hey, babe,” she leans over to kiss his cheek. “Roland is out like a light.”

He swallows thickly, tries to put what he’s seen out of his head. “He had a busy morning,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady and nonchalant. But she can tell something is off right away, raising an eyebrow and looking rather concerned.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen with work?”

“No, everything’s fine at work,” he says. He’s still sitting at her little desk, laptop opened to his work email. He shouldn’t tell her, it’s just going to start a fight, she’ll be so mad at him for this, and she has every right to be so, yet…

He takes a deep breath and turns to her, swiveling the little chair away from the laptop.

“I… uh, saw something I should not have,” he says, motioning back to the screen.

She looks genuinely confused, searching her mind for what he could have seen.

“A message for you popped up, and I know I shouldn’t have, but… I looked, and…”

“What message?” she asks. She sits on his lap and motions at the computer, and okay, this is a good sign. She doesn’t seem terribly upset.

He sighs and types in the address of her profile. He doesn’t look at her face, so he misses the way she frowns at the sight of it.

She takes his hand off the laptop and replaces it with her own, and checks her inbox.

“Oh. Andrew.��

He grimaces. He doesn’t like hearing that man’s name out of his wife’s mouth.

“Yeah…” Robin says dumbly, not sure how to voice exactly what he’s feeling.

She sighs and turns to him, looking a bit defensive as she reminds him, “Robin, we were broken up. And you fucked Marian. And at the time I thought you two were still dating and this is none of your—” she starts to get off his lap as she speaks, but he is a weak man and the idea of her leaving him is awful, so he reaches out for her, urging her to sit back on his lap. She does.

“I know, I know, I’m not mad at you and you had every right to move on. I mean, you have every right to… you still have that right.” His voice sounds high and pitchy, and he hates it.

“What are you saying?” Her head tilts as she stares at him half-annoyed, half-curious.

“I… looked at his profile,” Robin explains, holding his hand up as she stiffens and opens her mouth to protest, “I know, I have no right, but it happened so fast, and I just…” he shakes his head. “I have no excuse. But he’s a good man, it seems, with a good family, and plenty of money, and…”

She furrows her brows. “Are you jealous of Andrew?”

“Not just Andrew,” he says before he can think better of it. “There are so many guys who want you—”

“You looked at other messages?”

“No, I just… I saw them and looked at the profiles of some—”

That’s enough, it seems. She gets off his lap, putting her hand in her head as she walks away. He feels the loss of her immediately, and it leaves him cold and anxious. Shit, this is a mess. “You read those, oh god…” She sounds less angry than he expected more… upset. The way her cheeks pink and flush he’d almost swear embarrassed is the emotion she feels, but that can’t be it. She has nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I didn’t read them, I just…” He sighs. God, herself ’s an ass. “I visited some of the profiles of those you wrote back to but I didn’t read the conversations, I swear, and I’m not accusing you of anything, that’s not what that is about.”

“Then what is this about?”

“I’ve always known that you could have anyone you wanted, never doubted it for a second, but seeing it, it’s just…”

A shy smile spreads over her face. “Oh. I was quite popular on that site.”

“Of course you were,” he says emphatically. “You’re a catch in every way. And those are men who… they can give you things I can’t.”

She sits down on the couch, that smile splitting wider across her face. “You mean like a summer home in Tuscany and a six-bedroom home in an exclusive neighborhood right outside of D.C.,” she surmises.

He nods.

“When have I ever cared about that sort thing?”

Never. If she had cared, she would have married one of those men her mom kept trying to set her up with.

He knows this, he should know this, but hearing her say it brings him more relief than he would care to admit.

“You still deserve it. And I want to be the best for you.”

“You already are,” she assures. She walks back towards him and takes a seat back on his lap. “You give me things no one else can.”

She’s too good to him. She knows he needs affection now and she gives it freely, nuzzling into his neck and cuddling him as if he were a child (he is, at this point). His fingers skim down her back.

“Like what?” He cannot help but ask, insecurity bleeding into the question.

“Do you want to read the conversations?” she asks. “I feel like all jealousy you have will be gone if you read them. Though I’m dreadfully embarrassed of my flirting skills in text form.” She cringes, and so does he, but for different reasons.

Continue on FF.net

#oq ff #outlaw queen #outlaw queen ff #signed sealed delivered #oq fanfic

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kruppxreader · 7 years

Text

An Old Friend

It was late at night. No matter how much he tried, Mr. Krupp could not get to sleep. He spent a good hour tossing and turning before finally admitting defeat. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, slid into his slippers and went to the kitchen.

With a sandwich made and small cup of water, he sat himself in front of his desktop computer ready to mindlessly peruse the web until he was physically drained.

He found articles of teachers suspending students over such trivial matters on his social media page. That made him chuckle a bit. He pulled out a post-it to make notes.

Just then in the upper right hand corner of his screen, a little exclamation point blinked near his contacts. He dragged the mouse over the the exclamation point and clicked the dropdown.

“New Friend Request”

Mr. Krupp raised an eyebrow. Who could possibly want to keep in contact with him? After clicking the notification, he was completely taken aback.

It was none other than Y/n L/n. His former best friend..

.. and high school crush.

He clicked on their profile. He remembered hanging out with them after school almost every day, going to get ice cream, playing in the park, going to the drive-in, or staying home and talking about how much you two hated that school.

Their profile description said they were living in Philadelphia now, with a Bachelor’s degree in the Arts.

Of course. That’s what happened.

It was prom night, senior year. You had gone with your boyfriend and Benny had stayed home that evening. Your boyfriend had ignored you the whole night, and the last straw was when he told you he was going to leave because it was “too boring”. You dumped your drink all over his tux and stormed out of the banquet hall in tears. It was supposed to be a romantic night, and it was totally ruined.

Meanwhile, Benny was home, sitting at his desk nose deep in his computer when he got a very distressed phone call. .

“Yeah? Wait, slow down! Y/n? Is that you?” Benny quickly shot up from his seat and grabbed his keys from his dresser.

“He did what?! I’m on my way!” He crammed his phone in his pocket, grabbed his letterman jacket from his closet and bolted out the door.

“It was like I wasn’t even there!!!” You sobbed, leaning against the open window looking out into the night sky.

“Do you want me to rip him a new one?” Benny put a hand on your shoulder as he drove.

You chuckled a bit. “No thanks, Benny. I did toss my drink on him though.”

“You did?!?!” Benny’s face lit up as he burst into laughter. “I can’t believe it! That’s amazing!”

A smile spread on your face as you wiped away your tears.

“Yeah! It was punch too! He’s never getting that deposit back on that tux.” You laughed.

You and Benny had to take a moment to catch your breaths from laughing so hard. Benny wiped a tear from his eye as he saw the exit come up ahead that head to your hometown.

“Hey, let’s go somewhere.” You watched as he merged into the left lane, missing your exit.

You smiled and reclined your seat a bit. “Sure! Where do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.” He popped in the cassette tape you two loved to sing along to as he drove you into the city.

Later that night, you two were sipping half-price milkshakes at an outside picnic table at the local diner, looking out over the city lights illuminating the night.

“Now, this is better than some crummy date!” You exclaimed, taking a sip of your shake.

Benny chuckled nervously, lifting the lid off his shake and placing it back on.

“Yeah, heh.. I guess so… Hey, Y/n, there’s something I need to tell yo-…”

“There’s something I need to tell yo-… “

You both spoke at the same time, catching the other off guard.

“Y-You first.” Benny nodded towards you.

You shook your head.

“No, you.” You replied.

Benny shook his head and you huffed. “Fine, we’ll do it at the same time. On three.”

“Sounds good.” He said, setting his shake down on the table.

“Okay” You started. “One..”

“Two..”

“Three!”

“I love y-!!!”

“I’m moving to Philly!!!”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Benny stood up from his bench, accidentally bumping the table knocking his shake to the pavement.

“I… I got accepted to the Arts University…” Your voice grew quiet. “They liked my portfolio..”

Benny plopped down in his seat, brushing his hair back. “Y-You’re kidding me… So you’re gonna be states away for… what, four years?”

“I.. I thought you’d be happy for me, Benny..” Your tears started to return pooling in your eyes.

“No, No! I am!!!” He put up his hands. “I guess what I’m saying is, I’m gonna miss you..”

“I’ll miss you too! But we can still keep in touch, can’t we?” You smiled as the tears spilled over your cheeks.

Benny reached into his pocket, picking out a napkin and passing it to you.

“Heck yeah. We can still IM, right?” He said.

You sniffed and wiped your eyes.

“Absolutely.” You nodded and smiled.

It was a year now, and the messages had become more sparse. You were telling him all about your experiences at the private art college in the big city, and Benny would reply sounding impressed.

But on the inside he was

disgusted

He was disgusted that you were having such a good time, actually doing something with your life and making connections with famous artists. He glanced over at his growing pile of rejection letters from the local sports colleges.

He got angrier and angrier until he knocked them all off his desk, snatching up each one tearing them apart piece by piece.

A ping noise came from his computer. A new IM notification.

“So will you be able to make it to the show next week?” You said.

Benny read over the message once… twice…

…

delete

Another year had passed. Not a word from Benny. You grew concerned, sending an email to his parents. They said he was doing alright and they weren’t quite sure why he wasn’t keeping in touch. You couldn’t take it anymore. One last message.

“Fine! If you don’t want to be friends anymore then just tell me instead of blowing me off, asshole!”

Sent.

You admit it was harsh, but you were feeling so hurt. It was too much to bear. You turned off your computer and turned off your light.

“Is everything okay?” One of your roommate’s asked from their beanbag chair.

You plopped into bed, pulling the covers over your head.

“Men are jerks.” You mumbled.

“And now, please give a warm welcome to your new principal, Benjamin Krupp!”

The auditorium was filled with applause as Benny stepped on stage of Jerome Horwitz Elementary School. He had decided if sports weren’t going to be his thing, why not become a principal? That way, he could control what is to be taught and how it is to be taught in his own school.

And that means no imagination, no creativity, no free thinking, but most of all:

No art.

He couldn’t stand it. Even the sound of the word made him angry enough to give any student a two day suspension.

Still there are days he wish he could go back in time. He wanted to be supportive. He wanted to be there for you every step of the way. And now, decades later, he is sitting at his desk at 2 a.m. in the morning, staring at your profile and scrolling down your timeline.

Awards, shows, galleries, presentations… you went and participated in them all. You looked absolutely beautiful in all your pictures, even that time when you got sloppy drunk during an afterparty with your friends. The notification sound pinged once more, bringing his attention back to the request.

“Confirm friend?”

He swallowed hard.

Yes.

And with that moment, a box popped up on his screen. Someone was typing.

“Benny?! Is that you?!” It read.

“Yes.” He typed. He could feel the sweat running down his head.

They were typing.

and typing.

and it stopped.

…

then typing again.

…

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” He replied. “Listen, Y/n. I’m so sorry for what happened. I was stupid and jealous.”

“Jealous?” You typed. “I’m going fucking insane! lol! I swear there hasn’t been a single week I haven’t broken down. But hey, I was wondering something.”

Benny hesitated for a moment, hovering his fingers over his keyboard.

“Yeah?”

More typing.

…

“Would you like to hang out sometime?”

Benny raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were in Philly.” He typed.

“What??? Oh, shoot, my profile still says Philly, doesn’t it? No, I just got a house in Dayton! I got a job in Cincinnati doing commercial stuff. I’ll be there in a week!”

“A WEEK?!?!” Benny yelled out loud. He looked around, at his cluttered house. He’ll have to spend the next seven days totally overturning the place.

“Maybe we can get milkshakes. Is that diner still there?” You typed.

“Yeah!!” He typed frantically. “It’s still there.”

“Awesome! Does Friday at 7 work for you? I should have all my stuff in the house by then.”

“Yeah sure!” A huge, giddy smile spread across his face. “I’ll pick you up!”

“Sounds like a plan! Now, get some sleep! I’m only awake because I’m still packing lol.”

Benny looked over to his clock. He forgot he had school in the morning.

“Oh, god. Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. It was so good to hear from you again.” He felt his heart pound in his chest as he tacked at his keyboard.

…

“You’re telling me! I can’t wait to see your face again! Goodnight, Benny!”

“Goodnight, Y/n. See you soon.”

Mr. Krupp put his sandwich leftovers in the fridge as he made his way back to his bedroom. Crawling back under the covers he discovered he still couldn’t manage to get to sleep. Only this time his mind was flooded with thoughts of you. He knew tomorrow was going to be pure hell if he didn’t get to sleep sometime soon, but that didn’t matter.

You were back. And this time, he was gonna do things right.

#my own prompt because i like to feel #omfg #mr. krupp x reader #captain underpants #mr. krupp #benny krupp #cu

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pandabearlikes · 7 years

Text

Temporary Affairs II

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter o3. Perfect Imperfection

One Thursday evening, you nonchalantly sat on the rocking chair with soft lullabies playing through a headphone for the baby to listen to. Light kicks emerged from your five-month pregnant belly and you patted it gently in response while gazing lovingly down at the child inside of you.

Suddenly, a beep came from your tablet, notifying you of an update. Leaning over, you took the device off the vanity and swiped the screen a few times. You looked at the screen curiously as the Facebook application automatically started up.

You narrowed your eyes and brought the flickering screen mere inches from your eyes. Someone had posted on Jongin’s Facebook wall with a picture of Sohee and him during a masquerade ball and labeled it with tags #tbt #youtwoweresocute. Bending your neck back, you snorted. Does this person NOT know Jongin is now married?

You cursed under your breath. Trying to contain your frustration, you scrolled down Jongin’s FB page and discovered that he had set his relationship status to be hidden. Your jaw opened wide. What? Was he embarrassed to tell people that I was his wife?

Frowning and admittingly a bit hurt, you scrolled back up to the picture of Sohee and Jongin to examine every small detail. From Jongin’s smile, to his sexy gelled-up hair, to his hands that were….you narrowed your eyes…they were on Lee Sohee’s hip area - borderline booty. You snarled. Clicking on her profile to stalk see your love rival, you weren’t at all surprised when the first post included several pictures of her in a form fitting dress promoting her beautiful S-curved…She…does have a nice body…

But wait…WHAT WAS THAT??? KIM JONGIN LIKED IT?! The tablet almost fell out of your hands and you managed to catch it just in time and as you do you accidentally hit the “like” button as well. Oh fudge. Now she’ll know you’ve been stalking her. So you sat there debating whether you should unlike it or not. While you pondered, the corner of your eyes caught your reflection in the mirror and you had to do a double take. Holy crap, your figure was so not praiseworthy at this moment. You mean…it was a given since you were pregnant and all but even you had to admit that compared to Sohee’s perfect figure…you paled in comparison. Your shoulders slacked and you sighed. Just as you do, your husband walked out from the bathroom with only a towel on his hip. But you can’t even find it within yourself to spaz over his perfect chiseled body.

Dwindling of any will to feign a smile, you heard your voice ask, “Oppa, do you want to have sex?”

Jongin’s head whipped around immediately, looking at you as if you grew two horns on the top of your head.

“Jagiya, are you okay?” he inquired, placing his palm on your forehead.

“Is that a ‘no’?” you asked, your voice depleted of energy. Yep, sexual appeal = zero.

“But you’re pregnant, Jagiya,” he reasoned, still confused by your sudden suggestion.

“Is it because I’m not attractive anymore?” you probed, curling your knees up to your chin.

“No, of course not. Babe, what’s wrong?” he asked slipping on a pair of pants and sitting down on the bed with you.

“Is it because my figure isn’t as perfect as Sohee’s?” you can’t believe you just murmured out loud but you did.

Jongin covered his face with a hand in exasperation just like all the other times you brought up his ex. Though, his other still stroked your palms soothingly.

“How many times did you have sex with her?” you knew you were walking on a borderline but you took the dive anyway.

Jongin’s eyes widened and you almost thought his eyeballs would pop out and fall into the palms of your hands. His mouth opened permanently, speechless at your accusations. What does that mean? Your eyes grew glossier and glossier with every moment that passed without an answer.

Finally he denied, “Where did you get the idea from? Sohee and I never had an intimate relationship!”

Strong denial = affirmation. You bit your tongue to not cry but you don’t respond.

“Honey, I’m serious. How in the world did you even get that idea?” he asked again, pulling you into his embrace and you started vocally crying.

“Lee Sohee hinted to me that you guys did,” you finally admitted tearfully.

He pulled you apart so you’d look at him in the eyes, “Are you telling me you’d rather trust her than trust your own husband?”

“Then why’d you like her picture of Facebook?” you retorted.

“W-what? I did not. I haven’t even been on Facebook for over a year,” he held his hands out defensively.

You snickered. You gave him the chance to have an honest conversation with you and he was lying. Angrily, you grabbed your tablet and showed him the picture with his supposed “like”. He squinted and brought the device closer to his face. With a snort, he turned the screen back to your direction.

“Jagiya, read it carefully. Don’t tell me you don’t even know how to spell your own husband’s name,” he spoke.

You raised your eyebrow and took a closer look.

Kim…

Jong…

Dae…

Internal face palm. Embarrassed, you turned around to hide in a messy heap of blankets. Shaking his head, Jongin chuckled, and took both your hands into his.

“Look at me, Jagiya,” he ordered but you were still so darn humiliated so he had to physically turn your head with both his hands.

You whimpered, pouting and fidgeting with the bed sheets under you.

“I love you,” he spoke, “but I must not be proving my words well and giving you a sense of security”.

You shook your head, “No. No Oppa, it’s not your fault. It’s mine and my over sensitivity and the fact that I know you wouldn’t have married me if you had a choice”.

“What?” his tone was loud and serious, causing you to flinch so he softened his voice and firmly said, “That is my fault too”.

You looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s my fault because I was a jerk to you when we first met. But trust me. Please. I love you and I would marry you a thousand…a million more times even if I didn’t have to”.

“Really?” you looked up shyly. He immediately nodded and a small smile crept on your lips. Jongin sighed in relief.

“So are we good?” he asked, shaking your hands up and down.

“Mhmm..”

He exaggeratedly puckered his lips and you leaned in to kiss him. He wrapped his arm around your neck to pull you closer.

In the middle of the night, you’re awoken by the bed shaking underneath you. Confused, you turned around to see Jongin stirring in his sleep, the pillow beneath him soaked in cold sweat. You shook him.

“Oppa. Oppa…” you called, stroking his cheek while his eyes fluttered open.

Fear drained any life in his eyes, in turn also scaring you to pieces. You watched helplessly as he held his breath and stared at the ceiling with empty eyes. You waved your hand in front of him but he doesn’t respond. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears. Without another solution, you threw your arms around his tensed body. This was so foreign from the calm and happy husband you fell in love with.

“Oppa, it was just a nightmare. I’m here,” you soothed but he remained still as a statue so you pulled his hand and placed it on your belly, “The baby’s here too”.

Finally, he blinked. Gradually, as if your child held the power to revive people, his soul returned back to his stilled body. Jongin took a deep breath and relaxed under your embrace. But you don’t dare let go, afraid you’d lose him to the Demons again, so instead your hold tightened. Seeing this, Jongin brought his hand to your head and stroked it.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” he questioned.

You sighed in relief at the gentle sound of your husband’s voice.

“Oppa, did you have a nightmare again?” you asked, looking up at his now softer expression.

“Mm…yeah but I’m fine now. Don’t worry about it,” he assured.

It’s my fault.

And it killed you each time he tried to hide his fears from you. Were you not trustworthy enough? Because wasn’t that what husbands and wives did? They shared their burdens. But you made no attempt to ask any further, afraid that Jongin would feel pressured to open his heart to you when you didn’t deserve it. So the only thing you could do was pull him closer against you, hoping your warmth and the baby’s presence was enough to warrant him a soundless slumber.

a/n: lOL this girl and her #firstworldproblems…haha I know she’s super immature right now (but really, look at me straight in the eyes and tell me if you’ve ever stalked your bf/crush’s exes before. I DARE YOU TO SAY “NO” I DARE YOU xD). She will grow up through his story though :D.

I have so many feels today. Kris’s new song omg TAT. I’ve been replaying it all day. I’m crying over this other story that I wrote (omg, IDK why I keep crying while writing. SO RIDICULOUS). And ANY NARUTO FANS out there…because omg I finally read chp. 698 and I can’t even… @$@#%@%@@@%

>3< I LOVE YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH!!!!!!

#kai scenario #kai scenarios #kai fanfic #kai fanfiction #exo scenario #exo scenarios #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo #kai #jongin #kim jongin #exo fluff #exo angst #Temporary Affairs

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