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airaibunny · 11 months

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dom!yunjin x sub!fem!reader - “teach me” (warnings: smut, corruption kink, oral, breast play)

word count: 1.6k

you sit on the couch of your dorm, squirming as you try to find comfort in your spot. everyone else is gone, away on some trip for a fashion show. however, you and yunjin had to stay home for promotion stages with your new subunit debut. you were enjoying the newfound love and support from the fans, but not so much the extra work. especially not when you had to spend so much time with yunjin.

all the late night practices, car rides, and costume fittings only served to make you all the more attracted to her. you knew this couldn’t happen, you were both in the same group and dating was banned. furthermore, you didn’t know if yunjin even liked you. you knew she liked girls, she talked about dating them in highschool, but this was different. it wouldn’t be a simple highschool relationship, you’d be hiding this from everyone: including your beloved members.

“hey, you alright?” yunjin’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you abruptly turn your head towards her. you both speak english to each other when you’re alone since you were both raised in america, which makes your conversations feel private in a strange way.

“yeah, sorry, i was spacing out.” you shake your head and straighten yourself up in your spot.

“i could see that, you looked like a deer.” she giggles a bit “why are you sitting so far away, are you scared of me or something?” she motions for you to come closer and you comply.

she smiles at you as you sit and you smile back. sitting next to her just makes you more uncomfortable. you can feel the slick staring to coat your underwear and you pray it doesn’t go through your shorts. every single thought you have about her is indecent to say the least.

she laughs at something on her phone and puts her hand on your thigh without thinking. you know she doesn’t mean anything by it, she’s like this with all the members. at this specific moment however, you feel like you’re finally breaking, you can’t go on like this.

what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

“jen, can i ask you a question?” you turn so that you’re facing her completely and she does the same. “yeah, go ahead.”

she puts her phone away and makes full eye contact with you. you feel yourself getting even wetter.

“when you had girlfriends in highschool, did you ever…do things with them?”

she turns her head a bit and looks at you with a puzzled look on her face. her mouth opens as if to give you an exact answer, but she stops herself.

“wait, why are you asking me this?”

you struggle to find an answer, you can’t exactly tell her it’s because you want her to fuck you until your vision goes blurry, so you tell her the best lie you could come up with on the spot.

“i want you to teach me how to do it.”

her eyebrows furrow and she chuckles at your request. she fixes her sitting position and leans back on the couch, her head falling back.

“you know we can’t do that, we have a dating ban.”

“we’re not going to date, i just want to know what it feels like. please, jen, just once.”

yunjin sighs and brings her hands to her forehead. you watch in silence as she considers what you’re saying, anxiously waiting for her final response.

“if we do this, we’re doing it my way. and never again, understand?” you eagerly nod your head, looking at her desperately. she pulls you onto her lap and you sit facing her.

“you’ve never done anything?” she asks and your shake your head.

“good thing i have.” she chuckles again and pulls you into a kiss. her lips are warm and soft, you can’t help but want them all over you. her hands explore your body as the kiss deepens, your tongues entangled in your mouths. you’re both short for breath, but refuse to stop. her body moves along with yours and you can feel yourself dripping even more.

yunjin finally pulls away with a slight gasp. her hands grab the sides of your shirt and she smiles.

“can i take this off?” “please.”

she pulls the shirt over your head and smirks at the sight in front of her. you usually never wear a bra in the dorms, and today was no different.

“your first lesson is foreplay, it helps set the mood. just relax and let me tease you a bit.”

she immediately starts playing with your breasts, licking and sucking them while you moan. her hands are still roaming your body, leaving no place untouched. you love this, but you want more, you need more.

“jen, no more of this, teach me something else.”

“patience. my way, remember?”

you whine in response while she keeps attacking your chest. she quickly moves to your neck, leaving a trail of marks and bruises with her lips. she bites your shoulder, earning more moans and whines form you.

“you sound so pretty. can you lay down for me?” she moves you out of her lap and and climbs on top of you, continuing her teasing, but moving lower. she stops at the hem of your pants, grinning up at you and waiting for your permission. you nod and she rips your shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion. she lowers herself to your lips and starts kissing you again, slipping her body between your legs.

“if you tell me to stop, i will, okay?” you nod once more and she brings her face down to your dripping core. her lips are inches away from touching you. you can feel her breathing on your clit, making you wetter by the second.

“why are you so wet? do i turn you on, pretty girl?” you stay quiet, you don’t know how to answer.

before you say a word however, you feel yunjin’s lips on you. a loud moan escapes your lips, making her smile as she continues to run her tongue along your soaking wetness. you feel yourself throbbing with her every move. you instinctively entangle your hands in her hair, pushing her deeper into you, drowning her in you.

you think you can’t possibly feel better than you do right now, until yunjin finally reaches your clit with her tongue. your back arches as you pull her hair a little too hard. your hand flys to your mouth, attempting to cover the carnal moans coming out of it.

“no, don’t keep yourself quiet. i want to know if i’m doing a good job”

you look down and lower your hand from your mouth, once again laying it on her head.

she goes back to what she was doing before just as quickly as she stopped and the tension in your stomach resurfaces. she alternates between licking and sucking your folds and clit, building the knot in your stomach even further.

her pace becomes sloppy, and so does yours. you are an incoherent mess, not even moaning correctly.

your legs suddenly tense and you feel the pressure point in your stomach release with a brutal shock. you’re pretty sure you’re strangling yunjin in between your legs as you release a final, soultry moan.

she stays there for a couple more seconds, helping you ride out your high and cleaning your juices. she finally comes up, wiping her chin and leaning in for a kiss.

“can you taste yourself? do you taste good?” her words make you flushed, and somehow even wetter than before.

“can i teach you something else?” you shamelessly nod your head at her, letting your hands finally touch her in return. the first place they land on is her chest. you’re hesitant to do anything else at first, but she takes your hands into hers and caresses herself with them. she guides your hands all over her body, letting you touch all the places you’ve stared at every chance you get for as long as you’ve known her.

“you think you got it on your own?” her hands move away from yours and you nod again, looking up at her with submissive eyes. you continue with your self-appointed task of touching every inch of her body as she shifts her focus to only one inch of yours.

you feel her hand land in between your leg and your hips jolt away from her touch unwillingly.

“what’s wrong? do you not want me to do that?” “no, i just didn’t expect it, keep going.”

her hand goes back to the same place, using her finger to slide across your entrance, teasing you with every motion. your lower body twitches along with her movements, you can’t help but already be on the edge again.

she draws circles on your clit with her thumb while using her mouth to play with your breasts.

“does that feel good?” you attempt to reply, but can’t get an answer out between broken moans and whimpers.

“it’s okay, i think i can tell what the answer is.” she looks down with an intoxicating grin. you want to keep looking at her, she looks breathtaking on top of you. a sight you never thought you’d actually see outside of your fantasies, but your second orgasm hits you like a train.

you throw your arms around her neck for support and squeeze your eyes shut as she keeps rubbing, slowing her pace gradually.

once your heads stops spinning you let go of her and throw your arms back, over your head. you look up to see her still grinning at you while pushing your hair out of your face.

“so, did you get all that?” she says jokingly and you smile, but then pout at her.

“yeah, i just wish i could take more lessons, ms.huh.”

“i guess if you’re willing to stay quiet about it, i wouldn’t be opposed…”

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oharamwah · 11 months

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♡ଓ — 8° celcius : waking up with your husband on an extra chilly morning → 730

husband!miguel x fem!reader

contents : newly-ish wed!miguel being the sweetest most warm husband in the world, living together, implied that reader doesn’t speak spanish, fluuuuuffffff

p.s : 8°c is around 46° f soooo pretty cold

i’m writing this bc it’s freezing in my house

posted july 25th - to be edited !

waking up next to your partner is possibly one of the most intimate activities. knowing that your minds feel safe enough to fall asleep next to each other is the next best way of declaring your love.

you and miguel have lived in this house for no longer than a month. you two recently got married (and by recent i mean within the last 2 years) but living together has certainly shifted things a bit. ever since you moved in together, the privacy is actually existent, meaning you two have been taking advantage of the silence, that is the absence of his abuelita.

nights with miguel are lovely. you’ll be preparing dinner and he’ll have his hands placed gently on your waist, slightly hunching his back so he can rest his chin on your shoulder. he’ll be humming along to some songs you don’t understand, but he doesn’t mind — they’re all about love and he would be embarrassed if you knew.

then you two will eat and have endless conversations about god knows. nights are when miguel dedicates all his attention to you. he could listen to you for hours.

but mornings, they are so unappreciated.

something about the sun peeking through the blinds and shining right on your eyes, waking you up and facing you with the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. the sun sits on his cheeks like layers of pure gold, his hair is unkept and falls on his eyelids. he has this solemn look when he sleeps, his eyebrows are knitted and his lips are slightly parted. you can hear his steady breath and soft snores. everything about waking up next to miguel is so perfect.

except for this morning.

this morning, you wake up in a dim room with goosebumps painting your body.

‘it’s cold as hell,’ you think to yourself, but all that comes out of your mouth is a soft grunt. ‘i must’ve forgot to turn on the heater.’

you raise your hand up to rub your eyes as you shift around under the covers, stretching and trying to get as cozy as possible. you look at the alarm clock on your bedside — 5:42 am. the sound of your movement wakes miguel and he heavily exhales. your gaze shifts over to him and you see his bare chest rise and fall slowly, his scarlet eyes slowly fluttering open. he looks like he had a bad sleep.

“it’s cold as hell.” he mutters, replicating your exact thoughts. he looks over at you, confused, as if you made the room this cold.

“good morning baby,” he continues, smiling a bit. “you cold too?” he brushes your cheek.

you smile to yourself. “no, miguel, that’s why i’ve created a burrito of myself with our blanket.” you kid. his smile is endearing, he looks at you with nothing but pure adoration.

you’re in a bit of a silly position. you’re practically wrapped like a newborn with only your head sticking out of the sheets, but miguel doesn’t mind. he still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire universe.

“c’mere,” he says with a small gesture. he has one hand to rest his head on and the other is already gently tugging on you to come closer. you inch yourself into his hold. even in a thick blanket you can feel the warmth of his unclothed torso radiating through the fabric. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead once you’ve fully adjusted yourself.

“how do you sleep shirtless in the winter?” you implore.

miguel looks at you with one eyebrow slightly higher than the other. “are you suggesting i stop?” he laughs quietly. he’s teasing you.

“mmm.. not what i said.” you reply with a sheepish smile. his smile only mimics yours. he presses another soft kiss, this time on your temple.

you rest your head on his chest and he searches for your thigh in the cloud of blanket that it’s hiding in. he wraps his hand around the soft spot of your leg and uses his thumb to caress it.

you feel his chest rise again and he sighs, a gentle breeze on the top of your head. “i love you so much.” he says out of the blue. you look up at him, smiling softly. he’s already looking.

“what?” he asks.

“nothing, nothing,” you giggle, “i love you miguel.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara i love you #miguel o’hara one shot #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv

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nc-vb · 10 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐬

i don’t even like s’mores so i hope y’all do. also… me jumping on the “bkg smells like caramel” train when i know full well 1) it ain’t true and 2) real nitroglycerin smells like ass… let me be delulu. double also… idk how fires work ok, i’ve never even started one???? 👀

summary → subconsciously, and in your boyfriend’s absence, you crave some caramel. and so, you make some. kind of.

pairing -> katsuki bakugo x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, apartment fire, injuries (heat burns, heat blisters, threat of asphyxiation from smoke inhalation), injury care.

wc -> 3k

The smell alerts you first, and harshly stirs you from one of the deepest of sleeps you’ve ever had. No, it wasn’t the splintering of wood echoing through the halls from all the fixings and furniture within your home, nor the crackling of flames, and not even the intense heat that’d been swirling within the four walls of your bedroom. Not even the blaring of the fire alarms of your building had been enough to wake you.

The scent of fire was a comfort to you, or at least, it used to be. Memories of taking summer trips past the outskirts of Musutafu with loved ones that had the nights ending with you preparing a western camping treat for everyone— s’mores, you’d tell them they were called. You knew little else of them besides what they were made of, and when they would ask, you’d only say the exact same thing. Graham cookies, marshmallows, and chocolate! Delicious, isn’t it? you’d asked. And there hadn’t been a head shake of disagreement from a single one of them.

You ended up becoming fond of putting caramel inside yours. The first time you did, you made a mess, and ended up burning the pads of your fingers from a lack of care— grabbing onto the handle of your bedroom door managed to remind yourself of the pain from that time. Gasping sharply, dryly, you recoil, hand retracted into your aching chest to comfort it.

Careful, a chiding voice echoes in your head. You flinch, temple pulsing with aggravation as you back away toward the window.

“Careful.” Turning toward the source of the warning, you found Bakugo leaning toward the supplies bag to grab a wet nap. “You’re gonna burn your fingers off with that stuff.”

You didn’t even realize he’d been sitting beside you. Either you’d gone delirious from sitting so close to the campfire, or you’d drank too much of whatever liquor it was that Denki poured into your juice a half an hour ago, but besides the s’mores making, the entire night passed in a blur. You suspected it to be a combination of both, considering you hadn’t noticed who took up sitting next to you on your chosen log (though it might’ve been the other way around— had he been sitting here before you?)

You stared back at him as intently as your focus would allow — it’s definitely a mix of flame and fuel, you subconsciously decided — and Bakugo stared right back.

“Here,” he said, a moment after you heard the tearing of paper. “Before it leaves a mark on you.”

“… uh-huh.” You knew you were staring dumbly at him; as it turns out, your focus didn’t allow you to do much at all, let alone raise a hand to take the packaged wipe from him. He groaned, a loud affair that briefly had some of the eyes of the others glancing his way before returning to their own s’mores and conversations, before forsaking his own treat to the grate above the fire. This, you somehow noticed. “Katsuki, your—”

“Gimme your hands, already,” he interrupted. Reaching forward, he grabbed one of your wrists and tugged it into his lap— napkin blanketing his index finger and thumb, he begins to pick the caramel off of your skin, relieving you of the heat it contained beneath it.

They’re soft. Big, and most certainly scarred, but most importantly, soft. You couldn’t tell if you were surprised to learn this or not; you had your speculations, after all. In the sense of him having such a strong hygienic routine, Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t necessarily like the other boys of your group of friends. In bed by the most reasonably earliest time, teeth brush two to three times a day, faced washed at the end of the day and a shower each morning— in your exhaustion, somedays, this was more than you could say you did for yourself. More than likely, this also accounted for some kind of skin care routine, as to why they were so soft.

Dazed from the smoke of the fire — and from the strong scent of Bakugo’s s’more burning (that Midoriya thankfully had the tact to remove off the grate for him before it was too late) — you watched with a lidded gaze as he pried the final piece of cooled caramel from your last finger. It’d been done so gently, too. The warning, the insistence of caring for you when you’d been too incognizant to care for yourself— even in the days before this, he’d always been quick to assure your well-being, and in a funnily zero-to-a-hundred way.

You hummed, and watched Bakugo discard the damp tissue.

If this is what he’s like to his friends, he’d probably be a good boyfriend, too, huh? Gaze wide and pointed, Bakugo’s head snapped back toward you with such zeal that it made you flinch.

“Then date me.”

With how accidentally loud his response had been to you accidentally speaking your thoughts aloud, the entire camp had gone quiet, and all that was heard was the crackling of the fire.

It’d been no different than now, really, except for the fact that there aren’t any graham cookies, or chocolate, or marshmallows, or that caramel drizzle you’d use that reminded you of Bakugo and how naturally sweet you’d learnt his skin smelled; no different, despite the fact that none of your friends are present.

It’s no different, except that Bakugo isn’t at your side to take care of your burnt fingers again.

It’s no different, but at least you hadn’t been about to die back then.

You act quickly, though in your panic, you fumble over each step, nerves eating away at what strength your fingers and knees had left. First is the call to emergency services, one that you put on speaker phone while you roll up your bath towel, swiped off its hook to put at the base of your door. They ask your name as you dump the remainder of your drinking water on it, and watch it seep through while you give them your address and your prefecture. They tell you not to open any windows in your room, not until help can arrive. They tell you they’ve contacted your emergency contact for you, too, and only because your emergency contact is a pro hero.

In your one bedroom apartment, your room sat in the middle of the three rooms within it, and to the right of the kitchen. And from where you stood, it’d become easy to tell where the fire had started; you could feel the heat stronger to your left side. The fire would have already traveled the path of least resistance and crawled down the hallway, while spreading through the wall between your room and the kitchen.

The operator said not to open the window, you remind yourself, as you’d instinctively gone to unlatch the lock. The heat would just be pulled through, and the more oxygen, the faster it would move. You scoff, hands pressed to the warm panes. It doesn’t even matter. It’s too high up to get anywhere. My Quirk won’t help me here, either. I… I’m really trapped.

Another building stood across from yours, a good thirty feet away. Too far to jump, obviously. And being on the tenth floor, too high to drop. In the far distance, to the left of the building opposite you, you spot several sets of emergency lights moving quickly in your direction. Katsuki would’ve gotten the call by now. Knowing him, he’s… probably on his way here.

You cough. Despite having blocked the bottom of the door, the smoke still seeps through other cracks in your rooms’ minimal defence.

He… probably won’t make it in time. You press your face against the window and peer down, in time to watch dozens of your buildings’ residents spill into the street below. Faintly, over the blaring alarm, the fire, and the emergency sirens that have only just pooled into the area before the porte-cochère below. They spill out of the vehicles, some ushering the residents away to the other side of the street, the others putting on their leatherheads and zipping up their turnouts—

You drop to the floor, legs folded under you, and wheeze.

Could it have been an electrical malfunction? Did you somehow turn the stovetop on and leave it on? You didn’t make any food tonight for a lack of time and then energy; the many reports from your office you’d had to complete by morning made sure of that—

And it clicked, in your sleep-riddled, smoked-out brain, what the cause of the fire was. Why you’d recalled that camping memory from nearly four years ago. You were making something. Caramel. Albeit burnt and turned into a fiery mess, you can faintly smell it. You were going to dip apple slices into it.

All those hero courses, the safety training we’d gone through, and all because I wanted some damn caramel! And I fell asleep and left it there! You cough again. Not even safety training, just some damn common sense would’ve been good to have!

You shouldn’t have sat down, shouldn’t have yawned and leaned further into the comfort of your bed when you did sit down, shouldn’t have slept through the timer’s alarm, shouldn’t have craved junk food at all, should have eaten just that apple or something else just as simple—

You sob, a dry, choked sound that burns your chest. Tears barely spill, though your eyes had already been watering from inhaling so much smoke; you can’t even bring yourself to look outside your window again from a lack of strength.

There’s nothing I can do but wait, you tell yourself. And if that doesn’t work out, t-then, I guess… I…

A loud boom stirs you from finishing your thought. It doesn’t come from inside the apartment, nor from within the building. Boom. Another. Boom-boom. It seems to be getting louder and louder, like it’s moving closer. From outside…?

You steady yourself when you move onto your knees. Hands shaky from nerves and lung damage from the smoke, you at least manage to get one last look out the window, and in time to move out of the way of it by throwing your body as far as possible from it.

Clattering of brick, splintering of wood, shattering of glass— arms thrown over your head, you cry out as your body shifts from the pressure of the explosion. In front of you, there’s a rush of heat, and from behind, the cool night air licks at your bare feet. As the debris falls from the top of your head, eyes protected, you look toward your window-turned-wall and find a panting figure half-hanging from the opening, and half bent at their knees with a gloved hand extended to you.

“Quit staring! Take my hand and let’s move!”

“I’m not staring,” you grumbled, burning under his knowing stare. “But clearly you were to be watching and waiting to see if I was.”

“Was not.” A bemused silence fell between the two of you, the only sound being that what swirled around your cafeteria table. Taking a swig of his water, “Do I have something on my face or something?”

“No,” you answered. “You just—” You hold in your breath, lips pressed into a firm line.

“Just?”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head at him. You shrug.

“You just… smell…” Chopsticks clatter, against the ceramic of his bowl and onto the table, flicking spicy peanut sauce onto it.

“Hah?!”

“Good!” you shouted, at the appalled look on his face. “You smell good!”

“Finish the sentence faster next time, damn it!” he yelled back, cheeks red from your call out on his apparent poor hygiene. There are multiple snickers and chuckles from the nearby tables, but none sitting there dare to try and look Bakugo’s way.

“Sorry.” You shrink a little in your chair. “I got distracted by it halfway through the thought— you smell really sweet.”

Bakugo stiffens, brows furrowing and pinching toward the bridge of his nose; the tinge in his cheeks don’t disappear quickly.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “So sorry.”

Your body jerks forward, scalded fingers leading the way into his gloved palms, and when he pulls you into him to have you wrap your limbs tight around him, the door to your bedroom bursts open at the seams, giving way to the build-up of flames that would’ve happily greeted you.

Heat licks at your back as Bakugo pushes off of the building, letting the recoiling from his palm’s small-but-quick explosions carry the two of you low and far enough away from the gaping hole in the wall of your tenth story apartment. Audibly, you wince, and in your attempt to keep a tight hold around him, you feel your fingertips pop.

Instinctively and despite only having gotten halfway to the ground, your grip loosens, and you begin to slip.

“Hold on!” Bakugo urges— an arm drops to curl around your waist, hoisting you back up from under your ribcage. You seethe in air through gritted teeth, forcing yourself to ignore the pain of your blistered hand to twist the fabric of his shirt into your fingers.

When your feet finally touch the ground, you crumble onto your knees, clutching your injured hand. Harshly, Bakugo does the same, only to rise back up with you properly in his arms.

“Katsuki,” you call, voice hoarse from the heat.

He doesn’t respond, barely glancing down at you on his way to one of the paramedics; he doesn’t even shout at the residents who stand in his way, his aura apparently doing the speaking for him. They stumble off to the sides, watching him covet you, even when he reaches the ambulance. It takes both you and the paramedics to get him to set you down on the gurney; for them, it’s business as usual when they demand he let them do their job. For you, it takes a placating kiss to his cheek, a promise of your well-being, and you begging him to let go of your hand, him not even realizing that he’d grabbed it until you’d begun tearing up.

If this were a regular rescue mission, with you at his side instead of in front of your where you sit on a medical bed, his behaviour wouldn’t have been so volatile, so… possessed. Focused and driven, he wouldn’t have impeded the paramedics in helping you right away, but he’d been focused on you and only you. He’s not here as a hero, dressed up as one and having been on patrol as he might’ve been before getting the call. He’s here as your partner, your friend, your lover, your next of kin, your emergency contact— “Dynamight,” you call, your uninjured hand raised to touch his face.

“Yeah,” he finally responds— it’s gruff and heavy, like he’d stopped breathing. You can’t help the frown that settles onto your face, and Bakugo begins to spiral again, whispering out your name and simultaneously cursing out of earshot.

“Hey, hey— I’m fine now,” you once more swear to him. Your fingers tense where they pinch his cheeks. “Look at me. I’m alive, right?”

“… yeah,” he repeats, tone hollow.

“Then let them bandage my hands and I’ll be even better.”

“Okay.”

They’re quick to rinse off your hands with cool saline before applying a gentle lotion to them; some kind of antibiotic cream, you’d overheard one of them say. One of them begins to unwrap a fresh packet of bandaging, and at the look on Bakugo’s face, hastily and gently wraps it around your hand. The other, having just finished checking your oxygen levels and having examined the back of your throat, insists on you breathing through an oxygen mask.

Bakugo is the one who places the rubber band around your head and lowers the mask over your face, having snatched it from the innocent paramedic, all so he can press his palms against your cheeks after. They puff up slightly beneath them as you breathe in and out, deeply, your eyes fluttering shut in relief at the soothing sensation that coats your lungs.

Bakugo calls your name less than a second later.

“I’m fine now,” you say to the paramedics you spot standing off to your right. “Please go check if there are others who are injured.”

They exchange looks. “But,” one of them starts, though you’re quick to interrupt.

“I’m a hero, too,” you inform them. “I really am okay now. Please go.”

They do, looking almost grateful for your dismissal and lack of series injuries. If Katsuki was acting normal right now, he probably would’ve been offended by that.

“Katsuki,” you say, and with your good hand, you drag the mask away from your face— or, at least, you’d tried to. His gaze is harsh on you when he forces it back up over your nose; you sigh. “Katsuki.”

“… they said the fire started in the kitchen.” You nod, and let him pick you up again to carry you to the back end of the ambulance; Bakugo sits, and places you into his lap. “The hell were you doin’?”

“I… I wanted to make caramel.”

“At three in the morning? What, did’ya fall asleep?” This, you don’t bother to answer; your silence ends up being enough. “You idiot… Out of all the damn things…”

Bakugo’s groan is one of exasperation when he sets your hand down, of relief when you’re pulled into his chest, and of frustration and when you raise your arms to hug him back. Muffled complaints seep into your clothed shoulder, while your tears seep into his— as much as you can with what strength your throbbing fingers supplied, you pull him further into you, teeth gritted.

“Idiot,” he repeats.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His grip on you tightens, but you don’t say a word. You were almost so close to never feeling it ever again, to never feel from your Katsuki Bakugo, to never breathe him in or hear him chastise you when it’d been deserved, to never hold his hands again. You pull your mask down once more, and press trembling lips up against his jaw. “Thank you for saving me; thank you.”

He nods, a stiff gesture. “… don’t make me have to do it again.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki fluff #mha x reader #sigh... he's got cute aggression frfr #✦ nc vb.

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keep-on-burnin · 2 years

Text

See You Later • Brad Pitt

author’s note: this was requested by @stemmer14 !! she asked for a flirty moment with Brad on set, so here ya go🫶

warnings: drinking, smoking, unedited (sorry)

Becoming an actress had been your dream since you were a little girl. You loved immersing yourself into the somewhat made up world of every film you watched. So when you got wind of a new film holding auditions in your city, you couldn’t contain your excitement of this possibly being your big break.

The first day of the week long audition process, you absolutely nailed your monologue. The casting directors had even stopped you before you left the building that day to tell you how impressed they were. They said they would definitely be calling you back for a role in the movie.

The movie’s title was Ocean’s 11, a film about a man by the name of Danny Ocean recruiting eleven different people to help from all over the country to help him in robbing one of, if not the most successful casino in Las Vegas.

You had no idea who else had gotten roles, but you imagined some pretty famous actors had to be part of the cast.

About a week after your audition, you had received a phone call as promised that confirmed your role in Ocean’s 11.

You were thrilled and immediately started thinking about and developing your character.

3 months after your role was secured, you were flown out to Las Vegas to begin filming.

You arrived on set on what had to be the fifth day of filming, ready to record your first appearance in the film. This scene would picture your character sitting in a bar after a long night of working as a poker dealer in a very high-end casino. Danny Ocean’s closest colleague and long time friend Rusty Ryan convinces your character to join in on their mission to rob a casino, which just so happens to be the one you work for.

You still had no idea who was playing Rusty, but you were about to find out pretty quick.

After an hour in the make-up trailer and dressing room, you were escorted to where you would be filming your scene.

The backstage crew were running around the set, getting everything ready for the upcoming scene. You watched closely as everything happened around you. Your stomach began forming butterflies as the timing slowly came to film your scene.

Suddenly, a smooth voice greets you from behind. You whip around to shake the large hand stretched out towards you, eyes scanning up the man’s tall, toned figure to ultimately realized the hand you were asking belonged to…holy shit it’s Brad Pitt.

You swore you almost passed out. You were shaking Brad mother fucking Pitt’s hand!

“You must be playing Rachel, right?” He asked questioningly, raising his eyebrows. His hand was still in yours as you responded.

“Yeah, and you must be playing Rusty.” You concluded, smiling as your hand dropped from his.

Brad nodded and flashed you a bright warm smile.

Holy shit this is really happening you thought. Who gets the kind of opportunity to do what you’ve always dreamt of doing next to one of the hottest dudes in Hollywood? It felt like some sort of dream.

You watch the blonde in front of you bring his hand up to comb through his gelled hair as he spoke, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a scene partner this gorgeous.”

You turn your head to the side as your cheeks flamed red. You couldn’t help the huge smile the creeped onto your face, did Brad Pitt just call me gorgeous?

He softly chuckled at your response to his observation, staring daggers into the side of your face.

You decided to divert the conversation to the scene at hand, not knowing what else to say.

“So what were you thinking for this scene?” You inquire, looking back at him.

“I think there’s room for lots of improvisation, and I’m pretty sure Steven kind of wants us to just do our thing.” He answers, punctuating the end of his sentence with another heart stopping smile.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, almost like you were memorizing the exact colour of each other’s eyes.

The director calls over to you two, causing the eye contact to break.

“You guys ready?” Steven asks from behind a camera.

Brad looks at you as if to ask if you were ready. You nodded.

“Ready to rock n roll.” He responds, sauntering onto the set and taking his place on a bar stool in front of a glass of liquid that was supposed to be whiskey.

You stand out of the shot as you were supposed to start the scene by walking into the pub.

You take deep breaths with your head down, which helps you switch into your character. A moment of silence goes by after Steven asks for quiet of the set.

“Action!”

Rusty sits at the counter of the bar, running the tip of his calloused index finger around the rim of the glass placed in front of him. A cigarette hung out of his mouth, which he took a long drag of before tapping the ashes off in the ashtray beside his glass.

He senses someone walk through the entrance without even looking in the direction. The person moves to sit on the stool placed a few inches to his left, bring the smell of a sweet perfume into the vicinity.

“Just a whiskey please.” She says to the bartender, who quickly gets her a cold glass of Jack Daniels.

Rusty turns his head slightly to observe the women next to him, and boy was she beautiful.

She had shoulder length y/c/h and a shirt tight black dress, surprisingly paired with a pair of black sneakers. She brought the small glass up to her lips to take a sip.

“Converse and a cocktail dress? A very bold combo.” Rusty comments, taking a small sip of his drink.

She scoffs, “once you have to wear a pair of 4 inch heels for 5 hours straight, you’ll understand.”

The blonde man chuckles as he shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket, bring out his pack of cigarettes and handing one to the girl.

“Name’s Rusty.” He spoke.

The y/c/h girl looks questioningly at the smoke before hesitantly taking it from his fingers.

“Rachel,” she responds. “got a lighter?”

Rusty once again reaches into the same pocket to grab his lighter, handing it to her.

She thanks him quickly as she puts the cigarette in between her lips and lighting it.

Rusty watches her every move, biting his lip at the way ever red lips hold the cigarette so elegantly.

The girl, Rachel, slides the lighter back to him. She takes a long puff and blows of the smoke.

“Long day?” She asks Rusty, turning her head to meet his gaze. The crew needed one more member to make everything work, and they just couldn’t seem to find one. That day had been pretty stressful for him.

“Something like that.” He responds, taking another large gulp of his whiskey. “You too?”

“Yeah.” Is all she says, paired with a small laugh.

Rusty moves to grab the ashtray for her, setting it in between them. She smiles in thanks.

“I work at a casino.” Rachel says after a minute of silence. This peeked Rusty’s interest. Maybe this is the final member they need.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, rising his eyebrows at her asking her to continue.

“I’m a poker dealer for rich guys that come to blow their money on card games and booze.” She smiles, finishing her cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray.

“Which casino?” Rusty asks, hoping it was the one he was thinking of.

She swallow the liquor in her mouth before responding, “The Bellagio.”

Rusty couldn’t help the smirk that appeared across his lips. Fucking finally.

“Question.” He starts, waiting for a sign to continue.

“Shoot.” Rachel says, matching the smirk on Rusty’s face. She waits eagerly for the question on the tip of the blonde’s tongue.

“Would you ever,” He begins, trying to find a more discreet way to ask the question, but ultimately he decides to just stay it straight out. “Would you ever consider robbing it?” He inquires, fully prepared to divert the conversation to something else in case she questions him.

But the smirk playing on her features never fades. Rachel thinks for a second, “you’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Rusty confirms, still anxious to see what she might say.

After several seconds of silence, she responds with a “I’m in.”

“Cut!”

And just like before, the crew scrambles around set to get ready for the next shot.

You stand up from your spot on the bar stool and walk to where you were standing g when Brad had greeted you, just to make sure you weren’t in the way.

“You were amazing.” Brad compliments you as he leans against the wall beside you.

You smile contently, turning to look up at him. Of course, he was smiling too. His blue eyes burned into your y/c/e ones, causing butterflies to once again erupt in your stomach.

The butterflies move to your chest once he grabs ahold of your for arm. Your mind is going crazy, thinking about what he will say to you next. While you were in your own head, Brad smirks at you as he asks what you never thought he would ever ask you.

“How about when we’re done here today we go get some coffee?”

But before you can really say anything back, your assistant calls you from across the set.

“Y/n, your next scene is coming up, we gotta go!”

You quickly tell her you’d be right there, turning back to Brad. His hand still had a firm grip on your arm, not letting you go until he got a clear answer to his question.

“Yeah, I would love that.” You smile softly at him. And with that, he let your arm fall from his grasp and leant down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll see you later, darlin.” He says before pushing himself off of the wall and walking to the back for a cigarette.

For the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about the last thing he said to you. You just couldn’t wait to see him later.

I sincerely apologize for all the changes in tense😭I’m horrible at sticking to one so I hope it didn’t bother y’all too much <3 also lmk if you liked it!!

#brad pitt #brad pitt imagine #brad pitt x reader #brad pitt smut #brad pitt fluff #rusty ryan #rusty ryan imagine #rusty ryan smut #rusty ryan fluff #oceans 11 #oceans 11 imagine

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Myth or Movie

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer's children have worked up a plan to get them to meet... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders) Word Count: 4.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)'s kids don't get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you... really really get along... and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”... So do with that what you will lol

———

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I'm out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn't seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.

As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.

One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I'd met with her before over some of Sky's academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today's circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.

It's also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today's whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.

Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I've never seen before. He's taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I'd ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he's doing here—to think about having to talk to him.

I shrink even further.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn't sound too upset given the circumstances. "Please, have a seat."

I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.

"As I'm sure you've guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian's father."

Great, he's a fucking doctor? This already bodes well for me...

Regardless of my reservations, I turn to him and give a faint smile. He waves in turn, and for the time being I'm extremely glad he doesn't insist on shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, surely nothing but a formality.

"You, too," I say quickly, then turn back to Principal Anteros. "Your phone call sounded urgent... Is everything alright?"

As soon as I say it, I feel kind of dumb. Because of course everything isn't alright. My child's principal called a meeting with another parent, and that can never mean anything good, not to mention the fucking intimidation and awkwardness in the room right now. I almost apologize, trying to explain that that wasn't exactly what I meant to get across, but then I would have just been talking for way too long, embarrassing myself further.

Once again, I'm thankful for Anteros's ability to move the conversation along. "I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem so. I only bring this to attention because Sky and Vivian are both stellar students. They've never had any disciplinary issues or difficulties with other students..."

"No one's hurt, right?" Mr. Reid asks. I know he's just concerned for his child, but for some reason it feels like an attack on me, like he assumes my kid had something to do with it.

"No, no one's hurt. Thankfully there weren't any physical altercations. But it seems your girls are quite... loud."

The doctor looks like he wants to say something, but I'm quick to jump in before he can. "Sorry... Sky is non-binary. They use they/them pronouns."

I half expect one or either of them to make a big deal or just roll their eyes at me, as most people seem to do when I correct them on the matter, but Anteros gives a sincere apology and Reid probably couldn't have cared any less.

I still can't tell if I like him or not...

But that doesn't matter right now.

"What do you mean by loud?" I continue.

Anteros sighs. "Well, while there hasn't been any physical violence, your kids seem to have very heated arguments, usually during lunch or in the hallway in passing... We thought maybe we could resolve it here since, like I said, they're both excellent students, but then it started escalating to classroom arguments... It's a lot of screaming..."

I have never known Sky to raise their voice at anyone, not even in a situation where I probably would have. Lord knows I'm thankful they don't have my impatience and tendency to get pissed off easily...

So what happened that was so bad, it made them snap?

"You... You're sure you mean Vivian is acting out like this?" Reid asks slowly, and I can't stop myself from laughing out loud.

"Come on, she's a professional. This has been going on for weeks, in her school, I'm sure she would know if it was your kid having a screaming match with someone else..."

This time Doctor Reid actually looks over at me, an eyebrow raised, and though I very much believe what I've just told him, the way he's looking at me right now drops my heart straight down to my stomach, like he's the principal and I'm the student acting out—No, it's worse than that... I feel like he's a disappointed parent, but not with Vivian, with me.

I avoid his intimidating stare and look down at the ground. "Sorry... I'm just... This isn't like Sky, either, I don't know what to do..."

"Well, usually when we have these sort of disputes, we like to have the students talk it out amongst themselves with a moderator present. But we've tried that, and it seems that they still haven't made any progress. Now, I know your children are good at heart, and it seems like you both are excellent parents— You know your children better than anyone here ever could. So, I'm proposing the two of you take a meeting some time and try to figure out how to settle this."

Seriously? If it hasn't been made clear already, this man is a doctor of some kind, planets away from my league in any capacity, and I can just picture the two of us in a screaming match close to what I imagine our children's looked like...

Maybe we can just e-mail.

"Okay," he agrees evenly, and I'm surprised he seems this calm considering I've just practically yelled at him... "I have free time this afternoon if you want to talk it over."

"I have to get back to work, but I get done at five," I sigh, wanting to get this over with. "Are you free then?"

"Mhm."

"Good," Anteros chirps, standing and leaving Doctor Reid and I to follow suit. "Perhaps over the weekend we can get this settled."

I sure as hell hope so.

———

"Ms. Y/L/N, wait!"

I have no idea what he could possibly want from me now that we've set a time and place to talk tonight, but I'm just praying desperately that he doesn't want to take this time alone in the parking lot to get back at me for accosting him in Anteros's office...

Thankfully, his face when he approaches seems rather kind.

"You can call me Y/N..."

"Right," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and nodding. "I'm Spencer."

"Spencer... So, um... Did you need something?"

"O—Oh, I just... I know you have to get back to work so I'll make this short, but I wanted to see if you wanted to do, uh... dinner tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I just figured since we probably didn't expect for our weekend to go this way... We should make it worth it?"

"Are you really trying to turn this into a date?"

"W— No, not really, I just... You know, I thought it might be nice to... make this less like a chore, you know? A—And don't feel like you have to say yes, it was just a thought, I'm sorry if I made this weirder..."

The fact that I still can't figure this man out bothers me, but right now he's blushing, and he looks like he's trying to save himself from embarrassment, and it's so fucking adorable that I don't really care that I was just annoyed.

So I tell him, "Sure. Why not?"

"Really?"

"Yeah... Besides, Lord knows I haven't gone out for dinner in a long time."

The doctor is relieved, a smile creeping up on his lips that suddenly tugs at my insides and makes me wish for a second that it really is a date he's offering... "Okay, good. Do you want to meet at Waterstone, seven o'clock?"

The excitement starts to drain from me as he says it, followed by an incoming wave of embarrassment. "Oh, man, that... That place is kind of expensive, I don't—"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll pay for everything. I'll even wait outside for you so we can go in together if you'd like..."

Why he's being so nice to me I have no idea, but it's making my annoyance melt and my heart start to beat faster, and I really don't know how to feel about that. In fact I'm pretty sure it's weird as fuck given the circumstances.

But all I have to do is make it through this weekend, hopefully all will be back to normal, and I won't ever have to think about it ever again.

"Alright... It's a date."

———

Out of all the scenarios I'd pictured for the end of the night, this definitely had not been one of them.

I finished my shift at the diner, imagining on my drive home the look on his face when I inevitably showed up with something on my face or stained on my dress; Instead I showed up to Waterstone and was greeted with wandering eyes and showered with bashful compliments.

I expected to get into some type of argument about how each of our kids were better than the other or something, but we ended up talking through their traits with compassion, interest, and pride, all while agreeing that we just have to sit with them this weekend and explain that there are easier, better ways to sort out disagreements than screaming at each other in public.

I expected not to have much fun at all, but by the time we gathered the check and headed out the door, Spencer and I were laughing, just a little tipsy on Cabernet, our hands gently brushing and sparks shooting up my arm at the feeling.

I expected to go our separate ways and walk to my car and drive home, but instead he ended up telling me he was taking the Subway home, and I offered to give him a ride to the opposite side of town where I lived (Waterstone was right in the middle).

I expected to walk through the door, stumble straight up to bed, and sleep until Sky inevitably woke me up with them saying I've slept in too late and needed to get ready for work, but instead I ended up following Spencer up to his door to say goodnight.

And now we're at a fork in the road, and I can take one of two paths.

I can say goodnight, watch him walk in, and then go home and forget about this whole thing.

Or I can keep letting him stare at me until I find myself leaning in to kiss him. Whether or not he'll actually reciprocate is another story, but the little bit of wine tingling in the surface of my body and the dark, intense look in his eye gives me more courage than I've had since I met him.

Before I can make a move, Spencer talks, his voice small and inviting. "Do you want to come inside?" The beating of my heart quickens immensely as he takes another step forward and brings his fingers out to graze my chin. "Vivian's with her mom tonight."

Yes. Vivian's mom, who divorced Spencer pretty soon in the marriage after she just decided his job was too much to handle. He'd quit and took a teaching job, but even still, she declined his pleading to stay married and eventually admitted that she just wasn't in love with him anymore. At least she had the decency to let him have joint custody once his schedule cleared up, and it seemed like they were decent co-parents. Maybe even friends.

I think about Sky, how much they wish their dad had stayed, and how much I wish he had too. I was devastated when he left without anything more than a note. For years it took a huge toll on us, and I barely had the headspace to even think about dating anyone since then.

But here I am now, standing with this man who has also lost a spouse, who's somewhat of a single parent, and who seems kind and genuine enough that I don't think I'd have to worry about bringing him into the life of my child.

Though, I don't even know it'll go that far. I'm getting too far ahead of myself, and so to slow down I look at what's right in front of me. Right now.

Spencer looks at me like he wants to devour me. My whole body is tingling from head to toe. I want to kiss him, and I'm pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me back. He just invited me inside, which means that if I accept, we'll most likely end up sleeping with each other.

Again... Definitely not one of the scenarios I'd had in mind when I left the school today. But it's a damn good one, and he's so hot I want to cry.

My flirty switch turns on so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash. "And what are you gonna do if I say yes?"

"Depends... How badly do you want to walk tomorrow?"

My first instinct is to jokingly tell him to put me in a wheelchair, but I settle for kissing him instead, hoping that gives the same sentiment.

The way he melts into my body tells me I've succeeded. My arms fly up to his neck and pull him closer, and he holds me tightly to him, waiting for my lips to part so he can expertly slip his tongue past them.

I whine out and take a step towards the door. Spencer comes with me and fumbles with the keys in his pocket before reluctantly pulling away to get us inside.

Once we take our jackets and shoes off, he clings to me like static, drawn to me like a magnet, and I let him near without a second thought. Our lips find each other perfectly, like they've always meant to fit together. And as pieces of clothing come off on our way through the house and up to his bedroom, our limbs fit together just as well. Nothing is out of place.

Hell, I don't even remember how inferior to him I felt earlier in the day. Our jobs and lifestyles might seem like polar opposites, but for right now, the two of us are on very equal footing, coming together like it's always been meant to be.

I nearly fall apart when his fingers gather wetness from my cunt, just enough to tease me before pulling away and bringing them to his lips. I watch with a whine waiting on the back of my tongue as he slips his fingers past his mouth and sighs.

"More," is all he manages, and I want so badly to tease him—tell him how I know he can be more eloquent than that—but words are all lost on me too, when he drops to his knees and spreads me apart with ease. I have no choice but to reach behind and grip the foot-end of the bed as he works his tongue expertly against me.

Each of my sighs and whines are met with more avidity from him, taking the form of sharp flicks of the tongue over my clit, and once he adds his fingers to the mix, pumping them expertly inside me, I'm a fucking goner.

I come with a silent shout, clenching my thighs around his face and gripping the foot of the bed so tightly it feels like my hands might go numb.

Once my body loosens, Spencer gets up and kisses me, nearly knocking me over. I'm breathless and dizzy as the tang of my arousal coats my tastebuds. His hands are gentle despite the hunger in his lips, and the medley of sensations of all of these things has me weak in the knees.

"Getting harder to stand already, sweetheart?" he laughs, catching me as I fall into him. His hands clutch at my thighs and he carries me to the edge of the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing down my neck. "That's okay... I'll take good care of you."

I still can't manage to speak as he gently pushes in, the slow burn of him splitting me in two rendering me utterly incapable of even thought. I gladly welcome the pressure, especially once he's inside me all the way and lowering his body to mine. Our chests press firmly together as he pulls back and starts a steady pace with his hips. He traps me with his arms, bringing them to either side of my face. And when his fingers brush the hair from my eyes, he stares into them with intensity as he fucks me.

It's slow and hard. It's heart-pounding. It's earth-shattering. It's everything that makes sex worth having. In that moment we're two equals, so wrapped up in the mere feeling of each other that everything else is just background noise. He breathes me in and I do the same, and with each cant forward of his hips, he brings me deeper into this world we've both ultimately created together.

I want more than anything to wrap my legs around him and keep him close to me, but he's fucking me so good that I don't have the willpower. Instead, they lay spread out, lazy and open as his hips move between them. I'm warm all over, tingling everywhere our skin connects. When he kisses me, swallowing my pathetic attempts at whimpering his name, I'm positive that this is what Heaven must feel like.

Whether it's hours or only minutes later, eventually my body tenses, unable to hold back any further, and two particularly deep thrusts from Spencer send me barreling over the edge.

"There it is, sweetheart..." he praises, caressing my face with long, gentle fingers and leaving little kisses wherever they trail. His voice only seems to help me along, each warm syllable soothing the muscles that pulled taut at his mercy. "That's a good girl..."

I feel tired, calmed, and relaxed, when he pulls out only to jerk off over my lower stomach. Through tired eyes, I watch as he lets go and covers me with his release. Hearing him grunt out my name as he does it nearly wakes me up again, and it even finally brings some words out of me.

"God, you're so fucking hot..."

Well... Not exactly elegant, but the feeling gets across.

Spencer laughs and rolls over so that he isn't nearly crushing me anymore. He kisses down my neck, my arm, and he ever-so-slightly swipes the tip of his tongue over the mess he made before kissing my thigh and getting up to leave— presumably to get me something to clean up with.

Sure enough, he returns shortly with a wet washcloth and tenderly cleans me up. I manage to sit, leaning back on my elbows once he's done and smile at him. He's practically kneeling in front of me again, smiling back as his lips press featherlight kisses to the inside of my leg.

"How're you feeling?" he drawls, letting me pull him up to lay down with me.

"Really good. I haven't done that in so long..."

"Me either... I um... I hadn't really thought much about seeing other people once Lena and I got divorced... I guess I just wanted to put all my focus into being the best father I could, you know?"

"Mhm," I answer, turning to face him and interlocking our fingers. "I know exactly what you mean."

We lay like that for a few moments in comfortable silence, hands and limbs tangled while we breathe the same air and revel in the afterglow we've just created.

Suddenly Spencer laughs, and I squeeze his hand. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking... We probably wouldn't have met if not for Anteros calling us in, right?"

"Yeah..." I piece it together. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

"I just think it's funny, because in Greek mythology, Anteros was an Erote, known as an avenger of unrequited love, and he punished those who scoffed at romantic advances made by others... You and I never even thought about dating after our separations, and yet... Here we are now, because of Anteros."

Hearing him educate me on Greek mythology only serves to remind me how different we are. Still, the little story brings a comforting smile to my lips. "Well... Remind me to send her a basket of muffins or something to thank her."

"And tell her what? That you're grateful she got you laid?"

"Yeah. And what about it?"

The two of us dissolve into laughter that eventually fizzles and leaves us silent again. Our fingers are still tangled, and somehow we've snuggled in even closer.

"In any case, I'm glad I got to meet you, Doctor Reid."

"And I, you, Ms. Y/L/N..."

———

In the past two weeks since that first meeting, I hadn't received any more phone calls from Principal Anteros, which bode as a good sign.

Spencer and I decided to see each other as secretly as we could, which meant only giving vague details to our kids as to what we were doing in our spare time— It seemed weird to spring it on them if they didn't get along, so we figured it was best to wait until the situation was handled.

I tried to talk to Sky about their progress with Vivian, but they only insisted that everything was fine and they wouldn't have to worry anymore. And after relaying this information to Spencer, he informed me that Viv had said the same thing to him.

It wasn't until we both realized that they'd said the same things verbatim each time we asked, that something odd was going on.

And that's how we end up right here, Sky and I sitting on a park bench bathed in the golden October sun while I patiently wait for Spencer to 'coincidentally' show up with Vivian.

Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, because almost five minutes after we sit, I hear the familiar sound of my name falling from his lips, and it's hard to contain the cocky, playful smile that appears upon my own.

"Spencer, hey!" I call back, standing up and going to give him a hug. He pulls me in and he's nice and warm. He smells like burnt wood for some reason, and I want to breathe him in forever. Instead, I settle for a sweet kiss on the lips, both because I simply want to and also because it should baffle the fuck out of our kids.

Sure enough we pull away and look to them, and they look panicked. They have no idea what to do, what to say...

"Oh! Sorry... Viv, this is Y/N, Sky's mom."

The pure amusement in Spencer's voice makes me feel even warmer than being in his embrace. I look to his daughter and give her a wave. "Hi."

"H—Hi..."

It almost seems cruel to laugh at their predicament, but as I turn to Sky and introduce them to Spencer, they have clear annoyance written all over their face.

"Okay, Mom, I think we get it... How did you guys figure it out?"

"What, that you two pretended to hate each other so your principal would have to call us both in to meet?"

The pre-teens look at each other and sigh, truly defeated once and for all. "Yeah," they mutter simultaneously.

"Well, it surely didn't make any sense when you got in trouble for yelling at each other in the first place," Spencer points out. "And then when we asked you how things were working out, you both said the same exact thing..."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out, but we appreciate the effort," I add, reaching out to ruffle Sky's hair. They jerk away playfully, and I can't help but notice their smile as they peek over at Vivian.

"Our plan worked, though, so I call it a win," Vivian says with a shrug.

"As long as you two don't plan on causing any more disruptions at school..." Spencer looks between the both of them, and then at me, his eyes softening as he takes my hand and squeezes it. "Then yes. I'd call it a win, too."

I lean into him and laugh. "Turns out it wasn't Greek mythology that brought us together. It was The Parent Trap."

He raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't get what I mean, and before I can ask or explain, Vivian does it for me. "He's never seen it."

Spencer looks between the three of us like a lost and confused puppy, and we all laugh.

"Well, then, maybe we'll have to have a movie night sometime soon," I offer, reaching out for Sky.

Hand in hand, the four of us continue down the pathway, walking away from the setting sun while dried leaves rustle under our feet.

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out):

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @mcureid @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @goldensonlyangel @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos @mggskneescrew @youabitchhhh @spencersjello @moonlight-2-6 @starrylang @foreveryoungxx3 @spencerreidscoffeecup @morganwilliams @emilyprsntiss @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @gubswh0re @mrsobrien888 @loveeee2134 @umbreonwolfy @ayla-1605 @reidsbabe @not-that-kind-of-dr-spencer-reid

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #enemies to lovers

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geminixevans-stan · 3 years

Text

The Ghost

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

Words: 2,254

Summary: Reader is on a business date when a blast from a toxic filled past shows up

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit language, smut(Fingering, squirting if you squint, voyeurism)

A/N: I have just been on a disrespectful kick and who can do disrespect like our man Ransom. This came to me just out of nowhere and I wanted to write it because Ransom is just nasty and petty as hell. I hope you all like it! Reblog, Like, and Comment. Happy reading thots!

I do not consent to my work being copied, plagiarized, or translated in any way >:P

The mellow murmurs of the other guests could be heard as you sat across from the man you have been with for three years. You could see the nervousness in his demeanor as he checked his watch, adjusted his tie, and kept looking over his shoulder. His eyes were nowhere on you and it was getting annoying. You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t a date, something he hasn’t taken you on in months. This was only to meet with his boss who he wanted you to meet for whatever reason.

Getting tired of his fidgeting, you tried to give some type of reassurance, “Case, you look fine, babe. I’m sure your boss won’t be checking you out. Just relax,” you said reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he slipped his hand from under yours causing a small sting in your heart, “You just don’t get it, sweetness, my boss is very well dressed and I just want to make a good impression.” You didn’t understand just why he needed to make a fashion impression but there was part of you that didn’t care.

You looked out at the look of the restaurant admiring the ambiance of it. The restaurant was upscale, dimly lit, and decorated just right. There were couples on dates, groups who looked like they just got off of work, and a ghost that you thought that you would never see in a million years. His facial features were more chiseled, but the face, god that face, remained the exact same. But no one was with him.

His clothing choices had gotten better since your college days and it only added to how good he looked. Shifting in your seat, you looked over at Case as he stood up. Curiosity then confusion set upon your face as the ghost appeared to be inching closer to your table. No, no. He couldn’t be.

But as Case shook the hands of your college sweetheart, you knew that you were definitely in the twilight zone. He turned to you, full set of teeth on display as he began the introductions, “Mr. Drysdale, meet my lovely girlfriend, baby meet Mr. Drysdale. Oh, you knew that motherfucker. Ransom took off his shades, looking down at you as you could see the faintest smirk on his face.

Sticking his hand out over the table, he grasps yours in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “It’s very nice to finally meet you,” his voice still sounded like pure velvet and you couldn’t deny the electricity from feeling his lips on your skin again.

Your mouth suddenly became dry as you stared back at the man that once or still held your heart. Snapping out of your trance, you decided to respond, “I could say the same, Mr. Drysdale. Case couldn’t stop talking about you.”

He never broke eye contact with you as he spoke, “Well I am always on the tongue in more ways than one,” he smirked again knowing just what to say.

Smug bastard

With all the formalities out of the way, everyone took their seats. If seeing Ransom wasn’t enough, he had to sit right next to you. He threw you a smug look, his cologne lingering under your nose as he turned to Case who began having a conversation with him.

During the talk, Case decided to go to the bathroom, leaving both of you sitting at the table. Ransom felt like he just won the lottery and he was definitely going to make the best of it. He knew he had to get you back and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Ransom turns to you when you both are now alone, “That’s who you decided to be with? Why you with that asshat anyway?”

You shot him a look of disbelief as if he didn’t know or was too oblivious to the fact, “Well I wouldn’t be with him if you know, you would have taken us seriously. Instead, you wanted to fuck everything walking,” crossing your arms as his jaw clenched. It was no secret that he missed you. He wondered where he would be if he would have just been all about you. But young Ransom was a whore who cared only about himself.

But seeing the only girl that had his heart with someone else was just something he didn’t agree with, “Still doesn’t answer my question kitten,” that name. That fucking name. He knew what that name did to you and you let out a low whimper, hoping he didn’t hear it. But he definitely did because as soon as it was heard, he placed his finger under your chin, “Looks like some things don’t change. Still my kitten, baby?”

How bad you wanted to say “yes” was on the tip of your tongue. He was looking damn good and the ache in your core made you want him to ruin you. But the hurt in you wouldn’t let that happen. Moving slowly away from him, you dropped your head a little, “I would have been whatever you wanted me to be,” you didn’t expect all the hurt to come rushing back. But Ransom treated you as if he could have better. So, why on earth would he want you now?

“You still can be kitten, dump this fuck wad.” He placed his large calloused hand on the exposed skin of your thigh, rubbing small circles in one spot.

His touch, any touch really was something that you missed. Case hasn’t touched or even been affectionate with you in months. To have Ransom touching you was becoming more than you could bear. You tried to move his hand but you were no match for his strength, “Ransom, let go!” you spoke through clenched teeth.

Inching higher up, he dipped his hand under your dress, placing his lips to the shell of your ear, “Let’s play a game kitten,” he breathed as he pressed his lips to the spot behind your ear. He still knew your spots and it was maddening, “If my pussy isn’t soaked, then I’ll move. If she is, daddy isn’t moving any damn where.” Before you could retort, Case was coming back to the table, smiling at the both of you.

He sat down, fixing his suit jacket one more time, “I see you two are getting acquainted! Anything I missed?” He said raising his hand to signal the waiter to the table.

Ransom chuckled deeply, sliding his hands further up your dress, “Just getting to know your beautiful girlfriend over here. Quite the smart girl you have here,” But he knew you better than Case ever would. He knew you weren’t getting properly fucked let alone having orgasms. He could just tell by how responsive you’ve been without him even touching you.

Case beamed at the impression that you were giving Ransom. If only he really knew what was going on, “She’s amazing,” it took everything in you not to roll your eyes. That fucker didn’t know a damn thing and barely paid attention to you. As the waitress came to the table, you felt Ransom prod at your clothed mound, his fingers tracing over the wet material. Your body had betrayed you and he looked at you like he just won the grand prize.

You all had ordered drinks as Ransom rubbed soft circles on the soft fabric. He hated panties and would make sure you never wore them in college. He would soon rectify that after Case was out of the picture.

He pushed the soaked material to the side, playing with your exposed skin as you tried your hardest to sip your drink. Extracting his hand slightly, he tapped your inner thigh two times making you spread your legs wider. He slid back to your exposed lips, rubbing his fingers over your folds as you let out an inaudible sigh.

The conversation was taking way, ransom mindlessly playing with the wetness leaking from your aching hole. He was teasing you to no end and you were growing needier by the second. You wanted to feel him knuckle deep and all he wanted to do was toy with you.

You were barely paying attention to the conversation when you felt your entrance stretch and suck in his thick digit, inviting him back home. He stilled his finger inside of you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of you. He raised the cold glass to his lips and you clenched around him at the same time he took a sip.

He choked a little bit on the cold liquid as a small smirk formed on your lips. Case looked at him in concern, “You okay Mr. Drysdale?” Pressing into your seat, your hips rolled slowly letting his finger slide in deeper.

Ransom waved Case off to ease his worry, “All good, just the drink went down the wrong,” he pushed a second in your tight canal, you gripping your napkin tightly at the added intrusion, “pipe. Now where were we?” He wanted to let you know that he could play your game better than you and he always won.

He began to slide his fingers in and out of your sopping wet hole, sliding in deeper with each stroke. You tried keep a straight face through him playing your body like his favorite instrument and you were doing good until… He found the right spot. Only he knew how to find it and once he did. Oh, you were fucked. Curling his fingers at the spongy surface, he rubbed over that spot over and over, the heat dissipating all over your body as you tried your best to keep calm.

But your juices leaking over his fingers caused him to piston his fingers in with not give and he was taking all the advantage of it. You tried to clench your thighs, but he shot you an inconspicuous look that urged you not to fuck with him. Rocking secretly against his fingers, you could see him smirking while listening to whatever the fuck Case was talking about.

You grabbed your drink, bringing it back to your lips, preparing to take a sip when Ransom pressed his thumb to your overly sensitive clit, pressing into the center, “Oh fuck…” They both shot a look at you, amusement in Ransom’s face as Case was full of annoyance.

He looked at you like you just embarrassed him and you had to make a quick excuse, “I’m… so sorry. Babe this drink is so good.” Case clenched his fist still staring at you as Ransom let out a small chuckle.

“This place does have the best drinks. I’ve caught myself saying Oh fuck once or twice,” he said, strumming his thumb over your bundle of nerves, you downed the entire drink as Case resumed back to the conversation, looking completely ticked off. You bucked against the sensation making him withdraw from you as you already missed clenching around him. Squeezing your thigh tightly to stop your movements, he dove back in with the same movements.

Pulling your lip between the tightness of your teeth, you gripped the napkin once more, letting Ransom bring you closer to a well-deserved orgasm. Your juices leaking down his hand and you knew that this chair was about to be ruined. Your chest heaved up and down as his strokes and circles grew faster as you heard Case ask a question.

“So what do you think about that Mr. Drysdale?” Honestly, Ransom didn’t give a fuck about this conversation. The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew he was going to take you home tonight and Case was far from his worries. He doubled down on his strokes as he drew quick circles, feeling you flutter around his fingers. He knew his kitten’s body after all this time and it was time to give her exactly what she needed.

Ransom placed the hand that hovered over the top of his lip on the table as he smirked deviously at Case, “Well, I only have one thing to say really,” he looked him dead in his eyes as the next words sent you over to an earth-shattering release, “Come kitten,” The tightness in your core finally snapped and you threw your head back as a silent cry erupted from your lips as you soaked His fingers and the seat beneath you.

He never stopped moving as your walls fluttered and clenched his thick digits, coating them in spurting cream. Case looked over at your blissfully fucked out face, then back and Ransom in complete shock. Ransom kept that same smirk, still staring at Case, “Good girl…” You began to come down from your high and before Case could say anything, the waitress showed up.

She smiled at the group as she placed the empty glasses on her tray, “Would you all like entrees or desserts?” Ransom pulled his fingers from your tight hole, not wanting to let him go as he withdrew with an audible squelching pop.

He put his fingers in the light as your creamy juices glistened against his skin, “Actually, I have my dessert right here,” darting his tongue out he slowly lick your sweet nectar from his fingers, placing them in his mouth to suck the rest completely off. Moaning at your taste, he pulled them from his mouth, directing his gaze to yours.

“Just as sweet as I remember kitten,”

Fuck…

#ransom drysdale daddy #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x black reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans characters

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

home- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language, alcohol mentions and drinking, the use of my own headcanon that bucky gets very clingy when he finds someone he trusts and loves

about: (requested!) prompt 21: person a tugging on person b’s shirt

bucky has been a lot clingier than usual. you suppose it’s your fault, you have dragged him everywhere with you since you met him- although that was to help bring him out of his shell and get him to actually go outside. you’re not sure if your efforts have backfired, as he’ll be trudging behind you like a lovestruck puppy wherever you go, no matter if it’s around the compound or in the small boutiques you frequent. you convince yourself they didn’t, since his days aren’t spent locked in his room, which you consider a win.

a knock you identify as natasha’s interrupts your mutters about an entrance you hadn’t seen before, natasha’s voice cutting through the peaceful silence. “i swear i saw you in that exact same place like five hours ago,” she states, leaning against your door frame as you shrug, not looking up. “you should take a break, the plan you made yesterday is great.”

you’re going over mission plans in your room, trying to figure out the best way to infiltrate the very last hydra base and succeed in cutting off the last of the organization’s heads. bucky is sleeping, his head on your lap. the hand that isn’t skimming the lines on the blueprint is combing through bucky’s hair, calming him down and chasing away his nightmares. once in a while, you coo inattentively when he begins to stir, not wanting him to wake up.

you had been away for two days, during which he got a grand total of three hours of sleep, the rest of his attempts driven away by nightmares. you calm him down, he says, so he’s slept in your room with you ever since you got back. it’s a strange sight seeing the former winter soldier, over two hundred pounds and six feet tall, resting bitch face pressed on the skin of your legs.

“there are always possible ways to fail, i need it to be foolproof,” you respond distractedly. natasha rolls her eyes and raises her hand, holding a pair of black heels between her fingers. “we’re all going out in half an hour,” she instructs, and you furrow your brows, staring at the intimidatingly tall shoes, “what? we are?” natasha hums, raising an eyebrow at bucky, “i haven’t been able to spend any time with you since you got back, besides, you need to have fun for a few hours.”

“i am having fun,” you lie. and natasha, unsurprisingly, sees right through it, shaking the heels and letting you know you have thirty minutes. you sigh, pushing the plans away and stretching, already planning to wear something casual, even though wanda will probably have a fit about it and point out the new dresses you have stored in your closet.

“you do deserve a break,” bucky points out from your thighs, and you look down at him, not realizing he was awake. shrugging, you agree, “i guess you’re right.”

bucky hums in reply, sitting up and looking over the blueprints you just set down. “i also guess i have to get ready, then,” you say, pressing a kiss to bucky’s cheek before going to your closet and taking out what you want.

bucky isn’t in your room when you walk out of the bathroom, light makeup applied (an illusion because you have no idea how to do it), jeans and a loose shirt that you somehow make refined, and heels that you bought months ago with no real occasion in mind. you hope the heels pull the outfit together and get you the wanda seal of approval, avoiding getting sent back to your room and having the woman make a mess of your closet to find something else.

you check yourself out in the mirror one final time, squinting at yourself. “you look amazing, doll,” bucky compliments, coming in through your door to stare at you and kiss your shoulder. you look back at him, appreciating how he looks, stunning as always. “you don’t look so bad yourself,” you reply cheesily, admiring the smile that adorns his face when the words leave your mouth.

it appears you and bucky are the last to be ready, seeing how everyone other than sam, steve, and nat were already on their way to wherever it was you were going. “whoo,” sam whistles, and you twirl when nat claps and asks you to. “you look hot,” she comments, and you do a proud little bow, “i can clean up when i want to.”

“and this will be worth it. we are staying out late like we used to,” natasha declares. you grin, “hopefully i don’t fall asleep. missions are tiring. especially when you finish them that quick.”

“ah yes, we are celebrating the new record y/n set!” steve reminds, and you tilt your head in smug satisfaction. “oh yes, i did beat nat, didn’t i?”

shooting the russian redhead a faux complacent look as she smiles, “enjoy it while it lasts,” she replies simply, and you nod, “i absolutely will. i know there’ll be a new one by next week.”

you manage to drink half of your weight in liquor by the second hour you’re at the new bar, chatting with wanda over her and vision’s relationship while sam flirts with someone next to you. bucky is surprisingly invested in the conversation, pointing out how happy vision has been- as much as he’s noticed, he’s still getting used to vision being a synthezoid- which makes wanda blush and smile wider. you can tell his social battery is running out, though, and you can’t blame him, exhausting your own with how many times you’ve rejected guys and held useless conversations with both the avengers and random people you bump into.

natasha has managed to get you into the dance floor, and you manage to have fun, even through the tiredness that hasn’t stopped coursing throughout your veins and smell of sweat and sex. you’ve sweated out the alcohol in your system, sitting next to your boyfriend while you’re telling steve what you saw the other day. sam is listening along, head tilting back in laughter when you inform him that tony wears captain america underwear. how you found that out, you prefer not repeating.

bucky doesn’t add on to conversations anymore, instead listening silently and driving away any men that dare to bother you with a threatening glare. it isn’t needed, but appreciated regardless.

which each hour that passes, you can see less of the avengers and more of the sun’s yellow, your body planted in your seat, listening to the others’ conversations. you’ve bitten back enough yawns to know your night is ending, your shorter answers only reassuring you.

you’re nodding along to one of tony’s stories when you feel a tug on your shirt, not needing to turn to figure out who it is, but you do anyways.

“can we go home?” bucky asks, weariness clear in the bags under his eyes as you nod, tangling your fingers with his vibranium ones. you bid everyone goodbye, bucky lingering behind you, his own farewells a silent nod of his head if any.

you nearly fall asleep next to him in the car, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

he’s waiting for you on your bed as you get ready for bed, walking out and ruffling his hair when you see how he’s sprawled out. “come to bed, y/n,” he pleads when you begin to walk away again, his fingers pulling at your-his, really- shirt. “i’m almost done,” you promise, fulfilling it when you come back not a minute later.

he wraps you in his arms and is out like a light, dreams of you replacing the nightmares he’s had, and he vows he’ll never let you go.

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ohnominamino · 3 years

Text

An Essay on Love in Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time

Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time is a movie about love in all its forms. From the love of family, friends, and neighbors, to the compassion we feel for people we have never met. The movie reminds us that love is something we continuously gain, lose, and choose, again and again. Which love is greatest? In my opinion, the answer to that question is left up to interpretation. In this essay, I will give my own personal interpretation on certain character interactions and what I believe we are meant to take away from their Rebuild portrayals.

The character I will start with is one I’ve noticed the most outrage over from people who haven’t seen the movie and read out-of-context spoilers: Kaworu Nagisa.

Kaworu is a beloved character among many Evangelion fans, especially those who are members of the LGBT+ community. He is a canonical love interest of Shinji Ikari and I want to reassure people that this final movie does not change that fact. However, it does not make the couple blatantly endgame either. This skirting around the couple might make some fans upset, and while their feelings are completely valid, I do not think they fully understand the difficulties faced by LGBT+ people in Japan, nor do they understand the way that romance is typically conveyed in Japanese storytelling. (I recommend watching “Is ‘Yuri On Ice’ Good Gay Representation?” by James Somerton for more about storytelling nuances.)

What have we been shown about Shinji and Kaworu’s love? The good news is, anything you read into the original TV series and End of Evangelion is completely true for the Rebuilds— because Kaworu is the same Kaworu. This movie proves Evangelion is a single universe set on repeat, and that Kaworu and Shinji meet each other every loop, and in each, Kaworu is trying to make Shinji happy. Within the final movie, Shinji becomes aware of the loops and chooses to break the cycle and free Kaworu from his pain.

What does the relationship between Shinji and Kaworu teach us? I believe the purpose of their love is to show the audience that first, in the words of Kaji, “love has no gender.” Second, I believe Kaworu’s love in particular is a warning about basing your own happiness solely upon another person. There are parallels drawn between Gendo/Yui and Kaworu/Shinji. Gendo could not exist without Yui, and so he was willing to destroy the world to be reunited with her. For Kaworu, it was not the destruction of humanity, but the destruction of himself that defined his tragedy. What’s important within the final movie, in my opinion, is that Shinji does not reject Kaworu’s love. With the insight he’s gained from remembering past loops, he sees Kaworu’s love and appreciates him, but he also sees his suffering and wants to ease it. He helps Kaworu into a new world where he can seek his own happiness and find balance in his life (something his father did not have).

While Kaworu and Shinji are not seen as an explicit couple at the end of the movie, it’s significant to note that, when he sets Kaworu free, Shinji holds out his hand to Kaworu as a promise to stay together. Over the course of the movie, Shinji comes to accept his connection to others through accepting touch (in the form of hand holding and hugs from Rei, Misato, and Gendo); however, Kaworu is the only character in the movie who Shinji initiates physical contact with and that speaks to how much Kaworu means to him. This simple gesture, in my opinion, keeps the door open for Kaworu and Shinji to be a couple one day, after Kaworu has found more balance in his life.

If I were to write an entire essay about Kaworu, it would be titled, “Out of the Coffin: How the Resurrection of Kaworu Nagisa Buries the Tragic Lovers Trope” because this movie truly does just that.

Another potential love interest for Shinji for many years was Asuka; however, unlike with Kaworu, the nature of this relationship is not left up to interpretation by the end of the movie. Before her big final battle, Asuka tells Shinji, “I think I loved you back then” (regarding their time in middle school) and Shinji, during Instrumentality, tells Asuka, “Thank you for saying you loved me. I loved you too.” It is past tense.

What does this relationship teach us? It’s a beautiful way of showing that we can love people, and grow and learn, and let go when we no longer fit each other. Letting go is an integral part of life. Whereas other Instrumentality scenes involve touch, Asuka’s, mirroring the ending of End of Evangelion, has a distinct lack of touch. Shinji sits with his arms around his knees and Asuka turns her body away from him. He gives her his thanks and he sends her off to find her peace. Asuka and Shinji teach us that it’s okay to grow out of relationships. You can appreciate what they were to you at the time they happened and move on.

What about Rei? To be honest with you, this movie is less about Rei’s relationship with Shinji, and more about her relationship with the world. Rei teaches movie viewers about the simple pleasures of living. While Shinji is in mourning for the first quarter of the movie, Rei (as “Sokkuri”) is learning about crop growing and community, the wonder of babies and kittens, the joy of the bath after a long day of fruitful work, and the power of words and picture books. At the end of her life, she only regrets not having more time to spend with the people she loves. In Instrumentality, Shinji accepts her hand when it is offered to him, which I hope signifies he is ready to see life as she had come to during the final movie.

Rei teaches us that we can love living and to not take our limited time for granted.

Next, we move on to parent figures: Gendo and Misato. I think they both represent people ill suited to the role, who do the best they can despite it. Gendo, as mentioned for Kaworu above, is a warning about defining yourself by your relationship to another person (Ikari, afterall, is Yui’s name). He is also a lesson in how people mourn and how they can lash out. Misato, like Gendo, felt herself a poor parent, and while mourning the loss of Kaji, she gave up her child to be raised by other people, but, unlike Gendo, went forward to put all her energy into protecting humanity. Both of them reach out to hug Shinji within the movie and he accepts them where they are.

While I wouldn’t say the movie shows that Shinji forgives Gendo, it does show his making an effort to understand and make peace with what others have done. For Misato, it is fair to say we can still hope for a better future, even when it feels like everything is crumbling around us. Her self-sacrificing love for her son and the whole of humanity is what enables Shinji to then save the people he loves (via the spear of Gaius).

In the movie, we are also shown friendship. Touji, Hikari, and Kensuke are important members of their community who maintain open communication with those around them and respect others’ boundaries. They are patient and kind and represent the importance of being present. They teach us to meet people where they are and support them how we can, whether it’s giving them a warm meal or giving them space when they need it.

There are many more characters that could be talked about, but today I am going to end on Mari. Mari’s love is physical. She enjoys being in people’s personal bubbles. She cuddles Asuka and helps trim her hair, she gets into Gendo’s space at college, and at the end of the movie, she reaches out her hand to Shinji to help him stand up from his seat. Upon first glance, some viewers might take Mari and Shinji’s final scene to be romantic, but the reality of it is this: We do not, and cannot, know what kind of love she is meant to represent in his life.

We do not know Mari’s relationship with Shinji because they hardly interact in the movie. She clearly cares about him, but in my opinion, it comes from a place of duty and compassion— Mari was friends with Gendo and Yui. She has been there since he was born. (If we take the manga to be canon, then Mari even had romantic feelings towards his mother. Her hairstyle and glasses are from Yui. At the end of the movie, Mari has changed her hairstyle, which to me implies she has moved on, and “getting” with Shinji would be a thematic break.)

Additionally, their conversation, while flirty, is very much one that implies they haven’t seen each other for a while. Mari is someone who is very physically affectionate. With everyone. If someone ignores that and focuses on the fact she gets into Shinji’s space and claims that’s romantic, they better acknowledge it’s possibly romantic with Asuka, who we see far more intimacy with. When Mari flirts, Shinji flirts back and her initial reaction is surprise, “Wow, you’ve learned to talk back!” Her purpose is clear. She is there to remove the DSS choker from his neck.

Personally, I love that Mari is the one to close the movie, for the exact reason that we do not know her relationship with Shinji. For Mari to have an assigned role would be to say, “This kind of love is most important,” when the entire movie was spent showing us each love is of equal importance in the balance and building of our lives. (It’s wonderful to see those types of love embodied across the platform from Shinji at the end of the movie: Rei and Kaworu, who, just like in End of Evangelion, could signify the ability to connect with others and be loved.)

If you view Mari as a romantic love interest, then I think it speaks to the value that you as an individual give to romance rather than what the characters themselves are feeling. To me, Mari, the character who was created to “destroy Eva,” is a symbol of all love. When Shinji takes her offered hand and then pulls her to run into the new world, it’s a symbol of balance. The give and take of any kind of relationship.

We are the product of every relationship we have ever had, from our parents to the people we once loved, from our friendships to any other person we want to stay connected to. Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time is a story about these relationships. It is a story about love.

#rebuild of evangelion #kaworu nagisa #shinji ikari #asuka shikinami #mari makinami #rei ayanami #misato katsuragi #gendo ikari #thrice upon a time #kawoshin #essay #movie review #shinkawo

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1kook · 3 years

Text

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates.

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens.

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class.

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him.

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all.

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly.

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months.

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got.

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career.

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course.

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.”

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you.

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.)

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side.

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly.

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil.

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester.

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness.

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you.

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face.

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!”

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things.

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone.

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought.

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you.

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news.

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward.

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason.

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away.

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom.

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same.

Apparently not.

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed.

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile.

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.”

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck.

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot.

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi.

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.”

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face.

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments.

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.”

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.”

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character.

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester.

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right.

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile. He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.”

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?”

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh.

This man was dangerous for your heart.

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.”

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you.

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well.

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook.

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#mine

2K notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

For your prompts: Mingjue is ace or demi, and somehow between taking over the sect at a very young age and never displaying interest in it, no one ever gave him The Sex Talk. All the aunts and uncles assumed someone else took care of it. Then Huaisang gets to that age. He seems to be very interested in sex. He needs The Sex Talk. Mingjue feels like that should come from him (he's taken care of all the rest pf raising him after all), but he doesn't have the info to do that.

How does Mingjue give him The Sex Talk? Or alternatively, does Huaisang end up already knowing and giving The Talk to his big brother instead?

ao3

“All right,” Nie Mingjue said, sitting down and gesturing for Nie Huaisang to sit down across from him. “I guess we’re going to have to talk about this.”

“I knew this day would come,” Nie Huaisang said, looking unbearably tragic. “I’m going to die of embarrassment before the day is through, da-ge. Won’t you have pity?”

Nie Mingjue knew him too well, though.

“Okay,” he said.

Nie Huaisang frowned at him.

“If it’s too embarrassing to talk about sex, you’re not ready to talk about sex,” Nie Mingjue said with a casual shrug. “We can postpone the conversation to –”

“No! I want to hear about it!” Nie Huaisang scowled at him. “Da-ge, everyone else got the sex talk! You wouldn’t want me to fall behind, would you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked innocently at him. “But Huaisang, you said…”

“Never mind what I said!”

Nie Mingjue tried to maintain his façade of innocent neutrality but quickly cracked in the face of Nie Huaisang’s exasperation; he started laughing.

Nie Huaisang grumbled.

“There’s not much to say,” Nie Mingjue said, wiping his eyes. “And it’s not as if you can’t get by without it, you know. I mean, no one ever gave me the talk.”

Nie Huaisang frowned. “No one? What about A-die? I mean, before…”

“He was busy, and kept postponing it,” Nie Mingjue said, shrugging. “And then he died, and everyone assumed he’d done it already. It’s fine. Everything I needed to learn, I learned from books, and you’re going to do the same.”

“…books.”

“Yep, books.”

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh. “You’re going to make me learn this incredibly important subject from textbooks? Really, da-ge?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said.

“You’re robbing me of a valuable life experience here.”

“I’m so sad for you,” Nie Mingjue said dryly, pulling out a box and spreading out the books he’d obtained just for this purpose. “Now, I know you hate studying, I know you think it’s boring and a waste of time, but I really think in this instance –”

“It’s fine,” Nie Huaisang said quickly. His eyes were fixated on the books in front of him, and for some reason he’d flushed bright red, even though it wasn’t all that hot in the room. “I don’t mind. I’ll study hard, da-ge.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that before once or twice,” Nie Mingjue remarked, then shook his head. “Anyway, I think just one or two –”

“I need all of them.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, sincerely this time. “All of them?” he said, and looked down at the books. “Huaisang, I don’t think you understand. I got a selection so that you could have your pick, but they’re by and large very repetitive; each one more or less describes the same basic acts –”

“I need all of them. For reasons.”

“…all right,” Nie Mingjue said, bemused but generally pleased by Nie Huaisang’s highly unusual enthusiasm for study. “I thought I was robbing you of a valuable life experience?”

“That was before! I didn’t realize the books were going to be spring books,” Nie Huaisang said. He’d grabbed one and flipped it open, staring wide-eyed at one of the illustrations.

“What type of textbook would there be for this subject other than a spring book?” Nie Mingjue asked, wondering – as ever – if he’d missed something. Raising children was hard, and raising Nie Huaisang was harder; everyone agreed. “Anyway, I’m given to understand that the art is a bit exaggerated, especially in terms of proportion, and the accompanying text can use some rather strange metaphors, but fundamentally the acts described appear generally consistent throughout the various sources. For example, if you look at this one, you can see that the woman has –”

“Yes, da-ge, I can see.”

“I’m just pointing it out,” Nie Mingjue said defensively. Nie Huaisang was being especially impossible to understand today. “Anyway, it’s all a bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Very weird. Incredibly weird. You know what, I think I need to think about this privately for a while.”

“I…are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“If you insist.” Nie Mingjue stood up. “If you have any questions –”

“Yes I’ll be sure to ask you please leave now thank you good-bye.”

Nie Mingjue found himself outside the door to Nie Huaisang’s room, not entirely sure how his much smaller younger brother had managed to push him out so effectively. Maybe some of that saber training was actually having an impact, however spaced out and half-hearted Nie Huaisang’s efforts were.

Cheered by the thought, Nie Mingjue headed back to his office, feeling very good about himself: that wasn’t nearly as awkward as all the other people had made it sound. It’d been no problem at all!

Of course, a few months later, he found out that Nie Huaisang had started buying up spring books like he’d developed a mania for it.

“That seems fine,” he said to the disciple who’d reported it. “I mean, it’s a bit strange, yes, but he’s always been fond of hobbies that involve collecting things. Birds, weird rocks…that sort of thing.”

“I’m not sure it’s…exactly the same,” the disciple said carefully. “But if you’re not concerned, Sect Leader, we’ll just leave it be.”

“…I’ll talk with him,” Nie Mingjue decided, mostly because of the weird expression on the disciple’s face, and the disciple looked relieved.

Later that evening, he followed up on his word.

“Huaisang, I heard you’re buying spring books,” he said, and Nie Huaisang nearly choked on his soup.

“You can’t just bring that up over dinner!” he hissed.

“…why not?”

“You just – can’t!”

“I can, and did,” Nie Mingjue said. “Some of the disciples have expressed some concern about it.”

Nie Huaisang’s shoulders went up by his ears defensively. “Is it because I’m buying cutsleeve books as well as regular books?”

“They sell cutsleeve books? Really?” Nie Mingjue said blankly, temporarily distracted. “I wouldn’t have thought there’d be enough of a market to make the printing worthwhile. Aren't they supposed to be relatively uncommon? …anyway, no, it’s not about that.”

“…you don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” Nie Mingjue said, puzzled. “I’m glad you’re expanding your horizons.”

“You…are?” Nie Huaisang was blinking rapidly.

“I mean, you’re reading? Reading is good. I’m always happy when you advance your scholarly pursuits,” Nie Mingjue said. “I mean, I’d still like it if you spent a bit more time on your saber…”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang said hastily, clearly wanting to avoid the subject of his saber training. “If you don’t mind the fact that I’m buying them, or the content, what is the concern?”

“Mostly quantity, I think?” Nie Mingjue hadn’t been able to figure it out either. “You’ve exceeded your allowance twice already, and really, how many books recounting the same exact content can you really need?”

“It’s not quite the same content,” Nie Huaisang said. “There are different…scenarios.”

“Yes, but it all leads to the same place in the end, doesn’t it? Hand, mouth, front, back, inside or outside; you read one, you’ve read them all. Though I guess the cutsleeve ones are different?”

“Not really,” Nie Huaisang admitted. “But maybe take a look anyway? Maybe you’ll like those better…here, come up to my room.”

Nie Huaisang had, apparently, started in on making quite a collection, and from the way he puttered around trying to find the right ones to share, seemed to be in the process of becoming a little connoisseur. It was pretty adorable, actually; Nie Mingjue couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Nie Huaisang so enthusiastic.

“Having two spears involved does seem to make it a bit more awkward,” he concluded after paging through a few. “And obviously you can’t do it from the front in the same way, but other than that the mechanics generally seem the same. I suppose there’s really only so many ways you can twist the human body…”

“How about this one, then?” Nie Huaisang said, offering up a book about mirror grinders sharing a toy between them. “Twice the young ladies involved!”

“That seems even less efficient. If they wanted to be penetrated, why be a mirror grinder instead of finding a man?”

Nie Huaisang seemed somewhat taken aback by the question. “Maybe they just fell in love with another woman first?” he eventually suggested.

That seemed reasonable enough, so Nie Mingjue nodded agreeably. “Makes sense that they’d use a toy, then. Otherwise wouldn't they be stuck with using just mouths and hands? Though I suppose there’s always the eponymous grinding motion, too.”

Nie Huaisang reached over and put his hand in Nie Mingjue’s lap.

“Huaisang! What are you doing?”

“Just checking,” Nie Huaisang said, rubbing the back of his head. “You’re really not…Wait, let me find you some others. Maybe you’ll like these better – they have more scenario involved.”

Truly Nie Huaisang had a wide collection. There were solo stories, coupled stories, stories involved groups of three or more, stories involving people being tied up or doing the tying, one story involving whips and pinching nails that Nie Mingjue initially thought was a torture manual that had gotten mixed in by mistake except for how the receiving party seemed extremely enthusiastic about it. There was even one involving –

“Fish?”

“Tentacles.”

“People want to fuck fish?”

“It’s not – you know what, I don’t know, maybe they do,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing up his hands. “Octopi are a surprisingly popular subject along the coast, and some of the artwork from Dongying features it.”

“You have works from Dongying?” Nie Mingjue asked, impressed. It wasn’t every young man’s hobby that involved international commerce. “You’re really turning into a collector, Huaisang.”

“I’m not – it’s not –” Nie Huaisang grimaced. “You know what, maybe the disciples are right and I should cut down on purchasing so many.”

“Why? If you’re enjoying your new hobby –”

“There’s a difference between being known as the guy who has some good spring books and being known as the guy who collects spring books as a hobby. The latter just sounds pathetic.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure about that.

“Well, it’s up to you,” he said, and started to get up to leave, only to have Nie Huaisang tug on his hand.

“Da-ge, I have a question.”

Nie Mingjue sat back down.

“Have you ever…?” Nie Huaisang nodded at the books.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, wrinkling his nose a bit at the thought. “It seems like more trouble than it’s worth, really.”

“What about…uh…” He gestured at one in particular. Nie Mingjue leaned over and checked; it was one of the ones featuring a single man touching himself. “Do you…?”

“Oh, sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “Every once in a while. Don't most people? But there’s rather a difference between doing that and having to get up close and personal with someone else’s genitals, isn’t there? We all wipe our own asses after we shit, but that doesn’t mean we do it for other people.” He gave Nie Huaisang a pointed look. “Present company excluded.”

“I was a baby, it doesn’t count,” Nie Huaisang hissed at him. “Never bring it up again.”

Nie Mingjue smirked at him.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes dramatically. “Da-ge, you’re hopeless. One day you’ll find someone you like enough to try it with!”

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue said. “Maybe not. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Uh, yes it does! You’re going to have kids, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Nie Mingjue said, hesitating a little. “Huaisang, you’re my heir.”

“I know that! I’m in line until you have kids of your own to inherit…why are you shaking your head?”

“You’re going to inherit after me,” Nie Mingjue said, as gently as he could. “I’m probably not going to have kids, but even if I did, I’d arrange it so that they’d be part of the branch family, not the main line. I want you to inherit.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes were going wide.

No, it was too early to tell him about the saber spirits, Nie Mingjue thought to himself. About their family's horrible temper and his private suspicion that the temper and the qi deviations fed into each other; his conviction that Nie Huaisang would be a better sect leader than him, a better continuation for their line than him, and his determination to make sure that the next generation of Nie sect leaders didn't have to fear a shortened life the way he did. He’d tell him that later, sometime. Today was a good day, there was no point in spoiling it.

“Is that going to be a problem?” he asked instead. “I mean, you have such a wide variety here; don’t tell me you’re solely interested in cut-sleeves…?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said. “No, I like – everything.”

“Well, then,” Nie Mingjue said. “There should be no problem, then. If you end up with a woman, have some kids; if you end up with a man, take a concubine. Either way, you’ll get an heir.” He frowned. “Assuming you don’t mind –”

“No, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and he sounded incredibly long-suffering. “I think I’ll manage to have sex, somehow.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re thinking about actually going ahead and trying it out, that’s a whole different conversation we need to have, as opposed to the talk about what it is. You need to be careful about it –”

“Ugh, da-ge, please, no –”

“I’m not going to lecture! Just don’t overdo it or anything. You don’t want to end up with a thousand bastards like Sect Leader Jin –”

“Gross! No!”

“– or with all sorts of diseases –”

“Da-ge!”

“– or with a reputation for being a dissolute or a –”

“I will only have sex with someone I love,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Or at least mildly care for. A nice clean person who likes me back. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“More or less,” Nie Mingjue said, and glanced down at the books. “Say, Huaisang. You know so much about this. Have you ever…”

“Do you have a question?” Nie Huaisang scooted forward. “Ask away, da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue flicked his forehead. “Not a substantive one. But have you ever thought about making your own? You’re a perfectly good artist, and you’re very imaginative; I’m sure you could come up with some scenarios of your own that might be very interesting.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes were wide. “I could, couldn’t I?” he said, marveling, and then suddenly jumped up and dashed over to grab some paper. “Oh, I could! I could – and that – and – and..!”

Nie Mingjue decided to retreat, smiling proudly to himself.

Reading and writing, he thought happily. They’d probably never get a warrior out of Nie Huaisang, but there might be a scholar in him yet!

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #the talk

402 notes · View notes

beann-e · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu! Characters reacting to their s/o Fighting for them

Also i’m taking request !! go put something in the box :4

Tendou

he would enjoy it so much like he’d have a full on conversation while your doing it. He’d even start hyping you up In the back because he knows that’s all it takes to fuel your fire.

Only for you to find out the person who was hitting on him wasn’t talking about him but was talking about another guy and tendou only made it seem like they were so he could piss you off because he finds it so hot when your upset

Your eyes went pointed to the scene in front of you when you walked down from the bleachers. Feet heavy on the ground as you tried to contain your anger.

How did this chick get down here faster than you and why the hell was she talking to your boyfriend once again faster than you ?

You steps slowed as you walked up to them hoping to hear a little bit of the conversation “ yeah I thought it was really hot and I just wanted to say wow up close and personal y’know “

Your eyes widened hot ?

what the hell did she think was hot ?

“ I was uh I was up in the stands and I was honestly a little bit intimidated to come down here and talk to anyone actually —in the first place “ she laughed clutching her bag a little tighter when your boyfriend licked his lips before his teeth came down to nibble on his bottom one lightly, eyes feigning innocence as he listened to her “ especially you so this is like a big milestone for me “

you watched as your boyfriend smiled softly “ yeah I get it — really i’d be the exact same way with a crush I wouldn’t know how to act or even how to talk to them i’ve actually been there before so “

good good you thought praising tendou in your head at the fact that he was trying to slowly bring up the fact that he had a s/o. clapping for him in your head for trying to let the girl in front of him down easily

your body darting to hide behind a group of teenagers when you saw your boyfriends eyes lift up from the girl and look around as if he was checking for someone he must have been wondering where you were. breathing out a sigh of relief that he turned to look over your way too slowly only missing you by a second

“ oh really I assumed that— “

“ no no your good i’m not saying it in that way “

your face dropped ‘in what way ? ‘

“ I understand the fear of talking to your crush but trust me “ he nodded his head towards the girl In front him before he took a sip of water and smiled down on her “ you’ve got no reason to be nervous i’m right her—“

“ hi “ you waved steps quick on the floor beneath you and voice loud to show your presence “ yes y— yes you do “ you laughed reaching your hand out to shake the girls own in front of you

“ i’m y/n — the s/o— of 3 years —is there ? is there anything wrong did something happen to where he needed an emergency check up or something ? “

the sarcasm in your voice making your boyfriend smirk to himself at the way you just jumped into the situation all to protect your relationship it made him feel secure, happy even

it made him in a way feel greedy

your head coming up to look at tendou as you snaked an arm around his waist like he’d done to you in similar situations. Your other one moving to place itself on his chest “ babe are you ok ? are you hurt ? how badly to call a stranger over here ? “

“ baby no nothing like that she just wanted to congratulate me“ he locked eyes with you the slight smirk he still wore ignored by you due to anger at the drama unfolding before you and his next statement. His words coming out soft and sweet though they were meant to encourage his evil agenda “ before you “

“i’m sorry I wasn’t down here to congratulate him on his win so he must have looked lonely “

you shook your head in sadness at the girl “ and open but “ you smiled “ no he’s not—I understand the confusion you must be going through right now but its just miscommunication from your classmates—which leads me to wonder—please tell me what’s your name ? i’ve never seen you before and I bet your not aware of who I am either so introductions could help both of us out here “

“ oh uh i’m niccolo” the girl shook her head softly and wearily as you pulled back quickly

“ mm niccolo— niccolo “ you spoke rubbing the same hand youd just shook niccolos with down your shirt causing your boyfriend to smile to himself and his eyebrows to raise at all the knowing looks from his teammates about the shit storm he’d just put into motion as he planted a small innocent kiss to your forehead while winking to his teammates behind you

“ never heard of it you must be a first year ? “ your boyfriends head shook slightly as he looked to the floor thinking about how that might have been a little bit rude considering she was just a young girl maybe 16 at most.

His mind rolling with thoughts of maybe cutting the game he was playing short because of her age only for him to side eye you and take a sip from his water bottle again ‘ nah they’ve got it ‘

“ oh y-yes i’m new here—i’ve taken the phrase first year a bit too literal “ she joked smile seeming to be forced her hands twitching in nervousness

“ mm — I never would’ve thought “ you spoke sarcastically. Almost every first year knew not to talk to tendou after a game not unless you were down there already.

The both of you had established that as soon as the game is over your the only person who gets to say congratulations to him first since he explained that it means more to him to know that you’ll always be there no matter what he does

no matter if he wins or loses he’ll get to walk off that court and the first thing he sees is the person he loves most with their hands out waiting for a hug. he’s told you that in the moment he wants to feel like your the only one watching because it’s a private game played for you because he believes your so lucky to get to see your smoking hot boyfriend do blocks.

“ oh thank you no ones ever told me that I look older before may I ask why you thin— “

“ because your dum— “

“ haha um “ tendou stretched before speaking again “ because your just really pretty for a first year “ your body went rigid you almost felt like you couldn’t feel anything not even the heat that was radiating off your body

“ aw thank you so much that means a lot y/n was it? “ she smiled genuinely before laughing “ tendous so nice i’m really glad I came down here first before y’know all the fangirls came down “

she shook her head “ y’know I actually got scared because I thought you were one — I was like ahhhh here comes one of those scary stalker girls “ she laughed “ tendou was telling me not to be afraid since he knew you but I was telling him to be careful when talking to people like you —- once again I thought you were a fan girl so I mean you can’t blame me right?”

Yeah she was screwed this had went too far he was too late

“ y/n “ his voice was warning but you waved him off listening to the girl in front of you her voice sounding so confident and honest believing in everything she was saying. Voice pouring through and mouth still moving almost as if she had no filter

she looked to her feet “I doubt any of them would even have a chance with tendou though because— “

your body roared as she explained her reasoning.

You were only feeling this angry at her words because not only did she call you a tendou fangirl but she explained that even if you were one you would have no chance with him even though that’s actually how you two started dating.

Then for her to turn around and rub it in your face how she got downstairs before you oh god you were gonna have a field day with this little twerp if you didn’t find a way to put her in her place respectfully

“ hey um tendou do you think me and my fellow fan girl here can have some alone time just a small chat “

“ oh wow i’ve never had one of those before “ she smiled as tendou stood still wondering if he’d done the right thing by encouraging all of this or if he should just drop it or maybe even sit down and enjoy it

looking down at you cautiously a slight smirk on his face thinking about your face when he would get the chance to you the truth of the situation but only for it to drop as the girl across from him stole his attention away from you causing him to perk up a bit honestly surprised that she spoke again

Was she suicidal or ?

“ I think he may not be leaving because he isn’t comfortable with you yet—he told me earlier that we could be best friends so , he may listen to me more “ she smiled “ tendou I wanna talk to um —y/n so could you maybe give us some time alone —“ her smiling wider almost as if happy to call him her friend —before speaking “ I wanted to help you out “

‘ holy shit she’s testing my patience’

tendous loud laugh ripped through the gym as he grabbed goshiki and turned the both of them around to walk off words heavy and holding meaning “ yeah I know em’ —I know em’ real well physically and mentally trust me your going to have a bestie number two soon enough “

you watched as your boyfriend went to sit on the bench talking softly with goshiki as he put his hands in his pants pockets not paying attention to you two anymore

“ so wha— “

“ look “ you smiled “ i’m gonna be real sweet about this so we can tie this up in a neat little bow “ you pointed towards tendou

“ ‘m not a fan anymore he’s my boyfriend — we’ve been dating for 3 years now ever since we were first years. I met him through a fan club because he saw the art I drew for their game posters and enjoyed it. I told him I liked how passionate he was about something and how he had his own thing and did it in his own unique way that worked for him and then boom we ended up getting closer—closer then need be sometimes “

you sighed as you moved to close the conversation out “ look just please — I understand your a first year you may not know and that’s ok but ; me and my boyfriend like for me to be the first one who gives him a congratulations at the end of a match he never talks to anyone except his team until I do it — he says it’s like reassurance tht he’s doing good he’s had some stuff happen in the past that just — he needs praise and reminders that he’s doing good with his sport and I supply that he doesn’t want it from anyone else and I don’t want anyone else to give it “

you looked to the girl with sympathy in your eyes hoping you didn’t hurt her feelings she really was just a young kid “ it’s ok to have a crush I had one we all do at a point in our lives but right now your hitting on someone in a secure relationship ok ? start asking first please just to be safe in your future years “

her eyes went wide as she moved to speak “ mm I guess I was wrong “

you shook your head “ wrong ? excuse me for not understanding but wrong how“

“ I uh I assumed you weren’t one of those fan girls and I was wrong I did not mean to get in between your weird obsession just please do not harm him or anything like you guys tend to do “

your body blazed eyes lit up in a hard stare at everyone who now turned to face you hearing the girls loud words

“ again with the fan shit “

“ that is what you guys are called I will not call you his s/o if he does not know you “

“ HES MY BOYFRIEND YOU ASSHOLE “

“ wh— “

“ I tried to be nice to you but your not accepting it it’s like you want me to scream at you “

“ yeah babe she totally does “ tendous smile spreading slowly across his face at the way your hips moved to work with your mouth in showing off your evident pissed off mood

“ I know “ you screamed “ she just wants to make this harder for me “

“ duh “ his tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip eyes falling down to your hands that were clenched so tightly in anger waving around widely your pissed off expression sending heat traveling across his body

“ you have a child’s crush on him and I keep telling you I don’t mind but I explained to you to just be respectful and then you go and disrespect me again“

“ they are very lenient when it comes to crushes on me “

“ thank you baby —I try not to be rude because I myself was once a fan in a club for the team so trust me I understand but everyone is usually respectful I don’t understand how you “

“ she’s just a first year babe you have to explain it to her more “ he smiled thinking up a new way to see how far you would go for him “ like in depth “

“ I DID “

“ no baby you gotta get rough with her “

you turned with your eyebrows furrowed “ like fight “

he smirked at you body shaking at the way you whimpered out the words but moved to put your hair up anyways yet, again putting him first and your cloudy anger ridden mind second

god you were so hot whenever you showed everyone you’d do anything for him “ fuck — yeah baby your doing the right thing —don’t think about it too much “

you shook your head softly as you battled through it in your head tendou always knew how to get a rise out of you and how to make you do what he wanted you to more so for fun.

It didn’t take much for you to listen to him especially when you couldn’t think clearly because he was the only person there who cared for you and anything he did you knew would only be for his own entertainment purposes he’d never have you do anything bad or that put your safety at risk.

when you were angry —and had someone hyping you up and adding fuel onto the fire it was only 10x worse and tendou knew this

“ here y/n baby—let’s take this outside I don’t want you to get hurt by fighting in here come on you can do it out there “

“ tendou you asshole quit encouraging this shit“ semi whispered

“ I do not understand what is going on —i find myself with a loss of knowledge in this situation but I do feel as though tendou is in the wrong it is only a gut feeling “

the girl in front of you trembled at ushijimas voice—before looking to goshiki who held wide eyes as he waved to the girl hesitantly her eyes darting away and back to him eyebrows coming together as she looked around the gym embarrassed “ but he — he didn’t say anything about you—I didn’t know he didnt tell me “

“ wh—what babe — liar I call liar she’s lying baby — pleas— ow “

your head finally clearing up as you listened to his team talk about how much of a prick he was you reaching out and grabbing the top of his ear and bringing it down to your height while he screamed out in pain “ BECAUSE HES AN ASSHOLE “

“ hey baby I’m sorry i’m sorry but that’s — thats “ his hair went down to cover his face as he looked at you “ thats not cool “

“ I — I didn’t know “

“ but I told you twice “

“ and I — I haven’t had the best experienc— “ her bottom lip trembled before she took off crying when she met the young boys eyes behind her.

Goshiki shaking softly eyes lit up in confusion before he shook his head and pulled himself away from the embarrassing situation to run after her your boyfriend moving to wrap his arms around your waist from the back “ your so hot “

“ but I “

“ you were wrong though so I see looks don’t always pair up with smarts “

“ huh “

“ she wasn’t hitting on me “

“ but she “

“ she has a crush on goshiki this is her first time attending a volley’ game and she accidentally came down the wrong way so it landed her down here faster than everyone else”

your body stiffened “ she only ended up talking to me because I was going into the hallway towards the locker rooms when she for some reason was coming down the opposite way crying to me about how she was lost “

“ then you — you two were talking abo— “

“ she’s a bit fragile —- and she was explaining it and I saw how we were the same because she’s had a hard past too so she’s a bit wary around others—and hates confrontation due to drama at ‘er old school and she doesn’t know much of the people here because she’s a first year also she doesn’t talk much which kinda threw me off when she started having full conversations with you and trying her best to connect with you“ he shrugged “ must’ve thought you were cool —wanted to be your friend or some shit”

he smiled proudly at the fact that you could make people other than himself feel that comfortable around you him peppering kisses all around your face “ she was telling me how she thought goshiki was hot and when I brought up that I was his amazingly beautiful senpai she just wanted me to introduce her to him — she said she’s afraid of people and fangirls because she hasn’t had the best experiences with them she explained one time in middle school she got a bento box thrown at her because a guy from the volleyball team said hi to her “

your body immediately dropped “ you knew her whole life story and then some and let me embarrass myself “

“ well honestly you both did you just a bit more than her “

oikawa

he would praise you so much the whole time. He has fangirls and he loves when you show him why your more important than them. he loves for you to stop him and put them in their place while showing him his own.

He knows it’s not right to flirt with other girls but the excitement and pure happiness he gets when he watches you fight for him with such passion similar to his own for volley he loves it

“ oikawa ~~” A small voice called out before tucking a strand of hair behind their ear “ can we maybe get some photos ? “

holy shit it’s like everyday at this point

“ baby can I ? “

“ just go “ his eyes darted to the group before he looked back at you “ really —swear i’ll be right behind you pretty boy “

He smiled before running off to the group grabbing the pen someone held out for him and writing all over the billions of notepads girls waved in front of his face.

You knew it looked wrong for him to have a s/o and still entertain other girls or guys for that matter but, you knew oikawa. You knew exactly how he felt about them it wasn’t that he was interested or liked them it was that he liked their comments

he liked the attention.

He was someone who needed constant praise to feel like he was doing his best. Hearing all the cheers , all of the shouts of his name, seeing the signs and people that would come to games specifically for him only made him feel like he was human like he was real and talented—appreciated

You would never take that away from him you could never, when you two started dating you explained to him you knew how important his fans were to him and as long as he kept a certain line that couldn’t be crossed— that he would always come back to you. Everything would be ok.

You slowly walked up behind him leaving space for people to have a hard time differentiating if you were apart of the crowd or with him but you were still close enough to hear the whispers of how hot he was and honestly he was.

He had the muscles—the beautifully glowing skin that others around you two dreamed of and to put a topping on the cake he was still sporting his ruffled hair from his earlier game. He was your dream man and you were lucky to even be able to stare at him behind closed doors or at least that’s what he told you whenever you walked into his room.

“ oikawa-san “

“hmm “ he spoke staring down on the girl that reached out to grab his arm as he was turning to leave

“ could I talk to you please “

his eyes darted to find yours locking on them when he finally found them. His mouth now moving to mouth a question as you shook your head lightly you’d give him five more minutes he deserved it and you wanted him to feel like he’d done a good job at his game today ,which he really did do, him only going back to the girl in front of you two

“ oh well I really wanna — i’m supposed to —“ he sighed out before he collected himself “ I want to take my s/o home before it gets too late I don’t want them walking alone at night “

“ oh s/o “ her voice dropped as he shook his head up and down “ correct of 2 years “

“ oh my um congratulations— to many more to many more with many more “ she rushed out quickly reaching in her backpack

“ thank you our anniver— “

“ could we get a picture “

he sighed before his smile spread only growing into a fake one lips going tight on his face “ yes of course just one i’d like to get on the ro— “

His breathing stopped as he felt the girl next to him lay her lips on his. The click of the camera making his eyes go wide as he shook. Oikawa to most wasnt one who was as submissive as he was with you. He was a bit more ‘ manly ‘ to other people but around you he always fell into submission especially when he knew he fucked up

His eyes slowly moved to find yours that flaming as you stared down the girl in front of him . You leaning against the wall only making him feel a shiver move down his spine.

Had he fucked up that badly that you weren’t even moving.

He kept looking between you and the girl in front of him eyes trying to convey his thoughts as they screamed

‘ look y/n she’s still talking to me — at this point she’s fucking with me not the other way around ‘

His mind went blank as you walked over your face made up into a stoic one voice coming out monotoned devoid of annoyance or any feeling at all “ your lips must be magnets or some shit“

“ excuse me “

“ oh no it’s just that Insee you’ve put your lips on my boyfriend“ your eyes creased at the girl before looking up and down in curiosity “ so I was just wondering if your big mouth was hiding a magnet or something — anything really to explain why you would put your dirty ass mouth on my rather pristine boyfriend “

Pristine ? his body went upright standing a bit taller ‘ hell yeah i’m pristine keep em coming babe ‘

“ are you not going to apologize ? “

“ I uh “ her eyes went up into sadness and fear as the courage that once swirled through her left upon seeing your emotionless stare. She’d just kissed your boyfriend and you looked like you were walking dogs or doing an everyday house chore “ i’m sor—sorry “

“ oh not to me “ you let out a small head nod over to oikawa “ I meant him “

“ oh oh um yes “ she coughed before she made eye contact with oikawa whos eyes were creasing as he stared down on the frail girl before him

“ i’m sorry “

“ no go on take your time “

“ i apologize that “

“ really I know it’s hard to apologize to someone as pristine as me“ your boyfriend moved to nudge you softly “ isn’t that right y/n“ he spoke as he tried and failed to wink down at you

“ uh yeah babe um “ you shook your head as your eyebrows furrowed before you returned to your earlier self “ wait what oikawa stop playing and fix this shit “

“ oh uh “ he straightened himself up at your words “ what were you suppose to be saying again “

“ oh I just wanted to um “ she turned to make eye contact with you before jumping a bit and turning away squeaking out her words “ i’m sorry for hitting on you knowing that you had a s/o “

“ oh ok that’s it? ” his body sulked as he looked to the floor

“ that’s it ? — you don’t care that she hit on you asshole“ you slapping his arm harshly before he whimpered at the contact

“ what’s wrong baby “ your hand came up to rub his back and arm while he pouted turning away from the both of you

“ I just wanted her to she was sorry “

“ ‘kawa she did we can go home now “

“ no she didn’t say it the way I wanted her to “

your hands fell from him as you let out a huff of air before turning to the girl in front of you and moving to whisper in her ear as she sat confused unmoving In her spot before smiling softly and speaking uncomfortably and regretting her decision to ask the male out

“ oikawa “ she coughed his eyes looking over at her while still holding up his dramatic show “ I just wanted to say i’m sorry for hitting on your s/o’s “

Her eyebrows furrowed before she looked to you who was mouthing the words and shaking her head in an ok motion “ pretty boy —“ he perked up at the words “I will never hit on someone of your elegantly pure , flawlessly clean , stature ever again “

Yes he made her embarrass herself by asking for more kind uplifting words more so to make himself feel better than for you. All the while he enjoyed the praise he received from not only the person he loved but the person he didn’t.

528 notes · View notes

eloves-writes · 3 years

Text

a failed attempt to hate you

(tristan dugray)

a/n: i can only apologise if this writing is terrible, i wrote most of this in the middle of the night hopped up on medication for my disgusting cold. i hope it makes sense. anywho thanks for reading, enjoy, mwah <3

screw mr medina for making you help tristan study. you knew he knew from rory your inherent disdain for him, and it wasn’t your fault he was falling behind therefore not your responsibility to help him (as you had told mr medina last tuesday, with no effect). it was now sunday morning and you held little hope he would actually show up this time; he had somehow managed to cancel on your little study date 6 times already and it had only been 5 days since you were handed this apparently mammoth task. honestly, you didn’t expect him to show up at all, especially not anytime before noon- for which reasons you had made the decision put on your usual lazy sunday morning reading in bed get-up, which included (but was not limited to) an oversized rock concert shirt rory’s friend lane had given you in an attempt to clear her closet of non-christian attire, nothing but underwear underneath since you wouldn’t plan on leaving the comfort of your bedsheets for many hours, and a loose silk scrunchie you accidentally stole from rory keeping your hair out of your eyes.

your book of choice today was ‘harry potter and the goblet of fire’ , the most recently released chapter of the boy wizard’s adventures at hogwarts. the clock beside you read 9:15 as you comfied yourself for a morning of magic and adventure, which naturally was ended a mere 8 minutes later at 9:23 when the doorbell rang downstairs. you assumed your mother would answer it, but when it rang a second time you remembered your parents had both gone out to watch your sibling’s soccer match and you’d have to get it yourself.

it didn’t even cross your mind to put pants on, or that it may not be the postman at the door, until you opened it to see your very favourite chilton student whose eyes had hastily wandered to your bare legs. typical high school boy, you thought to yourself before your brain actually grasped the situation and kick started into action.

‘tristan. hi.’ you said with a slight shock in your voice.

‘erm, hi. i hope i’m not interrupting anything,’ he smirked, glancing down at your thighs again.

you rolled your eyes so aggressively you hoped mr medina could hear it from wherever he was spending his day, irritating boy-less and free to do whatever he wanted with his time.

‘you’re not,’ you quipped. ‘i just didn’t expect you to actually show up this time. and early may i add, i’m sure we said 11.’

‘we did, but i’ve got plans later so i thought i’d come by earlier and get this over with.’

‘how did you know i didn’t have plans? i might have been busy before 11.’

he pulled a face of amusement and you could swear you saw a hint of sarcasm shining through his eyes too. ‘right. are you done talking now or can i come in?’

‘you can come in, i guess,’ you sighed, closing the door behind him and showing him to the kitchen table. ‘wait here, i’ll go and get my books.’

‘grab some pants whilst you’re at it.’

‘stop talking,’ you called as you walked upstairs.

you came back downstairs a few minutes later fully-clothed and carrying your english notes to see that tristan had wandered from the chair you specifically remembered telling him to sit in, and was instead tracing a finger along the bookcase that stretched across the far wall of your living room. for a moment you just watched him nosey into your life; the framed certificates, the family photos, the 5 tapes of ‘beauty and the beast’ stacked atop of each other because it was your favourite film when you were 9 and practically every living relative had bought you a copy. beside those was a picture of you dressed as princess belle at disneyworld with chocolate ice cream smeared from cheek to cheek, a huge smile plastered between. tristan picked it up and turned to face you.

‘thoroughly adorable. seriously, you should go for this look more often.’

‘ha ha,’ you grimaced, snatching it off him and placing it back on the shelf. ‘are we studying or reminiscing on my past fashion choices?’

‘oo, someone’s in a good mood this morning huh,’ he teased. you pulled another face, once again silently cursing mr medina for completely ruining not just your day, but in fact your whole week. by god this boy got more irritating the more time you spent with him- it had only been 10 minutes, but it was 10 minutes longer than you ever previously had or ever wanted to.

‘can i get a drink before we start?’ he asked, redirecting the conversation and walking past you back into the kitchen. he began opening various cupboards, searching for a glass. ‘where’s the-’

‘why yes, tristan. you can have a drink,’ you snarked, opening the cupboard behind him with a dramatic flourish. he raised his eyebrows at you and reached forward to grab a glass, leaning over you as he did so. you caught a whiff of his cologne and almost forgot to dislike him for a moment.

‘there’s, um, soda in the ... fridge,’ you told him, voice unwillingly faltering as he looked down to meet your eyes. he had pretty eyes. pretty, blue, sparkling, stupid, annoying, asshole eyes.

you found the thick tension sickening. you refused to be another girl at school who simply swooned over him when he walked past your locker. you didn't like him. you were here to teach him english. because he was dumb. and actually, his eyes weren’t that nice.

he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and you both sat down at the table and began reading through your analysis of ‘to kill a mockingbird’, adamantly pretending not to see him staring at you the whole time.

why? he had had every popular and pretty girl in the whole of chilton, how was he ever so starved of female attention that he would look at you so admirably when you liked to make it clear you despised him? in fact, you enjoyed making a special effort to flip him off, or pull a face at him when he walked by, or kick his chair extra hard in spanish, or... oh shit. you had seen it from an outside point of view now, and it was glaringly obvious; maybe you did like him, just a little bit. shit. rory owed lorelai 10$ and a cheeseburger from luke’s, though you didn’t want to have to admit she was right when she’d said you were like a kindergarten boy pulling a girl’s ponytails because he thought she was pretty.

‘hey tristan,’ you started, breaking the comfortable silence between his questions and suddenly nervous to talk to him. stupid, it was still the exact same boy you’d been complaining about all week, nothing new.

he looked up from your notes. ‘what’s up princess?’

that was definitely new.

‘don’t call me princess’ -he smirked irritatingly- ‘do you need to stay much longer? i mean, is there anything else you want help with?’

‘trying to get rid of me?’

‘no! no. i just thought that you’d only stay and pretend to listen to me for like, half an hour then vanish. it’s 11:30 and you’ve been through my whole binder.’

‘it is? time flies.’

‘tristan.’

‘i do care about my grades, you know. and you’re a good teacher, i might have a chance at an A.’

‘why didn't you show up the last 6 times we planned then?’

he put down his pen- your pen, actually. it had pink sparkles on the lid. ‘got to keep up my street cred.’

‘ha ha. funny,’ you replied as blankly as possible, pulling back a smile you could feel in your stomach. you made eye contact again and, like every other time since you’d sat down and started studying, you held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary. funny how realising you like someone makes you suddenly act like it.

‘i should get going then right,’ he said, picking his jacket from the back of his chair.

you felt weird, almost as if you didn't want him to leave after praying earlier he wouldn't show up. alas, your parents would be home soon and you would be willing to bet money that tristan would have some interesting jokes about your being home alone that would not slide with your dad.

‘yeah. i hope you get that A,’ you said, accidentally smiling as you walked him to the door.

tristan turned to lean on the frame of the now-open door and put on a face of mock surprise. ‘my, my, y/n. was that a kind comment and a smile? you’re spoiling me.’

‘shut up, i hope you fail.’

he smiled back. ‘you really mean that?’

‘i guess not.’

there was yet another beat of heavy silence.

‘see you monday.’

you closed the front door as he walked down the drive, but noticed tristan’s car keys still sat on the kitchen table. a porsche, of course. you picked them up and reopened the door to his fist poised to knock. the two of you laughed awkwardly for a second.

‘i forgot my-’

‘you forgot your-’

another awkward laugh. jesus christ this was uncomfortable. you passed him the keys, and with absolutely no warning at all, your lips were suddenly met with his. they were soft and confident, and his free hand held your face as you tried to process the new situation. you quickly melted into the kiss, letting him take control until he pulled away and smiled that sparkly smile you didn't hate as much as you tried to.

‘didn't see that one coming,’ you said breathily, brushing some loose hairs off of your face.

‘i knew you didn’t hate me.’

‘ever the arrogant twat.’

‘hey, does this mean you’ll stop kicking my chair in spanish?’

‘absolutely not. in fact, i think i’ll kick it harder.’

‘as long as you let me do that again.’

tags: @leossmoonn for inspiring me to start writing again, @account123445 & @lmaoidekanymore6 for asking me to post tristan fics! (couldn’t figure out how to make the tags work but if you read this, you know ✨)

#tristan dugray #tristan gilmore girls #chad michael murray #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fic #gilmore girls fanfiction #can't think of anymore tags so i'll just hope this does ok on its own

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too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years

Text

just this once pt.4

a/n: shes LORGE

Word Count: 5,031

Warnings: smut implications, canon typical violence, mentions of blood, non-graphic assassination

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“You gonna cum for me, Talia?”

“Need another mission?” Nick asked, shaking Natasha out of a memory. Her eyes darted around for a split second and noted that the meeting was over.

She had missed the last half of the briefing.

“No,” Natasha shook her head, immediately getting up and attempting to rush out past Nick.

“Well that’s a shame,” Nick continued, moving to the doorway and completely blocking Natasha’s retreat. “I needed a legendary assassin to accompany a local fish.”

“Not a fish,” Natasha replied, far too quick for her to stop herself.

“Funny, that’s the exact same thing she said,” Nick said with a smile before crossing his arms over his chest.

Natasha knew she had lost; she hadn’t really had any hope that she would win anyway. If Nick wanted her to do something, she was going to end up doing it, and that was that. She motioned her head for him to walk with her, and his smile grew. Asshole.

“I need you to take out a target,” Nick said as if there had never been any lull in the conversation.

“Who?” Natasha asked. They reached the elevator and she pressed the button to go up to the gym. Nick pressed the button for his office.

“Jake Porter.” He handed a manila folder to Natasha. It was heavy.

“Says he’s SHIELD?” Natasha asked as she quickly flipped through page after page.

“He is,” Nick nodded, looking down at Natasha. “He’s also the snitch from your last mission.”

Natasha nodded, trying to ignore some vital parts of that mission. She had managed to avoid you for a few months again, but she should have known better than to think it would have lasted forever. It seemed almost as if the world was conspiring against her.

“If it’s a hit, why is Y/N going?” Natasha asked, slamming the manila folder closed as aggressively as possible. It ended up just folding back over at an embarrassingly slow pace.

“He’s hiding in an underwater safe house.”

Of course he is.

“When do we leave?” Natasha asked as the elevator doors opened to Nick’s floor.

“In two hours,” Nick said as he walked forward, not even caring enough to look back.

Natasha sighed once the elevator doors slid shut again. A knot formed in her throat and stuck, forcing her to focus on each individual breath. Something was trying to claw it’s way out of her chest; she could only keep it at bay for so long. There would be hell to pay if it ever came forward.

“Is that not cannibalism?”

“No, it’s lunch.”

The voices pushed past the elevator doors before they were fully open, and Natasha couldn’t help the small smile that graced her lips. Both you and Yelena were sitting at the bar, trays of sushi and cups of tea in front of you. Your mouth was full and you weren’t even looking at Yelena, yet she continued to raise her brow at you in disbelief.

“You’re a fish, that’s fish. It’s cannibalism,” Yelena continued, but you shook your head and picked up another piece.

“Not a fish,” Natasha replied for you. The corner of your mouth tilted up and there was a slight shift in your gills, but Yelena just rolled her eyes.

“You two are disgusting,” Yelena mumbled to herself. “Shouldn’t you be planning a honeymoon or something?”

The room went cold. Your head tilted down until you were hunched over your sushi, picking the pieces apart with your chopsticks. There was a tenseness to your jaw that had to have been painful, but it didn’t ease up. Yelena shifted in her seat and looked down at the ground.

“It’s on hold,” Natasha shrugged, desperately wanting to get off the topic.

“Oh right,” Yelena nodded, already back to her usual demeanour. “You’ve got cold feet.”

“I don’t- I don’t have cold feet,” Natasha took a slight step back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Life is just busy.”

“Busy as in you don’t want to-”

“Did you down here for a reason?” You asked, throwing Natasha and Yelena off of their argument. You were still meticulously picking the sushi apart, rice grain by rice grain.

“We’ve got a mission,” Natasha said curtly. “We leave in two hours.”

“Okay,” you said as you stood up from the bar, towering over Natasha for only a moment before walking off. “See you then.”

“Why do they always leave me to clean up their mess,” Yelena groaned, and Natasha turned to see the mess of your sushi.

Instead of answering, Natasha just gave Yelena a wink and walked away. She has a mission to get ready for.

———

“Can you please turn the fucking heater on?” You shouted from the back for what had to have been the 12th time in the past 10 minutes. The pilot ignored you.

“If you’re cold, put on a jacket,” Natasha repeated. Your sigh could have been heard all the way back in New York.

But when she glanced up, she felt a knot form in her throat. Your thermal suit was clearly not doing anything for you as you pulled what looked to be a third jacket over your shaking shoulders. Blood was showing under your cheeks, and your gills were pulled in tight.

“There’s a space heater in the safe house,” Natasha said softly. You finally looked up and met her eyes.

As soon as your eyes narrowed in on her, she felt time stop. A heat started in her cheeks and spread to her neck and chest. It was as if you were looking into her, so deep that you could find the parts of her she didn’t even know about. Something about that look, something that dug into her core and left her feeling empty as soon as you looked away.

“I’ll freeze to death before then,” you mumbled before tearing your gaze away; you tore a hole through Natasha’s heart in the process.

For the rest of the flight, the only noise was the sound of your chattering teeth. It echoed through the quinjet and Natasha felt the beginning pangs of a migraine popping up in her head. If you didn’t stop soon, she was going to be driven into a homicidal rage.

“Hovering in five,” the pilot finally yelled out, and Natasha stood up quickly with the hopes that the faster she moved, the faster she could get away from the incessant staccato clacking of your teeth.

You stood up after a moment, standing far enough away from Natasha that she couldn’t feel your warmth. But you were still close enough for her to notice the shakiness spreading down your limbs. The way your harpoon jingled on your belt as your body was wracked with the occasional spasm. And yet you put on a brave face and braced for the mission.

“My mask has an hour of oxygen,” Natasha said, already pulling said mask onto her face. “Think we can finish by then?”

“Sh-shouldn’t t-take that long,” you stuttered, teeth shivering between words. “Short d-dive.”

“Opening the cargo door,” the pilot yelled, and just as he said, the cargo door opened and you both stared out into the dark, icy water.

“Age before beauty,” Natasha teased as she gestured out at the water.

“Very f-funny,” you chattered again, but followed her direction and stepped off the cargo door and into the freezing water below.

Natasha was quick to follow suit, wanting to get the dreadful part over as quickly as possible. The very instant her feet touched the water, a painful shock travelled across her skin, sinking deep into her bones. Her fingers reacted slowly when she tried to clench her fist.

“Let’s go,” you said through your comms, and Natasha managed to see you just in time before you disappeared into the inky darkness.

It was like Natasha was swimming through jello. No matter how much she willed her limbs to move, her body to keep going, it seemed she slowed down with each stroke. The water around her started to close in, each breath drawing the pressure closer. Her lungs were on fire and her heart was pounding too hard and the darkness was closing in and she needed out.

There was the whisper of a touch on her arm before she felt herself being yanked upward, finally soaring through the water like she had wanted. In a heartbeat the water released her, the pressure disappearing far faster than it had appeared. She yanked her mask off and inhaled deeply, ignoring the way her lungs screamed at her to stop.

“Trying to get yourself killed?” You asked, and Natasha finally took notice of your hand wrapped around her bicep.

“It was too dark,” Natasha replied, her tongue feeling heavy and slow.

“You didn’t answer the comms,” you continued, “I thought you had gotten lost.”

There was venom to your words. Natasha looked up and managed to calm her shaking enough to see the fire in your eyes, the clenching of your jaw, the freshly picked spots on your bottom lip. Your hand was gripped tight enough that if Natasha had any circulation left in her arm, it would’ve been cut off.

And she didn’t care.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Natasha said, finally yanking her arm out of your grasp. “You stay here for the getaway.”

You nodded and jumped back into the moon pool, already nothing more than a memory. Natasha wasn’t sure if she liked that or not. She shook her head and took off down the corridor, already on the hunt for her target.

It was easy. Far too easy. He was in his room, door unlocked, music far too loud for him to hear anyone come in. A single shot to the back of the head, and the mission was over. Now all she really needed to do was head back to the moon pool and then you could both get to the safe house and warm up.

Except for the small, itty bitty insignificant fact that the base was set to self destruct once Porter’s vitals stopped.

As soon as the sirens started to echo through the base, Natasha was sprinting down the halls. She didn’t know how much time was left, didn’t care, she just needed the both of you to get as far away as possible before you were stuck in the rubble. Natasha turned the last corner and saw you standing on the edge of the moon pool.

“A little faster, please?” You yelled, grabbing Natasha’s arm and pulling her into the water, giving her barely enough time to pull her oxygen mask back on.

You didn’t let go of her arm as you started cutting through the water. She could feel the blood pulling back from her limbs and pooling back in her core, and she felt like dead weight. Your momentum slowed as you pulled her up and wrapped your arm around her waist.

But then the muffled sirens stopped, and you both turned around just in time to see a flash. Natasha’s body wouldn’t react, just felt like lead as you pulled her closer, curling up around her until she was completely covered in you. The distorted explosion reached Natasha’s ears just as she felt the shock wave propel you both further away.

The spinning seemed to last forever, and Natasha felt like even her brain was spinning along with the rest of her body. She didn’t know when it stopped, couldn’t tell when you were still. It was impossible to tell what was up, down, where the surface was, how deep she was, how close she was to death.

Until you pulled away slightly and looked at her.

Natasha went to take a breath and immediately felt freezing water shoot down her throat. She cut the breath off as quickly as possible, but it was too late. The water was deep in her lungs, freezing each individual cell from the inside out. She didn’t have an oxygen mask anymore.

There was a split second where your eyes met hers, and they almost seemed to turn black before she felt your free hand close her nose. She was about to push you away when she felt your lips on hers, cold and chapped. You pulled her closer and teased her lips open, and she didn’t fight it. If she was about to die, then at least she would die happy.

And then you exhaled, and her lungs inflated and felt just a little lighter, and the darkness inched away.

You pulled your mouth away and started swimming again, presumably heading up though Natasha couldn’t tell anymore. Every few seconds you would exhale more oxygen into her lungs, keeping her alive as you dragged both of your freezing bodies back to safety.

As soon as you broke the surface, Natasha gasped and filled her lungs with fresh air before coughing the water back out. She was freezing, her limbs felt like lead, and her body was aching from the inside out. And yet you continued to pull her along, swimming to shore until you could pull her up with you.

The rocks on the shore poked into her suit, leaving bruises that would grow very quickly once she got back to the safe house. You laid on the shore too, back down, small pebbles sticking to your gills. From the way they twitched, it was clearly uncomfortable, if not painful.

You both stayed there, laying in the freezing tide, rocks and pebbles sticking into your skin to the point where you would both be recovering for weeks. Natasha’s eyes wanted to close; sleep seemed to wonderful and it would have been so easy. You could both just sleep and not hurt anymore.

But death was not in the cards, and Natasha wasn’t going to let a little cold win.

She rolled onto her stomach slowly, as fast as her body would allow, before pushing herself up to her knees and then her feet. It was painful; her body felt heavy and little pinpricks were on every inch of her skin. But she wasn’t going to think about it. Instead, she grabbed your arm and yanked you up, ignoring the gasps and hisses that you let out.

“Two miles left,” Natasha mumbled; her lips felt frozen shut.

The walk was slow; neither of you had the energy nor the warmth to make decent time. You both stumbled, tripping over your own feet, or the rocks, or the uneven terrain. But eventually you made it, right as the sun was at its highest point in the sky and Natasha almost felt the ghost of warmth in her cheeks.

“Sit down,” Natasha demanded as she threw the door open. She didn’t bother looking back before moving to grab the space heater and put it directly in front of the couch.

Your eyes were dead; they didn’t shine the way they were supposed to. Your hands kept a death grip on the blankets pulled tight over your shoulders. The shakiness in your body had disappeared, now completely still. It felt like a hole was punched through Natasha’s chest, grabbing her heart and ripping it out.

She sat on the sofa opposite you and just watched you. Hoping that you would move, that you would blink, that you would start shivering again. She didn’t know how long it normally took you to warm back up, didn’t know how long it would take for you to get back to normal. But she did know the word you had used for this condition before; you were torpid.

It felt like hours later, but Natasha’s eyes shot back to your face once she heard a wheezy gasp come from you. Your eyes looked glassy, but you blinked once, slowly, before a shiver wracked your body. Just one. But that was enough for Natasha to feel the vice grip around her throat release.

The ringing of the safe house phone made you both jump.

“Romanoff,” Natasha answered, her eyes travelling back to you.

“You’re safe?” Maria asked through the phone.

“Y/N’s torpid, but we’re secure,” Natasha said curtly. Her pulse was starting to increase.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maria asked again.

No. No, Natasha wasn’t sure.

“I’m good,” Natasha replied anyway, “just ready to get out of here.”

“About that…”

“Don’t say it,” Natasha mumbled. She leaned against the wall and let her head fall back.

“A storm is rolling in and we won’t get to you in time,” Maria continued anyway. “You’re stuck there for a few days.”

Natasha looked over to you again, noting the rise and fall of your shoulders as you slowly, painfully pulled another blanket over your body, this time covering your head. The flush hadn’t come back to your cheeks yet, but you were moving. She could work with that.

“Will we keep power?” Natasha asked, although she already knew the answer.

“Questionable,” Maria answered anyway, “but the generator is in the back room.”

“How much can she manage?”

“She can handle one room. Use her wisely.”

One room. Not enjoyable, but manageable.

“Keep the phone plugged in?” Natasha asked.

“Preferably,” Maria answered, the sound of a smile coming through the phone. “I’d like to talk to you every now and then.”

“Then it’ll be ready,” Natasha replied with her own small smile. She missed Maria. She missed her a lot.

“I’ll try to call after the storm hits, test out the line,” Maria continued.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, then,” Natasha continued.

“You two are disgusting,” you called from the sofa, and Natasha was brought back to the current situation.

Right.

“Go check on the fish,” Maria sighed, “and keep yourselves warm.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha teased.

She stood up and hung up the phone before turning to check on you. You were shivering steadily, and your eyes were looking around. There was the faintest blush to your cheeks and forehead and your lips were looking slightly less chapped.

“W-what’s the w-word, bird?” You asked, looking up to meet her eyes.

“We’re stuck for a few days,” Natasha sighed as she sat on the sofa opposite you. Unlike you, she could heat up quickly. Now the cold was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“So basically,” you started, “they’re leaving me to die.”

“No one is leaving you to die,” Natasha huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Yes they are.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Natasha shook her head. “You have every blanket in the house wrapped around you, how are you not warming up?”

“Because I can’t warm up like that and you know it,” you groaned before falling back against the mountain of blankets.

“I’m not putting up with this right now,” Natasha said, all concern from earlier gone. “Give me a blanket, I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Take the one off the top,” you pouted, “it’s not helping much anyway.”

Natasha walked over and grabbed the blanket you had mentioned, pretending not to notice the ice and pebbles still currently sticking to your gills. You looked absolutely miserable, and she felt a pang in her chest at the sight of your shivering frame.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, instead just turning around and heading off to the one bedroom. She was going to get some sleep if it was the last thing she did.

Or so she thought.

Natasha woke up to darkness and a cold starting to seep through the blanket and her thermals. She planted her feet on the freezing floor and took a deep breath, not really prepared for the fact that the power was out, and she was going to need to watch you at all times to make sure you genuinely didn’t die.

She grabbed her blanket and the two pillows off the bed and made her way to the living room. There was a flickering glow on the walls, and she walked in to see you sitting in front of the space heater and a fire. The generator was more quiet than she had expected, but it still released a constant thrum throughout the safe house.

“When did-” Natasha cut herself off, her eyes having locked onto the bloody gauze and minuscule shrapnel pieces littering the floor.

“About three hours ago,” you replied, either ignoring her hesitation or not caring. “You were out for about seven.”

“Did Maria call?” Natasha asked, trying to walk around you without seeming obvious.

“Yeah,” you nodded. Natasha could see your eyes focused on your abdomen, shaky hands moving deftly. “Said the storm would last for about two day from the time she called.” You looked up with a raised brow. “And that she loves you.”

Natasha finally got a good look at what you had been doing while she was asleep. A jagged piece of metal was sticking out of the left side of your abdomen. There were numerous blood spots on the remainder of your suit, and some bloody tweezers and towels were on the floor in front of you.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, eyes still zeroed in on your side.

“From the blast,” you shrugged before looking back down to continue picking shrapnel out of your skin.

The blast? Natasha hadn’t gotten any kind of injury from the situation, aside from a headache and maybe some oxygen deprivation, but she didn’t recall anything hitting her. Why had it hit-

Oh.

Oh of course.

She was torn. She wanted to help, was desperate to fix you up so you wouldn’t hurt or bleed. But it would have been crossing a line; you never wanted anyone’s help. On top of that, anyone’s hands on your skin made you uncomfortable.

But you were doing such a bad job.

“Give it to me,” Natasha said. She held her hand out as she sat down beside you, already using her other hand to start taking the blankets off of your shoulders.

You huffed and started grumbling to yourself, but handed the tweezers over anyway. She finally made it down to your skin and found the true culprit of the metal sticking out of your side; an entry wound on your back, near your left shoulder.

“You pushed it forward so you could reach it, didn’t you?” Natasha asked as she got to work on the piece, picking smaller pieces out as she found them.

“Does it matter?” You asked. Natasha didn’t answer, instead just pushing the piece out of your skin and ignoring the hiss of pain you sent her way.

“Hand me the first aid kit,” Natasha demanded. You grumbled again but did as you were told.

It was quick work patching you back up; your low blood pressure was very beneficial in the moment, and she wasn’t worried about you bleeding out before you could get back to the tower. You wouldn’t be comfortable, but at least you would be safe.

Once she was sure you weren’t going to ooze through the gauze, Natasha gathered the bloody articles and got up to throw them away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see you pulling the blankets back over your shoulders, wincing every now and then when you twisted the wrong way.

When Natasha got back and sat down on the sofa, she just watched you. Watched your slowed breathing, the occasional shiver, the inaudible groan when you shifted. You looked miserable, but at least you were breathing and talking.

“I’m bored.”

Maybe she didn’t like that you were talking.

“Then you’re going to have a rough few days,” Natasha answered.

“But I’m bored,” you whined. “Help me not be bored.”

“You’re an adult, find something to do,” Natasha shot back. She got up and walked over to the bookshelf, leafing through things that she knew she wasn’t going to read, but was hoping it would give you the idea to find something.

“If I get too bored then I’ll die,” you sighed. “Do you want me to die?”

Natasha turned her head slowly and raised her brow at you.

“How dare you,” you whispered.

She turned her head back to the bookshelf so you wouldn’t see the smile desperately trying to show on her face. Your sounds of indignation continued to reach her ears, so she hurriedly picked the next book her fingers touched and walked back to the couch.

You both sat in silence for a while, and Natasha actually managed to get some reading done. She had no idea what the story was actually about, but that didn’t matter. All that really mattered was that she was killing time, and if she killed enough time then it would be time for her to go back home and forget any of this had ever happened.

“Nat, I’m bored,” you said again after more silence.

“I already told you to find something to do,” Natasha replied without looking up from her book. “I’m not going to find something for you.”

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself up from the floor. “I’ll do it myself.”

Natasha sighed but let you go. She didn’t look up, but she was still hyper aware of where you were in the safe house. Aware of each step you took, of each cabinet you opened. Just knowing where you were gave her a sense of comfort.

“Wanna play a game?” You shouted from the other side of the safe house.

It was going to be a long few days.

———

“Connect four,” Natasha said as she slid her red chip into place. Again.

“Connect four my ass, you fucking cheater,” you said as you tried to find out just where Natasha had cheated.

“How do you cheat at connect four?” Natasha asked, a smile threatening to show through her facade.

“I don’t know, but you did,” you said, pointing your finger at her. In turn, Natasha just chuckled and took another sip of her vodka.

Two empty bottles were on the kitchen counter.

“I demand a rematch,” you said again, giving her a deathly stare.

“You’ve been saying that for the past 37 matches,” Natasha said simply.

“Fine, then we’ll play another game,” you said quickly. “We’ve got… Clue, Monopoly, Parcheesi.”

“We’ve played all of those, Y/N,” Natasha pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll play them again and again until I win and you stop cheat-”

The sound of the generator shutting down made the both of you fall silent. Almost instantly, Natasha noticed the cold soak into your bones and your body start shaking. Your teeth clattered and you instinctively pulled the blankets tighter.

“That’s not good,” Natasha whispered. Her voice seemed to echo in the now-silent house.

“It’s cold, Talia,” you shivered. You sounded like a scared little kid.

It broke Natasha’s heart.

She didn’t know if it was the butterflies or the alcohol, but she ignored the feeling in her stomach and moved over until she was sitting directly next to you. Her hand lifted the blankets up so she could get under them, and then found her arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you against her.

Your body was tense against her, but it relaxed quickly once you were settled. There was a peace about you that Natasha hadn’t felt in months, since before that mission so long ago. And your body relaxed against hers gave Natasha more peace than she could ever hope to get with anyone else.

“You’re ridiculously warm,” you mumbled from under the blankets.

“It’s a gift,” Natasha teased. You chuckled, but then sat up and switched the positions, pulling Natasha into your lap.

“You’re warmer this way,” you mumbled as you laid your head against her neck. Your breath tickled her skin.

Sitting in your lap was a dangerous place to be.

“We can’t do this,” Natasha said softly.

“We’re still on a mission,” you said, your lips moving against her skin. “It doesn’t count if it’s on a mission.”

“You know that’s not true,” Natasha said. You lifted your head and looked at her.

She could see the flush in your cheeks, going down your neck and tinting your gills. There was a darkness to your eyes, reminiscent of the inky water you two had escaped from. And just like that water, they pulled Natasha in. Pulled her in and held her captive as they engulfed her completely until there was nothing else but her and the water.

“It can be,” you whispered, moving in slowly.

“Don’t kiss me,” Natasha said so softly, her voice more like the ghost of a whisper.

“Say it like you mean it,” you said, now only a fraction of an inch away.

“I can’t,” Natasha whispered around the knot in her throat.

She could feel your breath on her lips, could feel the way your fingers were digging into her thigh and hip. The fire left a warm glow on your face, illuminating the scars, the shaved hair that was starting to grow back in, the sparkle of the inviting water in your eyes.

And Natasha wanted to dive in.

Until the rumble of a quinjet landing nearby shocked her out of her trance. She pushed herself off of your lap, rushing to the door as quickly as possible and throwing it open to see Maria standing on the cargo door.

“Need a lift?” Maria asked over the roar of the quinjet.

“And a medic,” you said, suddenly appearing behind Natasha. You had ditched the blankets and were standing tall, although Natasha could see the slight shake in your hands.

“Lucky for you, we’ve got both,” Maria said with a smile, ushering for the both of you to hop in.

Natasha got in first and looked back to help you in, but you ignored her outstretched hand and crawled in on your own, face scrunched in pain as your wounds pulled. You didn’t look at her when you passed, instead heading straight to the medic and letting him get a look at your injuries.

You ignored Natasha the entire trip home.

Natasha swore everyone on the jet could hear her heart explode the same way the underwater base had.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #my writing

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

Epiphany. Yan Albedo x Reader

Warnings: General yandere themes, implied unhappy previous relationship, and spoilers for Albedo’s story. Word count: 2k.

It wasn’t fair.

A snowstorm, unlike anything you’ve ever seen rages outside, shards of lustrous ice falling from the sky with the intent to kill. The Dragonspine’s traditionally somber ambiance contorts into something far more sinister. Numerous hues of grays and dark blues blur together, obscuring your view of the mountainous region. It’s difficult to see anything outside Albedo’s workshop save for the storm.

“Your shaking won’t stop unless you sit by the fire.”

His matter-of-fact declaration startles you. Albedo hadn’t spoken in some time, his attention devoted to a specimen he had discovered prior to the storm. You would’ve shared in his enthusiasm if not for the overall situation and company. Sighing reluctantly, you stand from your spot, hugging yourself to stave off the biting cold. It’s impossible to settle on which is worse: staring at the blizzard or staring at him.

Albedo’s fair skin glows from the light of the crackling fire, sandy blonde hair tousled around his face without care. As he studies the new specimen, his lips purse, eyes focusing on nothing but the work before him, like nothing else mattered. This is how you’ve always known him to be. Even if the world was falling apart around him, Albedo would never falter from what catches his interest until he felt sated.

Sensing how you’re fixating on him, his attention flickers briefly to you, an unidentifiable emotion gleaming in his eyes. You’re the one to avert your gaze first. Sucrose is going to owe you majorly for this one, why did you even accept her request in the first place? Thinking about it now and cursing your past self does nothing yet you still occupy the time by doing just that. She had come to you panicked, pleading that you take this letter to Albedo in the Dragonspine, claiming it’s urgent. In the heat of the moment, your judgment lapsed and you caved. She spoke of needing to continue her research in Mondstadt or else she would’ve done it herself.

Look where your goodwill has gotten you now, you think. She owes me a week’s worth of dinner.

You lament giving credence to his advice, but your stubbornness concedes, the cold too miserable to withstand any longer. The fire is right by his side to add insult to injury. Did he do that on purpose to spite you? It’s unlikely, yet your mind wanders to the worst-case scenario. If any other citizen of Mondstadt were privy to your suspicious thoughts, they’d think you unreasonable, as Albedo has established his reputation well. He’s a known eccentric, sure, but a genius one. A few quirks on his behalf that anyone else could overlook.

Quirks that you used to overlook yourself.

“Would you please grab my bag,” he doesn’t look away from his prized sample but motions to the general area it’s in. “I need to write down my observations.”

You follow through with what he asks. There was a time you’d have been over the moon to participate in his process, you used to practically trip over yourself to do anything he needed. That enthusiasm has long died off and been replaced by apathy. It’s when he reaches out to take the bag from you that you snap from your trance-like reverie. Whatever remnants of obedience that lingered in your subconscious are brushed away, as you decide to finally challenge him.

Inhaling sharply, you hold the bag just out of his reach, finally earning his recognition for more than a millisecond.

“I’m not your assistant anymore.” Among other things, you think.

The words come out more childish than you intended. What you had meant to communicate was your new, critical view on him — he’s a person just the same as anyone else — who held no authority over you. You hold your breath awaiting his response. Albedo doesn’t have an intimidating presence, not in the traditional sense. It’s his mind that you’re wary of. There’s no guessing what sentiments run through his head, yet that’s never stopped you from trying to unravel the mystery that is his thought process.

He gives you a long, hard stare. “I’m aware of that.”

Where were you going with this again? Albedo doesn’t need to point out your needlessly spiteful behavior with words, his mildly irate facial expression says it just fine. His thin eyebrows threaten to furrow together and the corners of his lips curl down into a frown. You’re unsure of what bothers him more. What you pointed out, or that his work is being interrupted for even the slightest moment.

The budding confidence you had is all but crushed beneath the weight of his unblinking gaze. Clearing your throat, you decide to take a new approach, straightening your posture in an attempt to be taken more seriously.

“Then tell me, why do you still act like I am?” Your question comes from a genuine place of confusion. Ever since your arrival, you’ve begrudgingly done the odds and ends he’s asked of you, almost like clockwork. You had fallen back into the rhythm that was your life up until a month ago. There was just something about the silent authority he carries that makes it impossible to say no.

That is, until now. You’re determined to clear up the problems that have plagued your mind. Albedo’s had his time to be nonchalant like nothing happened between you two, but you’re not having it anymore.

“Force of habit,” he nods his head towards your hand that holds his possessions captive. “Now, would you please…?”

Your grip tightens and you shake your head defiantly. “No. Or at least, not until you give me a better explanation. Not just about that. How you act in general… none of it makes sense to me.”

It wouldn’t take much effort from his half to wrangle his bag from you, you’ve seen him in action before after all, so it comes as a surprise when he instead gives in. You blink, gaping when he takes a seat by the roaring fire, and motions for you to do the same. An opportunity like this is hard to come by. The past few weeks, it’s been your code of conduct to avoid any interaction with Albedo, but your frustration can no longer be repressed.

You take a seat by his side but intentionally leave some distance.

There’s so much you want to say. Insults, questions, demands, anything. Anything that could give just a hint of closure that he refused to offer himself. It doesn’t help that this familiar area brings memories with it — good and bad alike — painful nostalgia eating away at your heart from the inside out. While you battle with your inner thoughts, he observes you in silence. For a time you hear nothing but the crackling of the fire and wind howling outside.

Finding the courage to speak up, your throat tightens as you force a question out. “Did I… mean so little to you?”

It’s rare that Albedo ever looks taken aback, but your inquiry managed to do just that. His eyes widen ever so slightly, confusion etching onto his face before he manages to compose himself. Lots of intimate discussions had gone this way. You’d spend hours prepping yourself, meticulously going over what it was you wanted to say, only for the words to die on your tongue when you saw him.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He appears genuinely perplexed and you can’t help but feel silly. It may have served you better to think long about this, you realize, but now it’s too late. You rush to explain yourself in hopes of making better sense.

“When I said I wanted to, er, part ways,” you can’t help but cringe at not knowing the proper label for ending whatever was going on between you two, “You just seemed, I don’t know, indifferent…?”

In your head, this went down in such a different way.

Your cheeks are set ablaze by the humiliation his silence brings. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this exact way when bringing up your feelings to Albedo, yet it’s just as awful. Archons, does he always have to look at you like you have three heads?

When he finally gives you an answer, you wish you had never asked.

“I knew you would come back to me eventually.”

Now it’s your turn to give him an incredulous look. He says it without an ounce of hesitation, never once breaking eye contact, his resolve holding firm. Sensing a need to clarify, he attempts to do just that.

“I considered a variety of variables,” he raises his hand and brushes his knuckles over your face, the unexpected tenderness making you shiver. “I know how your mind works very well. When you told me that’s what you wanted, your physical mannerisms didn’t line up with what you were saying.”

Your heart drops but he doesn’t stop there.

“Biological responses never lie. It wasn’t anxiety that kept you from looking me in the eye then, it was reasonable doubt. You know it as well as I do. There’s something about me that you can’t place, and the natural human response to the unknown is caution.”

He stops caressing your cheek. “So, tell me [First], and maybe then you’ll reach the conclusion you’ve been searching for. Why are you afraid of me?”

Everything feels wrong. How he’s whispering such horrifying ideas into your mind, leading the conversation with expertise. Is it charisma? You don’t think that’s the proper word. No, it’s how damn certain he is, how he never once leaves room for argument.

Albedo appraises your silence coldly.

“See? You’re not sure yourself. Thus why I knew you’d return to me,” he retracts his hand and leans back, but the ghost of his touch leaves your face tingling. “When you don’t understand something, you study it. That’s who you are. It’s why I picked you to be my assistant, that quality of exhausting curiosity, much like the one I have myself.”

He’s hypnotizing you with his words, his even tone, his silent authority. You’re drawn in like a moth to a flame and trapped in a verbal standoff. Whether it was a result of your Vision flickering subconsciously resulting in the fire diminishing or some other cause, you realize what little warmth in the cave is disappearing, your breath materializing in front of you as a result.

But it’s only yours.

That’s when it clicks deep inside the recesses of your mind. Apart of what always bothered you about Albedo was this sense of uncanniness. Whenever you thought you were understanding him better, new mysteries would arise, leaving you worse off than when you started. This combined with his workload and the emotional distance you felt between the two of you is what led to your separation.

Albedo’s face is but a few inches away from yours. He’s patiently awaiting a response or anything you could muster to challenge him with, though both of you are aware that no such thing exists.

You manage to surprise him again by asking another question. “Why… why are you not breathing?”

And how could you never have noticed until now?

His long eyelashes flutter shut. “Relationships truly are troublesome. There are unspoken rules and expectations, both of which take effort to satisfy. I hadn’t mind trying to do so to keep you happy, but that approach didn’t work as intended.”

Had it not been for the hammering of your heart and how lighthearted you feel, you’d challenge him on his definition of trying. Instead, you watch without so much as moving an inch, too in awe to utter a single word.

“You always asked me to be more romantic, but I guess the phrase you take my breath away won’t suffice here,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell you, but once you know… well, I don’t think I can ever let you leave my side.”

“I hope you won’t mind keeping me company a bit longer than you intended to.”

#albedo #albedo x reader #yandere albedo x reader #genshin impact #albedo genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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