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pseudowho · 5 months

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1st of December

No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.

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November had been torture for you and Kento alike. Though you had been the one to suggest No-Nut November, it was Kento who had given it the real staying power. You had vastly overestimated your ability to rile him, and underestimated his ability to deny himself.

As November wore on, and you became more and more outrageous in your flirtations, Kento remained, as ever, stoic and patient, treating you with the calm, loving affection you would expect of a gentleman. You were in turns perplexed and incensed, and fully planning to refuse him on December 1st. You considered booking in overtime, just to be extra outlandish.

Kento was no idiot. Who had made your bed? You. Who would lie in it? You, though not with the added warmth of a naked companion. It didn't take long for Kento to realise that you genuinely thought yourself more patient than him, which was sweet, and foolish. He was, he thought on the morning of December the 1st, as he licked his thumb and folded over the page of his newspaper, nothing if not a vindictive gentleman.

You walked out of your shared bedroom, padding completely naked to the bathroom. Kento didn't even flinch. You came out of the bathroom, dripping wet from your bath, still completely naked. Kento tutted and mopped up your wet footprints. You came to the kitchen in your nicest underwear, a set which, coincidentally, Kento had chosen for you, and set to leaning over the counter, bottom wiggling, seemingly waiting for the kettle to boil.

Kento cleared his throat mildly and approached you from behind. You smirked...until he placed a chaste kiss to your temple, and rumbled against your ear. "I'm off to work," he said, standing as you spun to face him, aghast, "I've booked us a table tonight. Be ready for seven?"

You gaped at him, and he dipped his head, eyebrows raised lightly, eyes unreadable behind green glass. "Is that...alright darling?" he inquired, hands rubbing your upper arms softly, a picture of genuine concern. You eked out a small, "mhm", and Kento smiled at you, kissing you again on the forehead with an exaggerated "mwah", and headed towards the door.

"Don't do anything fun without me, now," he called, and the door clicked shut, to his satisfaction, to baffled silence. You stood, stunned, and a horrible realisation came over you; you had genuinely tried to manipulate Nanami Kento, and it had got you absolutely nowhere, apart from straight into the palm of his hands. Sinking to your haunches in your lovely underwear, you buried your face in your hands, absolutely mortified.

What was the point of this wildly stupid game? No-Nut November? He's going to extend this into Don't Do-It December, I know he is, you thought to yourself, agonised. Truth be told, you were absolutely desperate. You had wanted to crawl into Kento's lap on the sofa, toss his newspaper aside, and ride him until he cried for mercy. He had made no effort to hide himself from you, his wonderful body still absolutely available for you to touch, if you so chose, but had treated your body with all the gentlemanly grace and dignity afforded to a Victorian maiden. It had driven you mad with lust.

You stewed, all day. You couldn't believe this ridiculous man was going to take you out for dinner, when you should have been dinner. You seethed and sulked through the contents of your wardrobe, begrudgingly planning your outfit for the evening, considering wearing a bin bag because god knows he's not going to touch me anyway.

Kento chuckled to himself the whole drive to work. He hadn't had this much fun in a long time. Swirling his coffee cup and taking a hearty swig as he paused at traffic lights, he grew hard in his trousers at the thought that he knew exactly how this evening was going to pan out.

If anybody had tried to ask Kento to stay late that day, he'd have asked them to jump off a bridge. As such, he arrived home promptly, telling you that you looked lovely (you did), and that he couldn't wait for dinner (he couldn't), and that we should get going soon. You remained tightly genial to him, to his amusement; after all, who could be cross at their fiancé booking a lovely candlelit meal?

Kento was the picture of a well-mannered date. He offered his arm as you walked together to the taxi. He opened your door for you. He had already pre-paid. The restaurant was exclusive, how long has he been planning this? The table already had a bottle of bubbly, crisp and sweating in an ice bucket.

You could barely speak to the man. You were swinging wildly between indignant fury, deep embarrassment, and unquenchable thirst. You had absolutely no idea which persona to lay on the table between you, and Kento knew it. You both knew it. The unspoken topic of sex was now taboo, and Kento remained patient, imploring you to take him to task for his refusal to be anything other than a gentleman.

Kento was sweet, attentive. He asked you about your day, and cared about the answer. He looked at you with adoring eyes, drawing envious glances from other women around the room. Your fingers plaited together, his thumb stroking your palm softly, and as he leaned in towards you through soft candlelight, your stomach swooped, your desperation growing by the second.

"Do you not want to-- I mean, did you not want to--" you blurted out, your blush rushing through you in a flood of heat as Kento eyed you sideways over his wine glass, thin eyebrows raised, eyes narrowed and gently inquisitive.

"Want to...want to...what?" he teased. Oh, this is delicious, he delighted to himself as your lip curled into an indignant, comedically downturned frown.

"Cut the crap, Kento!" you hissed, leaning forwards to him, "It's been a month since we've had sex. Aren't you...desperate?" you finished weakly. Kento coughed mildly, dabbing his lips with a napkin as your plates were taken away by a furiously blushing waiter.

"Well, darling, it takes two to tango. I'd never force you to sleep with me if you don't want to." His amber eyes flicked coolly upwards at you, over the rim of his wineglass, "Do you want to?"

You sighed, resigned, defeated, "Of course I want to--"

"Then beg."

You gaped at Kento again. A mortified flush spread up your cheeks, and you sat opposite Kento, knees pressed tightly together, swallowing hard.

"You don't...you're not going to make me--"

"Make you what? Beg?" Kento chuckled, a glassy rumbling sound into his wine, "Oh, I absolutely am," he assured you, swirling the glass in his hand, his eyes dark with desire now. Beneath the table, his foot tapped rapid little taps on the floor, and his trousers felt uncomfortably tight. He stared you down, hungry for you to beg for him.

You swallowed thickly. Heat pooled between your legs and your neck prickled. Biting your lip, eyes stinging with embarrassed tears, you leaned across the table, desperately tangling your fingers with Kento's.

"I need you," you whispered, hushed and agitated, "It's been too long. I was stupid. I'm sorry. So just...please, Kento, take me home and--and--"

Kento hummed again, finishing his wine, allowing you to play with his fingers, but glancing out across the restaurant, seemingly disinterested, "I'm not convinced," he intoned, "that you really mean it." Kento raised a hand to usher over your flustered, blushing waiter, and made quick work of paying the bill.

"I do," you pressed, pulling his hand towards you. You took his palm and pressed it against your cheek so Kento could feel the heat of it. Kento maintained a cool facade, feeling you swallow, tears in your eyes, and imagined you'd look the same gagging around his cock. He brushed his thumb slowly across your lip, before pressing it into your mouth, swiping it over your tongue.

"Our driver should be outside by now," he mused, and you blinked back furious tears, your begging getting you nowhere with your stubborn fiancé. Feeling self-conscious and hyper aware of every movement as you followed Kento to the door, you faltered as the restaurant door swung closed behind you. Kento had already strode ahead, and held open the door of a large private car.

You stepped in, sitting down on warm leather seats, as Kento shut the door. The windows were tinted, you noticed, as Kento spoke in low tones to the driver up front, who nodded as Kento pushed a crisp few folded up notes into his hand. Moments later, Kento stepped into the car to sit beside you, and the car set off driving.

The car ride was an agonising ten minutes. You had no idea where you were going, but eventually, the car pulled to a halt in a quiet street, and the driver pulled the handbrake, and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. An awkward silence hung between you and Kento.

His hands folded in his lap, Kento unbuckled his seat belt and turned to you, "Now, where were we?" You blushed again, face feeling permanently scorched now.

"I was...I...was telling you how sorry I am." Kento hummed, thumbs twiddling together as he looked at you, eyes dark and disinterested. You continued, now wet and thrumming inside your underwear, biting your lip before continuing.

"Please can we-- can I--" Kento frowned, annoyed now. You bit the bullet.

"Please just use me, I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight. I was wrong, and I--" Kento grasped your jaw firmly, yanking you towards him, self-control hanging on a thread.

"-- deserve this?" he finished for you, teeth gritted. Your eyes trembled at him, thrilled and terrified.

"You're damn right you do." Kento slammed his lips to yours, moving across the seats to crush you back into your corner. You moaned into his mouth, lips parting to allow his tongue access, and you whined your disapproval when Kento pulled away.

"Beg," he pressed, "How am I supposed to know what you want when you've acted like a petulant child all month?"

"Kiss me, please, Kento," you keened, grabbing him by the collar.

Something about your desperation, and his having managed to turn the tables, shot straight to Kento's cock, now rigid and pressed uncomfortably down the leg of his trousers against his thigh.

"And?" He urged, desperate to yank your underwear aside, tug your dress up over your arse and fuck you raw, but restraining himself because god knew he deserved better, "What else?"

You babbled now, "I want your fingers in my mouth. I want you to tie me up. I want--" You were cut short as Kento pressed two fingers into your mouth deep enough to make you gag. He yanked you across the seats to straddle his lap, groaning at how your throat clenched around him.

"Do you want my cock in your mouth too? Hmm?" You nodded, sucking his fingers, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"I want you to tie me up," he mocked, voice pitched and sarcastic as he bucked his hips up against your heat, yanking off his tie, "Like you've had me tied up all month?" Kento twisted your wrists adjacent behind your back, your breasts now pressed out invitingly against your dress as he leaned down to bite one sharply, leaving a little red welt as you squeaked.

"Well, fuck around and find out, my love," Kento huffed at you, hurriedly shoving your dress up your hips, to grasp the sides of your underwear and rip them, letting them drop onto his lap. Pulling the scrap of fabric out from between your bodies, Kento scrunched it up and pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply, releasing a shaky breath as his head swooped, drunk on the smell of you.

Opening his eyes, intoxicated and hooded, he drank you in; rumpled and messy on his lap, breast marked by his teeth, eyes teary and lips puffy from the assault by his fingers, Kento swore he could never have dreamed of a woman like you begging for him. Crushing your underwear in his hands, he shoved it into your mouth, ignoring your coughs and splutters.

"Tastes good, hmm?" he chuckled, "You know, some nights, I nearly dipped my face between your legs while you were sleeping just to get a taste of you."

Kento hooked his cock, pulsing and aching, out of his trousers, and it fell heavy against the patch of downy hair on his belly. Positioning your pussy directly over it, Kento leaned back in the seat, smouldering at you. Not breaking eye contact, he rocked your hips back and forth, your wet pussy lips parting around the length of his cock as he glided you up and down the underside of it.

Kento's head tipped back with a ragged moan, and you quaked, feeling drunk and dizzy as the length of his cock dragged again and again over your clit. Eager now, you fell against Kento's chest and humped him harder, and faster, pleasure building fast after a month of pointless denial.

Kento's vision swam, hooked on your muffled moans as he tried not to cum embarrassingly fast. Teeth grazing against your neck, he tasted your sweat and perfume, groaning his pleasure as his cockhead repeatedly grazed your clit, the vibration of your tremors thrumming across him until he couldn't tell where you ended and he began.

Feeling your thighs start to give out, Kento rocked your hips for you, thrusting up against you until you fell apart, eyes squeezed shut in agony as you came. Kento yanked your crumpled underwear out of your mouth, nipping at your lower lip as he kissed you deeply.

"Beg," Kento urged again with a growl, holding your hips still until you whimpered, your just-achieved orgasm starting to ebb away, and you whimpered, "please let me cum, I won't do it again, I swear, I just want you inside--" you cut off with a moan as he shoved the underwear back into your mouth, and he pressed your hips hard, feeling the heat of you throb against him now.

Feeling your belly tighten with pleasure and your pussy clench around nothing, you started to move again, this time trying to manipulate Kento's cock into you without the use of your hands. Kento laughed darkly, pressing an incongruously affectionate kiss to the side of your neck.

"What if I just...said no?" Kento teased, laughing harder at your squeak of alarm. Kento would have continued the bitter self-flagellation of not fucking you senseless, but having you bound and begging on his lap was such a sweet boon.

Kento turned you around in his lap so your back was against his chest, legs draped over his, and as he spread his legs, yours spread too. Lifting you, you felt the teasing penetration of just an inch or two of his cock inside you. Your thighs shook as Kento commanded you, voice like crushed velvet against your ear.

"Kneel."

You did as you were told, supporting your weight on your knees, bound hands pawing behind you at Kento's shirt. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around nothing, desperate to feel him in your belly, and you huffed, agonised, breathing in the taste of yourself. With a groan, Kento began to stroke himself, precum now leaking just inside you, his chased pleasure just on the tip of his tongue.

As you started to gently lower yourself onto him, trying to be surreptitious, Kento grabbed the back of your bra strap, twisting it round and using the added tension to lift you back off him, and he was delighted as you wiggled and squirmed around the tip of his cock. Reaching two fingers round you to start drawing lazy circles on your clit, he continued to stroke himself. Colours popped in your vision at the relief of being touched properly for the first time in a month. You melted into his touch.

You knew Kento was struggling to hold back now, feeling his thighs clench under yours, and his cock twitch inside you, but you leaned back against him as his fingers worked between your wet folds, moaning sweetly against his neck. You saw the muscles of his neck jump with restraint, and your clever hands managed to undo a few buttons of his shirt so you could splay a hand across his lower belly, leaning your weight on it.

Kento grunted with the exertion of self-restraint, determined not to give in, but he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his v-line as you pressed your hand against his belly; he loved it when you did that, weak at the knees for him and holding urgently onto his abs for support. His cock twitched with every bound of his racing heart now, and he urged you, half commanding and half begging; "Ride me."

Kento almost shouted with relief as you squeezed your hips down, his hand releasing himself to hold you close to him, tender for you with pleasure now, as you rocked slowly on him, your pussy fitting him like a glove as it glided around him.

"So good-- so good for me," he groaned into you, one hand continuing its steady ministrations on your clit as the other snaked round you to release your breasts, cupping them, lazily flicking over your nipples. Your hips rolled against each other, thrusts in tandem and you mewled as you felt his tip kiss against the spongy spot inside you, the angle of your position exaggerating the pressure.

Kento felt his brain fog over, overwhelmed by the intimacy of holding you close again, and his hips stuttered as he bucked up into you, bouncing you on his cock as you squeaked, unable to grab onto anything for support. Being rammed into as Kento chased his own orgasm now, you leaned your head forwards against the seat, Kento admiring the curve of your arse and the arch of your back as it tensed, your pleasure peaking and toes curling as you sobbed with pleasure, voice still muffled by your underwear.

Kento fell apart, a hook behind his navel dragging down as his balls tensed, filling you with gushes of cum, holding you tightly against him and you shivered, feeling how deeply his seed hit. Both pleasure-wracked and exhausted, you slumped against each other, messy and wet.

Untying you and removing your spoiled underwear from your mouth, Kento pulled out of you, fingering where his cum dropped out of your abused pussy with a groan. You shot him a rueful look over your shoulder, and he smirked, wonky and dazed.

"You've only got yourself to blame," Kento sighed, tucking himself back into his trousers, and pulling your dress over your arse. You clamped your legs together, blushing, trying to hold Kento's cum inside. Sliding you off his lap, Kento leaned forwards to the front of the car, and flicked the indicator to flash the headlights a few times.

"Suppose I'd better tell Ino to head back," he hummed. Your jaw dropped. Kento gave you a shrewd side-eye, not done with embarrassing you yet.

Moments later, Ino slid into the driver's seat, looking back at you and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "Hey! Did you guys have fun?" You buried your face into the edge of your seat, wanting the leather to swallow you whole. Ino laughed as Kento slapped some more cash into his hand.

"You know what they say, fuck around and find out, right?"

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Nanami Kento is a deviant mastermind, and nobody can tell me otherwise.

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yanderestarangel · 6 months

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♡ 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 ♡

TW: smut, praise, pet names, angst, ftm reader, pussy worship, v!sex, afab anatomy, handjob, cum play, husband x husband, fingering, overstimulation.

He was never an easy man and you knew that, living and being married to Bi Han was a test of patience sometimes, however, you never expected him to say such rude words to you in a fit of anger, but that time even you couldn't escape his fury.

He said horrible things to you, making you paralyze with shock, he saw the shit he had done when he saw you cry and left the house sobbing, he punched and broke everything he saw in front of him after he saw the what he had done, hurt the only person who still loved him despite everything... You.

You came back days later, as you saw the movement he had made to look for you - he literally put the entire Lin Kuei clan to look for you - He grabbed your arm tightly, worry and anger, anger at himself for making you upset.

"-You could be in danger!" His voice rose in intensity as he pulled you closer to him. "-Never do that again! I don't care how mad I make you, I never want you to leave without telling me." He let go of your arm and took a step back, looking into your eyes with a mixture of anger and genuine concern.

"-Now come here..." He ordered, reaching out to pull you into a rough hug. "-I need to make sure you're okay." The smell of his cologne mixed with the musky scent of his sweat filled your nostrils as he held you tightly against his chest. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he held you tight. Despite his volatile temper, there was something comforting about being held by Bi Han, something that made you feel safe even when he scared you. He guided you to the shower, seeing that you were avoiding looking at his face, obviously upset with everything he had said - he searched your body, looking for any bruises, whispering apologies for everything, but he knew that your forgiveness and trust would only come with time. - the grand master gave you one of his shirts, it was too big on your small body compared to him, he missed you, he would have to work hard for you and your relationship. You laid down on the bed, trying to ignore him as much as possible... but you both knew it wouldn't be for long. Bi Han couldn't help but feel a sense of despair. He knew he needed to prove to you that he was willing to change, to treat you with the respect and dignity you deserved.

Slowly, Bi Han approached you, gently kissing your neck as he reached his hand under your blouse to gently caress your breasts. "-I love you..." he whispered, his voice full of longing and regret.

You could feel his hard cock pressing into your ass, and even though you were still upset with him, there was a part of you that craved his touch. And then, you let out a soft sigh, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace.

His hand moved down your hip, slipping under the loose shirt you wore to cup your bare ass, he squeezed gently, his breath warm against your neck as he kissed you softly. "-My baby boy, you know how much I want you." His fingers slid down, teasing the edge of your pussy lips as he moved closer to you. "-You're so wet for me..." he tracing the folds of your sex with the tip of his finger. "-Do you want me to make you cum? Are you ready to be my husband again?"

You moaned at his touch, but agreed, however, that you had a pillow during the act, hugging and covering your face, not wanting to look at him yet - a physical barrier to show how upset you still were with him -

Bi Han chuckled softly as you spoke, understanding your desire to avoid eye contact. "-As you wish, my angel." Slowly, Bi Han began to thrust into you, his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy with ease. His moans filled the air, muffled by the soft fabric as he fucked you. You were more than just his husband, you were everything to him and he would do anything to make sure you were happy.

He knew that what had happened before had been a mistake and he was determined to prove to you that he valued and respected you above all else. You moaned softly into the pillow, your body responding to his touch despite your anger - You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching out as the pleasure built inside you -

"-Feel my cock inside your little pussy, you are my beautiful boy, I promise I will never treat you like that again baby... I swear, losing you is something unbearable and unthinkable for me." His hands roamed your body, caressing your hips and stomach as he moved inside you. He could feel the tension in your body beginning to dissipate, replaced by waves of pleasure. As he fucked you, Bi Han transferred some of his own energy to his cock, making it pulse inside you, your fingers digging into the pillow as Bi Han continued to thrust.

"-Fuuck, boy... Your pussy is so tight..." Bi Han moaned hoarsely, as the sound of his heavy balls could be heard by you, as well as felt, beating rhythmically with the thrusts of his dick in your uterus. "-Let go... let me make you come."

You felt your orgasm getting closer and closer, with each thrust and praise coming from Bi Han's lips, but the anger still existed in you, so you protested slightly between moans in the air, telling him not to cum inside your hole, moist like he was used to doing so often. "-I won't." Bi Han promised, his voice filled with frustration. He knew that you were still upset and he didn't want to make things worse by cumming inside you. Instead, he focused on making you come, using his body to bring you pleasure, but the feeling of your tight pussy around his cock was driving him crazy.

Finally, you cried out, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bi Han felt your pussy contract around his cock, milking him hard, he had to use all his self control to simply not tear that stupid pillow you were hugging to cover your face and see your features with the purest pleasure because of from him.

"-Fuck darling... You feel so good..." He moaned, his breath cold against your neck as he continued to thrust his hips roughly into you, unable to resist the feeling of your tight pussy wrapping around his cock.

As he approached his own climax, Bi Han withdrew quickly, with a wet, erotic pop, spreading a thick stream of cum across your stomach and breasts as he stroked himself, moaning your name and biting his lower lip. Bi Han watched as you removed the pillow from your face, his gaze flickering to your chest, where a trail of cum was already beginning to drip down between your breasts. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction as he continued to stroke his cock in front of you. Bi Han's eyes locked with his as he stroked his cock, watching as you watched him.

The sight of his body covered in his cum was arousing to him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. "-You look beautiful like this... My beautiful boy, covered in my cum." His fingers traced the line of cum that had pooled around your pussy, spreading it even further before dipping into her wet folds.

"-Come for me one more time, boy... don't think you can just push me away forever. I love you so much, and I won't let our fight come between us." You were overstimulated, and Bi Han's thumb on your clit was overwhelming, you just let go of your inhibitions and pride, just moaning his name, you screamed, your eyes rolling back as you came hard around his fingers - with the force of your second orgasm in a row - He leaned in to kiss you softly, his gaze full of love and remorse as he whispered in your ear.

"-I don't expect you to forgive me now, but, I hope this shows how much I adore you and how much I want to make you happy." With that, Bi Han got out of bed, pulling up his pants and heading towards the door.

"-I need to go now, take care of clan matters, but I promise we'll talk more about this later. I want to make sure everything is okay between us." He stopped at the door, turning to look at you. "-Take care of yourself, my beautiful boy." Bi Han said softly before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

As you lay there in the aftermath of your orgasm, you couldn't help but feel conflicted. On the one hand, you were still angry at Bi Han for his harsh words earlier. But on the other hand, he was your husband and you were his husband, which made you wonder if maybe things could be different between you. Only time would tell if Bi Han could truly change, but something gave you hope that he could.

©𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 2023

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nomazee · 28 days

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bite my tongue, chew on ice

true to your word, you take dan heng out for breakfast after he spends the night taking care of you. it would be nice if you weren't so distracted by the way he looks at you and the stirring in your stomach.

dan heng x gn reader — 1.4k — sequel to this fic, introspection, aggressive pining, sweet and sappy oh my god it's so sappy, reader is trailblazer and this is set somewhere vaguely in canon, just stupid and cute, lots of feelings and thoughts,,,

notes: i love you dan heng hsr,,, i will love you forever and ever dan heng hsr

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

You always make good on your promises. That’s the one thing you take pride in.

The morning after your drunken spree in Belobog, the memories of the night come flooding in, vivid enough to strip you of your remaining dignity (which isn’t much). You bore yourself to Dan Heng, sweaty and vomiting, and he’d seen more of you in one night than you ever planned on revealing to him.

Embarrassing, yes. But you promised to get him breakfast as payment, and you don’t take breakfast (or promises) lightly.

With minimal nagging, you manage to pry him out of his room, shutting down his remarks of it’s too early, I don’t need breakfast, are you sure you sobered up, do you need an antacid, do you even have money? in favor of linking your fingers with his and dragging him into the cool morning air of Belobog.

(His hand doesn’t pull away from yours. You could swear that he squeezes back, the jutting knuckles of his hands digging into yours as he tightens his grip when you stumble just a little bit on the pavement.)

When the both of you eventually get settled across from each other in a booth, a glass of water for each of you as you browse the menu, you notice the disgruntled expression on Dan Heng’s face. You can’t help but pry. It’s in your nature, whatever parts of it you have an inkling about, and with Dan Heng, your curiosity is always on high alert.

“What’s wrong? You look like you hate this,” you can’t help the way your anxieties seep into your words. You take a tentative sip of your water (no ice, lukewarm, gross), trying to cover up the sweatiness in your palms as you beg and pray that he won’t just stand up and leave and call this breakfast a mistake.

“No,” he says, a leading tone in his voice. His eyes trail along the unsteady movements of your hands, as your fingers go to tap against the smooth glass of your cup. “You just… beat me to it. I was supposed to check on you this morning and get you water. I didn't think you would be awake this early. I thought I had time.”

Your chest tightens and blooms and flourishes with fondness. It’s a feeling so intense that it leaves you dizzy, your gaze goes distant, your fingers stop thrumming against your cup and your other hand tightens into a fist in your lap. It’s an exercise in restraint, to stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing Dan Heng by the shoulders and shaking him around until you never have to feel this affection again. It’s addictive and beautiful and horrible.

Your lips part, wanting to say something but all of the vowels and consonants play dissonant keys on your tongue. Instead, you settle for a smile, bashful and fond, fond, fond of Dan Heng and that furrow between his brows when he thinks of what to say, the way he’s staring at your hand against your cup. You want to know what he’s thinking, to let your hand slide across the table, hold his forearm and feel the skin and the life underneath, have him do the same to you. The cancer of all worlds sits in your chest, but you hope he finds it to be kind and gentle, you hope he tames it into something good.

“Dan Heng,” you start, letting that sick sick affection seep into your voice like rainwater into the cracks of pavement, and you can’t get enough of the way his name sounds against your teeth. “You’re so stupid. And sweet,” you tell him, trying not to melt into the floor. “I didn't think you’d still try to take care of me in the morning. I assumed that watching me throw up everywhere kind of, um, turned you away.”

“You didn't throw up everywhere,” he corrects, because he’s stubborn and always tries to debate you on stupid things, “And it wasn’t that bad. It didn't bother me. It was just you. It… came naturally.”

And he can’t bear to look at you. He rips his eyes away from yours and you can see the way his face warms up, visibly red and blotchy on his cheeks and neck. Naturally. It comes naturally to him. The care, the hotel mouthwash, checking on you and making sure you laid on your side. He says it came naturally.

You feel sick, and in love, and isn’t that all just the same? The smile doesn’t leave your face, and your cheeks hurt and you fight off the urge to hide your face in your hands and run away like a baby. You’ll face your fears, damnit, even if your fears are just the beautiful man in front of you and the feelings blooming on the right side of your chest, just above your heart.

“This is me taking care of you, then,” you tell him, trying to get across some semblance of warmth in your tone, trying to get him to understand that none of this is a joke to you, it never has been. You feel choked up, words strumming against your vocal chords. Too many to use, never enough time to say anything. A glance to the side confirms that no waiters are coming to take your order, but the laminated menu in your hands became obsolete the moment you sat down and looked Dan Heng right in his pretty eyes.

“You never eat breakfast,” you continue, “I don’t think I’ve really seen you relax. You should try knitting.”

His expression only turns more bashful, if possible. His mouth twists into something displeased, but lightheartedly so. “I tried knitting.”

“No way.”

He covers his mouth with his hand, the warmth in his face only building as he struggles to meet your eyes. “It was just for a bit, and I was never good at it. After March joined, she kept making me try the same things as her. Knitting, cooking, sewing… she said that she thought it would help me figure myself out.”

“Oh my god, Dan Heng. She was so right.”

Dan Heng makes a discontent noise, something like a mindless murmur of annoyed words, but by the way his lips twitch, you can tell he’s a little bit amused. And so are you, because the image of Dan Heng sitting next to March 7th with a tangle of yarn in his lap is a little too hysterical.

He has this stupid smile on his face now, and you could almost call it lovesick, the way he keeps looking back at you with his hand still covering half his mouth, like he’s ashamed of the way he’s softening. You like him soft, you like him malleable, warm like this with the window next to you streaming pale yellow light onto the table and the crown of his head. A sick, sick, in-love part of you wants to squish him in your hands like a slime ball and toss him around the room and play catch with yourself. You mean this with love, of course.

“Dan Heng,” his name, again, falls off your tongue, “I’m not actually that hungry. Can we go back to the parlor car? And I’ll— I can cook you something. Whatever you want.”

He pauses, and you can see him flitting through potential responses. You’re half-expecting him to make some sarcastic quip, like You shouldn’t be anywhere near a kitchen or Any food that comes from your hands will probably be inedible or You have many skills, and cooking is not one of them. Instead, he looks at you, a contemplative look in his eyes. He’s thinking, and that’s always a dangerous thing.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, finally looking at you, finally holding your gaze with the same warmth spreading through your palms. You want— you need— you’re craving nothing more than your hands on his and his mouth against yours. He’d be an awful kisser, you’re sure, awkward and clumsy, but you’d be just the same.

“Can I—” you start, cutting yourself off but letting your awful lack of self-control take over. “Can I kiss you? Do you want that?”

And he’s too lovely, too stupid and funny and his face hasn’t cooled down for a moment and the sides of his neck are still flushed red. “Not here,” he tells you earnestly, and you see his hand twitch just a little bit against his face. “Once we get back, you— you can do that.”

It’s a promise, and Dan Heng is starting to get good at those.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

(pssst!!! send me a msg or fill out the form in my navi to be added to the taglist!!!)

#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fanfic #dan heng fluff #dan heng hsr x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr x you #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x you #dan heng x you #dan heng fic #hsr fic #honkai star rail fic #im missing tags let me think (im the biggest tag spammer on earth)#dan heng #honkai star rail #trust that my 1k follower roman colosseum amphitheatre battle will be happening soon

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2018-01-20 · 4 months

Note

i want a kiss from gojo... so: maybe u could do buying matching plushies with yuuji? or getting matching plushies from a claw machine w megumi?

pairing. megumi fushiguro × gn!reader

content. fluff, read slowly for maximum enjoyment!

megumi fushiguro isn’t commonly considered as someone who is weak, but for you he feels like he is.

“this is so cute!” you gasp, spotting a plushie that is more than three times the size of your head inside a crane machine. it’s a cat stuffed animal in your favorite color, the cuteness of it making you press your hands up against the glass with eyes sparkling in complete awe. megumi can practically hear the gears turning and creaking in your head. “oh my god, should i try to get it?”

“there is no way that that’s possible,” nobara scoffs in disbelief, but you know that she’s only saying that to pull you away before you end up falling too deep and spending all of your money. “you know that this place is notorious for its super weak claws, right?”

“but it’s also popular for its cute prizes, y’know,” you whine in response, tugging on her sleeve to get her to come closer. “look at how cute it is! right, megumi?”

when the both of you turn towards said boy—you with hopeful eyes that reminds megumi of a puppy, and nobara with a demonic glare to get him to stop your nonsense—he freezes, eyes unable to peel away from your bright face. itadori snickers from beside him, already knowing his answer.

and for megumi, there is no other choice but to give in.

“...it is cute,” he mumbles, looking away to avoid nobara’s expression of disbelief.

“see, nobara?” you grin evilly. “do you really have no faith in me? i can easily win against one of these bad guys.”

“you can go right ahead, but we all know you have the worst luck out of all four of us,” nobara sighs out, hiding a smile after that little dig. you play along, letting out a dramatic gasp. “your chances of winning is worse than itadori’s.”

the both of you sputter out an offended, “hey!” you huff, all riled up. but you know that nobara is at least partly right.

“fine,” you eventually hmph at her, and she puts her hands on her hips with a grin. “now i’ll get that plush just to spite you.”

“oh yeah?” she retorts. “with your horrible crane machine skills?”

“nope,” you stick a tongue out at her, and when you sidestep her to reach the boy behind her, megumi feels dread overcome his body. “megumi—”

“that’s cheating!” it’s nobara’s turn to gasp, turning towards you with a distraught face. “you know fushiguro won’t say no to you!”

“gu-umi,” you continue on, ignoring nobara’s accusations in hopes that your begging towards the boy in front of you will get him to say yes to you. (spoiler: it does.) “can you help me get that cat plushie? pleasee?”

you clasp your hands together in a begging motion, unashamed of losing your dignity in order to achieve what you know will earn you victory. you blink repeatedly, staring at megumi through your eyelashes with a pout adorning your lips.

megumi’s adam apple bobs—your attentive gaze makes his mind go blank and his cheeks warm, and while nobara would call your current expression atrocious, he can’t help but think that it’s a bit cute. although megumi fushiguro is no cat lover and would very much prefer the matching dog plushie next to the kitty one that you adore, he takes one more look at your face and sighs.

“...okay.” is all he simply says. but seeing your face light up and smile widen is more than enough for him.

#i forgot i said gojo would give u a kiss if u send a request in and i wrote 1k words abt getting a kiss from gojo before realizing #that that was what u were referencing #gonna end it all 😞😞 (jk ill still post it later!!)#hopeee u enjoy mwah #megumi drabble #megumi fluff #megumi x reader

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pascaloverx · 5 months

Text

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter One

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

preview chapter two

The night ends up being good, taking away the pain in your head that doesn't seem to go away. Serving at Pedro Pascal's table is much calmer than you thought it would be. You just need to control yourself so you don't ask for an autograph or over-treat him. Oscar Isaac is also here, having dinner with him. You believe they are just friends having dinner together but you don't want to assume anything.

"I don't know what you did, but the manager is calling you. And I'm telling you, he's in a horrible mood." Your coworker speaks close to your ear and you feel butterflies in your stomach. It can only be about the incident with Pascal. You prepare to hear some nonsense.

"If I don't get out of there in five minutes, rescue me. I feel like even my third generation will be insulted today." You say looking at your colleague as if you know you got screwed. She nods her head positively with a look of empathy. You head towards your manager who is standing near the back door, right where the whole incident happened. You're officially screwed.

"Can you explain to me how you cause an accident with a celebrity on the same day that I made it clear that nothing could go wrong?" Your manager says, while you are confused.

"Sir, as much as it seems like it wasn't me who caused the accident. It was a coincidence, nothing more than that." You speak softly, trying to stay calm.

"There are no coincidences in the world of customer service. This is a renowned restaurant, not a corner diner. My team must be impeccable. Your mediocrity offends me to the point that I won't even ask for your advance notice. Remove your things from my establishment and go to HR as soon as possible." Your former manager speaks, with a tone of contempt.

"You are being unfair, I did my best to carry out my tasks with mastery." You speak almost out of despair. This job is all you have.

"What I am or am not is none of your business. Oh, and don't use this work as a reference, I will make it my personal goal to ruin any job opportunity you have." It was at that moment that his emotional shock turned to anger. Resigning is bad, but getting in the way of having another job is too much.

"So if I have nothing left to lose, I'm going to take this opportunity to be very realistic." You speak losing the last bit of control you have over yourself.

"And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, almost mocking your face. You then take the jug of orange juice and throw it at his head.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll leave with the rest of my dignity." You say, turning around and noticing that people in the restaurant have noticed your disagreement with the manager. Everyone's eyes were on the situation you had just been in and you felt embarrassed. You even wondered where Mr. Pascal was, since you hadn't seen him.

"Are you looking for me?" Mr. Pascal speaks behind you, and you jump discretely scared.

"Do you have a habit of surprising others unexpectedly?" You say, composing yourself and walking towards the employee area. Surprisingly Mr. Pascal accompanies you.

"It's not a habit of mine but I think it's happening a lot when it comes to our dates with each other. I apologize if I'm being intrusive." Mr. Pascal speaks sincerely in your tone of voice.

"You don't need to apologize, I may have been rude. This night suddenly turned into chaos." You say it, trying to be as subtle as possible, but the truth is that you're screwed and you can't even hide it.

"I witnessed the scene with your old boss. I must say that despite the waste of a beautiful orange juice, he deserved every drop of that juice." Mr. Pascal speaks, almost containing his laughter, and you feel happy to amuse someone that night.

"Do you need anything, I still work here until I take off my uniform." You say, imagining that he followed you because he needed something.

"Actually, I came to give you something. I know it doesn't make up for your dismissal but I think you You deserve it for your effort." He hands you a piece of paper, more specifically a check.

"Sir. No need to give me a check for the inconvenience, seriously. At the end of the day, this job wasn't the best." You say, trying to return the check but Mr. Pascal doesn't accept it.

"Take it as a tip for causing all this and for you getting fired because of me." Mr. Pascal says, forcing the check into my hands. You smile thinking that you are incredibly lucky of being in the presence of a celebrity that you like but that your boss made you feel as if you were insignificant.

"Thank you, sir. It was an honor to meet you." You say, taking the check and putting it on your uniform, not seeing the amount or anything. Mr. Pascal takes your hand lightly and you feel as if the world stops for that split second in which he held your hand.

"It was my pleasure, I hope that if we meet again, your life will be in a better situation." Mr. Pascal speaks with an unusual kindness, his smile could light up a village but you could only focus on the fact that he was lightly holding your hand. Your hand in his and his hand in yours.

"Good evening, Mr. Pascal." You say it as soon as you can come to your senses. He nods as if accepting my goodnight and then he returns to his table. And you return to your reality.

#pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic pedro pascal #reader insert

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darkcircles4lyfe · 10 months

Text

Love in Chaos

The way chapter 393 seized me from the inside out, brought me to my knees, smiling with fierce glee—it was all the proof I needed. All at once, a checklist I didn’t even know I was keeping started getting all its boxes ticked. I’ll admit that for some time, I haven’t been sure exactly how Toga’s story should be handled for her to get the care, nuance, and dignity she deserves. So I’ve been resigned, waiting to see what Horikoshi has to say about it. I didn’t know until I saw it, but I can tell we’re on exactly the same page.

This fight between Ochako and Toga—or should I say Himiko, since ya know, they’re both on a first name basis now—it’s a kind of breaking point for the overarching narrative and its themes. Here is where the big questions about hero/villain society are not only asked, but answered. Himiko, more than any of the other main villains, was branded with that label as far back as she can remember, without her having done anything except exist. Thus, she carries the weight of their society’s problems and becomes a symbol of the injustice in prejudice and fear, the brutal agony of being rejected by the world. I’ve maintained this resolve about the story for a long time: I will not be satisfied with an ending that constitutes a return to normal, or even a slightly amended normal. I know that it would be a disservice to Himiko if she were made to fit into society again, whether that be in death or reform or containment. Society has to change for her. After 393, I can tell that Horikoshi knows this too.

It’s the way Ochako steps up to this conversation so boldly and positions herself on Himiko’s side. When Himiko dismisses her words as fickle, claims she’ll go back on them and do horrible things to punish her according to hero society, Ochako comes right back and says no, this isn’t about what you’ve done, this is about you. I see you. I see your beautiful smile and I want to protect it.

Throughout her life, Himiko has not been treated like a real person, so of course this is what she needs. No lecture on morals could disarm her the way acceptance can. It’s also extremely refreshing and reassuring to see Himiko being taken seriously. I’m so incredibly excited for Ochako to accomplish such a completely transgressive act of unconditional love against this harsh world. I could stare in awe of the panels in this chapter for hours, how they’re drawn at the exact intersection of beauty, pain, and honesty. Grotesque violence and elegance. Power and vulnerability. I was so overcome that, for a while, I failed to register a crucial implication.

Enter: The Female Vampire Carmilla

She is referenced merely in passing, but as a rejected villain name for Himiko, speaks volumes. It’s difficult for me to find the words to summarize… perhaps you’ve heard by now that Carmilla is a gothic horror novella about a lesbian vampire. THE lesbian vampire, in fact—the one who popularized the trope. Knowing this, it is simple enough to apply the story of Laura and Carmilla in parallel to Ochako and Himiko, and register it as direct proof of the dynamic’s sapphic undertones being acknowledged and intentional. I mean. Look at them.

Yeah. But that’s not all. That isn’t what really makes it noteworthy. Put in context: Himiko has been called a soulless inhuman vampire since childhood, and shunned for it. To her, this or any villain name would be a reminder of her lack of agency in identity. Add to this the overall themes of 393 I just described, and suddenly it becomes clear that Himiko is set in contrast against much of what Carmilla, as a fearful narrative about the supernatural, represents.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me provide some details about Carmilla for those who aren’t familiar. The story was written in 1872 by Sheridan Le Fanu, and belongs to a genre characterized by a revival of Gothic aesthetics in service of providing mystery, intrigue, and suspense to a very Victorian expression of fear. On top of that, Carmilla directly influenced Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and set the precedent for many vampire portrayals to come. Many female vampire characters reference her at least in their name, and the novella has been adapted and reinterpreted countless times. Because of this, it is admittedly difficult to be sure of Horikoshi’s familiarity with the original, or pinpoint any other potential influence he may have picked up from another adaptation. One could quite literally write a whole book about the many iterations and widespread impact of Carmilla. This is why, however, I believe I can confidently say that Himiko being compared to a female vampire has implications that are felt no matter one’s familiarity with the origin of the trope. Certain things are baked into the definition through generations of media. The female (lesbian) vampire implies predation, deception, lust, a danger to innocent young women. She represents an inhuman desire that must be vanquished.

In the novella, the main character Laura becomes a fast, intimate friend to Carmilla, a strikingly beautiful and captivating young lady who has suddenly appeared in her life. Laura admires and loves Carmilla dearly, but feels conflicted in moments where Carmilla is overcome by a desire that is explicitly compared to that of a lover. She talks of blood, death, sacrifice, and unity all while holding her close and kissing her. Whether or not this is hot, or whether Laura reciprocates any desire is, I guess, up to interpretation. But one thing is for sure: the ending of the story is not in Carmilla’s favor. I’d argue it’s not in Laura’s favor either. Look, I was an English major. I’m very familiar with discussions along the lines of “is ___ gay?” and “is ___ a sympathetic portrayal of ___ ?” It’s definitely gay, but the rest is unclear. There might be a tangent to go on about how Le Fanu’s complicated relationship with religion may have informed his characterization of General Spielsdorf and the other men who hunted down Carmilla’s grave and destroyed her. Regardless, there is narrative injustice in the way Laura is removed from these events, sent home and only told about what happened later. She loses agency. Her narrations become distant and clinical. In the very end, she describes being plagued by visions of Carmilla, sometimes as her beloved companion, and sometimes as a fearful monster. To me, this represents the lack of closure she has, either to reconcile these two sides of her, or mourn her loss.

There is also so much we’ll never know about Carmilla herself. The finality of her condemnation silences the multifaceted character that was only partially revealed to us. There is an inferred humanity to her, a self-awareness, a true romanticism, that gets dismissed by the people’s understanding of what a vampire is: a deception.

Keep in mind this tragedy. Fast forward through countless vampire portrayals to the present, to Himiko. What a contrast indeed. Remember, she does not want to be called “Carmilla,” or “Vampire.” To make such a reference in a chapter that is showcasing Ochako’s acceptance of Himiko implies that the trope is being broken. It is as if Laura were to go running to Carmilla’s grave herself, throw her own body over her in protection, and shun everyone else’s superstition and desire for vengeance.

(footnote: the above is supposed to say “Himiko-chan” but you know who is a buttface)

Here’s the kicker: since female vampires are so closely tied to negative and predatory portrayals of lesbians, this humanization of Himiko also suggests that her queerness will likewise be treated openly and sympathetically, because there no longer exists an allegory that could be used for dismissing it. Ochako has already made monumental assertions in this chapter. By saying she admires her openness and envies her beautiful smile, and by presenting complete vulnerability in offering her blood, she swiftly separates herself from the lifetime of persecution Himiko has dealt with. It all represents so much more than those who mistakenly call it “yuri pandering” could hope to understand. This is the real deal.

So what is this talk about romance they’re supposed to have? I firmly believe whatever Ochako says, it has to be a very surprising revelation, for both Himiko as well as us, the audience. Otherwise all the hype and mystery makes no sense. If Ochako has something so important to say, it can’t be to confirm Himiko’s assumptions. Whenever I try to dissect the exact possibilities, I get hopelessly tangled up in semantics, but ultimately I just hope to get Ochako’s perspective in full, especially as it relates to what other people think of her.

Actually, I had an idea while writing this. I saw someone on twitter (I think jokingly) bring up the All Might doll, like oh god, what if it comes up again. Ok but listen. There’s a LOT of potential symbolism in the token from Izuku that Ochako has kept being a doll of All Might specifically. We all know it calls to mind Izuku’s emulation of All Might, which resulted in the aspects of Izuku that Ochako herself admired. We can also easily infer that during the mission to rescue Izuku, Ochako saw the darker side of these traits. Okay, so here’s another wrinkle: All Might, as a near mythical figure, represents hero society. He’s the hero archetype, an upholder of the status quo, “peace,” and his weakening under all the pressure implies a flawed system.

Nighteye predicted All Might’s death, but also admitted that a strong enough collective will can change the course of his predictions. Ochako sites Nighteye’s own death as an origin for her beginning to question who exactly in this world needs saving. If you know my meta, you know that I believe All Might needs to die in symbol only. Right now, Ochako is throwing out an awful lot of things heroes take for granted. Things everyone takes for granted. The outcome of this fight could be a turning point in the war that completely changes the tone. If Ochako is to accomplish this by way of an intimate talk of romance, well…

Bye-bye, All Might!

#for the record I love toshinori so much #bnha 393 #bnha manga #mha #toga himiko #uraraka ochako #togachako #meta #lin speaks #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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saltydumplings · 11 months

Note

Just noticed requests are open, with your ever-growing talent for writing amazing and insanely horny work, could I request a powerless scientist type Villain who's newest gadget backfires on them during a fight, much to the Hero's amusement, and pretty please a bottom Villain 😁

Request #27

Happy Monday y'all, come get your spice!

Cw: suggestive.

What the villain may have lacked in powers, they more than made up for with their mind. They were cunning; deadly so. There wasn't a single thing they'd dreamt that they hadn't been able to build, not even when they'd been limited to mere scraps and throwaways - their recent defeat a gutting wrench within their plans but they were steadily building their way back up. Victory was already safely within their hands, the villain was certain of it, although their devices were admittedly a little more...testy than usual.

They studied the grappling hook they were working on with annoyance, the rope they'd compiled just barely squeezing into its frame. Damn the hero and their stupid persistence in seeing them caught. Damn them for confiscating over half of the villain's artillery and leaving them with practically nothing--

"Am I interrupting something?"

The villain jumped a mile, oblivious to the fact they'd been rambling aloud and too caught up in their thoughts to hear the other entering. They spun about quickly though, lips drawing up in a sneer.

"You," they spat.

The hero smiled. "Me," they agreed.

Their smugness only infuriated the villain further. Fortunately, their homing laser device was close at hand...

They reached back and pulled the gadget off the table, eager to wipe that grin from their nemesis' face. "You made a mistake coming here, Hero. I lost to you once, I refuse to lose again!"

With that, they directed their weapon upwards - pulling the trigger to activate the detector grid and frowning when all they heard was a sharp thwip.

And then the device in their hands exploded.

Or rather, more accurately, burst - rope breaking free from the metal frame and tangling around their wrists, the villain looking up in bewilderment to see the grappling hook imbedded in the ceiling.

Oh sh--

The gun recoiled sharply, yanking the villain up about eight feet before the gadget suddenly jammed. It left them dangling just above the floor, legs kicking out in a wild panic as they tried to get down.

This could not be happening to them right now.

"W-Wait," they said, face flushing as they started to spin. "Wait!"

"Oh, I'm waiting," the hero said. Honestly, they looked more impressed than anything else.

"Just...just give me a minute. I-I'm almost out." No they weren't. In fact, the device had reeled them up just a little bit higher.

"Uh huh," the hero said. "Sure looks that way..."

"Of course it looks that way!" the villain snapped. "It looks that way because it is tha--"

They cut off with a squeak as the grappling hook made a horrible clunking sound, the reel inside breaking slightly and causing them to fall - grunting when the mechanism suddenly locked again just before they could reach the ground.

And now they were spinning twice as fast...

They stretched their legs out as far as they could, the tip of their boots just barely scraping the ground. They groaned and tried again, not even wanting to so much as think about how pathetic they must look in that moment. This was not how they got caught, it - it couldn't be.

"Wow."

Their spinning came to a halt.

The hero turned them around slowly, the villain quickly casting their gaze down to the side as the other's hands came to rest at their waist. "You really have no powers, do you?"

It truly was a pity that the villain had never managed to vaporize the other before now...

"Shut up, I - I grabbed the wrong weapon," they muttered, one final attempt at scavenging what was left of their dignity.

When they heard nothing in reply they made the mistake of glancing up, the hero's grin wide enough to tell the villain that they would milk this moment for everything it was worth.

"What was that?" the hero asked. Teasing.

The villain flushed. "I said that I- I chose the wrong weapon..."

"Oh? And what were you meant to choose?"

It wasn't fair that the villain's feet weren't currently touching the ground and still their opponent was taller than them. That the other could still talk down to them metaphorically as well as literally.

The villain felt a little of their earlier anger bubble back up. "Something that could have put you in the ground," they growled out.

The hero blinked at them. "Right..." they said. "So you were planning on putting me in the ground by aiming at the ceiling?"

A red tint caught onto the villain's cheeks once more and they kicked out with their legs, throwing a small tantrum over the hero's taunts. "I was doing that to initiate the grid matrix! The second that came on there wouldn't have been a-anywhere in this room that you could have hidden that - that I couldn't have shot you from! Anywhere!" the villain cried, voice dripping with their rage.

Though, from the look the hero gave them, the threat might as well have fallen on deaf ears. "You're an angry little thing, aren't you?" they commented.

The villain was just about ready to explode. "I am not little!"

"Littler than me."

"That's because you're a freak!"

"Or you're just short."

"I am average height!" The villain kicked their right leg out with as much force as they could muster, aiming to at least knee the hero where it would hurt but their plans were almost instantly foiled by a single movement - the hero dodging the attack and pinning the villain's leg to their side quicker than they could blink.

The villain froze. Their gaze turned downwards, mouth gaping open slightly as they stared at the point where the hero was holding them, the other's hand practically groping at their thigh. Slowly, the hero brought the villain's left leg up as well, encouraging their nemesis to hook their knees around their waist and let the hero take their weight - giving their wrists the small reprieve they hadn't realised they'd needed.

"Huh...maybe not so angry after all," the hero mused.

The comment snapped the villain out of whatever daze they'd gone into, their frown returning within seconds as they wriggled in their enemy's grasp. "Get. Off."

The hero cocked their head to the side. "Why?"

"Because," the villain said.

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" The hero's hands shifted down slightly, mere centimetres away from cupping the villain's ass. "Better than just hanging there - that's for sure."

The villain could feel their face burning again. And this time it wasn't purely from the embarrassment. "M-Maybe I like hanging," they said. "You don't - you don't know..."

Of all the comebacks they'd ever said, that had to be the worst of them. Worst and stupidest.

Surprisingly, the hero didn't tease them over it though. In fact, their nemesis took it in their stride - leaning in closer as they tightened their grip, infuriating smirk wider than the villain had ever seen it.

"You're right," the hero said. "I don't know."

Their thumbs stroked at the villain's thighs suggestively, the other suddenly all too aware of just how compromising their position was. They squirmed at the attention, shuddering when the hero's breath ghosted across their neck.

"But I think I have a pretty reliable way of finding out..."

The hero was pulling them closer. Reeling them in like a fish on a line and the villain didn't know what to do about it - was even starting to question if they wanted to do anything about it when the hero's lips brushed gently against their cheek.

The last time the villain had been this close to someone was so distant now...the sensation of intimacy was almost forgotten to them.

"What do you say, Villain?" the hero whispered, their breath hot against the shell of their ear. Somehow, they managed to drop their voice even lower before asking their next question: "Want to find out how quickly I can make that big brain of yours go dumb?"

A beat.

"F-Fuck, yes," the villain said breathlessly. Then their own words registered in their mind. "I-I mean no, I...I didn't, y-you didn't- I WOULD N-NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS--"

A pair of lips pressed against their own. And, in the villain's initial shock, the hero's tongue entered their mouth seamlessly.

The kiss was, much to their annoyance, the best they'd ever had.

The villain stuttered as the other paused, some smart retort in the makings of their scrambled mind but they didn't get a chance to piece it together before the hero's lips were on theirs again. And again. And again, and again, and again, the hero didn't stop. The villain kept waiting for their chance to speak - to think - but they weren't given it, and before they could stop themself their body was relaxing against the hero's own. Their struggling ceased altogether - hands that had been desperate to pull free now only giving the occasional tug against their confines, not in any attempt to get away but instead to get closer.

And, just like that, the hero had done what no one else ever could; what no one else had ever had the patience or the persistence to truly do, let alone the expertise to: the hero kissed the villain stupid.

By the time they finally relented, their nemesis was a panting mess. Their lips were kiss-swollen and shiny, their eyes half-lidded as if in some kind of daze. They made a small confused sound when the hero leant back a little, their pretty mouth drawing down into a pout that had the hero grinning even wider than before.

"So, that was definitely a 'yes', right?" they said.

The villain blinked at them, mind momentarily too slow to understand what was being asked. When it did click though, some flash of their dwindling rebellion must have shown in their eyes because the hero shifted their position so they could capture the villain's chin with one hand, thumb brushing over their lower lip before the villain could speak.

"Right?"

The villain gulped. Shuddered. Then they nodded their head.

"Good," the hero said, moving their hand back down to where it belonged, "because, with the trouble you've been giving me lately, I honestly have no intention of stopping until you forget your own name...If that's alright with you, of course?"

As someone who'd always been an over-thinker, it was the best proposition the villain had ever heard.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain #hero x villain #hero #villain

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lipringlrh · 1 year

Text

just being polite - cth

summary: you and calum broke up, but you decide to call him again to tell him you love him.

pairing: calum hood x genderneutral!reader

an: in honour of his birthday:)

word count: ~1250

requested: yes

warnings: phone call, bit of angst, pet names, bit of a cliffhanger

feedback appreciated!!

...

It'd only been two months since your breakup with Calum and somehow you still managed to miss him more and more each day.

You were still led in bed - even though it was mid-afternoon. You had just finished crying over your third film of the day, each one somehow reminding you more and more of him.

You decided you were going to call him. You missed him too much. Each day you regretted the break up but, after many romantic films, you decided you were going to have you own romance movie and get your happy ending. And you couldn't think of anyone other than Calum.

The break up, per se, wasn't horrible; it was the seeing each other again and again, starting new fights, that was the most painful. It seemed more and more impossible to fall out of love with him. Every time you tried, you heard his voice in the back of your mind, "baby, I am so sorry.”

His voice seemed to just nag you, telling you over and over again he wanted you back. Whether it was true or not, you didn't know, but what you did know was that you wanted Calum back in your life, no matter the circumstances.

And now here you were, deciding to to call him, dialling in his number, which you shamelessly knew off by heart, even planning to lose all your dignity in the process, and beg for him back. Except, maybe without the begging. If he agreed straight away it would be a little less time consuming.

By the third ring, you had always considered hanging up. What if he didn't want you? What if he moved on already? You couldn't bare that thought. It would prove to you how much less he cared about you than he made you believe. You couldn't fathom how he could've possibly got over you in such short time if he really loved you as much as he promised.

However, Calum had seen the call. He'd noticed from the very first ring. He had stared at your name - a little shocked - debating how long to wait until he could answer without seeming desperate.

Calum missed you. More than he ever imagined was possible. He was never told how to get over a true love so had spent his time similarly to you, convinced it was impossible to ever move on.

As much as he missed you, he was a coward, admittedly so, and wouldn't call you. He couldn't handle a bad response. He had never been hurt this badly and hearing you say you didn't want him would break him far from recovery.

He'd never admit it, but scrolling through social media, he found a video explaining how to get someone back thorough manifestation, which he tried with you, and if this call went the way he wanted, it would have successfully worked.

Calum couldn't wait anymore and answered the phone, immediately pulling up to his ear and mumbling a, "hello?"

He heard a sigh of relief from the other end of the phone before hearing a small, "hi," greeted back to him.

The line was silent for a little while before you heard Calum murmur, “why'd you call?"

You could tell he was apprehensive. You were too.

"Just- I wanted to ask how you are?" It came out more as a question. Your hands were getting more sweaty as you were trying not to anticipate the worse response. You were contemplating backing out entirely but a good result was too heavenly.

"You want to ask how I am? That's- that's it?" He scoffed. "The last time you saw me, we were screaming at each other and now you're asking how i am?"

“| was just being polite," you objected, "was trying not to get anyone annoyed." It was like you could feel Calum roll his eyes. All you wanted was a civil conversation and a love confession but seemingly, you'd already failed at one.

You both went silent again, neither knowing what to say. Calum didn't know why he was getting so annoyed. He figured he just needed another way of getting out his emotions other than crying. He knew he'd started off rough, maybe altering the tone of the rest of the conversation, but he was too stubborn to apologise now, especially without knowing the real reason you called.

"Is that all you wanted because I think we're done now.” He spoke, the malice leaving his body the second he finished. His head fell down in regret. He didn't want to finish talking to you; he never wanted to. The thought that he may of just ruined his chances with you, again, sprung back in his mind. Recurring and repeating every second.

"You never actually answered," you responded, "I'm waiting.” You sounded tired. You didn't know if you could handle another conversation like this: tense and argumentative. You just wanted your boyfriend back.

Calum seemed to notice. When he answered, he spoke much more calmly with a hint of sadness in his voice, "I'm fine."

He wasn't fine. If there's anything you learnt from your time together, it was how to tell his emotions. As sick as it sounded, you wanted him to have missed you like you missed him. You'd never want to see him hurt but you wanted him to miss you, to come back and tell you he loved you.

Everything fell silent again..

“I don't want to go," you faltered.

He was quiet; he didn’t know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say but didn’t know if he could admit it to you. Neither of you wanted to be in a vulnerable position. You both felt the love you held for each other but you both couldn’t tell what the other thought was best to do.

“I don’t want you to go either,” he admitted.

Everything fell silent again, you wanted to tell him you loved him but the words felt like sick in your mouth. You didn’t want lose him more than you had - if that was even possible.

“I miss you, Cal,” you paused again, letting everything go quiet. When Calum was about to reply, you interrupted him. You needed to get everything across to him before he had the chance to disagree.

“I miss you so much, Cal. I know we broke up and I know there was so many reasons but none of them matter anymore. I want you, Cal, over everything, and I want us back, please. I lo-“

“Save that for when I see you again, okay baby?” Your stomach fluttered at the nickname. “I miss you too.”

“Where are you at the moment? I want to see you soon.” you whispered, like a secret. You didn’t want to complicate things, you wanted Calum to be comfortable and not rush anything.

“M‘near you. I know it’s late but could i maybe come over? We can talk, try to sort this out properly?” You hummed back as a reply, adding a “please do” to the end.

“I’ll see you in maybe half an hour, that okay?” You nodded before realising then muttered out a yes, walking into your bathroom to see how you look.

“Okay, see you soon baby.”

requests are open, feedback is appreciated!

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toournextadventure · 1 year

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Hi, don't know if you're still accepting requests. But if you are I have a really long one.

I was thinking about a Wednesday Addams x fem psychic reader (possibly masc), where the reader is like an investigation partner for Wednesday. (I don't know if you want to give some more backstory)

The reader is obviously crushing hard on Wednesday and compliments her, in very Addams way, every chance she gets. And when it's time for Rave'n, the reader just says fuck it and asks Wednesday. And they're matching (all black obviously).

So when it starts raining blood and everyone starts screaming, the reader puts on a waltzer (midnight waltz, Adam Hurst) and asks Wednesday to dance like:

"May I have this dance, cara mia?"

And they just waltz in the bloody ballroom.

It would really make my gay heart happy, thank you in advance.

I gotchu bestie, don't even worry about it 😎

the show must go on

“You look preposterously gloomy,” you said when Wednesday finally stopped looking for more clues about the Hyde. “It suits you.”

This whole Hyde thing was really starting to wear Wednesday down, you could tell. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure out the mystery and she still wasn’t much closer to figuring it out. You had offered your assistance instantly, of course, but two minds most certainly were not better than one.

At least it gave you an excuse to flirt. Which you may have learned from her father on Parents’ Weekend. After he had gotten out of jail. Maybe you needed a better role model.

“We can keep an eye on the cave tomorrow night,” Wednesday said with a huff. You knew she didn’t take defeat well, but this was starting to get downright comical.

“Tomorrow night is the Rave’N,” you pointed out when you followed behind her on your way out of the woods.

She didn’t answer, leading you to let out your own huff. You had wanted to do this with some sort of dignity, but it appeared she wasn’t going to let you. Why would she, you thought with a roll of your eyes. She wouldn’t be Wednesday Addams if she gave you an easy time.

“The Hyde has to appear at some point,” Wednesday finally said as you neared campus. “And I plan on being there when it does.”

“I doubt it would show during the Rave’N,” you mumbled. Wednesday either didn’t hear you, or didn’t care. “We might as well do something that would make us miserable.”

Now that made the young Addams pull up short. With minimal effort at best, you suppressed a smile when she turned to look at you. It was one that you received far too often, one that dared you to continue and see what would happen. A beautiful look, it was; you would do anything to see it more often.

“What would that be?” Anyone else would have missed the hint of a smile on her lips. But not you. No, not you.

“You might as well accompany me to the Rave’N,” you answered. “I guarantee it’ll be positively frightful.”

She didn’t give you a response of any kind before continuing her walk back to her dorm. Oh what a wonderful thing to be around an Addams. It was never boring.

As predicted, Wednesday's silence on the matter had been a resounding yes. She was already looking stunning in her black vintage dress when you stopped by her dorm to pick her up. No smile, no words, just the silent understanding that she wasn't excited, but that's what was going to make it so much fun.

"You look ghastly," you said with a smile as you slipped the corsage over Wednesday’s wrist.

“You match!” Enid practically shouted when she saw you at the door. “Have you always had that suit?”

“It was my father’s,” you said with a smile. “Fits like a glove, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do a spin for me,” Enid said, and you were more than happy to oblige.

You could feel Wednesday glaring into your very soul as you spun slowly, your arms outstretched so Enid could ooh and ah as much as she wanted. There was one point where Enid even came up and started adjusting your tie - horribly, you thought with a contained giggle - and you thought Wednesday was going to murder her. To you, it just made her all the more beautiful; nothing was more beautiful than a woman scorned.

“We should get going,” you said once you had finished enjoying Wednesday’s silent rage. “We’ll see you down there, Enid.”

With outstretched arm, Wednesday took it and let you walk her down to the dance. She still had yet to say anything for that night, but you didn’t mind. Her father had told you time and time again how she was a woman of few words, and that was okay. It was very Wednesday of her, especially given the fact you knew she wasn’t exactly stoked to be going.

The dance was already in full swing by the time you both appeared; nothing was better than being fashionably late. You shared a single look with Wednesday - who looked like she would rather die than be there - before dragging her to the dancefloor. She was going to enjoy the night even if it killed her.

If she was lucky, it would.

“Your dancing is mesmerising,” you told her once she stepped back in front of you. Still no smile, but there was a twinkle in her eye that betrayed her outward unhappiness.

You opened your mouth to make another comment when you felt something drip onto your shoulder. Wednesday’s eyes darted to your shoulder before she furrowed her brows. Another drop, this time on Wednesday’s cheek. Red?

Before you knew it, the sprinklers went off and something with the appearance and consistency of blood was falling from the ceiling. For the first time that night, Wednesday smiled, a beautifully bloody grin. Whether it was from the blood rain, the screams of everyone around you, or the general chaos, you didn’t care. She looked stunning.

“One moment,” you told her as you got an idea.

You nearly slipped a few times on your way to the DJ table, but thankfully Wednesday was too distracted by the chaos to notice. The DJ himself was nowhere to be found, but that was alright; you knew how to hook your phone up to the speakers. It took only a moment to connect and another moment to put the song on before you could slide your way back over to where Wednesday was standing.

As soon as the waltz came on, her head turned to you, her smile now gone and replaced with a look of curiosity. None of that animosity she had shown earlier in the night. No, this was a genuine look from her, her emotions unmasked for the first time since you had known her.

“May I have this dance, cara mia?” You asked as you held your hand out for her to take.

Just like that, realisation dawned in her eyes as her smile came back. She took your hand and let you pull her into the waltz, the blood making your movements a little smoother. If you both slipped once or twice you didn’t call attention to it; it didn’t matter.

In the chaos, you found the beauty in being with an Addams. It was horrifying, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#requests #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine

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loveysmoke6998 · 1 year

Text

This is my first fanfic so plz be nice (long one at least for me)

Lo’ak was always insecure, insecure about his body, his skills, his worthlessness. He loathed everything about himself, and now that his brother is gone he must not only live up to his fathers name but his brother too. It was all too much he was overwhelmed. He didn’t want to be near anyone, but he wouldn’t mind you right now.

He meet you on the sinking ship, you were standing on the very small area left afloat, shaking. You were scared, if not terrified, you were young. Just around his age at the time, but that wasn’t all he noticed. You were chained up, in cuffs, you looked injured and run down. Yet just as he was getting close from behind he noticed you were branded. You can even say dehumanized, how could humans do an act so horrible, so dehumanizing, so torturous?! That was when he felt something touch him.

His father was behind him also looking at you. “Son do what your heart tells you” he says looking at his son solemnly at his as he understood the conflict in his sons head. With that Jake left, and Lo’ak saved you. Petrified of the Navi you were hesitant to accepting his offer, but you figure it would be better than drowning. As he took you with him as soon as you reached the village you passed out from exhaustion, due to the overwhelming you faced as the boat was sinking and your people were dying. To be honest you didn’t consider them your people. They did in despicable things to you, using you a just another experiment; a lab rat. That’s what they considered you nothing but a waste of space, someone to take their anger upon. Those bastards would torture you, violate you, rid you of your dignity, the only good thing they ever did is adjust your lungs to breathe the air on pandora. Just invade they’d use you as bait and didn’t wanna waste money on a mask especially made for you.

You never wanted to go through that again, but as you were riding with Lo’ak you weren’t scared, nor petrified. You were content, tired but nonetheless content, he was warm, comforting, kind. He was making sure that you were still there behind him as you were too scared to hold onto him. The inevitably changed the moment he went slightly faster now forcing you to latch onto him to stay on. You were struggling to stay awake since he was so warm. That was the last thing you remember since you passed out the second you were inside the village. Jake and Netiri were waiting for him.Jake knowing about his “guest.” However he could let you be alone with his son because you were one of the sky people, so you slept with the Sully family. As you awoken from your sleep you were surrounded by the Sully family. They said they would teach you their ways as long as you stayed loyal to the Navi, and that’s exactly what you did.

(7 years later)

You’ve adapted to their way of life now, adjusted to their ways. However their was one person you never quite got adjusted to Lo’ak. Over the years you guys grew closer and you’ve developed a crush. I know 20’s a little old for a crush but he was the only one who truly acknowledged you as part of the Navi. You were an outsider, no one wanted you there, you were treated as if you were just a dog. Yet you’d rather be treated with discrimination then an experiment. Out of everyone in the Sully family he was the only one who wouldn’t look at you with those eyes. Eyes that knew you weren’t their kind, eyes that knew you weren’t supposed to be here. That’s why you went out with Lo’ak more these days. You gained their trust enough to be alone with him, and the days you spent with him were the most fun. Unless you got on the ikran (the dragon) you were petrified of falling especially at this height that you knew you wouldn’t survive. He was slowly trying to make you less scared of heights but it never worked he’d always need to land mid flight because you’d start having a panic attack from the altitude. He never judged you for that, instead in his head he’d punish himself for making you go through that. Even at 20 years old he still had problems with self worth, and self love. Yet even if he saw you at your lowest he never let you see that part of him. That part that was covered in self loathing, the part that was under so much pressure that he didn’t even know what to do. The only thing he was 100% sure of in his mind was that he wanted to protect you. He didn’t want you to be know as the freak, the outcast, the demon. He knew what it was like to go through that and he’d never ever want you to go through that.

But there was one thing he’d do to soothe his aching head from his thoughts. When you were asleep he’d tell you everything, his self consciousness, his thoughts, his insecurities, he’d tell you everything that plagued his mind. However today was different today was the day his brother died. He felt like a coward, a useless, ridiculous coward. He didn’t even have the courage to tell you this even if you were asleep. Well at least he thought you were. You were a very light sleeper so you’d hear everything he’d tell you, keeping it as a mental note to praise him the next day. But tonight he didn’t do that, everyone was asleep but he was no where to be found. With that you got up and went to the only place you’d think he’d be at… Eywa. The only part that scared you was the swim over there. Of course you’ve swam on his Ilu but never alone. Yet you figured the llu would have a connection to you. But there you stood confused was Lo’ak really that mad at himself that he swam all the way over there alone. You couldn’t tell, but you took the llu that thankfully recognized you and was happy to see you. With that you two swam to Eywa. Seeing his there tired from swimming and looking like he was about to drown. With that you gave the llu to him as he sat there gaining his breath and questioning why you were here. Reluctantly you told him that you’d hear him vent to you every night but since you didn’t hear him this night you went to go look for him.

Damn he never felt more guilty then at that moment. You heard everything! He felt so bad because that wasn’t your baggage to carry, not you guilt to have. With that he broke, the walls surrounding his heart faltering as he sobbed into your shoulder. You’ve never seen him like this before he was so vulnerable, so broken. You understood him so you let him take it all out. You guys were there until sunrise just allowing him to be vulnerable and take it all out. After he finished sobbing and started to relax a little. He realized that he felt safe with you, like you were his rock. So he decided to tell you why it was tonight that he was like this. He told you how his brother was the mighty warrior of the family and took a bullet for him to survive. Saying that it was his fault. When he said that you pulled his hair, him hissing at you until he heard those words com out of your mouth. That he “wasn’t at fault for any of that shit” and that he was “ so fucking important to you because you loved him…” You… what?! You loved him he couldn’t fucking believe it. Out of all people you loved him a freak and a failure, but before he could say anything he felt you grab his hair and make the bond on your heart. That’s when he felt it all the love you had for him, how your heart was beating, how you were breathing. That’s when he finally decided to take the hint and kiss you. Until he heard something or better someone whistle at him it was his father. Both of you were alarmed until his father told him that he was proud of him for doing that, and that he approved you guy’s relationship. Now that was you guys happy ending.

#lo’ak x reader #first fanfic #be nice #spoils #avatar pandora

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

Note

IDK IF YOUR PROMPT LIST IS FOR REQS BUT I JUST HAD A BRILLIANT IDEA peter parker x stark! OR avenger!reader and they both have obvious crushes on eachother but don’t know how to approach it so the ALL of the avengers just decide to push them together by driving peter insane with jealousy, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM is just like “if nothing’s going on between you two, you won’t mind if I ask them out right?” OR just them hogging all of r’s time and being close to them and kissing r’s hands or lifting r into the air and just absolutely smothering her, but ITS EVERY SINGLE AVENGER IN THEIR OWN WAY (it doesn’t have to be immensely flirty but for some characters), and peter does not know why the fuck everyone is throwing themselves at r all but he of a sudden AND HE DOES NOT LIKE IT ONE BIT and reader is plain confused but enjoying the way everyone’s being so nice to them lately and it all leads to a “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU1!1!” with a flushed peter parker and him just heaving and catching his breathe after he says it

i adore this!! i had hoped to keep this under 3k but of course i ended up writing a full fic and jesus christ i need to learn how to compress anyways here u go!!! thank u for this request <3

(un)requited infatuation

pairing: peter parker x avenger! reader

summary: peter parker is in love with you and he won't do anything about it. but if there's nothing going on between the two of you, the rest of the avengers are free to make their moves, right?

warnings: idiots to lovers, jealous! peter, swearing, really really brief insinuation to sex, a lot of horrible flirting, partial nudity (not sexual), a mini-argument between sam and peter and it's like 5% angst, and tall girl 2.

w/c: 6.4k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“you don’t think i want to?” peter groaned, rubbing his forehead with frustration.

“trust me, all of us know you want to,” bucky deadpanned. the 40s man in him was dying to slap some sense into the kid, but the post-soldier bucky knew it would be hypocritical, seeing as his love life had been smaller than a pym particle ever since he left wakanda.

“all of us know you want her,” sam sighed, slinging a heavy arm over peter’s shoulder, jostling him as if it would knock some sense into the love-stricken spiderboy. “and trust me, most of us do not want to know how much you want her.”

peter blushed. “i- i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

with his free hand, sam maneuvered peter into a tight hold and shook him vigorously. maybe it wasn’t the most elegant strategy, but they were avengers, after all. being all fighty and confrontational was their thing.

“listen up man, i’m actually going to kill y-”

“hey bucky, sam… peter?” you had that ever-present skip in your step as you passed by the trio, your signature bright smile melting peter just a little bit more. your chirpy expression only faltered when you saw peter, looking like a deboned fish, in sam’s arms.

“is peter, like, good?” you squinted, eyes flickering between the three men as you tried to figure out who had liquified the boy.

“yep! all good here!” peter squeaked weakly from sam’s arms, trying to stand straight and regain his dignity. you smiled awkwardly.

“great! uh, i’m glad you’re good. anyways… bye,” you grimaced, feeling a little disheartened at the way the three avengers had stiffened at your appearance. you were new to the team, but you’d made such an effort to get to know everybody and that made it hurt even more when you saw that bucky, sam, and peter still didn’t like you.

“i think that’s enough of our ministrations for today.” bucky pried peter from sam’s arms and patted peter on the head reassuringly, if not a little patronizingly. “you’ll get the girl one day. even if that day is far, far into the future.”

as bucky and sam walked off, peter buried his face in his hands. fuck you! he’d been infatuated with you since you first arrived, and watching how quickly you’d bonded with the rest of the team, seeing you in action, and being on the receiving end of your kindness had only intensified his feelings. unfortunately, he only seemed to get worse and worse at interacting with you the more and more he fell. it wasn’t his fault that you were so pretty, and clever, and brave, and thoughtful, and-

from afar, bucky and sam watched as peter drowned in his incompetency. the two of them had been unsuccessfully playing matchmaker for peter since they’d realized his feelings for you—which didn’t take long; the boy wasn’t exactly subtle or good at keeping secrets—and they were fuming.

“i think it’s time to pull out the big guns,” bucky declared, locking eyes with sam, who steeled his jaw in determination and nodded forcefully.

“seconded, brother. tomorrow. at sunrise. operation idiot is officially in play.”

“hey doll,” bucky smiled at you charmingly as you rubbed your eyes to rid yourself of any sleep crust and scratched your arm. you hummed at him in half hearted greeting, not conscious enough to recognize (much less reciprocate) his flirting.

you yawned, opening a cabinet to search for the new mug you may or may not have purchased just to piss tony off. of course. he’d placed it on the highest shelf, at the very back, thinking you wouldn’t bother digging around to find it. well, he was fucking wrong.

(the mug. at least, it's my depiction of the mug. u can imagine ur own of course)

you hoised one foot over the countertop to try and find some footing as you jumped up, grounding yourself on your knees and steadying yourself on the marble. bucky chuckled, watching you struggle. he came up from behind you, tugging down at your oversized sleep shirt and making you jump in surprise. you whipped your head around only to find yourself face-to-face with his chest.

“bucky, what the fuck are you doing?” you mumbled, making no effort to push him away. you were too uncaffinated to deal with his antics.

“just being a gentleman.” you seated yourself fully, legs dangling over the counter as you leaned into the warmth of bucky’s chest. even this early in the morning, he smelled like his woodsy cologne and you were tempted to bury your head in his henley and continue sleeping. it was pointless to entertain that daydream. steve scheduled a mandatory training session for 6:15, not thinking much of the time, because he, unlike you, was a morning person.

you could hear the slow trickle of other grumpy avengers shuffle their way into the kitchen. your line of sight was squarely blocked by bucky, and you figured since you weren’t able to see anything anyways, it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes for just a second, right?

“by the way, your shirt was riding up. i didn’t think you wanted anyone else to see that,” he chided, searching through the top-shelf mugs for the one you were looking for. you could hear faint clicking before your forehead slammed into bucky’s chest and you dozed off.

“are you- did you fall asleep?” bucky cupped your chin softly, admiring your ability to sleep so easily. okay, fine. maybe he was a little jealous.

he set your stupid mug on the counter beside you and wrapped your arm around his neck so he could carry you off your precarious position. you were unaware of your surroundings, still contentedly asleep as bucky gingerly placed you on a couch.

“she’s out?” rhodey raised his eyebrows, sipping his coffee to hide his amused grin.

“yeah. pretty girl’s out.” bucky moved to stroke your hair, sneaking a glance at peter from his peripheral. his grip on the handle of his mug was so strong that bucky could see the veins peter’s forearms bulging. he stifled a laugh. he considered kissing your forehead, but he knew it was too early. the fun had just begun.

as more avengers congregated, the hushed morning whispers had turned into fully voiced complaints and the clattering of utensils as everyone scrambled to fuel themselves before training. you blinked blearily, waking up to the sight of wanda’s face smiling prettily above you. her red hair draped around your face.

“wan?” you groaned, pushing her out of the way so you could sit up and stretch. you slapped yourself a couple times to wake yourself up.

“you’re cute when you sleep,” wanda giggled, kissing your cheek. “you and me and nat should have a sleepover sometime.”

natasha waved you over from a stool at the island. “good morning, sleeping beauty.” she kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your back, looking right over you to make direct eye contact with peter, who quickly looked away. his jaw was clenched.

“here, have some of my smoothie,” wanda cooed, cupping your cheek with a delicate hand. you mumbled you appreciation as she held her glass out for you; you sipped from her straw under wanda’s watchful gaze. her face was just inches from yours.

“you know, we technically just kissed,” she joked, poking your cheek. you laughed, her teasing giving you a burst of energy.

“we don’t need any technicalities. you and me. sleepover. i’ll kiss you stupid,” you rebutted, snatching the glass from wanda altogether, slurping away.

the witch bit her lip as she and nat exchanged smug looks. though peter was pretending not to look, his thoughts were so loud that wanda didn’t need to put any effort in to read his mind. peter was furiously. wordlessly, he slammed his green juice on the table and stormed off to the gym.

“what’s wrong with him today?” you were too distracted by your drink to really care.

“i have absolutely no clue,” natasha shrugged.

you were half an hour in and you wanted to die and/or curse out steve. he looked perfectly fine even after lapping you twice already. he wasn’t even sweating.

you’d run four miles and a stitch had already begun to creep its way into your side. you clutched your waist, slowing to a jog as natasha made her way over.

“if you’re done running, why don’t we have some fun?” she watched as peter’s punching bag took a harder hit, spinning from the force of his punch when he heard natasha’s suggestive comment. you didn’t pick up on it.

“wanna spar?” you challenged, raising to your toes and getting in her face, moving side to side as if you were swaggering.

“you’re on, sweetheart.”

the two of you were frequent sparring partners. you’d been working together for so long that your matches were more like dances, and you’d gotten so familiar with each others’ patterns that it had forced the two of you to develop new moves and strategies. mutually beneficial.

you moved to wrap your hands, but steve beat you to it.

“allow me,” he motioned for you to sit down as he took your hand in his larger one. the two of you sat in comfortable silence, with the only noise being quiet conversations between breaks and the sound of pants and grunts from the other avengers mid-workout.

“you look beautiful today,” steve smiled, looking up from your hands to admire your face.

“i look like i’ve just run four miles and am about to pass out,” you countered, rolling your eyes. “and that’s because i have.”

steve laughed, even though what you said really wasn’t that funny. you furrowed your brows at him, confused. steve’s sense of humor was mostly dad jokes and outdated references. whatever; it wasn’t like you were about to complain about the supersoldier learning to loosen up.

when he’d finished with his wrapping, he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back. you blushed, having not expected such affection from the man who’d torturously forced you awake on a wednesday morning.

“now you be careful in there,” he lectured, wrapping his hand around your head to stroke your hair. you were in the direct line of sight of his biceps, and you couldn’t help but blush. “go easy on natasha. we both know you’re quite talented.”

you felt your face heat up even more and you prayed that your reaction wasn’t visible. “t-thanks, steve. that means a lot coming from captain america.”

peter had stopped punching to watch the interaction between you and steve. steve wasn’t known to be particularly adoring or play favorites among trainees, much less with his fellow avengers, so peter couldn’t help but feel a bubble of resentment swell in his gut. it wasn’t directed towards you, but to steve. peter was fully aware of your talent and ability in the field. heck, you’d gotten him out of tough situations more times than he could count. so what if he was bitter by the fact that steve was able to vocalize those praises to you while he could barely hold a conversation past small talk with you?

it wasn’t fair. you flourished under steve’s reverent stare and seemed to grow taller with each compliment he bestowed upon you. if steve had been interested in you before, why hadn’t he said something earlier? peter had recognized how incredible you were the moment he met you. it wasn’t fair that steve had taken months to reach the same conclusion yet still got the privilege of flirting with you when peter wasn’t even sure if you considered him to be a friend.

he couldn’t control himself as he watched steve held open the ropes and you ducked between them smoothly. he couldn’t help his trailing gaze as your thighs swiftly moved and as your back ducked between the ropes and he couldn’t help imagining what it’d be like if instead of the ring, your thighs were wrapped around his neck and wriggling as he-

nope. he cracked his knuckles, tearing his eyes away. he cursed his earlier self. he should’ve worn darker colored shorts. sam, who was being spotted by bucky as he lifted weights, set the bar down and kicked bucky in the shin. sam pointed to peter, who’d thrown himself into a concentrated haze of pull ups. his spider bite had made pull ups especially easy for peter, and today, he was moving twice as fast as usual.

“oh, he’s jealous alright,” bucky whispered from the corner of his mouth. he raised his eyebrows at sam.

“don’t every worry about it,” sam maintained. “i’ve got the perfect ending planned.”

the best part of finishing training was the promised movie night that you and rhodey had negotiated in. you needed a break sometimes, you’d argued, and movie nights were good for team bonding as well as an effective and entertaining way to relax after a gruelling day.

you lost yourself in a steamy shower haze as you brainstormed all the movies you were planning on fighting for that evening. you had originally been leaning towards a horror movie, just to spite steve, who was a strictly romcom fan, but after he’d doted on you in the gym and left you all flustered, you felt like you couldn’t do that to him.

humming a quiet tune to yourself, you went through your normal skincare routine and dried your hair, taking care to keep it protected after it’d been in such a tight updo the whole day. you wrapped yourself in a towel, preparing to change into something more comfortable, before you realized you’d left your favorite set of pajamas in wanda’s room after your last sleepover. no worries, her room was only a few doors down from yours.

stepping into some slippers and into your undergarments, you shuffled your way over to wanda with the towel still tightly wrapped around your body. you weren’t particulary uncomfortable with wandering the halls like this; injuries were an inevitable part of the field and most of the avengers had seen each other in some state of undress when tending to each others’ wounds. it wasn’t inherently sexual.

“wanda?” you called softly, shifting awkwardly so you could knock on the door while still covering yourself. you knocked again, raising your voice.

“m’lady?” came a booming voice from behind you.

“aaah!” you shrieked.

“aaah!” thor screamed.

“aaah!” wanda gasped.

you’d dropped your towel, frightened by thor’s booming voice from behind you. you scrambled to pick it up as thor covered his eyes and dramatically lamented.

“my fine maiden, i have corrupted your modesty!” he boomed, spinning around with heavy thumps of his feet. you tried to comfort him, wrapping yourself up again. at this point, it didn’t really matter. what had been done was done, and you were thankful that you’d at least put on undergarments before leaving your room.

“thor, it’s fine, really, i-”

nat and rhodey stuck their heads out of their rooms at the sound of the god’s loud cries.

“how can i ever repent? a fair lady such as yourself should never have to experience such intrusive exposure!” he wailed. “‘tis my fault, m’lady! i have breached your privacy. this is an egregious act! how ever can i redeem myself? i offer my sincerest apologies.” thor dropped to his knees with a loud thud, eyes still covered.

“‘c’mon thor, it’s all good. we’re all good, okay? apology accepted. you haven’t, uh, breached my, um, modesty. my exposure is not… intruded?” you sunk down to his level and patted his giant arm comfortingly. “there, there.”

thor cracked open his fingers and peered out at your shyly. “really?”

“yep,” you said, popping your p and giving him one last firm pat. you turned to wanda. “can i have my pajamas? please?”

she ushered you into her room and slammed the door shut behind her as natasha and rhodey howled with laughter at the red-faced god of thunder.

“…and then, my towel dropped and thor saw me practically naked and he was bawling,” you wheezed, slapping your knee as the avengers around you howled with laughter at thor’s expense. his arms were crossed like a toddler having a temper tantrum, and you slid over to him so you could give him a tight hug.

peter froze, eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. he’d taken some time to clean his room and in the meanwhile, most of the avengers had already gathered for movie night and apparently, you and thor had found time to get naked. he wanted to die.

“it’s okay, big guy.” your arms were only able to wrap around half of his body, but his tense muscles relaxed under your touch. thor glanced over at bucky and caught his wink. thor nodded in understanding.

with a surprised squeak, you found yourself lifted up by two strong hands and placed onto thor’s lap. thor hugged you tightly from behind. “thank you, fair maiden. you are too forgiving. in asgard, you would be championed for your kindness.”

you tilted your head back to meet his gaze. he smiled down at you fondly and patted your cheek. peter, blood boiling, couldn’t bring himself to look away as he watched the two of you cozy up on the couch. he took a seat in the closest open space, which just so happened to be between sam and the end of the couch. sam pursed his lips to hold back his mischievous glee.

you were laughing at all of thor’s jokes. why didn’t you ever laugh at his jokes? oh, that’s right. because he never told any jokes in front of you, because he was too fucking nervous.

tony strutted into the common area, arms laden with bags of candy. he tossed them in the air and they showered the group, some of them hitting heads and some of them falling directly into open hands.

“over here!” rhodey called to you, waving a bag of swedish fish in the air. you groaned, but excused yourself from thor’s cuddles. peter wanted to sink into the couch cushions. all day, the avengers had been hitting on you, going so far as to do you favors and even give you special treatment that they’d never given to anyone else. it was as if suddenly, everyone had come to the startling realization that you were beautiful and incredible and priceless. peter thought it was unfair. he’d been the first to recognize that, but all of a sudden, you were surrounded by admirers who’d stolen you from peter’s lovestricken grasp. the fact that you were so kind to everyone who’d adored you today and had never taken advantage of all their efforts only made him angrier. you were so fucking sweet, and he wanted to punch you in the face because of it.

tony groaned. “don’t start this, rhodey.” he only smirked. you stood in front of rhodey with your arms crossed, a withering glare burning through rhodey’s face as you evaluated his bag of swedish fish.

“i am confiscating this illegal substance.” you held your hand out impatiently. “you are being charged with the posession and use of dangerous substances.”

rhodey popped another swedish fish in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously on the sticky candy.

“oh yeah? and what gives you the right?”

“i- i’m making a citizen’s arrest. this is a threat to public safety! your fumes are contaminating the air, and whatever this-” you grabbed the bag from his hand, “-is, it’s a menace. it should be criminal to enjoy these. god, peter could probably base his web fluid off of whatever’s in this candy—that’s how sticky it is!”

peter’s head perked up like a summoned puppy at the sound of his name, which did not escape the observation of sam and bucky.

“i- yeah! did you know i make my own web fluid?” he blurted to his own mortification.

“i do! it’s so sick, i don’t know how you managed to do that without using fancy stark stuff, it’s so genius! i wish i-”

“alright children!” tony clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “movie time! sam, it’s your turn to pick out a movie.”

the room erupted in protest.

“but that’s not even-”

“we’ve never taken turns before-”

“bullshit! you made this up-”

“what is sam blackmailing you with to get you to side with him?”

tony threw his hands in the air. “enough! my tower, my rules. and today, i say that sam gets to pick the movie.” tony sent sam a not-so-subtle wink that sam couldn’t help but snickering at. he grabbed the remote and flourished his hand towards the television for the dramatic announcing of his movie pick.

“ladies, gentlemen, and gods!” thor nodded, pleased. “may i present to you… tall girl 2!”

the reaction was immediate and violent. nobody was happy. well, nobody except sam and bucky.

half an hour into the movie, you found yourself intertwined with sam right next to peter, who had been trying his best to fix his eyes on the screen and being pitifully unsuccessful every time. you weren’t oblivious to the negativity radiating off of your seat neighbor, but he’d seemed to be upset with you for the entire day and you weren’t in a confrontational mood. you’d actually found yourself a little entertained by the movie, so when sam had called you over, you’d planned on falling asleep on his shoulder. now, you were holding your breath as you watched jodi humiliate herself in front of the entire cast.

“pssst,” sam whispered in your ear. you instinctively brought your shoulder up to protect your ear from his tickling breath.

“what?” you hissed.

“i need to tell you a secret.”

“what are you, 12? why didn’t you tell me earlier? we’re in the middle of movie night.”

“i forgot,” he whined, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your flush to his chest. his face slipped into that dangerous combination of the puppy eyes and pout, and as he inched closer and closer to you, you felt yourself cave.

“fine, asshole. what is it?” you grumbled, taking both of sam’s cheeks between your hands and shaking his head back and forth in annoyance. sam swatted your hands away and motioned for you to come closer. you pressed your forehead against his.

to anybody else, the gesture would’ve seemed intimate. to peter, it wasn’t just intimate. it was like a knife to the chest. and having it happen just a few feet from him? that was a twist of the knife. hearing your soft whispers and watching as you caressed sam’s face was like pulling out the knife and letting peter bleed out.

to you and sam, this was a compromising position. not because it held any romantic or sexual significance, but because sam was fully aware that you would not hesitate to head bump him like you’d done last time he’d pulled you in close and tried to tell you a “secret” that ended up being him screaming into your ear. sam was like your irritating cousin that only visited on thanksgivings, but was also the only cousin your age and thus, the two of you were forced to get along. you had a familial bond, and the thought of being romantically involved would make the two of you gag. it felt incestual.

sam slipped a finger beneath your chin. at this point, peter wasn’t even bothering to hide his stare. his eyes were boring into the back of your head, and he prayed that the darkness of the room would hide his obvious jealousy. it did not. his face was very much illuminated by the brightness of tall girl on the television screen.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you whispered under your breath, careful not to breathe too forcefully and tickle sam’s face. he had thrown a mini-fit the last time you’d made that mistake.

“my secret’s about peter,” he hiccuped through his whisper, fighting the urge to break out into a full blown laughing fit.

“peter?” your voice grew higher and sam felt the tremor that ran through your body. he smirked.

“yeah. he’s right there though, so maybe we should talk about this in another room?”

you nodded. peter couldn’t make out anything you were saying, only that you’d agreed to something, and he prayed that it wasn’t about a hookup. fuck the bleeding out and slow death. sam was fully aware of peter’s crush on you—he was the one who encouraged peter to make a move—and here he was, seducing you right in front of peter’s face. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill sam or himself more. maybe sam first, and then himself.

“let’s get out of here,” sam said, louder in volume so that the people around the two of you could hear. a small chorus of ooohs and teasing points followed as sam took your hand in his and began dragging you away. you trailed behind him, shooting peter a nervous glance as your mind raced with all the possibilities of what sam wanted to tell you. was he going to warn you that peter hated you? that you shouldn’t sit next to him anymore? that he’d been acting so on and off with you because he couldn’t keep up the facade of tolerating you?

peter bit his tongue so forcefully he thought he might’ve drawn blood. he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to soothe his pounding heart, before jumping to his feet as well.

“sam, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, the insecurity of being overheard or watched by other avengers leaving his brain altogether as he met the eyes of the man who’d betrayed him.

“what do you mean, what am i doing? i’m just getting some fresh air,” sam shrugged nonchalongly. “hey man, are you okay? you seem a little worked up.”

peter looked at you apologetically for just a split second before he shoved sam in the chest and sent you stumbling backwards. you stood motionlessly in your spot as you took in the scene before you.

“keep your hands off of her,” peter seethed, poking sam in the chest with such aggression that sam was forced to take a step back. “you- i can’t believe you.”

sam held his hands up placatingly, shaking his head as if what peter was saying was unbelievable. “you never made a move. you don’t own her, peter. you keep saying there’s nothing going on between you two, so i figured it was fine to shoot my shot. unless there is something i’m missing?”

“no, we’re just fr- fuck, no! i-”

you scoffed, tugging on the back of peter’s shirt to move him out of the way. “sam, what did you do? i know you’re behind some sort of meddling, you little shit.”

“nothing, nothing! i was just going to tell you something and then spiderboy got all jealous and bothered.” sam rolled his eyes. “whatever. you guys deal with it. i want juice.”

the common area was silent with the exception of peter’s heavy breathing and a tall girl 2 musical number. you tapped peter’s elbow weakly.

“pete? why don’t we… go somewhere else,” you grimaced as you watched him struggle to compose himself and meet your eye.

“yeah. okay,” he sighed, dropping his head.

you considered taking his hand, but he seemed volatile and you didn’t want to risk agitating him more. instead, you walked in silence to your room as peter followed like a kicked puppy, eyes never leaving the ground.

you held the door open for him and in the darkness, you swore you saw him blush. the only light in your room was the moonlight streaming through your window, and the atmosphere seemed too intimate to break by flipping the overhead light on, so you tapped a small lamp in the corner of the room.

you motioned for him to sit on the bed. he hesitated before sinking into the mattress, dropping his head into his hands while he rested his elbows on his thighs. you sat next to him cautiously, not sure if you should say the first word.

you couldn’t tell much time had passed, but after what seemed like years of silence, he inhaled shakily and blurted, “i’m sorry.”

“i- you don’t have to apologize to me. probably sam, though.” you sighed, kicking your legs back and forth nervously.

“no, i’m- i’m sorry that i interrupted you guys. what you do in your private life is none of my business, and i shouldn’t- i had no right to get upset at you.” he paused, spitting out his next words as if they physically pained him. “or… or sam.”

“it’s okay, you weren’t interrupting much. sam wanted to tell me a ‘secret,’ apparently, and he was just being theatrical. i’m sorry if we disturbed you.”

“i-” peter scoffed and he wasn’t sure if it was because of how ridiculous he’d been acting or how painfully oblivious you were. “he wasn’t going to tell you a secret, he wanted to hook up with you. and i just- i saw the two of you leave and i was so angry.” he turned his torso to face you, and for the first time since his fight with sam, he looked you in the eye. “i don’t know if you know this, but you’re… you’re magical. in every way. and- and i always thought that about you, and i just think that- that you deserve the world.” he ran a hand down his face. “you deserve someone who really cares about you and i didn’t want—and i know it’s none of my business and it’s not my place—but i didn’t want you to be with someone that couldn’t see that about you. i know sam’s a good guy, but he never… he hasn’t been in a relationship in months and he’s not looking for one and i just didn’t want to see you hurt. i didn’t want you to be another girl he sleeps with and then forgets about. because you’re not like everyone else, you know? how could anyone forget about you?”

you stared at him, your jaw dropped. peter closed his eyes as soon as he saw your expression, his face crumpling with devastation. he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and his mouth parted just slightly, like he was going to say something more, but then he pushed himself off the bed and moved towards the door.

you were outraged. “are you serious right now?” you snapped. “no. no, you don’t get to say all that and leave. sit down. you’re not leaving until we talk this out.” you stood in front of the door, quirking your head as if daring him to object. he didn’t.

when the two of you settled back into your previous positions, you sucked your bottom lip.

“sam and i, huh?”

peter nodded solemnly.

“sam and i…” you snorted. “never. that’s never going to happen. he’s like, a sticky toddler brother. or the extended family you visit that you’re forced to babysit. god, no. we’d never see each other that way.”

peter was unnervingly still, but you could see his hands clench into fists as you spoke. you slowly moved your hand to hover over his fists, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn’t. you rested your hands over his, prompting his fingers to uncurl and settle down.

“sam wasn’t trying to… he wasn’t going to hook up with me. he was going to tell me a secret about… about you, actually,” you muttered. this time, it was your turn to look away bashfully.

“about me?” peter marveled. he was pretty sure he knew what the secret was. fuck sam. if sam was going to reveal peter’s huge crush on you, he could’ve spared peter all the suffering and jealousy and just tell you outright.

“yeah. he never did though, because…” you trailed off, waving your hands around explainitorily.

“yeah, sorry about that,” peter said, scratching the back of his neck. he opened his mouth to say something at the same time you did. the two of you laughed it off awkwardly, and he swore his heart palpatated a bit when you insisted he speak first. everyone knew speaking first was the lesser choice.

“right. in case i haven’t made it really obvious and awkward and haven’t completely humiliated myself,” he sucked in a harsh breath and fixated his stare on his shaking foot to avoid your gaze, “i like you. a lot. i thought you were so pretty when i first met you, and i never meant to fall for you, but god, whenever i see you talk to the team and every time you save my ass on missions and every time you try and talk to me even when i’m being a cold asshole, i just fall more and more in love with you. and i’ve been so unfair to you—this whole thing is so unfair to you—because i’m just springing my feelings on you after having been so distant and it’s just that… you make me so nervous,” he laughed mirthlessly. “and you’ve got such a- a magnetic presence that nobody can resist and today i watched everybody finally come to the realization of what i’ve known this whole time, that you’re absolutely amazing, and i was so jealous because everybody else could express that to you and i couldn’t. and i know that’s stupid because it’s completely my fault for not being able to talk to you properfly, and-”

“stop. stop, peter- shut up,” you interrupted, grabbing peter’s face and turning it to meet yours. he shivered as your eyes flickered between his; he felt like you had looked right past his hazy nervousness and right into his heart.

peter grimaced, stomach churning, mind blank, and mouth dry. he couldn’t predict, for the life of him, what you were going to say. never had he pictured himself in this situation, so he’d never been able to overthink it and come up with every possible ending. so he just sat there.

you didn’t quite know what to say either. this was not a situation most people found themselves in. there was no precedent.

“i’m flattered,” you started, and peter winced hard. it was a classic frienzone move. “i’m flattered that you think that way about me because i think that way about you and i can’t believe-” you exhaled, shaking your head in disbelief. “this is so crazy. i- peter, you fucking idiot! why didn’t you just-” you tugged at your hair. “god, i’ve been so in awe of you this entire time and i didn’t say shit and you didn’t say shit and now this is where we’re at.” you groaned and threw yourself backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. “i’m so mad at myself,” you mumbled.

peter was baffled. “i’m not following?”

“sorry, that didn’t really make sense, did it?” you propped yourself up on your elbows. “i liked you too, peter. well, not liked. i’ve liked you this whole time and i still do, and i was just too scared to do anything because you’re so smart and witty and everyone loves you and, well, you don’t know me nearly as much as everyone else so i thought you just didn’t like me because you’d never treat me the same way and i know i’m new and that changes the team dynamic so i just thought it was pointless to, you know, pursue anything,” you gulped at peter’s silence. he had clenched his jaw and was staring at the wall wordlessly and unmoving.

“was i wrong? should i have said something? you still feel that way about me, right? please, peter. say something, please… peter?” you whispered, voice trembling. maybe you shouldn’t have called him an idiot. or swore at him. damn, you really weren’t good at being romantic, were you?

he turned around, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, and whispered so softly you almost thought you’d been imagining it. “can i kiss you?”

you blinked. “can you- yes, you fool! com’ere, asshole.” you scrambled to your knees as peter clambered onto the bed and you grabbed the fabric of his shirt and he took your jaw in his hands and he kissed you, oh that boy kissed you stupid.

it was all wandering hands and tight embraces and silent screams of “don’t leave me,” and “i’m here,” and “finally,” and you were breathless and mesmerized when he finally pulled away.

“peter…” you whimpered, and he moved so his back was to the headboard, extended his arms, and spread his legs so you could find a home between his body. when you buried your face into his shoulder and hooked your arms around his, you fought back tears as you cursed yourself for all the insecurity that’d held you back from being here, in his arms, for months. but you were in his arms now, and it felt like you were always meant to be there. your body molded into him, and this time, it was you who was boneless and melting into the arms of another.

peter rubbed your back, likely going through the same thought process, when you spoke up again. “you said you loved me.”

peter sighed, kissing the top of your head. “yeah, i did. is that okay?”

“it’s okay. i want to- are you going to stick around after this? because i want to be able to love you too, and i don’t know if your feelings have changed because so much has changed just now,” you rambled, “but if you’d let me, i really want to love you. i want to love you.”

he twisted his torso so he could meet your eye. “you think i’m going to leave after this? after i’ve been pining after you for months? never. you could never get rid of me. i’m here for as long as you’ll let me be. and if you could love me one day, then damn, i’d be the happiest man in the world.”

he ran his thumb under your eye to catch the tear threatening to spill over. you smiled wobbly at him and with a quick raise of your chin, you pressed your lips to his once more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i'm considering doing a couple mini-fics/drabbles of their relationship after this one-shot! thoughts?

mini fic: group hug drabble: you are in love

peter parker masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker friends to lovers #peter parker x y/n #peter parker enemies to lovers #peter parker mutual pining

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gold-rhine · 6 months

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For the bodypart canons askgame can we get Neuvillette? If you don't have much about him yet then I wanna be the first one to ask for Kaeya

I already did for Neuvi! In fact its easier for him bc he just came out, so i have a lot of things to extrapolate from, but I was writing long ass essays for kaeya for more than a year, so its harder to come up with anything new to say asdfghj. like i don't to repeat same headcanons i already wrote, like that he's related to candace

Headcanon: I can muster a cogent argument for why it would make more sense or make for a better story if this were the case

i've gotta say, i'm a bit peeved when i see ppl portraying child kaeya as like. a dickensian beggar boy who was let to the fireplace and cried bc he tried a cube of sugar for the first time in his life. like, alberichs are nobility and we know khaenriah took their nobility *very* seriously. and if they knew they are sending their scion to mond's nobility, they'd make damn sure he can keep up their dignity. kaeya canonically could read and write before he got to mond and game makes sure to highlight that his handwriting is beautiful.

i think kaeya was very well educated, very well schooled and mannered and prepared for like high society politics, and it was kind of a cultural shock for him how uncivilized ragnyvdirs are in comparison to his own upbringing. like he's a bit confused when he doesn't see 10 different forks at the dinner table, but he's keeping a brave face, but then he sees diluc wipe his mouth with a sleeve and like snatch a piece of meat from the dish and is just completely stunned. and diluc is like oh don't be shy, you can have more too if you want!, but kaeya is in fact seeing a heart attack his own father would have at this scene. this is why he comes off as very quiet and polite to all adults at the estate

Heartcanon: I don’t have a particular rationale for why this ought to be the case, I just like to imagine it’s true because it gives me the warm fuzzies

my conspiracy theory headcanon is that he does still have his horse, but doesn't use her for work. like when he just became a knight as a teen, he saw a horse that no one wanted or ever chose bc she had horrible temper, and slowly gained her trust with treats and attention until they've became friends like a true horsegirl would. that horse was left in mond bc she doesn't let anyone else ride her, so the expedition just left her to kaeya, but he just treats her like a luxury pet and spoils her to death

Gutcanon: it’s not that I actively want this to be the case – it just unaccountably feels like it should be

the first ability from his vision that ever activated was his C4 shield when diluc cleaved him on the head and this is what saved his life. this shield is v useful, but kaeya hates it as a reminder. he also has pretty big burnscar on his eye, bc like. he took a flaming claymore to the eye, no way he has a dainty little white line from a hit like that

Junkcanon: I like to imagine it’s true because it gives me the other kind of warm fuzzies

has a collection of corsets and elaborate lingerie sets. like, you open the corset on his default outfit and there is another, even sexier corset underneath

Spleencanon: I insist that this is the case specifically to spite the author, because, like, fuck you, sir or madam

every time hoyo tries to gaslight us into pretending diluc was right and in fact normal about kaeya and the knights the whole time, i'm sending psychic spiders to them on the astral plane

#rhine talks #kaeya

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thestalwartheart · 7 months

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with rain comes shine

On a rare lazy Sunday morning, Q and Bond luxuriate in each other. Flufftober Fill for 'Rainy day.'

[Read below or on AO3.]

It was a horrible morning in London; the dreariest kind where even the relentless patter of rain seemed to radiate boredom. Thankfully, it was a Sunday without any major incidents so far, so Q could afford to indulge himself in a bit of pointless lounging.

And wasn’t the only one intending to make the most of circumstance.

On the sofa, surrounded by the unkempt clutter of Q’s living room, sat Bond. He was alert and upright even as he read, and next to him, on a coffee table that featured a few more piles of books than it usually would, a steaming espresso steamed pleasantly. The cats were piled together on the armchair opposite, watching him with open bewilderment.

Q sympathised.

Seeing one of the world’s foremost secret agents reading in his dressing gown was quite the thing. It was even better knowing that he did so in a fetching pair of reading glasses. They were tortoiseshell and rounder than Q might have picked for Bond if he’d had to guess at what frames the man wore, but they suited him. They seemed to render him benign, though not boring, and Q was suddenly reminded of one of his old English teachers at school, one he’s had a few good wanks over once upon a time.

“‘Morning,” said Q. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

In a move that was only slightly too hasty, Bond pocketed them. “Will my dignity stay intact if I tell you they’re only meant to be fashionable?”

“Oh, no. That’s much worse. Besides, I like them.” He reached into Bond’s pocket and drew the frames out for closer examination. “Rather professorial, aren’t they?”

Bond made a noise that was very close to a growl. He tugged at Q until Q was splayed across his thighs. “Shall I call you a naughty boy, then? Have you been a terrible student?”

Q snorted an ungainly laugh. Once it escaped him, he couldn’t stop it from dissolving into riotous giggles. “For the love of god, let’s never go down that road again.”

“No?” smiled Bond. “You don’t want to dress up as a repressed schoolboy for me?”

“Absolutely not. I was never particularly repressed anyway.”

“I’d noticed.”

Bond’s eyes twinkled, and buoyed by their shared good mood, Q couldn’t help but kiss him. Bond’s mouth tasted of espresso, bitter and hot. He put his book aside on the coffee table and dedicated himself entirely to the task of disheveling Q. They spent a few long minutes necking, though Q was happy for it not to go anywhere too fast. He hadn’t had his tea yet, and he always did his best work after an Earl Grey or two.

When they broke apart, Q turned to the book on the coffee table.

“What are you reading?”

“Hemingway. The Americans do have some redeeming literature.” Bond slipped his hand under Q’s dressing gown and under his rumpled, warm pyjamas. Outside, the rain drummed its constant rhythm. “We would be together…” whispered Bond, trailing a line of kisses down Q’s slender neck before him. “…and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright.”

Q tilted his head back and sighed. Bond’s lips were at his pulse, and he could feel the brush of eyelashes at his jaw.

This, he thought, was the epitome of good romance. Bugger the Michelin-starred dinners and the martinis and the four-figure suits. Q would take an untidy morning snog on the couch any day.

“Can I tempt you back to bed, darling?” asked Bond.

Q bit his lip and ran a hand through Bond’s hair, ushering him into leaving a love bite above Q’s clavicle. Then, with only some regret, he drew away.

“Tea first,” Q insisted. “Then you can put those glasses back on and do whatever you want to me.”

Bond laughed and let him go.

As he filled and boiled the kettle, Q mused that it was a perfect morning. They didn’t get many of those. Between all the stress and the absences, all the women in the field, and the complete lack of promises beyond the one that remained constant and true — I will always be here when you call) — a rainy day where they had little to do except savour each other seemed like a holiday. It was an ersatz honeymoon, and all the more precious because both of them would be bored stiff if they had to live this way for more than a day or two.

At the kitchen counter, Bond sidled up behind Q, wrapping his arms around Q’s waist.

“How fast can you drink that tea?” he asked.

Q tutted. “I’ll drink it slower if you keep asking.” Then, placing a slow kiss against the stubble of Bond’s jaw, he proclaimed, “I’m in no rush.”

#00q #00q fic #my fic #james bond #flufftober

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pomplalamoose · 8 months

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to love from afar

✨Master Luke Skywalker x reader✨

summary: During your training as a Padawan you get hurt and are in desperate need of help.

Of course your Master, Luke Skywalker, comes to your rescue, while you try your hardest to hide your feelings towards him.

word count: 5,451

Frantically scrambling for anything to hold on to, you tumble down the shallow hill you were standing on just a few seconds ago.

Quickly you realize you couldn't have chosen a worse spot to loose your footing, as you feel sharp stones digging their edges into your legs, scraping up your arms and shoulders.

A collection of rather thorny growths finally stops your fall, but, to your dismay, also hinders you at successfully getting up again, the thorns already having a very solid hold on your soft clothes.

Still you try to move, wanting to at least retain some last bit of your dignity.

You instantly regret that decision when a horrible pain shoots through your limps, rendering you very much helpless.

"Uhhhhhh, are you okay?"

A hesitant voice rings out and out of the corner of your eye you spot your sparring partner moving toward you with a concerned expression.

Carefully you will your head to look at them, preparing to ease their worries with some easy words.

All that escapes your mouth though, is a very pathetic noise, somewhere between a groan and a whine.

Now standing directly next to you, their eyes grow huge.

"Oh. Oh wow, oh force. Oh wow. Uhhh. Is all of that your blood?"

Instead of responding you just continue looking up at them.

Even if you were currently able to form words, it'd be rather useless, because OF COURSE it's your blood.

At least that's what you assume.

Due to your current inability to move even a single muscle you haven't managed to get a good look at yourself and your injuries.

You're not sure you want to anyways.

If there is as much blood as your fellow student's reaction indicates, you'd rather not.

An awkward silence falls, before they shake off their initial shock and crouch, trying to help you sit up.

Finally in an upright position again, you heave a sigh of relief, which immediately turns into a shriek when you spot your bloody legs tangled in thorny tendrils.

"Oh no oh no oh no, get them off, get them off of me, this hurts like hell!", you sputter at the same time they say

"Just stay here like this, I'll get help. I'll be back real fast, I promise."

Instantly you stop in your tracks, looking up at them with as much indignance you can muster right now.

"Oh don't you dare! The others can't see me like this, that would be SO embarrassing, you can't do that to me!"

When they don't reply right away, you quickly fall suspicious. Then suddenly you see a complacent expression grow on their face.

"Don't be so silly.", they say with a widening grin, "I'm getting Master Skywalker, of course!"

With that they turn around and sprint away before you can properly register their words.

Horrified you do your best to square your shoulders and straighten your back, your hands shooting up to to fix your hair.

Quickly finding it a hopeless endeavour, you hurriedly try wiping at your face instead to get it as clean as possible.

Unfortunately, with your hands full of dust and bloody sprinkles you end up doing more harm than good, eventually just slumping back down in defeat.

You are very well aware you're not getting out of this predicament alone; still you have to admit that you'd rather be surrounded by a group of snickering classmates than having to face the gentle exasperation Master Skywalker will surely display.

It's an expression he regards you with often and it never fails to make you want to curl up and hide away somewhere.

You hate having such a hard time successfully carrying out even the simplest of his exercises and while Master Skywalker has been nothing but patient with you, you want to be good enough, just once, to hear some of his rare praise directed at you instead of messing up most of the time.

The vehemence of this wish at first surprised even yourself until you awoke one morning, rather short of breath with a tingling persistence between your legs.

The realization you had developed a crush on your teacher slowly dawning on you then.

Far from the only one fawning over his good looks, you and the other Padawans happily indulge in the quick exchange of glances, the shared giggles and wildly exaggerated retellings about "that one time during dinner when Master Skywalker held eye contact wayyyy longer than necessary, I swear, he even smiled at me!!!".

Though while the others are doing everything to draw near to your Master whenever they possibly can, some even stumbling into him to hopefully get caught in his embrace, you find yourself going out of your way to avoid just that, finding his presence so overwhelming you'd rather admire him only from a distance.

Now, with the prospect of facing him in your current situation, you feel your heart rate increasing rapidly.

Force, this is humiliating.

You don't even have a good explanation for the fall you just took, simply having failed to be aware of your surroundings, only concentrating on keeping your partners saber out of your face.

There's no way you'll get out of this without at least some extra exercises and one on one training deep into the night.

And even more so you worry you'll be forced to leave because maybe you are just THAT bad and a hopeless case and then-

Like out of nowhere you feel your Master approaching, his presence in the force so all consuming not even you can miss it.

Breathing in and out extra carefully to calm your traitorous heart, his perfectly polished boots enter your field of vision.

At this you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut firmly, not being able to witness his immediate reaction, scared you might accidentally start tearing up in the face of his disapproval.

You hear his steps stop just short of your body, a slight crinkle as he seemingly adjusts his clothes.

Slowly you take a little peek and nearly let out a screech, your eyes shooting open immediately.

His face is hovering close to yours, the movement you heard being from him bending down.

You don't think you ever had the chance to get a glimpse of his face that close.

It's unbearable, like looking into the sun, like drowning in seas of blue.

He scrutinizes you with slightly raised eyebrows, his expression not indicating his thoughts.

When he speaks it's in a surprisingly careful tone, not a trace of the gentle teasing he normally puts forth at the failings of his students.

"I need you to stay very still for me, alright? Can you do that?"

When you nod, he comes to kneel beside you, his hands already moving towards your legs before he suddenly turns to face you again.

"I will need to touch you now. Is that okay?"

Momentarily caught off guard by the way his eyes lock onto yours, you have to gulp before you are able to weakly voice an answer.

"Yes, Master."

At this he tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement, before starting to detangle the thorny tendrils from your legs.

He works with calm efficiency, his movements precise and focused on causing you the least possible harm.

Your mind, though, is reeling.

Not from pain but from how close he is, from how his unwavering focus is concentrated on you alone.

From how-

Oh. He's looking at you again.

"You have been very brave so far, you will hold on a little longer, yes?"

You manage a nod.

"Good. Don't forget to breathe then, I won't accept you fainting on me."

Fighting down the embarrassment you follow his order, not wanting to be caught in your thoughts like that again.

Are your shields strong enough? Did he sense what you were thinking about?

"Now, isn't that much better.", he remarks and you realize your legs are free to move again.

While relieved, you suddenly feel almost sad at how fast he will move on with his day now, leaving you replaying this singular moment a thousand times in your head.

"Yes, thank you so much, Master.", you shyly say while pretending to busy yourself with straightening out your messy clothes.

"I-"

The words get stuck in your throat and a whimper escapes instead, as your attempt to stand fails spectacularly.

He is at your side in a second, hand on your chin, his voice suddenly stern.

"How come you did not deem it important to inform me about the seriousness of your injuries, Padawan?"

"I- I-, no, it's not that bad, really I-"

Flustered you watch as he lifts an eyebrow, his grasp on your chin not wavering in the slightest.

"No? But you seemed to have some trouble there right now, did you not?"

An expectant silence falls, as you try to string together your words but find you're too distraught by the way he basically has you cornered.

After a moment he speaks again.

"I don't like repeating myself over and over again, Padawan. I believe I have told all of my students how important their honesty is to me, especially when they are hurt or in distress."

"Y-yes, Master. Of course, I-"

"Should I not be told immediately if something is wrong? If one of the students under my care is suffering?"

You struggle to continue looking at him but his hand on your chin leaves you no other choice. Your voice comes out rather meek in comparison when you again try to answer.

"No, of course you should be told, Master. I know you only have our best interest in mind. I didn't mean to-"

He hums approvingly.

"Much better. Now tell me. Are you still too weak to walk back by yourself? Do you need me to carry you?"

Your eyes widen at that.

Despite your racing heart, you find yourself nodding, hoping dearly he won't notice your nervousness at the prospect of him holding you so close.

His face softens and he almost smiles.

"Good, there you go. That wasn't so hard, mmh? Put your arms around my neck so I can pick you up properly."

Shakily you comply and are immediately swooped up into his strong arms as if your body doesn't weigh more than a feather.

Careful not to hurt you, he positions your legs around his waist, then holds you close by the back of your thighs.

"Okay?", he asks.

Clinging to his shoulders all you manage is a nod.

To say you're somewhat overwhelmed right now would be an understatement.

Luckily he doesn't seem to need more than that and after slightly adjusting you, you soon find yourself among the other Padawans again.

Your friend, upon spotting you in your Master's arms, gives you a very enthusiastic thumbs up, while all around the air hums with the excited tittering of your classmates.

You can't hold back from sticking your tongue out at them.

All this attention is exactly what you didn't want.

Master Skywalker, meanwhile, steers clear of the little group, heading towards the building where his quarters are located.

Upon noticing this, you are immediately shaken out of your embarrassment, trying to get his attention.

"Master? I don't think-, uuh maybe just, let me down here?"

He doesn't respond to that, continuing forwards like he didn't hear you at all.

You decide to try again.

"The others will look after me, you don't have to worry, it's going to be fine. I'm sure of it!"

To your surprise he huffs a laugh at that.

"Oh yes? Certainly didn't sound like it a few minutes ago. You are not getting out if this so easily, Padawan."

Patting your back like one would to calm a beloved pet, he sets foot inside what seems to be his living room and puts you down on an array of comfortable cushions.

Busy taking in these new surroundings, you don't realize your arms are still clasped behind his neck until he reaches for them to gently ease them away, obviously amused.

"As much as I appreciate your eagerness to follow my order, I can't take a good look at your wounds with you clinging to me like that."

The horror you're feeling at this must be evident on your face.

And then, when you open your mouth to say something, anything, you see it.

That gentle exasperation.

Your heart sinks even deeper; he will never view you as more than a little fool committed to their Jedi training.

You're sure of that now.

Inwardly you scold yourself for hoping otherwise just because he seemed so concerned when he found you lying amidst thorny bushes.

Like he wouldn't have been concerned for any of his students under those circumstances.

Just then you feel big warm hands envelope your much smaller ones, giving a gentle squeeze.

"Look at me, Padawan. Yes, that's it, very good. I did not mean to upset you. Okay?"

He leans forward, closer, as if to make sure his words really reached you.

"Okay?"

You try yourself at a weak smile and nod, his hands squeezing yours again, before he places them down to straighten up.

Shortly after he returns with what seems to be a first aid kit, all his focus concentrated on you once more.

He regards you with such an intensity you can barely stand it, your head immediately lowering again, desperately wishing him to just go on with what he wants to do.

His boots enter your field of vision just like earlier that afternoon, but now under very different circumstances.

You recoil slightly with surprise when he kneels down directly in front of you, still not used to his vicinity, a gasp escaping when he graps your right ankle to get a better look at your leg.

His eyes immediately snap up to yours.

"No, I am okay, that didn't hurt!", you try to reassure him.

"I was just- surprised."

He hums and lifts your leg higher, carefully bending it at the knee, examining its entirety with firm touches, then repeating the same process on the left.

"How was that? It doesn't seem like something is broken or sprained. Did it feel uncomfortable in any way?"

Finally, finally you are given a chance to explain and your shoulders relax slightly.

"Actually, Master, I think the main injuries are superficial scratches. It's just. They were bleeding a lot and now I think my pants are sticking to the wounds? And whenever I move, it feels like they are ripped open anew."

"That seems most likely, yes.", he agrees.

"It might be best to remove them then, before they cause you even more harm. This will also make it easier for me to clean away the blood and make sure nothing is infected."

It is like the world around you has stopped.

His words ring true and yet you can't believe what he expects you to do.

The mere thought of undressing in front of him, your Master, the man you have harbored a hopeless crush on for so long, makes your head spin.

This wasn't how it played out in your dreams and now that you are confronted with reality, you can't think about anything else except your insecurities.

Sensing your shock, he lets go of your left leg and sits back on his heels to give you some space.

"I understand this might be uncomfortable for you.", he begins gently.

"I apologize for my forwardness. I will of course leave while you undress and trust that you are more than capable to take care of yourself just as well."

Through the force you feel his sincerity and are momentarily thankful, the feeling being quickly replaced by something like panic when he makes a move to get up.

You can practically feel your face glowing when you speak up with a quiet voice.

"Master I-, I don't think I'm able to do that on my own. I get-, I cant-"

Placing a hand on your knee he encourages you to keep going and the warmth consoles you a little bit.

Taking a deep breath you continue.

"The blood. Master, I can't see blood. And it hurts. I'm afraid I won't be able to do a very good job. But I know this is necessary, I agree with what you said. I- I need help. Please."

Daring to peek up in his eyes, you see him gazing intently at you, before nodding his agreement.

"That wasn't so hard, mmh? Of course I will assist you in this, I'm very pleased you dared to speak out and ask for help."

Taking his hand off your knee, he momentarily exits the room, leaving you finally able to breath normally again.

Feeling slightly dizzy you bury your heated face in your hands.

You are relieved he agreed to help you, but then, with a wave of nausea, you think of the way you will have to expose yourself in front of him.

Foolishly, in your deepest, most hidden dreams, you had wished for this to happen during a moment of romantic intimacy and not because you fell and rolled down a hill.

You had imagined him leaving heated kisses all over your shivering figure, ultimately dissolving your insecurities in sweet pleasure.

As always the reality is, of course, rather bleak in comparison and you feel tears of embarrassment starting to gather behind your eyes as he reenters, carrying a few medical supplies.

Spotting your agitated expression he quickly draws nearer and crouches down in front of you again, sensing your obvious apprehension.

"Relax, my Padawan, you are allowed to breathe. I will make quick work of this and with your assistance we will get through it easily."

Unhappily you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, too shy to say anything.

Your hear him release a breath through his nose, standing back up when you don't respond.

Fearing he changed his mind and mistook your silence for defiance, you helplessly breath out for him.

"Master, please, don't leave, I-"

"I'm not leaving you.", he tells you calmly as he sits down on the cushions beside you, carefully moving a hand to gently stick a strand of your messy hair behind your ear.

"I understand this is not an easy situation but be assured that I have nothing but your best interest in mind. I would not dream of taking advantage of you in any way, if that is what you are worried about."

"Master, I know you wouldn't!", you reply hastily, turning to look at him.

Only then you realize don't have another explanation you can give him for your behavior.

You have managed to keep your infatuation to yourself and you want it to remain this way, no matter how much you would like to succumb to it.

With him so close it's even harder than usual; you know he can sense your racing heart and thoughts which is precisely why you seek to avoid him otherwise.

"Please don't worry, Master.", you tell him instead.

"I'm...I'm simply all over the place from earlier, I might have hit my head too?"

You inwardly cringe at how unsure you sound even to your own ears but apart from sharply raising his eyebrows at you, he doesn't press the topic any further.

"I expect you to tell me, should you later assume this to be true."

When you quickly agree, his expression softens again.

"Very good. Let's move forward then. I'd like to position your legs over my lap while working if you'd be comfortable with that."

You´re sure your heart almost stops at that but thankfully your body reacts accordingly, scooting a little closer and lifting your feet off the floor.

Gifting you a warm smile, your Master bends down to reach for your legs, helping you to arrange yourself until you're comfortable.

"I brought some scissors to cut away the fabric of your pants.", he explains while carefully removing your shoes.

"I hope it will be easier this way and cause you less pain. Should I be too rough, don't be afraid to say so, alright?"

You mentally ready yourself and nod, leaning back slightly so he hopefully won't notice your shaking hands.

Inwardly you scold yourself for being so dramatic.

This is okay. This is a totally normal situation. In fact, this could have happened to any of the others too.

Looking down to where your Master started taking apart your pants, you feel like screaming at how ridiculously attractive he is even now.

With his head slightly bent over and strands of his soft looking hair partly obscuring him from your view, you can't stop staring.

You suddenly feel hot all over and this time you're sure it's not from embarrassment.

One of his broad shoulders is warm and steady against your chest as his capable hands skillfully work away.

Just as you are admiring his jaw and boldly wonder how it would feel to place a little kiss there, spikey pain shoots through your left leg.

You cry out and reflexively reach out, finding yourself clinging to his upper arm like a drowning sailor.

Immediately stopping his administrations, Luke lays the scissors down and somewhat awkwardly pats your ankles in an effort to calm you.

"I did not plan for this to hurt you so.", he says apologetically.

"Seemingly your left side took more damage than the right. I don't think cutting away to spare you pain is going to make a big difference here. I will have to think about something else."

"Huh?", is all you can convey and feel immensely stupid after. What an amazing contribution.

Your Master sighs and you scrunch up your nose sheepishly. Then you realize you're still hanging on to his arm and let go like something burned your fingers.

"I will have no more of your skittish behavior right now.", he says looking at you, his voice stern but kind.

It seems he has come to some sort of conclusion as he continues.

"If holding on to me is what you feel you need to do in order to get through this, you will act accordingly. You are hurt and seem very out of it and I'm not going to fault you for it. However I'm displeased you are not standing by your actions and again failed to inform me about your needs."

He is displeased. And is that disappointment you sense behind his words?

"Forgive me, Master.", you say quietly, feeling pathetic.

"This is what, the third time, I'm reminding you of this today? Even though I explicitly told all of you that I do not like. To. Repeat. Myself."

You tense up, blinking hard to keep tears at bay.

"I'm so sorry, Master. I'm really sorry."

Your voice slightly cracking you realize the hold you had on yourself until now is slipping.

The tension stored in your body since the moment you fell loosening all at once, you can't suppress a sob.

It's quiet for a few seconds but before you can say anything else, his arms are wrapping around you in a gentle embrace, pulling you into his lap entirely.

"M-Master???"

A hand comes up to stroke your hair and when he speaks his warm breath fans over your ear.

"This is not only about your injuries, is it not, my Padawan? I hope you do not fear me?"

Frantically you shake your head, face still buried in his chest.

"No? That's not it? Mmh...you certainly don't have to confide in me but I have sensed a great tension within you whenever I am close."

Still stroking your hair he continues.

"I will refrain from urging you to come forward but again I want to assure you I only want what's best for you. I want to take good care of you and make sure you're comfortable and safe here with me. If there is anything I have done to convince you of the opposite-"

"No! No Master, you haven't done anything wrong, I- it's just that I-"

He looks at you expectantly and like every time the overwhelming want to be good rushes through you, the thought of lying to his face like this unbearable.

Not being able to stay silent you squeeze your eyes shut and blurt out the next words.

"I have feelings for someone. I- I have a childish crush. I know it's unbecoming of a Jedi, Master. I was afraid to be a disappointment. I was afraid you would find out, to fail my training and to fail you. I'm so ashamed."

You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to face the consequences just yet, fully expecting him to remove you instantly from where you are perched on his lap.

Instead nothing changes, his breathing is calm es ever, not even stopping his caresses.

Unable to endure his silence any longer, you lift your head, searching for an answer on his face.

"...Master? Please say something. Do I have to leave now? Will you- will you send me away?"

He shushes you soothingly before responding.

"No, of course not. Attachment was frowned upon by the Jedi before their fall, in that you are correct.

However I do not want to maintain this as strictly while rebuilding the order. I myself have attachments and would certainly struggle without the people dear to me. You are a great student of mine and I do not want to miss your abilities."

Gripping your shoulders to get a proper look at you, he smiles encouragingly.

"I'm aware you are prone to worrying but in this be assured, you have not failed as a Padawan because you dare to feel towards those surrounding you. Okay? And of course you will remain here with me and the others, that much is out of question."

Overcome with both relief and conflicting feelings you nod fiercely and he briefly squeezes you tight before hoisting you up under your arms and setting you down in your previous spot.

"Now. Let's take another look at your legs, shall we? The best approach could possibly be to let everything soak for a short while and to then rip it off. Like a very big band aid."

You're kind of thrown by his quick change of topic, still stuck on the fact that he seems to hold you in rather high regard, so in contradiction to your previous beliefs.

But you know he is a very busy man and probably has more important things to do than to wait for your response.

So of course you agree and he applies bacta gel to your already exposed scratches while your pant leg on the other side slowly loosens from your wounds.

You watch him work, your mind reeling from your conversation and his closeness.

The relief that flooded you after admitting to your one fault is truly uplifting, yet you feel gnawing guilt at the prospect of not telling the entire truth.

How could you, though?

Just then he experimentally tugs at the soaked pant leg and while it's not pleasant, it doesn't hurt badly either.

Your preservations, though, aren´t entirely dispelled yet.

"And you're sure, you can't just use the scissors again, Master?"

He thinks for a moment but quickly shakes his head.

"I could try of course but from what I sense, I would only run the risk of accidentally hurting you more. The final decision is yours to make, of course, I won´t talk you into this."

Weighing the options you release an uncomfortable sigh.

"Then ripping it off it is, I guess."

"I promise I will be quick, maybe take hold somewhere? Can't have you flying across the room because of this."

A giggle blubbers up before you can stop it and you spot a somewhat playful glimmer in his eyes as you both get into position.

"Okay, on the count of three, hold on tight. Are you holding on tight?"

"Yes, Master.", you respond with laughter in your voice.

"Well then...one, two and three!"

With an almost comical jerk your bloodied pant leg comes off, landing somewhere in a corner.

Your wounds now finally in the open you can´t stop yourself from making a face.

That's definitely anything but sexy.

Your Master however doesn't seem to mind, gathering your naked legs close to apply more bacta.

Once again you are struck at the sheer size of his hands, one of them easily wrapping around your lower calf.

Don't stare, you sternly remind yourself, and don't get too excited or he will think you upset again.

You try to concentrate on the pain instead, which is fading rather quickly now due to your Master's administrations.

And before you know it, before you can deliberately enjoy this precious moment, it's over.

Gently your legs are lowered to the ground again and Luke gets up to collect the supplies and parts of your pants lying around.

"Let me see if I have some bandages and an old pair of pants here to lend.", he says turning to you.

"I can't let you leave in a state of undress, after all."

"Yes, thank you so much, Master.", you reply obediently while a stubborn voice inside your head insists on staying just a little while longer.

Not that his presence is any less nerve wrecking after this strangely intimate situation you shared; you simply can't seem to tire of looking at him, his features, his lively eyes.

At least you got close to him for the first time today, you tell yourself. You were recipient of his affection and care and now you'll even get to wear his clothes.

No reason to get greedy.

Rounding the corner he returns with a satisfied look about him, clearly having found what he was looking for.

"Don't worry.", he says as he is kneeling down in front of where you are still seated.

"This will take but another few minutes and then you are allowed to leave. Your pants will be replaced and for your walk back to your room you may wear this pair of mine. It's probably too big but it will do."

Laying it down next to you he starts to carefully wrap bandages around sections not yet fully healed.

This too ends much too quickly and against your better judgement your heart speeds up, your tongue desperate to blurt out your deepest feelings.

Before you can even think to open your mouth though, he reaches for you, helping you to get up.

You're briefly glad your shirt is covering half of your thighs before he hands you the pants and you rather awkwardly try to put them on.

Unlike before he does not offer his help, instead watching you with an amused expression that has your cheeks burning a fiery red.

Why is he looking at you like this? Why aren't you able to close a button normally like every other person?

"Done?", he asks when you have finally managed to put everything in order.

"Yes, Master."

He laughs at that, a truly lovely sound, one you don't hear often.

"Then off you go and take care this time, can you do that for me?"

Laying a hand on the back of your neck, he leads you back outside stopping just out of sight from the others.

"If your wounds continue to trouble you, tell me. If I find out you aren't truthful about this there will be consequences, am I understood Padawan?"

"Yes, Master."

"Repeat it."

"I understand, Master."

At that he relents and his gloved hand quickly reaches out to momentarily hold your cheek.

"Very good, Padawan. Although there is one last thing."

When he sees your confused face, he can't contain a smirk. Looking out across the wood in the distance and then back at you, he's suddenly serious again.

"You didn't tell me the whole truth when I asked what truly bothered you."

Feeling your heart miss a beat for what feels like the twentieth time today, you grow tense. Why does he manage to catch you off guard again and again?

"How...how do you know, Master?"

"The shields around your mind aren't always as well secured as you think, my Padawan. Especially under stress you tend to let your guard down. We will have to work on that, don't you think?"

Truly horrified at his words you are unable to respond in any way.

"Go, Padawan. Take the rest of the day off to regain your strength for tomorrow."

"Yes, Master."

Your voice comes out weak, barely audible, unheard by anyone.

Master Skywalker is already gone.

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