#why is this one both so simple and yet somehow difficult
I don’t know which is fraying faster...the fabric of the vest I’m working on or my sanity :)
1 note · View note
“please stay” + “i’m trying to propose to you” from this 3k followers celebration
word count: 1,779 (continued under the Read More)
Ghoul hunting was never fun business, especially when it resulted in two bruised ribs, six stitches and a very sore knee. Sam, who was covered in dried blood and grave dirt, had instantly taken off towards the bathroom the second they walked through the door. Dean had come out of the hunt only slightly less covered in grime, so he conceded and let Sam claim the bathroom first; leaving him alone to track down his angel.
When Dean walked into the kitchen, what he’d been hoping for was some kind of dinner. Or well, considering they’d left Cas alone in the Bunker, at the very least one of Cas’ classic sandwiches and a cool bottle of beer. What he hadn’t been expecting was the entire kitchen to be in disarray.
Pots and pans were strewn everywhere. Flour had burst along the counter, covering the floor in heaps of white powder. Splattered eggs seemed to be drying along the steel appliances, and a blend of what looked like spices had fallen from the shelving storage in the corner and had covered the rest of the shelves in brightly colored powder mixture. Dishes were piled up in the sink, and it looked like at one point the sink had flooded over, leaving a puddle on the floor.
Even the kitchen table had been taken over by the mess. Bowls of batter and ingredients lay haphazardly across the wood, leaving barely a spot visible that hadn’t been swamped with fruit and empty milk cartons.
“Cas, sweetheart, what in the actual fuck happened?” Dean barely managed to get out, eyes unable to even comprehend the obliatered kitchen that had once been clean and spotless a mere 14 hours ago.
Cas whipped around from the counter, a trail of streaked butter across his forehead and either flour or icing sugar dusting his nose. “Dean! You weren’t supposed to be back yet. Or see this, for that matter.”
“Whatever this is, I’m seein’ a helluva lot of it. How the hell did you manage to make a mess of every square inch of the kitchen?” Dean said, torn between fond exasperation and utter defeat at seeing all the mess he’d have to clean up.
“It wasn’t deliberate; the mess I mean. The plan was. But it didn’t…” Cas sighed, casting his eyes down in defeat. “I vastly underestimated how difficult preparing a three-course home cooked meal would be,” he said, placing the bowl in his hand down onto the last free space of the counter to avoid looking at Dean for a few more seconds.
“What’re you talking about, Cas?” Dean asked, gaze straying back to the dishes as he once again prayed they could get a dishwasher installed somehow because that amount of dishes was going to be a bitch to hand wash.
The pout that crossed Cas’ lips was too damn irresistible considering the mess the angel had made, and Dean couldn’t help but pick his way through the wreckage towards the Angel.
“I was trying to surprise you,” Cas sighed, pout growing into a look of fond exasperation as Dean swiped his sleeve over the tip of Cas’ nose and up across his forehead.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but as far as surprises go, you might have dropped the ball on this one,” Dean admitted, shuffling forward to drop his forehead to Cas’ shoulder; pressing a quick kiss to the angel’s neck before pulling away. "I'm gonna go clean up," Dean said, taking a half-step away.
"No, wait," Cas rushed out, hand darting forwards to wrap around Dean's wrist, fingers resting softly against his pulse point. “Please stay."
"If you want my help cleaning up this mess, you're gonna have to do a lot of convincing. And by that, I mean a hell of a lot of kissing," Dean said, because he really was tired from the hunt, but if he got to stand around and make out with Cas, even if he was bruised and sore, then at least he could be persuaded to do some of the clean-up duties.
A brief flicker flashed across Cas' eyes as if he were seriously contemplating the idea of making out before he steeled himself with a steadying breath. "While that does sound like a tempting offer, because you know I'm partial to kissing you breathless, that's not why I want you to stay."
Dean cocked his head, sliding his grip in Cas' hand until their palms rested together and their fingers were interlocked. "Alright, you've piqued my interest. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"
A pink tinge dusted Cas’ cheeks, and it made Dean reach up and brush his thumb across Cas’ cheekbone, feeling the warmth beneath the angel’s skin. “It was supposed to be romantic. Home cooked meal, candles, pie. I wanted to make it perfect. Something memorable and special.”
“Cas? What’s going on?” Dean asked, heart beginning to race as Cas’ words began to click into place.
“This whole thing,” Cas said, gesturing with his free hand towards the mess of the kitchen. “I was planning a romantic dinner for us because I-“ Cas broke off, squeezing Dean’s hand that was still wrapped around his. “I was trying to… I’m trying to propose to you.”
Dean blinked once, twice, three times as his mind went blank. A couple seconds passed in which Dean tried desperately to process what Cas had said, his heart threatening to burst into pieces of aching, longing, and a little bit of nervous panic, too. “What?” Dean finally gasped out, squeezing Cas’ hand back just as hard.
The most tender expression crossed Cas’ face before he slowly slipped his hand from Dean’s and took a few steps across the kitchen. He reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat that lay discarded over one of the chairs at the kitchen table and pulled out a small little white box. Quickly making his way back to Dean, Cas dropped down onto his knee on the mess-covered floor. “I desperately wanted it to be a romantic dinner and I’d propose to you over pie. But when have we ever actually gotten what we wanted or planned for?” Cas said, opening the box to reveal a beautiful gold band. “I just want to be your husband. To be bound to you, forever and always. I love you, Dean. Please marry me?”
For a fraction of a second, Dean felt the floor drop from beneath him; his heart jumping up into his throat. Then he was on his knees next to Cas, ignoring the mess of flour that was now covering his jeans along with the dried mud from the hunt, and he pulled Cas into the most electrifying kiss; tears starting to bubble across his closed eyelids and cling to his lashes.
He wanted to pull back to answer, he really did, but there was no force in Heaven, Hell, or Earth that was going to stop Dean from kissing Cas senseless. Never again was anything going to separate them. Instead, he pressed his answer against Cas’ lips; gasped the word into Cas’ mouth until it had melded with Cas’ essence.
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Yes. God, yes,” Dean babbled, kissing Cas over and over again between each ‘yes’.
Cas was laughing, a smile so bright that Dean could barely even kiss him anymore. And then he was grinning too, and they went from kissing to just pressing their smiles against each other.
“Yes you’ll marry me?” Cas asked again, one of his hands moving to cup the back of Dean’s neck.
“Hell fucking yes I’ll marry you,” Dean laughed, cupping Cas’ face and dragging their lips together again. “Screw the romantic meal. This is perfect. I love you.”
Cas kissed him again, so achingly tender that Dean felt like he was going to break apart from sheer adoration.
Kneeling there on the floor, Cas slipped the ring from the box and moved to gently tug Dean’s hand from his jaw. Slowly, with the most gentle little kiss to the tip of Dean’s finger, Cas lowered Dean’s hand and slipped the ring onto his finger.
It was a perfect fit, gold glinting in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen and lighting a spark deep in Dean’s heart. Despite the fact that his hands were still stained with dirt and other things Dean would rather not linger on after killing the ghouls, the simple band now adorning his finger didn’t look out of place at all. It looked like it had always belonged there; like he’d always belonged to Cas this way. Engaged. To Cas. Future husbands.
“You were really trying to cook a 3-course meal like some old hopeless romantic to propose to me?” Dean asked, moving the hand with the ring back to Cas’ face, pressing the cool metal against the angel’s cheek.
Cas nodded, brushing his nose against Dean’s. “I just wanted something simple and elegant. Guess that didn’t go to plan.”
The ache was back in Dean’s chest, except this time it was filled with so much love that he thought he might drown in it. Cas really wanted to go to all of that effort to propose to him? God. If that wasn’t the cutest thing Dean had ever heard in his life.
“I love you so goddamn much,” Dean whispered.
“Love you more,” Cas responded, quickly closing the gap to kiss Dean again. They remained like that for several long minutes, and Dean would have stayed kissing his fiancé- holy shit, fiancé- for the rest of the night, but his knees were in agony and his ribs were starting to burn. Slowly, Dean broke the kissing, nuzzling against Cas’ cheek before moving to stand and offering Cas a hand back up.
“You know, just because I’m your fiancé now does not mean I’m helping you clean up all this mess,” Dean said, looping his arms around Cas’ neck.
Cas pouted, and goddamn, Dean really was a sucker for that. “I thought proposing to you earned me at least a little leeway,” Cas pointed out.
Humming vaguely, Dean dropped one hand down to the waistband of Cas’ pants and tugged lightly on the belt loop with his thumb. “Come take a shower with me, then I’ll help with cleaning up the kitchen.”
“Deal,” Cas said eagerly, sneaking in another quick and dirty kiss before tugging Dean out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. And if they caught sight of Sam on the way, who gave them both a rather perplexed look at the messy state they were both in, Dean just flashed his new engagement ring at Sam and said, “We’re gonna be husbands.”
Beta’d by: @aussie-twat
Tag List Below- (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!)
Tag List: @likepurplemuses @expectingtofly @neo-neo-neo @shadowywerewolfqueen @feraladoration @xojo @paintdriesfaster @adsp-destielcockles @ivydean @justa-crayon
@dea-stiel @miluiel-erynion @y-yo-a-ti-cas67 @toxic-nebula @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @proudace @galaxymysteryelephant @aelysianmuse @you-changedmedean @destielfactory
@welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @iamsherlockedondoctorwho @dickspeightjrs @imbiowaresbitch @destielle @organicpurplepants @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @sapphirecobalt-1 @galaxycastiel @spnobsessed50
@jayus-fandom-writer @2musiclover2 @rainbowscas @bennedict @cassiecasyl @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @chaoticdean @wigglebox @50shadesofcockles @trasherasswood
@spittingpagan @mishafuckincollins @becky-srs @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @top13zepptraxx @love-neve-dies @good-things-do-happen-dean @tearsofgrace @moi-the-bard @one-more-offbeat-anthem
@naturallyathief @queen-rowenas @lonely-nerd-angel @seffersonjtarship @imjustgenerallyclueless @wormstacheangel @smushedmuffins @unamusedelipsis @i-know-like-four-things @lifbitch
@rambleoncas @starlightcastiel @sinnabonka @cas-and-dean @bobbie3939 @hadtoomuchtothink @faithcastiel @wayward-angels-club @leftistcas @footstepsontherun
@imbellarosa @destiel-in-its-natural-habitat @apatheticanvas67482 @deancas-bumblebee @professorerudite @ragingdeansexual @llamasdumpsterfire @anglovesthis @earthangelcastiel @ensignabby
@houseofnovak @argent2289 @murdur-raven @shadowlisha @kittyk26 @i-put-the-ayyy-in-asexual @drriffly @y-yo-a-ti-dumbass @aphroditeindisguise01 @luckynightmares
854 notes · View notes
go the distance
(will you) go the distance
— You’re perfectly content in life except for the fact that you are not dating Deku. When his best friend won’t help you out, you turn to the dark side to get what you want.
pairing: pro hero!midoriya izuku x bad villain!reader
warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, manga spoilers, pro hero!au, villain!reader, ofa usage for sex lol, size difference, manhandling, public sex, slight degradation and praise, deku eats his cum outta ya pussy, big dick deku, corruption but make it opposite, deku is a pervert change my mind
word count: 12,715
a/n: well, yall already knew I wanted to make this fic a reality, so here it is for bnharems villain collab!! check out all the already amazing stories if you haven’t already. thank you to kara, sky, and jo for reading this for me because lmao im ass rn. I’m gonna go to bed because I partied a bit too hard last night.
your quirk: distortion – can make afflicted persons vision shift 6 cm to the left or right at the cost of having their own vision shift the same way
“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcasted rumors of a villain running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures, and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning.
“Road maintenance endeavors to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.
“Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?
“Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved, but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city, please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”
The female reporter closes her eyes, despite still being on the air, her eyebrows furrowed as she exasperatedly sighs.
“Was that good enough, Mirage?”
You look at her with a pout, your eyes then clenching shut as your lips move with unsaid words as you motion for the cameras to stop rolling. You tilt your head right and left, muttering a bit.
“Did that seem better to you this time? I don’t know, I don’t think it was scary enough...”
You open your eyes to see the exasperated reporter looking at you as if she personally sought to end you right where you were sitting.
“You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered,” she deadpans, and you laugh in agreement.
You weren’t really a villain.
If you must put a label on what you were, you would say that you were the best PR head any hero agency could ask for. You were, after all, the top student graduate from UA’s Business Course and had been ushered into a condensed agency the moment you were finished taking your graduation pictures.
And well, if you are actually curious about the… villainy, you would like to uphold and continue to stress that you weren’t a villain! You were just a public nuisance – like those stupid YouTubers – with the ability to garner Pro Heroes’ attention! People had no reason to scoff at what you did on the daily.
You took both of these jobs very seriously!
It was like being straight out of a comic for you!
A simple – hopefully should the heroes you’re in charge of not be stupid – nine to five job by day, and a badass, crime-committing, sexy as shit villain by night! How could anyone ever hate you for your lifestyle! How could anyone ever hate you?!
But we are all noisy people, and everyone wondered just why you became a villain because you had a beautifully stable job with an impressive salary! Why would such an amazing woman such as yourself dabble in the evilness of humanity?
Well, you did have an answer for the public.
“Why do you engage in evil, villainous schemes?” the reporter deadpans, absolutely and utterly not being paid enough to humor you in this forced interview.
The public loved drama, pizazz, a little showmanship even from what they deemed humanities worst! So, you told the world why you chose to be evil instead of good:
“Because I want to be!” you grin, flashing a pose as you make your away from the interviewer you had very much illegally forced to interview you. “And because a hero killed my cat!’
Of course, that was a lie! Why would you ever hand over the real reason as to why you decided to become a villain! You’d be laughed right out of Japan, possibly be murdered by a horde of fangirls!
For you see, there was one reason and one reason alone as to why you decided to take your place within the villainy hall of fame. Why you chose to do more in your day outside of your already demanding job.
And that one reason was: Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku.
Now, trying not to come off as some creepy, weirdo, stalker fangirl, you could fully admit that you were in love with the stupidly large hunk of a man that debuted as an official pro a year before you graduated from high school.
You remember how the world was finally recovering from the year-long nightmare that had ensued. To be honest, you were stupidly surprised you had even managed to graduate, given that most of schooling had become somewhat of a joke.
FIVE YEARS AGO, MARCH, 2XXX:
It had been in the evening, the clear blue sky becoming ruby red and blood orange as you made your way out of campus. The air somehow smelled of sweet hay and gasoline, but you didn’t mind. There was hardly anyone out at this time, most students had made their way home already, and the only sounds were the moving cars of businessmen just trying to get back home.
There really wasn’t any reason to suspect anything to go wrong, this was a simple daily walk back home after school that wasn’t like any other. But then there had been a loud pop, an ever louder screech, and finally, you managed to whip your head in time to see a car tumbling through the air straight at you.
There was hardly any time to think, even less to react, and the only thing you knew was that you were not going to survive.
You braced yourself, eyes clenching and body curling, your mind screaming because this was not going to be the way things ended. But before it could happen, before the car could come down upon you and squish you like a bug under a shoe, something picked you up and you were weightless.
Waiting for an impact that never came, the tears that were endlessly streaming down your face were suddenly stopped by rough, warm fingers smoothly wiping them away.
“Hey, it’s okay! You’re safe now!” a voice says softly to you, endearingly warm and comforting. “I’m here, don’t worry.”
“Am I… did I die?” you whisper, unsure if you even want the answer, your eyes remaining closed because you refused to open them up to some angel that could confirm your death. “God, what an embarrassing way to die!”
“Oh – um, no! You’re not dead! I promise!” the voice laughs brightly, just softly enough that you believe him and not be entirely horrified by the amused reaction. Your eyes crack open slowly, just barely peering back into the world, still half praying you weren’t dead. But all you saw was green.
Green eyes, green hair, green clothes.
You blink, once, twice, realizing only then you were staring into the eyes of a boy about your age.
He had curly hair, freckles littering his face, and eyes that easily pierced through your very soul.
Without meaning to, your breath stopped, frozen in your lungs as you were captivated by a handsome man with a curving, beautiful smile.
“See, I told you it was okay!” he teased you, head cocking to the side as he grinned largely.
The action itself seemed to strangle the strangest noise out of your mouth as you realized suddenly and immediately that your face was burning and all you could think was:
A cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, acuteherorescuedme!
“Sorry about that scare! I would’ve caught that car sooner, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was around!” the green boy apologized, bowing deeply in front of you in his apology. “There’s a commotion just up ahead, so I recommend you take the next road over.”
You nod numbly, unable to conjure even the slightest hint of your voice again as he stood up to his full length. He was average in height it seemed, taller than you, but still not towering. The hero looked behind his shoulder, those big green eyes focusing onto the distance, onto something you couldn’t even begin to imagine – or see, really. He blinked and turned back to you, smile gone but the gentle aura to him remained, but now his face, his mouth, was underlined with a sense of urgency and engagement to whatever sent a vehicle tumbling your way.
“Which train do you take home?” he asked, eyebrows relaxing from his stern position, as his smile picked up again. “I’ll take you closer to your station!”
“B train,” you manage to wheeze out – unable to be the reason why he was held up but also confused as to just what he could do to get you closer to the station that was at least a mile away from here.
“Perfect! I know where that is!” he laughs for just a moment, and before you could even ask if this was going to be some escorted thing – because you definitely did not need it – his arms were fastly secured around you, and suddenly you were weightless.
A cold wind rushed against your face, nipping at your nose, cheeks, and ears, sending your hair flying around – into your mouth! Oh, you were screaming! You were soaring through the skyline, being held by some hero you couldn’t name, and you were screeching at the top of your lungs.
Making the mistake of looking down, your arms were suddenly around his shoulders, your voice growing even sharper and louder as you squeezed against his body and refused to let go. His hands, despite the gloves, were warm on your back, and his soft chuckle warming you from nose to toes as he secured his grip on you.
“I got you,” he spoke, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”
Those words don’t exactly ease you, but there’s a comfort to the genuinity to his words. You nod nonetheless, your face buried deep into his neck. The cold wind continues to whip around you, the only thing sounding in your ears is the cruel whipping wind and quiet city below.
“I’m landing now,” he informed you, body shifting in the wind, and reflexively, you clung even tighter to him, expecting the similar stomach dropping motion of a roller coaster going straight down. “You’re – ack – c-choking me!”
The knowledge of that, hearing the strain and entirely unhidden sound of him choking against the current chokehold you had on him, you released him entirely with a shriek of your own. Was it a smart move? No, definitely not because you were how many hundreds – if not thousands – of feet in the air with a quirk that could not, and would not save you.
“It’s okay! I’m fine!” he quickly said, his arms shifting around your waist as you felt your body weight drop just the smallest bit. To which your focus landed to the concrete floor so far down, and you began screaming again. He panicked just a bit too. “Y-You’re okay too! We’re landing! We’re landing!”
Soon, but not soon enough, the concrete floor came underneath your feet, and you practically felt your knees buckle underneath you. The train station behind you was practically invisible, and you felt the floor come in contact with your knees, and you collapsed onto your hands and knees. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you wheezed and panted, unable to move from your position.
“Hey, look, we made it!” he laughed gently, probably being said in hopes that you would feel better. (It did make you feel slightly better, his laugh was light and pretty to listen to.) You could feel him approaching you, iron covered red shoes appearing before your vision. Looking up, you saw that the young hero was crouching, his face holding a wobbly smile that was earnest, worried, and full of unspoken hope. “I do need to get back, but before I do, are you good enough to be left alone?”
You blinked your soaked eyelashes at him, still largely unable to say anything at the cute hero in front of you who had a few scratches on his cheek, right below his freckles.
“Y-Yeah, um,” you say, your tongue cotten and lead in your dry mouth. “I-I’ll be fine, I think.”
The green eyed hero nods, offering you a hand and assisting you to your trembling legs, “That’s good to hear!” he chirped, his wobbly smile becoming a grand, bright grin. “You were really brave! I was impressed!”
Now, you were an idiot at times, but even you could spot a stupid lie. Still, hearing it said with such honesty, as if this hero who was no taller than five foot eight truly believed it, made something bubble in your chest, and soon you found yourself laughing.
“No need to lie to me, h-hero,” you manage to speak between stammering breaths, “thank you for saving me, though. I appreciate it.”
You grin crookedly at him, and to your utter delight, he reciprocates it.
“It’s the least I can do. I’d offer to take you home but… I’m not quite finished yet,” he says, and you can only nod, the conversation obviously reaching its last strides. You watch as he floats up, his eyes looking at you, but somehow focused how many miles away from where he had brought you from. “Stay safe?”
“I’ll try my best,” you agree to his question, hands clasping before your lap. “Finish the job quick, hero?”
He grins, “I’ll try my best.”
You feel a breathless sort of laugh escape you as you watch him beginning to shoot back up, but a sort of horror shoots through you as you rush forward, running right after him, hands cupping around your mouth as you scream:
“What’s your name?!”
The blur of green in the air freezes, and you stop running as you see green eyes and freckles focusing back onto you.
“Deku! My hero name is Deku!”
You stop at the curb of the street, eyes focused on the sky as the green eyed hero named Deku grins one last time before shooting off at a speed probably much faster than when he held onto you. The wind blows around you, and you can only feel the heat sitting on your cheeks and the way you’re smiling as you stare after his figure that's long, long gone.
“Deku...” you whisper to yourself, ignorant to the world of commuters beginning to appear at the station. “Thank you.”
And thus came the very apparent and obvious day in which you fell head over heels for Pro Hero Deku.
Now some people called you a stupid fangirl, obsessive stalker, and sometimes, yeah, you were obsessive and weird about your slight infatuation with a stranger. It was strange, you knew that! But you also knew that you had practically no chances of ever being able to woe the man behind the image of Deku because Midoriya Izuku practically existed as Deku 24/7.
After you graduated from high school, you were put into the same agency that was currently holding Deku. Without tooting your own rom-com obsessed horn too much, you fully expected to walk in and be handed Deku’s file as his PR manager and be able to thank him for not only saving you all that time ago, but also eventually sweep him off his feet.
But your reputation preceded you well, probably too well, because the first day you entered the office and was handed your list of three clients to work with, neither one was for Deku. Being a PR manager for heroes was hard, a job that practically held no set hours because, unlike your typical celebrities, heroes had no type of privacy or protection. They were constantly under the spotlight, being viewed by adoring fans and scornful critics. Your job served as the first line of defense for heroes against the public, and there were some heroes that were quite hilariously easy to work for because they were genuinely good.
The older PR managers typically held the quieter, easy tempered, or less combat heavy heroes. These heroes typically never had a bad thing said about them, their job was a glorified PA job but even less because there was no expected demands from the heroes they had to take in. Unless, of course, a hero wanted to do some sort of public event they hadn’t considered.
But there were the louder, quick to temper, or the heavy combat heroes that while made you an insane amount of money, also brought you a near 120 hour work week because there was so much to do, so much to consider, so much to keep your eyes on. There was the constant slander, the people who hated the louder, quick to temper heroes because they didn’t like their attitude, completely disregarding that they had been unsafe and a liability the entire time the hero was dealing with them. The talk shows that took months to convince to allow for an interview because they heard false rumors, and so you have to practically wrestle a boa constrictor to get a measly five minute interview done. And then the combat-heavy heroes… no one would ever shut up about building damages and how this hero broke his nose while he was stealing a store!
Not to mention having to have every single piece of social media on your phone, set to notify you whenever your clients names were brought up so that you could look at it. You’ve seen more than enough lewd drawings of your clients to last you a lifetime, enough fanfiction, and fan edits that left you with blazing cheeks and the need to never look at your client ever again. But mostly you checked each and every update because you were their first and only line of legal defense on these sorts of things.
You’ve taken down leaked nudes, fake news, and qualmed rumors and speculations.
It was hard.
So when you were shown to your desk on your first day and three files were handed to you, you were shocked to see the hero names you would be working with.
Somehow, without having yet to speak with a single one of your now current clients, you knew that you were going to have your work cut out for you.
“Good luck newbie!” the woman who gave you the initial tour chirped, clapping you on the back. “You got this!”
Without much to do other than reading through the three’s files, you realized that you already knew a bunch about two of three of your clients. DynaMight and Shouto were two heroes that you knew teamed up with and hung out with Deku a lot, both on-field and off-field if any of the out of costume pictures said anything. Because of their connection with Deku, you had at one point learned a bit about them.
You knew that Shouto was a crowd favorite. He was tall and sweet and a complete airhead at the best moments despite him being smart. Controversy still surrounded his character, despite all the good he did, because of the past history that was brought out about his father Endeavor and his brother Dabi. The country couldn’t figure out where they stood in terms of that reveal. Endeavor did a lot before the reveal, and continued to rise up to everything in his path despite the skeletons in his closet being thrown out for the world to see. They neither forgave him, nor hated him, they only watched and waited. Then Dabi, of course, was seen as a could-have-been version of Shouto, and many tried to ask if he was really a hero and not actually siding with the League. After all, why on Earth would he be defensive of his father too?
The public had an unmoving image of Shouto based on anything but who he was as an individual, and you decided immediately that it would be your job to fix that. He was also, after all, a dear friend of Deku, so you’d do anything.
Phantom Thief was your easiest of the three clients. A relatively well mannered man who was kind and a bit weird in a fun way. He had a great sense of self and was a reliable person on the field. He made a great hero, but you could see the way his spirit blazed with an unspoken rivalry between him and the other two of your clients. Well, it seemed like he was the best until his former self appointed rivals came into the picture, but that was hardly ever, and according to Shouto, he was way worse back in their first year.
The greatest scandal he’s had so far in your three years of working at their agency was the one time he was lied to about a quirk and accidentally copied a woman's quirk that gave her the ability to change her cup size. Safe to say that Phantom Thief accidentally broke a few buttons on his shirt and was unable to stop civilians from snapping pictures.
But of course, the one that had you practically crying yourself to sleep nightly for more than one reason was Dynamight.
You’d known about him the moment you looked up Deku on your phone.
They were practically a hero duo in everything but name. They were always seen doing the same things together, whether that be on patrol together or maybe getting dinner, most of their top recorded fights were done with each other by their sides. You had also learned that they were childhood friends, and you practically vibrated at the thought that even though Deku was not your client, the chances of meeting him were still astronomically high.
There was no way you wouldn’t not meet Deku!
But you were wrong, so very, very wrong.
Turns out the hero duo in everything but name meant that Dynamight refused to let Deku be anywhere near him in the agency – the very small amount of time they spent in here. The few times they were in the same room, Dynamight absolutely refused to be interrupted because that was their paperwork hour. You had only ever been blessed with seeing green curls turning the corner as Dynamight gripped your forearm, refusing to let you follow.
“Like hell I’ll let you distract the shitnerd,” he stated simply, his red eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at you. You opened your mouth, ready to defend your not so innocent intentions. “I’m not stupid, so don’t pretend like you won’t try anything.”
Your jaw snapped shut.
Safe to say that you couldn’t do anything about Deku so long as Dynamight was around.
But Dynamight as a client was exhausting to put it kindly.
There were so many opinions and thoughts and issues and praises coming from everywhere. Hell, even the fucking Americans and westerners had caught wind of the Wonder Duo at one point and while you were well knowledgable on their opinions on Deku, the ones on Dynamight were the ones that you had to focus on now.
People still called him a villain, so many unhappy with the fact that he still screamed and cursed and threatened. There were many conspiracy theories that he was working with the long dead League of Villains. They turned their nose up at the fact that he was childhood friends with Deku, claiming that no way an asshole like him could have ever been friends with him. And of course the bullying revelation that had come out shortly after your debut.
That had been a trip, one that had you even shocked as Dynamight approached the table in front of the media, his body calm and composed. You had watched as he simply said he owed nothing to the media, that he had already done all that he could to deserve his atonement and deserve Deku’s forgiveness. He had spoken clearly, concisely that it wasn’t any of their damn business as to what he did, and if he apologized to them, the unaffected, the ones that had nothing to do with his early years of bullying Deku, of his previous weakness and insecurity, it would be a waste of his breath.
It isn’t to them he should ever be apologizing to anyways.
You had watched as he stood up, face calm, and hands shoved into his pockets as he stood and walked away despite the screaming reporters. You had wanted to stay longer, have your own hand in damage control, but a swoop of green came in and Deku was at the microphone eyebrows furrowed as he pointed a finger at them all and said that his past with Kacchan was between him and Kacchan only, and his decision to forgive Kacchan were his and only his.
You didn’t hear the rest, didn’t even get the option to hear the way the hero you loved defended the hero you worked for – his childhood friend.
Dynamight had grabbed your elbow and dragged you out of the room with him, the metal doors clanging closed the moment fierce green eyes met yours.
You watched in the company car as Dynamight looked outside the window, one elbow on the doorframe holding his chin; his gaze focused sharply on nothing but the passing sidewalk. Had it not been for the way the hand on top of his lap trembled, you would have thought he was perfectly okay.
Neither one of you talked about that again.
But just because you didn’t talk about it again, didn’t mean the world was the same. People claimed he brainwashed Deku, others demanded that Deku beat the shit out of Dynamight. You knew that Dynamight would want nothing to do with this, but you would stay in the office (an almost useless, empty office as most PR managers did their business at home) for hours long after you were supposed to be gone, practically arguing with someone who only existed behind a screen and didn’t even care that much – but you couldn’t stop.
Seeing Dynamight’s shaking hand had really done a number on you.
“The hell are you still doing here, eyelashes,” Dynamite asked from the dark entrance of the floor. “Go home already, don’t waste your time.”
You had startled at the initial intrusion, but you immediately relaxed seeing the smudged paint around red eyes and blond hair. You barely kept your gaze on him before turning back to your computer and continuing your argument.
“I’m not wasting my time, I’m doing my job,” you remark, eyes squinting at your keyboard because your vision is definitely blurry. “I’ll be heading out soon anyways.”
“God you’re fucking annoying and stubborn!” Dynamight barked, the heel of his hand slamming into his forehead. “This is exactly why I won’t introduce you to the fucking nerd!”
“What?!” you shriek, suddenly looking at your client as if he had personally attacked you – and in a way he did. “What do you mean you won’t introduce me to Deku because of that?! I’ve already met Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and Pinky through you!”
“Yeah, because they’re not stubborn idiots too!” Dynamight accuses, jamming a gloved finger at you as he begins stomping your way. You startle, your chair shooting backward as the explosion hero makes his way towards you at alarming speed.
“What are you—?!” you shriek, hands flailing about as he grabs you by the collar of your distressed shirt.
Dynamight lifts you up to your feet as if you were a sack of flour and you grasp onto his forearm.
“I might tell you that you’re the most annoying and stubborn bitch in the world, but you’re not worse than fucking Deku,” Dynamight sneers, his red eyes narrowed and stern. “I’m not going to let you meet him until you learn how to give or you’ll hurt him, and I’m not going to be part of any reason as to why he gets hurt again.”
Your jaw dropped, clearly offended, but you closed it just as fast; the weight of his words made you a bit sad, even for just a bit.
“You’re kinda cute when you care for Deku, you sure I’m his biggest fan?” you tease, grinning at the hero to which he rolls his eyes.
“Shut the hell up and go home already; it’s annoying seeing you fight a losing battle that’s none of your damn business,” Dynamight simply said, putting you back onto your feet and blocking out your desk.
“I’ll go home on the condition that for my birthday you at least consider introducing us!” you say, unwilling to move from your spot. “I’ve been working for you for three years! You’ve kept me away for three years!”
Dynamight’s stare didn’t even shift the slightest millimeter, his red eyes unamused as you groaned in grief and annoyance.
“I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself?!” you grumble snatching your jacket and purse from the hook on your cubicle and shoving them on. “My names God of Explosion Murder: Dynamight and I am Stubborn™ but will never admit it.”
You continued mocking your long time client and most definitely friend if you dared to say so, and dragged the heel of your foot all the way to the elevator to which you were joined by Dynamight. The trip down the elevator is silent, and you keep your gaze locked on the closed doors, unwilling to even look at the hero next to you.
Soon enough, the elevator reached the ground floor, and you got ready to walk out.
“I’ll consider it,” Dynamight said as the elevator doors opened. “Also, fucking stop calling me Dynamight, Bakugou’s fine.”
He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.
“Thank you, Bakugou!” you shriek, your lungs failing you at the thought of finally being introduced to Deku! You hadn’t moved from your spot from the elevator, your chest hammering with the thought of getting to meet Deku.
“Don’t get your hopes up, you’re still irritatingly stubborn,” Bakugou merely calls over his shoulder before lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before stepping out of the glass door.
That brought you back to reality just a bit and you scowled, knowing you would have to go beyond and above to prove that.
But you see, there were many reasons to cry about having Bakugou as your client. Besides the stinkhole of his previous bullying, people just were not understanding his typically prickly exterior. You had to go head to head with reputation tarnished, had to slap fangirls away who demanded that Bakugou degrade them where they stood. It was hard to not be stubborn as not only his PR manager but his friend, and in less than a month, still plenty of time before your birthday, you had already grown irritated of the meeting-Deku-card he waved over your head.
“Mei, if I have to go any longer than this, I will die and hope I am reborn as Deku’s new guardian angel,” you pouted, chin pressed against a cold metal tabletop. Your hands being used as glove models for one of your best friends Hatsume Mei. “It’s first of all impossible getting anywhere near him with his guard dog Bakugou literally stopping me whenever I’m within a ten foot radius! And then I’m not even sure what will happen when we do meet again! Would I even be able to talk to him?!”
“Why wouldn’t you? You talk to all my babies with me! There’s practically nothing you can’t do,” Mei laughs, smacking you against your back before returning her intense gaze back to the gloves. “Deku’s uh… I actually can’t remember him but I’m sure he’s a great conversationalist! I think he helped me with the Sports Festival my first year.”
“That was Iida,” you laugh, wiggling your fingers as Mei demanded. “You’re so bad with names and faces, I’m impressed you know mine.”
“You saved my baby, of course I remember you,” Mei turned her grin towards you, “but come on, why can’t you get with him besides this Bakugou guy?”
“Well, he’s just like Bakugou! He’s practically married to his job! Their schedules basically match together perfectly! There’s literally only three hours a day while they’re on the job that they’re not together! And that’s when they patrol their own parts of town because there’s hardly any activity they don’t need to be attached by the neck.” You explain and rant, your cheeks puffing as you stand up and allow Mei to run further tests on the glove.
“Sounds like you gotta become a villain to woo this hero guy, huh,” Mei spoke, eyes focused on the glove as you pointed a finger at the far wall and watched as a beam exploded from the fingertip and pierced through the steel wall like butter. “Too bad you’re a goody two-shoes or else I could make you some serious villain gear and make you a fearsome villain to then prove that Hatusme Mei’s babies and creations are untouchable and the best in the world! Muah-ha-ha-ha!”
You know her words are more joking than serious, but that doesn’t stop your eyes from widening. Your body shifts over to where she was standing and you screech pointing at her and just narrowly missing setting off the laser again.
“What’s it?” she asked, completely confused.
“You have to make me a villain!” you exclaim, rushing over to Mei, who is eagerly waiting for her babies returnal especially since it ran perfectly. “You have to make me near-invisible gear that can keep me going toe to toe with Deku until I can seduce him!”
“You want to turn evil?” Mei questions, finger pressing quizzically to her chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“I am definitely not villainous to pull that off, but like I pretend to be a villain so that he talks to me and we can like get to know each other!” you exclaim, you’re unable to keep from hopping up and down on your feet, your grin unfathomably bright. “It's practically a romcom in the making!”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mei laughs, altering the band of fabric around your waist. “You do know heroes and villains hardly speak? It’s more like… ‘I’m more powerful,’ ‘No me!,’ ‘No, ME!’”
“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but whatever! I’ll figure out a way!” you continue on unaffected because this plan was genius! Especially if you had Mei in your corner?! Her recent development of not using such… steampunk designs made her creations elusive and dangerous to own. Hence why she was an extremely sought out manufacturer, by villains and heroes alike. “And if I can go toe to toe with Deku of all people, you’ll know that you and your babies are the undeniable best!”
“Hm, that is promising,” Mei agrees with a nod as she forces you around. “Is this Deku guy all that good?”
“He’s the one you made the iron soles for!” you chirp and watch as the recognition and challenge spark immediately in Mei’s yellow eyes.
“Oh,” Mei chuckles, turning away from you and looking at her pile of made babies. “This would be good.”
“So we have an agreement?” you grin excitedly.
“Give me a month, and we’ll have your debut!”
Fuck Bakugou for thinking you weren’t good enough!
You hadn’t expected the initial phases of villainy to be quite as hard as it was, if you were being honest. The late nights at Mei’s personal lab made sure to keep your plans a solid secret, but you had to prepare for the wild range of what Deku’s quirk entailed.
There was smoke, something you were already used to working in because of Bakugou and his quirk. You’ve navigated quite a bit in his smog, and as long as you knew where you were, you would be fine.
There was also that danger sense, which allowed him to know when things were coming – something that shouldn’t be too big an issue considering you weren’t actually attempting to extract danger onto him.
Blackwhip was a big issue. How far or how much could you do if he even grabbed a hold of you. With sleuthing and the help of Mei having files on everyone's quirks, you were able to find information that blackwhip was a creation made of energy. Meaning that Mei was now making some type of destructing material to lessen the energy of the quirk, allowing for you to escape should he attempt to capture you this way.
Float was stopped by having most of your fights occur within a confined area, which was needed for you anyways! You didn’t need to be caught by anyone else but him! You didn’t actually need to land in jail – you would prefer to not be handled by anyone but Deku, actually.
Then of course the stupid superstrength and superspeed, both of which you knew you could handle with your quirk. You’ve been head to head with people with quirks similar to that before, and you knew your quirk was tricky enough that you’d manage to slip right past his fingers just fine. After all, you knew full and well that the Deku who took down S class villains was worlds quicker than F class villains – aka you.
You would be fine.
But today was day one, first of how many days it would take to get Pro Hero Deku, aka Midoriya Izuku to fall in love with you.
You were dressed in a black and purple bodysuit that was definitely not inspired by Shego from Kim Possible’s costume. Your hair was dyed purple by a special spray Mei created that would be washed out by the end of the day, but wouldn’t ever give away that it was fake. You wore a mask over your eyes, and grinned seeing that you couldn’t see a fleck of color on your irises.
And with far too much confidence, nauseating excitement, and unjustified attitude, you marched down towards your first spot, ready and adopting the identity of who you were about to become.
It was time to act. Deku and Dynamight were on different patrol routes right now, and you sent your threat, readying for the moment for the man in green to come in with the desire to stop you. With the very real threat of stealing every puppy within the tristate area being broadcasted within the area unless and hero bests you, you waited for your savior to come and stop you.
“I am here to stop your villainous acts, you villain!” a voice shattered the silence just as it shattered your heart. You looked over your shoulder to see some hero you couldn’t name standing at the other stairwell entrance with his fists clenched and ready to fight.
You groaned, shoulders crumbling with your well hidden disappointment.
“I wasn’t looking for you!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the flabbergasted hero who was just trying to figure out what was happening. “Where’s Deku?!”
“He’s – he’s not here yet,” he stammers, eyes wide. “It’s not his day anymore to patrol this area?”
“Aw fuck!” you complain, pouting at the realization that you had messed up. “Okay, I’ll be back later, please don’t come back. Bye!”
With a small wave, you easily stepped through the door to the stairwell next to you and left, your threat empty and the hero victorious despite not actually stopping you. And unfortunately, although you had wished and prayed even, this was not the last time a screw up like this would happen.
At the threat of destroying all the cats in the area, you had another hero show up, not Deku, and you groaned and left before they could even finish their call of stopping you.
You then threatened to poison the watering system, to which you found out that Deku was held up at another major villain threat in a different city. You groaned and stomped off after that.
Then there was the time you swore you would increase the overall temperature of the city per one degree celsius should your demands not be made. Shouto answered that one and you immediately walked away the moment you saw the familiar head of red and white coming your way.
Time and time again you kept being caught by heroes you could not care about, being confronted by no names and nobodies. It was tiring, and Mei was beginning to sigh just the smallest bit whenever you showed up to try yet again.
But you weren’t a quitter!
You would win!
This was your last attempt at getting Deku to notice you.
After threatening to wrap all the citizens in the area with a giant froot by the foot, you were almost sad to say that the heroes ignored your cry for chaos and no one had come to check on you.
You sat outside the building you used as your trap for Deku, pouting into a hot dog that the neighborhood's grandma gave you because you looked like you needed something to eat. It’s a good thing you weren’t actually a villain or else they’d be fucked, you bitterly thought as you took another bite of your food.
It had been a month of empty, no Deku appearances, and you were going to bite the bullet and pretend to be not stubborn just so stupid Bakugou of all people could introduce you.
You kicked your feet as you sat on the staircase, humming as you watched the empty streets bend with the wind. It was quiet, beautiful, peaceful.
“YOU!” a voice shrieked to your left, and you watched a pudgy, red nosed man racing over towards you, a flash drive clenched in his hands. “TAKE THIS! RUN! DON’T LET THE HEROES TAKE IT!”
You gawked at him, feeling the small plastic device being shoved into your hands as the man collapsed at your feet. You squeaked when you heard a voice yelling stop and you bounced to your feet, turned into the building and raced in.
Your breathing was erratic, heart in your throat as you raced up the stairwell, unable to begin to imagine what the hell the information on the flash drive held. You were practically hyperventilating as you reached the floor you had come to know extremely well, and you stood near the window with shaky hands and legs.
What did you take?!
“I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid,” a low smooth voice said from behind you, and you froze immediately. Old anxiety overcome by a new anxiety, one that made your stomach flip and blood burn.
Turning around, you felt awestruck to see the one man you’ve been waiting for… for fucking years now, really, to appear before you, finally be there. In the flesh, completely, entirely. Your jaw dropped, your gaze looking down from your clenched hand that held the USB to the way that Deku looked at you with warm eyes that were underlined with steel that made you want to drop to your knees, confess everything, and beg to be his. God, he was so fucking tall. He had only been about five foot eight the last time you had actually talked, and now he was at least a foot taller. His teenager haircut was long gone, now replaced with his curls trimmed at the nape of his neck before filling out on top – not quite an undercut. He had more freckles now, surely. His skin just a bit tanner, a scar trailing from his cheek to his jaw. You knew there were more scars, just as you knew that there were dimples when he smiled.
You wanted to have him between your legs while you begged for mercy, holy shit.
Tucking the USB into your pocket, you tilted your head as you will yourself to relax.
“I went through all the trouble of getting it... I think if I’m going to hand it over quickly, I deserve to know what’s on it, no?” you tease, your confidence coming out of nowhere while a smile spreads ever so largely over your features. Deku’s eyes widened just a bit, shock overcoming his green eyes.
“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Deku stresses, taking a step forward toward you. You click your tongue, taking a step backward while grinning.
“I don’t think that’s what I asked for,” you giggle as you watch Deku’s face go through an array of emotions before settling onto one – curiosity.
“What do you want?” he asked, apparently entirely ready to discuss any and all terms and conditions with you.
“Honestly?” you reply, tapping a gloved finger to your chin as you ‘think.’ Deku, however, nods. His stance relaxing, becoming one of preparedness but not the takedown he had previously entered with.
“A date with you.”
You watch as Deku’s eyes slam wide open, his jaw dropping immediately and he stammered. Oh, how your heart soared and how you felt giddy and wonderful as he seemed to slip and slide on his own tongue!
“A-A date?!” he ends up almost shrieking, his head shaking left and right. “T-That’s a total lie! You can’t possibly – well, no! Please tell me the truth!”
But you were giddy, practically drunk off the fact that you were making the most powerful hero in the world blush like a little schoolboy. You suddenly were on the offensive, stepping towards your hero who was much larger than you with power and drive behind each step. And it must have been the way you stared him down, the way you walked towards him at blank range with such brimming confidence that Deku takes a step back. But it’s something that makes you want to laugh as the heel of his foot gets caught on a raised tile, and you watch the mountain of a man tumble to the floor.
You’re on top of him immediately, hands pressed to his shoulders, knee settling near his crotch with most of your weight so he got the idea to not do anything funny. The USB sits between your fingers, and you lean over his flushed face that looks up at you with wide eyes.
“Actually, I changed my mind, I know what I want,” you say instead, nose ghosting over his. “Everytime I decide to do something… naughty… I want you to be the hero on the case to stop me. You and just you.”
You lean in closer, so close that you could see the specks of gold in his green, green eyes.
Deku hasn’t spoken, and you’re pretty sure his chest isn’t moving as you press your breasts against his.
Your teeth tug at his bottom lip and let go as he nods.
“Good, good,” you grin, sitting up on his chest and taking the USB in your fingers and slipping it into his utility belt. “Take good care of that for me, I’ll see you next time, hero…”
You had only managed to flash a quick wave before disappearing through your usual door, hoping and praying to god that whatever the hell possessed you would continue until you reached Mei’s. It wouldn’t hit you until much, much later than you had stunned Pro Hero Deku speechless within the first meeting.
Hell, you thought giddily as you answered Bakugou’s call about how he probably just got into a bit of a messy situation, maybe you do have the potential to woo him like this.
Thus truly began your descent as the villain Mirage.
It was quickly accepted and discovered that the moment you stepped into that costume and colored hair that you were the prey for Deku and Deku only. Most of your interactions with Deku occurred within buildings, and you used Mei’s gear to gain the final laugh each and every time to allow for you to escape. There were times, however, where you could be seen racing through the sky. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop as Deku followed after you, leaping, tumbling, and even catching you at times.
You flirted with him heavily, allowing yourself to be caught so that you could bat your pretty lashes and press your chest against his. It didn’t matter how professional he was, how good at his job he was, Deku was a pervert – so obviously a pervert it made slipping away almost too easy.
But because you had the world-renowned, world known Pro Hero Deku as the only hero on your case, soon the small block who had to play victims to your horrendous crimes became only a small percentage of people who were watching your crimes. These near daily crimes (or inconveniences/botherings as the people on the internet say to defend you and your actions) are becoming both a worldwide sensation, and so, it took nothing for you to continue having Deku at your feet and the world chipped in. So you agreed to do interviews, forcing uneager reporters to do segments on you so that the hype behind you and Deku’s relationship grew.
You didn’t want him to leave you, not until you got what you wanted, and unless you were an idiot, you were nearly positive you were almost there.
Why would you say that?
Well, a few reasons.
The first came about a week after you had first met Deku again.
You had joyously gathered the means to create a machine to shave down an eighth of an inch of everyone's shoes in the entire country of Japan without their knowledge. You had ever so evilly explained that the point of this was to ensure that for a full day, everyone would feel off and unbalanced but would not know why.
You had said this, grinning widely as you turned around to see Deku standing there attempting to fight off a very amused smile.
“I don’t think that would be all too evil, Mirage,” he called out to you, arms folding across his chest as he watched you set up the machine to do exactly what you said you would do.
“Mm, that’s what you say now, but just wait until you’re one of the losers stumbling around,” you say back, grinning as you turn around for just a second, wagging the knife at Deku from the distance.
“Well, regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku laughs just slightly, and you grin, standing up.
“Yes, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.”
You’re not sure what happens, but there’s dodging and weaving, spinning and sliding. You’re practically wheezing from how hard you’re laughing as Deku can not manage to land a finger on you with the help of Mei’s items and your quirk. It all comes to an end when instead of dodging, you throw yourself right at him, and Deku has not anticipated that.
His eyes are wide open and you fiercely grin as he falls back onto the floor, unbalanced and only slightly frantic. You have the knife pointed at his neck, the dull blade sitting gently on his skin.
“So, Deku,” you taunt teasingly, your teeth burying into your bottom lip for just a moment at the sight of the dark flash in his green, beautiful eyes. “Tell me one thing, or I’ll continue on with my vile plans.”
“Are you single?”
The second attempt came a few many weeks later.
You had gathered about 75 tons of glitter bombs and were in the current process of making them one. You had plans of setting it off over Tokyo so that for practically the rest of eternity, the entire city would have glitter everywhere. The only thing is that you did have to glue the glitter bombs together because, well, no one made super giant ones.
“This is so annoying, there’s glitter everywhere, and I’m only ten glitter bombs in!” you complain to the ‘empty’ room but knowing full and well that Deku had appeared through the broken window at least five minutes ago.
“If it’s annoying to you, then shouldn’t you stop?” Deku replied and you grinned.
He really couldn’t stay quiet, huh?
“Well, if it’s annoying to me, then that means every one of my victims will also find it annoying. Win-win situation.” you say, turning around towards him and winking. Facing back towards the glitter bombs you scowl, “stupid fucking glue gets everywhere, too!”
“Regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku said as leveled as he could although you swore you heard a laugh in his voice.
“Just try and stop me,” you reply back stone cold.
You stand up and watch as Deku stands up from the windowsill and sighs just a bit too heavily.
“Guess I have to,” he says and shoots out before you’re well prepared.
Typically, and probably in any other situation, this would have been the end. Pro Hero Deku had come at you with the speed and power as he took out any other Class F criminals, but unfortunately for him, and definitely fortunately for you that glue was EVERYWHERE.
Deku’s hand was stuck onto your arm, and your chest was glued to his stomach, and you swear you never quite got the strawberry Deku references until right now.
The perverted hero burned scarlet, his face practically simmering with heat as your body became undeniably stuck to his. You had to fight off the vindictive smirk, the practically snarling grin as you could feel something hot and heavy twitch at your hip.
“Fuck,” Deku wheezed.
“Fuck, yeah,” you grinned.
Deku could not look you in the eyes for about 10 more interactions following that, but you counted that as a win. But undoubtedly, your starred and favorite memory of it all was something that occurred just last week of the current present events.
You had stood on top of a building, threatening the entire government of stealing (i.e., cutting off) the aglet of their shoes and sweaters and then removing all the laces so that it would result in their wasted time and entire humiliation!
“I don’t think most people even know what aglets are, to be honest,” Deku said from behind you. You turned around to see that he was standing there with an unsuppressed grin. “It’s not a good enough threat.”
You go unfazed by his judgement, choosing to instead bat your eyelashes and push your hair behind your ear.
“Not a good enough threat, and yet, you’re still here?” you tease, enjoying the way pink flushes to his cheeks.
“Where else would I be?” he says, and you have to ignore the way your stomach fills with butterflies.
“You’re not cute when you flirt back,” you deadpan, biting your tongue harshly when he says ‘hey!’ “Enough chit chat, let me kick your ass now and then do what I need to do.”
Unlike probably what is 95% of the time, you made the first move today.
You were on the offensive, jabbing and weaving, sweeping and punching. Deku’s green eyes were nearly black as he watched you, analyzing and taking in your movements, countering them all without so much of an issue.
“I still don’t get your quirk,” Deku grunted as his hand swiped at the empty air. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“So then you can turn me in to the government who are still salty about their aglets? I don’t think so!” you say with a laugh, rolling out of the way as Deku lunges forward. “Try again, baby, I have full faith that you’ll get it.”
Deku puffed out a chuckle and lunged again, his huge gloved hand swiping at you, with nearly accuracy despite your quirk being on. But… he wasn’t exactly perfect.
Cold air hit your breast and your jaw dropped as your very exposed breast appeared before you and Deku. Pro Hero Deku had torn the breast of your costume, the costume that you purposefully did not wear a bra for because you had wanted this exact scenario to play out.
“DEKU!” you screech, pretending to be modest and covering your tit as Deku finally yanked himself out of staring at your breast and whipped around.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t think that was going to happen! I didn’t even mean to look at your boob! It just sort of all happened too fast and it was very shocking! N-Not that you have an ugly boob or anything because actually I think you have a very great boob! But oh my god, I need to shut up please ignore me!” Deku spoke so fast in a matter of five seconds, and you couldn’t even tell him to come back as he sprinted away.
His ears burned red and you swore even as he was gone, you could still see the red of his ears illuminating the sky.
“What a perv.”
And so, we are back to the beginning.
Back to how you forced a local news channel to read your demands so that you could hopefully take your final bow as Mirage forever.
With the threat of having a machine that would make dogs bark at a frequency for hours on end until humans eardrums broke then bleed. You made your way to your typical building and hummed as you waited.
The world outside was the same as always.
There were a few people out, a few cars driving through the street, and a few birds chirping here and there.
It was peaceful.
“Don’t you think the new reporter thing was a bit dramatic?” Deku chuckled from behind you.
You were used to him approaching like that, used to him trying to portray being elusive and cool. In your opinion, it just made him dorky.
“No such thing as being dramatic when I’m trying to go head to head with the greatest hero ever,” you respond back effortlessly. You spin on your heel and look back at Deku, who is leaning against a doorframe that he most definitely is slouching on so that the top of his head doesn’t hit the frame. “Hi, Deku.”
“Hi, y/l/n,” he says with a soft smile, one that's slightly victorious, one that makes your stomach knot in a pleasant way.
“Ah, you discovered my secret identity,” you observe, grinning as you begin approaching Deku. “Should I be scared?”
“Probably not, I don’t think I could do anything to you,” Deku sighs, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you too. “You’re pretty amazing, y/l/n.”
“Let’s prove that then,” you grin while zipping forward.
As if the both of you knew that this was the end of the line, the final confrontation, the battle this time was different. It was showy, flirty, full of spins and side steps, playing a game of cat and mouse while dodging and weaving. You laughed as blackwhip dissolved around your costume, and you frowned as he began using more of his power to get from point A to point B much quicker.
You’re not quite sure how it happened, what exactly you did wrong, or maybe Deku just finally figured out the pattern you used for your quirk because suddenly you were being tackled from behind. You shrieked as the two of you went down, his body flushed on top of you, his chest pressing to your shoulders.
The both of you were heaving, panting, completely out of breath from the five minutes you took playing around. He holds your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head, and the other one is on your waist. You were trapped beneath him, unable to move the absolute unit of a man above you, arms and hips weak to his weight. You shoved your hips up, attempting to shift some of his weight off you, but you froze as he choked on a breath by your ear.
Your ass was pressed against something hard, thick, and hot.
It was happening.
Holy fucking shit.
Your breathing hitches as you thrusted your ass up again, confirming you were grinding on what was definitely Deku’s hardening cock. And once again, Deku makes the prettiest, most embarrassed gravelly grunt at the back of his throat and you feel like every strand of resistance and strength snaps.
The hand on your waist pulls you even closer against his crotch, and there's lips pressing against your neck, and you absolutely lose it.
He kisses your neck sloppily, teeth nipping at your exposed flesh, and you grind against him, moaning and thrusting back as your body feels like it's on fire. He wanted you! He wanted you and your plan to woo him worked!
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you keen breathlessly. “Wanted you so badly, Deku.”
“Fuck,” Deku curses, his hips thrusting back against your clothed ass with power you couldn’t fucking wait to feel. “I wanted you too. Wanted you so badly, but didn’t think – holy shit.”
His hand that pins your wrists lets go of you, and moves to grab your jaw. You nearly fucking melt as his full lips slam against yours, and you moan as his lips move against yours. There’s something indescribable about how he’s kissing you, the want, the need, the months of suppressed tension bursting through every move and curve of his mouth. It doesn’t matter to you that you’re pressed up against the concrete floor, you feel like you’ve been placed into another world, an area where you can never come back.
Your arm reaches behind you and buries into his soft curls, you tug at them as your ass circles against his thrusting hips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whine at the hot, wet muscle in your mouth, and it sends your head spinning. You can’t take it anymore, you need him, want him flushed against your front.
“Can I fuck you?” Deku asks swollen lips pulling away from yours, his mouth frantic and trailing kisses up your cheeks and down your jaw. “Please, I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck you on the floor and against the wall. Can I make you mine?”
You nod your head frantically, unable to come up with the words to say in order to tell him yes.
Deku laughs breathlessly and flips you over so that it’s your back against the floor now.
And just like you want him to, Deku comes down to reclaim your mouth. Hot, open mouthed kisses, teeth tugging at your lips and hands grabbing your waist. His hands are huge against you filling up the space between your hip and your waist without an issue. Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling entirely small underneath him, but entirely ready to be fucked by him.
His lips move expertly against yours, teeth nibbling at your lips, mouth then sucking on your tongue. You can’t keep the continuous moans from leaking out, can’t keep yourself from staying quiet as your eyes flutter open and see green eyes so dark they look black, staring down at you with the intensity of a predator.
You were his prey, and you would present to him at the drop of a hat.
His body is hot, heat rolling off of his hero costume in waves, making you feel like you were near burning against him. And the heat between his thighs sits at the bottom of your ass, thrusting up and grinding against you so that you don’t forget even for a moment that you are making him this way.
“I always knew you’d have such a pretty moan,” Deku mumbles as his fingers find the zipper to your costume and begin to tug it down. His lips trail down your neck, biting and nipping at the newly exposed flesh. “Knew you’d look so pretty under me, waiting to be fucked into submission.”
The words spark something within you, your eyes fluttering as your hips grind just a tad bit faster and you whine.
“Aw, is that what you wanted this entire time, y/l/n?” Deku asks, his grin pressed against your collarbone. “Wanted to be stretched out and fucked until you can’t anymore?”
“I want it,” you gasp, your fingers burying deep into his curls. “I want you, I want it, I want your dick in me already!”
“Not into foreplay?” Deku chuckles just a bit, tongue then tracing up your neck.
“Oh I am,” you snap, fingers finding the zipper of his own costume. “You can find out later how much I’m into it, but right now, I have been wanting you for years, and you will not make me wait any longer!”
Deku only nods frantically, and it's a mess of limbs, sloppy kisses, and clothes as the both of you strip to nothing.
Deku’s in between your legs, one hand pressed to the back of your knee, the other gripping what you believe is his dick because it makes everything in the world freeze as you see it. It’s huge, so thick that his hand wraps around it in a nice grip, and it long, curling up to his abs, curved and veiny.
“Holy shit,” you squeak, your cunt already clenching at the thought of taking that in.
“Are you ready?” Deku asks, the hand on your leg moving away for a moment as he cards his fingers back through his hair. “I don’t have a condom, though.”
“That’s fine, I don't care,” you dismiss his words, eyes too focused on the flush cock in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll live after you kill me with that anyways.”
Deku laughs just a bit, his dimples flashing as he leans in and kisses you deeply. You tremble underneath him, feeling so small pressed up against him, and you mewl when you feel the head of his cock pressing between your folds.
“Put it in,” you gasp, leg lifting and wrapping around his waist, “put it in! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, do you understand?!”
Deku nods, and with a sense of frantic need, his hand guides his cock into you.
It feels like you’re splitting in half. The girth of his cock stretching your walls out to the max, and he’s only going in. You scream loudly, both in pain and pleasure because it hurts so good.
“Take it, baby, take me all in,” Deku pants, his hips pushing out small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your twitching cunt. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You’re taking me all the way in. F-Fuck… you’re so amazing! So fucking perfect!”
Tears are pouring out of your eyes, and your nails are tearing into his back, you sob slightly overwhelmed with his cock and the absolute pleasure of finally getting what you want and it being so much better than you thought. Your cunt throbs almost violently as Deku’s cock finally hits your cervix and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts in further, lips attempting to claim yours.
“Fuck me, Deku,” you beg, hips beginning to slam and fuck up onto his cock. “Please! I need you!”
“Such a desperate little villain though,” Deku sighs, teasingly, giving you one strong thrust for good measure. It goes a long way though, the power behind his thrust and thighs promising you a bruised ass, thighs, and cunt makes your mouth water for more. “I need you to promise to never do anything like that again and be a good little manager for Kacchan.”
“Be good and stop being Mirage, or else you won’t be fucked.”
There was no hesitation.
And just like that, Deku’s soft smile curves into a knowing, fierce smirk, and you can do nothing as his hands press to the back of your knees and he begins thrusting his hips into you. And it takes you completely out of control.
It’s a messy, frantic dance, your body holding onto his, your lips pressing against his, desperate and needy for his, and he is basically trying to imprint his body onto yours, the concrete, and the walls. Your bodies are so foreign to each other, and yet, when he fucks into you just a bit hard, just a bit faster, you come undone, back arching and toes curling as you sob his name.
It’s overwhelming to know that he can read you this well and for you to have never fucked him before. It’s empowering to see that he likes every forced and involuntary squeeze and clench of your cunt. He loved when your nails dug into his skin, raking their existence against the plane of broad muscles and scars.
Deku curses your name as you clench around him, his hands moving to your jaw so that he can lift your face to kiss him just so. He kisses you with a heated passion, a need that strips your entire being bare, and his hips slam so loudly against you, the slicked wetness is squelching and slapping with every grunt and moan.
In and out his cock goes, and you praise him and his cock.
You praise him for making you feel so good, for stretching out your pussy with that fat cock of his. You beg for more, and more, and more. You want every snap of his hips to send new colors to your vision, and every echoing squelch of your meeting, sloppy sexes only adds to the blabbering, unmanaged sentences from your lips.
“Harder, faster, more!” you beg, practically wailing against his shoulders, needing him more and more. The concrete hurts against your back, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he breaks your back, it’s a fall you’ll take. “Don’t hold back! Don’t you dare hold back!”
“Fuck, you’re crazy,” Deku gasps, his sweaty brow burying into your cheek. “I won’t though, I won't. Be ready, I’m not sure if you can take it.”
Before you can snap back that you can in fact take it, Deku’s weight falls heavier onto you and the angle shifts just slightly, and your words are ripped right out of your throat for a pitched, window shattering screech. Deku fucks into you with a new power, some untapped strength as greenspark falls from his skin as he ruins you for anyone ever again.
Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the concrete was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Deku’s fingers shove into your mouth, and his other hand wraps around your neck, silencing your words and noises as he fucks up into you again and again and again.
“So loud, angel,” Deku smirks, fingers stroking and pinching your tongue as saliva pours endlessly from your mouth. His voice isn’t strained however, doesn’t have any indication that he’s out of breath or ready to tap out and that nearly makes you go insane. “I can’t wait to see everything that makes you look like this… you’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked.”
Your head is spinning, the heated tightness in your core clenching and throbbing as his conquesting cock never once stops or lessens. It just grows and grows and grows. His cock twitches in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets out a deep moan.
“Such a good and wet cunt you are,” Deku gasps as you gag against his fingers that press roughly against the back of your tongue. Your vision feels hazy, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine as his hand on your throat opens and closes, demonstrating his power over you. “I’m so glad you went through all this hard work to get me to fuck you.”
You can’t speak, so you nod desperately, you were so happy you did this too.
Your hips buck up into him with sheer stubborn drive to get him to toss his head back and moan, you wanted to see him unhinged too. Your eyelashes flutter, as his hands remove themselves from your face, and they move to your hips to help you out. But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.
“I-I’m so close,” you manage to moan out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose at that revelation.
Deku nods, his head moving so that his forehead rests against yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “I need you to look at the way your belly bulges while I fuck you before you cum, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum.”
You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering monster of a cock. And just like that, the tight heat in you snaps without a hitch, and you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Deku, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him.
Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure he collapses onto his forearms above you. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.
Deku is the first to move afterward, and you whine as he pulls his cock out of your sore, abused pussy. You make a noise of curiosity then fear as Deku spreads your legs even more open and moves so that his head is face to face with your cum filled pussy.
“What are you–?!” you screech as Deku takes a lick out of your dripping cunt.
“Fuck, this does taste good,” Deku smirks as he once again licks your overstimulated pussy and you sob. “Besides, who said we were done?”
“Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/l/n y/n!” Izuku happily introduced you to his group of friends.
“What the hell?!” Bakugou screamed, thrusting a finger at you and all you did was laugh.
So much for not being stubborn, huh.
659 notes · View notes
TAKE OUR HAND
seijoh x manager!reader
in which aoba johsai vbc just wants you to take their hand, just as the many times they have reached for yours when they needed it
pls i’m sorry i just wrote this for comfort, in having a terrible week and so, i just really need my seijoh boys to comfort me even if it’s just in my head and just so you know, and as i’ve been trying to convince myself, things always get better
tuesday, [15:56 pm]
“nice kill yahaba senpai!” kindaichi congratulates his upperclassman.
his voice makes you react, it scared you. still holding your pen and the notebook you always carry around even on normal practice days, your hand threatens you in the most scary way possible.
fuck no, just... breathe.
you are quick to leave aside the notes, and so, you look around to the boys, who just after the coach’s whistle sounds they are quick to approach your spot.
you take the water bottles as quickly as you can.
“oh y/n-san, i know we are irresistible but you can’t just slack off admiring us!” makki teases you laughing.
“if our dear manager is admiring someone is obviously me” oikawa says, before taking a sip of his bottle, slightly making you blush even more.
“i don’t think she likes idiots who still watch youtube conspiracy videos at 3am”
“weren’t you the one with a secret obsession for romance manga, iwaizumi?” it’s mattsun time to expose his friend. iwai mi doesn’t hesitate and he runs directly to matsukawa, while kunimi brings out his phone to start recording the chaos in the gym.
you don’t listen.
your head hurts, and then, you once again feel this weird thing in you stomach. you have been feeling like this for the past week, and you try to ignore it . but sometimes, you just want the world to stop.
“y/n senpai?” watari calls your name, and you notice his furrowed brows looking at you, worried. you blink and correct your posture. you had just zooned out. “is everything ok?”
“ah yes watari kun!” you force your self to sound relaxed because you feel the sudden gaze of the entire team “i was just thinking in a smart way to insult oikawa, but i’m worried he won’t understand tho”
“hey! you said i was your favorite”
you fake laugh once again assuring everyone that you were just fine. the day goes on, and somehow is becomes more difficult to just stay down not worrying about anything.
and they notice.
you don’t walk home with the guys today. instead you run to the bus not before excusing yourself with an ‘urgent family thing’
“just please don’t let makki eat so much ramen today!” you giggle as you run to the bus “i’m not in the mood to dealing with diarrea!”
“that was a secret between us darling!” the pink haired guy screams cheeks blushing.
and maybe you were just too distracted, but before you face them away some of them notice how quick your smile fades.
“you know guys” yahaba is quick to say “call me crazy but, why did she lie?”
wednesday, [10:22 am]
when was the last time you actually enjoyed school? not practice, but school itself. seeing numbers everyday in the board that you don’t understand is frustrating. your throat hurts, there’s has been a not there since the begging of the day.
swallow it, y/n, dammit
you decided to take this class, don’t blame the world, blame yourself. isn’t it supposed to be simple? why isn’t it being simple? is that...
"Square root of 57 is equal to Xo, miss"
it is not like it’s a race, you want to say. why was the teacher obsessed with speed?, it’s unfair. your time is not the same as that of others.
you drop the pencil and you recline in your chair, why couldn’t you do operations and analysis as fast as they could? you take a look around and the eyes of others look frightening. you see ambition, you see security, you see admiration.
the bell rings and you just want to run, and well in a way you end up doing it. leaving your homeroom, you tell your friends that for today you want to be alone, the halls of aoba johsai are big, for your fortune or misfortune. you go to the vending machine and when your drink falls, the minimum noise makes you startle, lately it’s like that, small noises or actions affect you way too much.
and iwaizumi notices it.
you don’t make a single move, it’s just the cold drink resting on your hands. and before iwaizumi could stop mattsun, he was already putting his hand on your shoulder.
the orange juice spills and once again fear takes hold of you.
you see them both, you’re not stupid and you know hajime stares at you weirdly, and now mattsun, you hide your fear it a bit worse than yesterday, but you do anyways.
"someday, Matsukawa-san, YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME! and what will you do without me?" you try to say cheerful, wanting to take away the suspicion, for a moment it works.
"flunk history, that leads me to..."
"no, sweeheart, i won’t give you my homework"
you walk and both guys follow you, one faster than another, very naive of the situation. "I begin to believe you hate me," says Mattsun, as the three sit on a bench near the school cafeteria casually encountering kunimi who quickly joins you, patting the folds of your skirt as you sit down, you rest on the table and admire his needy expression and as the tantrum of mattsun grows.
minutes go by, your chest pain grows, but somehow you know how to let it go.
with your hands supporting your face, lunch passes between you and kunimi, you try to talk, you really try.
but still, your eyes just glow, and kunimi notices how it’s not the glow you always have.
your head is spinning, you can feel the cold sweat. will this be the time? why do you feel so small? why can’t you say it?
it’s familiar, you recognize this feeling, an ocean, you’re floating, you know you can swim, but, you’re in the middle of nowhere, you look down. Out of nowhere the intimidating depth of the ocean is beneath you. And then, you sink. You feel like you’re drowning, you feel like you’re fighting the tide, but you just can’t do it.
i just need...
no, it’s not time yet, it’s still training. the boys... you’re the one who should take care of them, you’re the one who has to be be fine. they had no time to lose, they had a goal and for the moment that was the most important thing.
On that bench, your gaze is absent, you know it is so.
and through the window that overlooks your classroom, oikawa notices it too
“y/n...” he mumbled.
of course he’d noticed. at first it was not so clear, but now he remembers.
when kindaichi pinned your dark circles to him, while admiring you by fitting volleyballs in a way not of your own.
￼makki watches oikawa from your side, you don’t even know the pink-haired guy is there, unaware that he’s sitting next ￼to you. but he notices. he’s been noticing for days that your eyes are threatening to close in the middle of class.
hanamaki catches your attention and instantly that mask you’ve been wearing for weeks appears again.
"hanamaki, i’m fine"
it doesn’t convince them. they both look out the window and nod.
oikawa notices, and god, he wished he had no reason to.
friday [14:00 pm]
please just... breathe.
you’re fed up. the feeling of guilt and discomfort is still there, can’t you be calm? people don’t need to know, but why do you want to shout it?
the dressing room is alone, the girls from the soccer team are out and it’s your only chance.
the team needs you, hold on a little.
your footsteps are heard in the hallway once again, a symphony you’re tired of listening to.
your chest hurts, your heart is aching, but you just need a little more. hands are shaking, the cold in your body, you need to stop.
you have to make them stop.
but when you walk into the gym, even with your eyes down, all you feel is warm. and it’s because, the boys were standing, aligned begging for you.
no, they beg for your sake.
and everything stops.
one hand from him on your neck, and one hand around your shoulders.
because oikawa, without warning, now has you in his arms.
and then, only then, you break.
tears don’t take long to come out, along with desperate sobs. your legs fail and out of nowhere, you and oikawa are on your knees.
with an alarmed look, the whole club runs towards both, surrounding you as sensibly as possible.
"i’m sorry, i’m sorry I’M SORRY" is heard from you, between hiccups.
“love, listen...” iwaizumi approaches you,somehow he managed to catch up with you, somehow he managed to hold your hand.
"i promise i didn’t want to, but i can’t, i can’t anymore, why can’t i? i try and i try and i keep trying but it’s never enough! IM TIRED OF SEEING SOMETHING AND NOT BEING ABLE TO PROCESS IT LIKE THE OTHERS. I’M TIREDD OF NEVER FULFILLING WHAT I SHOULD”
yahaba’s heart aches, and just as most of the team, is shocked.
your hands, oh your adorable hands, those hands that bandage his in the middle of an important game, he sees them shaking horribly between iwaizumi’s.
“AND I’M SCARED, WHAT IF I LOSE YOU BECAUSE OF THAT BECAUSE OF ME? BECAUSE OF HOW I AM I-“
watari is quick to place your hair gently behind your ear, a kunimi covers you with his jacket.
“I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND I DONT RECOGNIZE MYSELF” you lower your voice, its cracked now “oikawa I don’t recognize myself, I want to be me again" you whisper, and a knot appears in the captain’s throat, and he puts a hand on your cheek "please... just let me be me again" your throat burns, your eyes get redder.
the gym goes silent, your words still echoing in everyone’s head.
“why didn’t you-“
“i just couldn’t” you blame yourself cutting oikawa off “look at us! we are waisting time on me when we should be- i’m the one who has to- im you support not-“
“hey hey, love...” iwaizumi whispers his voice is filled with sweetness, letting you sit correctly and softly rubbing his thumb in your hands “how many times have you been there for us? y/n your hand is always there”
“that’s true” kyotani says, finally saying something, emotions overwhelmed him a lot, but he genuinely wanted to help you.
“there’s something about you, there’s light” kindaichi follows up.
“no matter where, or how bad we are, somehow you always are helping us stand up” mattsun also tries to carefully approach you, he wants nothing more for you to feel safe.
and oikawa’s arms were still around you. he never stopped.
“we have reached your hand so many times, so now it’s time for you to please take ours” oikawa holds you face, and you see the sincerity and kindness behind his brown eyes, it feels like home.
mattsun does a sign asking the coach for a day off, both of them smile tenderly at you and give the green flag. iwa and makki are next to hold you carefully helping you stand up. they help you stop shaking but it’s mad dog the one who wipes your tears away with a tissue watari handled him. still not knowing if he did it the right way. you still feel kunimi’s scent. you still see kindaichi holding your school bag making sure nothing is missing. yahaba is the one bringing you water. and oikawa still refuses to let you go.
all of them feel like home.
and that’s how you know everything is going to feel fine.
because this club was yours and you were theirs.
this was home.
810 notes · View notes
genshin boys and terms of endearment they'd use
a/n: this is my first time writing headcanons and ngl i found them quite difficult to format :( i’m liking this style for now, but things might change later on teehee anyway, lemon cake update next week, i promise!
let’s get something out of the way first
diluc is not a jerk
sure, he might have tsundere tendencies but he’s definitely not as cold as people make him seem
in my opinion anyway
i like to call him a classy, but also a very private, softie
i can totally see him as someone who’d use terms such as darling, love, doll
a major factor here is the time and place
in public, he tries to seem more indifferent and will most likely refer to you by your name
however, in a more private setting, he has no inhibitions and actually prefers using nicknames!
I feel like diluc would want to really reassure their partner he truly cares about them, but in a direct yet indirect way
and calling you sweet things seems to get the message across.
listen to this while reading!
If only time could pass faster. Who knew waiting could be such an agonising activity? Such a simple but repetitive thing. Waiting for your cake to finish baking, waiting for the morning to arrive and even waiting for your lover to come home turned out to be much more of a challenge. It wasn’t unusual for Diluc to spend hours on end at Angel’s Share, but it was rather odd of him to break his promises.
A sad smile took over your features, remembering last night. Remembering his words, so sweet and benign, promising to dedicate you all of him and his time. His crimson red eyes, full of love and admiration for the person he held so dearly to his heart. His voice, so demure and nothing but a soft whisper, as if raising it would ruin the moment. The moment he shared with you in a little dark corner of Mondstadt, away from curious eyes and sharp ears. The moment he so desperately wanted to hold onto. Yet, the darknight hero was nowhere to be found.
By the time he finally arrived, your eyes were already closing. It was a gloved hand that pulled you out of your somnolent state. Yet again those same red eyes were looking into yours with the same devotion, if not stronger than the night he made his promise.
“Forgive me, love,” he pleaded in a shushed tone, “Kaeya came in and started causing a commotion and I couldn’t just leave.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your cheek delicately.
Too tired to say anything, you placed your hand over his, silently asking him to join you in bed. You had all the time in the world to discuss tomorrow... Hopefully. After discarding his black coat on one of the chairs and taking off his shoes, Diluc plopped in your shared bed, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable. Soon his arms were around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. His smell reminded you of grapes and it completely enveloped you as you nestled into him.
“If only I could turn back time…” Diluc murmured to himself, kissing the top of your head. “Nothing will come in between us and our time together tomorrow. I promise you, darling.”
Turns out that, in the end, he does keep his promises.
listen to this while reading!
my very polite baby
like sure, he’s straightforward
but he be treating everyone with respect
you might be wondering why that matters
well that's because i think xiao would see it as a little rude to not refer to someone important to him by their name
names play a major part in xiao’s past
with rex lapis re-naming him after taking him under his wing and such
so, in my opinion, xiao finds calling out your name way more meaningful than nicknames
although if he were to use one it would probably be dear
it’s short and he can still address you as “dear (name)”
it does sound quite formal at times though
Moments like this were rare. Usually, sleep doesn’t concern your lover in the slightest, as it rarely comes to him. Although you couldn’t help but admit how much you loved it when he did come and sleep. Cuddled up next to you was the vigilant yaksha, the well known protector of Liyue. And dare you say, it was truly a divine sight. In the wash of the morning light, his face took the appearance of an old photograph, so nostalgic, so at peace. Slowly, one of your hands brushed past his face, placing the few rebel aquamarine strands that were cascading down his cheek behind his ear. For a moment, you find yourself in perfect silence, Xiao’s soft breaths being the only sounds that could be discerned. Without realising, you started softly rubbing his back, your heart leaping at the content purr that followed shortly after.
It was almost impossible to put into words the joy this brought you. Although it was such a simple, mundane thing, seeing Xiao so at ease was by far your favourite memory with him. The more you studied his features the more your sight fell upon his lips. The sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, wanting nothing more than to cherish and show your lover the affection he deserves.
If only the sudden chirping of birds didn’t scare you, barely a few inches away from his face.
Curse those birds and their awful timing! And so, you backed away, laughing to yourself in self-consciousness, thankful that no one was aware of your little mishap.
Or so you thought.
You felt your face get warmer the moment you saw Xiao looking at you, drowsiness still coating his eyes. Yet again, for another short moment, no sound could be heard.
“____ my dear” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, snaking his arms around you as he brought you closer to him, “if you won’t do it, I will.” it was then the flush across his cheeks became apparent to you. Shame you didn’t have time to savour it, his lips immediately finding yours in a sweet, dream like kiss.
Moments like this were truly worth treasuring.
in contrast with xiao, childe loves calling you cute nicknames
in fact, he barely uses your name!
sometimes he likes to tease you and pretend he forgot your actual name
of course that’s not true,he could never do such a thing
I can totally see him use pet names such as comrade, girlie, cutie, shawty, sweetness, princess/prince, baby
ok i know shawty is kind of random, but i think he’d use kind of ironically?
I think he’d also use big sister/brother just to tease you, even if you’re younger than him
he heard teucer refer to you as such one time and it honestly melted his heart a little bit
as a side note, seeing his siblings get along you makes him genuinely happy.
listen to this while reading!
Spring was such a beautiful time. Especially in Liyue. Especially on a date with the one and only Childe, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers. For someone with such a fearsome title and reputation, it wowed you to no end just how charming, just plain adorable, Tartaglia can be. Albeit, it was only your second date, it was expected of him to at least try to be nice.
And on time.
As you waited, under that beautiful sky, a hue so gentle between cloud and baby blue, you watched each bird upon wing. It was one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightened the warm rays of the sun. You paused to admire the flowers, to sense their aromas, to be in the moment with their transient beauty.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” asked Childe from behind you, a shy, perhaps slightly embarrassed, smile painted on his lips. “Sorry I’m late, I really overestimated my juniors’ capabilities and I had to step in.” he continued, gingerly taking hold of your hand, kissing the back of it.
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his gentlemanly antics, although you enjoyed them nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it, you’re here now.” you reassured him, as you took a hold of his hand, already leading him towards nowhere in particular.
Another thing you liked about him. Things were so casual, so easy-going. One might call this date nothing but a hangout, but not every date has to be a luxurious five star dinner or a fancy show. Sometimes just a simple walk along the Liyue port was enough. Enough for you to get to know Childe, enough for you to like him even more.
Suddenly, Tartaglia was in front of you, his hands lightly taking hold of your face.
“Hold on cutie, there’s something on your face,” he answered your silent question, seeing as you looked a little confused. The next thing you knew, his lips descended upon yours. It was a sudden but very much welcomed kiss. A kiss that unfortunately ended just as abruptly, “it was me.”
also prefers using your name rather than nicknames
but he’s not completely against them
he finds them quite nice actually
and he actually enjoys being referred by one!
like imagine going for a stroll with him and all of a sudden you go "darling, look!"
he'd look so content oh my lord
in my opinion anyway
he’d usually call you honey, my beloved or even my one and only!
you could be doing the simplest of things like reading with him under a tree
and he'd go "you're my one and only love"
no, he isn’t aware of how cheesy it sounds.
listen to this while reading!
Who knew the God of contracts could be such a romantic? Usually, Zhongli wasn’t a big fan of fancy, elaborate dates. He’d usually say something along the lines that “spending time with you was enough for him to feel like the richest man in the world”, which he technically was even without your presence. But, quite frankly, it was because he lacked the funds to do so that he didn’t pamper you every moment of the day.
So when you found yourself face to face with an array of different foods, meticulously prepared and arranged on a soft picnic blanket, you couldn’t help but wonder —
“Why the sudden change?” you asked, sitting down on the plush cover, to which Zhongli only chuckled.
“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” he replied in a teasing tone, flopping next to you.
“Oh, you are more than welcome to do so,” you winked, pouring some tea for both of you. It smelled like chamomile, “I was just trying to say it’s a nice change.” you continued, taking a few sips of your tea.
Zhongli only hummed, content with your response. Sometimes, sitting in silence, all while eating delicious brunch foods and drinking sweet tea, was much more enjoyable than small talk.
And so, you spend the rest of the day with your lover, basking in the sunshine and each other’s company. In his embrace, there was something so right, something that felt right, smelt right. You let your body sag, your muscle become loose. In that embrace you felt your worries loose their keen sting and your optimism raise its head from the dirt.
“You’re so beautiful, my beloved,” he whispered, cupping your face and kissing you gently.
avid user of nicknames
partially because he finds them cute
and partially because he loves teasing you
he’d use them in public and try to get a reaction out of you
like let’s say all of a sudden kaeya is back hugging you, pampering your neck with kisses
saying something like “what’s wrong, baby?”
he’d also use hot stuff, sweet cheeks, gorgeous, handsome, cutie pie, treasure
sometimes they’re really sweet, other times they’re really silly
side note, i feel like this one got a little out of hand sorry yall i lowkey can’t take kaeya seriously
listen to this while reading!
There was something so heavenly about a kiss in the rain, a tender moment that just wouldn’t wait. It was that burst of love that is expressed, not caring if the water soaked through to chill the skin. You felt yourself gasping for air as Kaeya’s lips left yours, doe like eyes searching for his. Behind that brilliant shade of blue sparkled a glacial attraction. So complex and mysterious, it was magnetic. It made you want him even more.
Upon seeing your dazed state Kaeya smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His hands found yours. “Let’s get you of here before you catch a cold.” he said, leading you down the streets of Mondstadt. It was the middle of August, and you got caught in nothing more than a summer rain. You weren’t even cold, but alas you let it slide, enjoying seeing Kaeya worry about you, even if it wasn’t as serious as he made it seem.
There is something about a rain-washed pathway that invites playful feet, that says each new step will be rewarded with a splash. And soon, you found yourself splashing around, making the most out of this accidental rain shower.
The moment you finally reached your home, Kaeya wasted no time, his arms already wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Yet again, a gasp escaped your mouth, Kaeya’s cold lips leaving goosebumps behind each carefully placed kiss on your neck.
“You know what’s the best way to get warmed up, treasure?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your hips.
You shook your head softly, awaiting his answer.
“A good old dance party!” he exclaimed, spinning you around as he started humming a cheerful. “Nothing gets the blood going like a little movement!” it was obvious he found great pleasure in seeing your more than confused, if not disappointed, expression. Still, he paid you no mind and continued dancing with you all while singing a cheery melody.
It was quite save to assume there was never a boring moment with this man.
my favourite elevator boy
doesn’t love nicknames but doesn’t hate them either
i see him as an action speak louder than words guy
and although he’s aware that, as his partner, you know that
he still feels sorry for not being as vocal as other people when it comes to talking about his emotions??
so cute terms like these are a simple way he can show his appreciation for you
for some reason, i think he would really like using diminutives??
he’d call you things like little star
or baby or lovebug
i think it really matches his vibe ngl
listen to this while reading!
The breeze blew warm announcing the coming of summer's hottest days. The aroma of the tall grasses were an intoxicating perfume and the starry night above was a painting more sublime than any man could create. The clarity above became reflected in your mind.
Being with Albedo meant putting up with the unholy amount of hours he’d spend on whatever research he’d be conducting at the time. And luckily for you, his next big discovery involved the stars. On the black sky above you, there were a multitude of stars and there were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years.
As you enjoyed your little midnight snack, your gaze fell upon the chief alchemist. His eyes were fixated on the landscape above him, utterly fascinated by the world’s mystic beauty. Seeing him so consumed by his studies made your heart feel warm. It was adorable to see him like this.
Your sudden yawn made both you look at each other. Albedo’s gaze was filled with compassion, and perhaps a little remorse for making you come with him so late in the night just to stare blankly at the sky.
But you knew this wasn’t such a trivial thing.
You pet the spot next to you, silently asking him to sit down with you, to which he immediately obliged. As his head found its place on your shoulder a little sad smile made its appearance on his face.
“Sorry for making you come here with me, baby.” he said, his hand drawing patterns along your thigh. “I know this isn’t your idea of quality time.”
“Any time spent with you is quality time, silly.” you giggled, kissing the top of his head. “And besides, who doesn’t enjoy a little bit of stargazing?”
ok now for venti
i feel like with him the tone he uses is very important??
i mean this also applies to the rest of the guys
but for venti even more so
he could simply refer to you by your name and it would still feel all special and bubbly
nonetheless, he loves using pet names!
i mean as a bard, he can come up with poems and such on a whim ( flashback to the signora moment :) )
so his nicknames for you always have a certain meaning or funny story behind them
oh, you love pumpkins or had an unfortunate accident involving one? now he calls you pumpkin all the time
he’d also call you things like sunshine because to him you bring so much joy and you warm his heart just like the sun.
with that being said, good luck to those pulling for him! <3
listen to this while reading!
“There you go! You’re really good at this!” Venti complimented you, observing in great detail the way your fingers touched the strings of his lyre.
Judging by the curious stares and even odd looks you’d get from time to time, that wasn’t really the case. What was supposed to be a simple walk around the city turned out to be a full concert. Although Venti couldn’t find it in his heart to tell you, who asked him so eagerly just a few moments ago if he could teach how to play a song, just how… Poor was your attempt.
A relieved sigh could be heard the moment your fingers left the strings, although Venti’s reassuring smile never left his face. “Don’t let a few strangers discourage you! Even the greatest geniuses had to start somewhere!”
“Are you saying I’m a genius?” you asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow, laughing at his flustered face.
“Let’s not go that far…” he murmured, winking cheekily.
“And here I was, thinking I could wow you with my insane musical skills…” you whined sarcastically, handing him his lyre as you continued your stroll. It was then Venti stopped in his tracks. Upon his face, shock was written all over, his expression soon turning sympathetic. For a moment, he left you alone, diving into the crowd of people, only to return to you with a single cecilia flower. Its fragrance was sweet and fresh and its color a perfect white. Shortly after, he gently placed it behind your ear, smiling to himself while looking at you.
“You don’t need fancy tricks to win over what you already have,” Venti said, kissing your cheek lightly. A cheerful tune could be heard across the street, Venti’s soft melody attracting a lot of attention, “I’m all yours, sunshine.” he said loud enough for more than a few people to hear.
He has such a way with words, doesn’t he?
811 notes · View notes
Alone Together. Yan Xiao x Reader
Warnings: General yandere themes.
Word count: 1.7k.
Note: this is a gift for the lovely @vani-ya !!! i know she’s absolutely in love with xiao, eheheh ... i hope you like this! and good luck getting your boy when his banner drops, you deserve him <33
Xiao doesn’t know why he’s still here.
It irks him more than any human language could hope to articulate. This incessant draw that lures him in, seducing him with whispers of possibilities he doesn’t deserve, a constant aching. The agony that is both in a literal and metaphorical sense, the weight of his sins, is almost preferable to this plague of uncertainty.
Whoever would’ve thought a mighty Yaksha would be troubled by such trivial matters?
“I thought you said you’d tone down the constant scowling.”
Xiao’s lithe body tenses at the sweet, dulcet sound of your voice invading his senses. He’s forced to deepen his frown to avoid his lips quirking upwards.
“I never agreed to that.” He counters, watching your reactions with concealed curiosity. As he’s come to expect, you puff your cheeks and place your hands on your hips. That look on your face — it has no right making his heart skip a beat as it does — he didn’t realize such a thing was possible. You remain none the wiser to his internal conflict, instead now looking to chastise him for this perceived slight.
“When I mentioned scowling less, you responded with a grunt,” you point an accusatory finger at his chest. “I took it upon myself to translate that as a yes.”
Xiao scoffs. “It’s not my fault you decided to interpret it that way.”
Truth be told, it takes considerable effort to maintain this stoic visage. Xiao never once thought in his long life he’d need to actively try and appear indifferent. It had come to him so naturally before, as second nature as breathing, yet now is difficult to sustain in your presence. He’s always been his own worst enemy. Perhaps now is no different.
Maybe if he didn’t fixate on your every movement, from the bounce in your step to the way your hair shines prettily in the light, he’d be in better control. Do you ever notice him staring, he wonders? You almost always look to be in another world entirely, humming and going about life with an unwavering smile that twists his stomach into knots. At least that means you won’t call him out for always looking at you.
Xiao pushes these feelings down before they threaten to consume him entirely.
“Will you do me a favor and try not to get too roughed up these next few days? I’m planning a trip to Liyue Harbor, so I won’t be around to heal you.” You casually present this, yet Xiao’s attention is unusually piqued. Your humble residence is set on the outskirts of society, Dihua Marsh to be exact, an area with little commotion. As Xiao greatly prefers.
It had been underneath this very roof that you had tended to his wounds too many times to count.
His memory of your initial meeting is fuzzy at best, as much as he loathes to admit it. The battle that had rendered him unconscious that day, marring his skin with countless lacerations and bruises, was not a rarity. For over a millennium he’d endured such trials and always managed to somehow survive on his own strength. This time, however, was different. You said you were foraging the local flora for food when you happened upon him, immediately sheltering him and utilizing your Vision to restore him.
When he awoke, much to your surprise, you had been greeted with the tip of a spear pressed threateningly to your throat. It had been a hardened warrior’s reaction to an unknown environment. Xiao can never forget the way your eyes widened, how your soft lips parted to gasp, the way your hair splayed on the ground around you. It took a split second to realize you were human and not a threat.
Before he could remove his weapon from above your jugular, you had uttered the phrase, “You’re… beautiful.”
It was all downhill from there for Xiao.
Who reacts to almost being killed like that? Only an idiot, was what he surmised, but what does that make the fool who fell for such a simple utterance? Ever since then, Xiao always finds himself coming back. Whether by deliberate choice or not. There are some times he’s wandering around Liyue, searching for vengeful spirits to dispose of, just to end up at your doorstep. Injured or not.
“I wouldn’t bother,” Xiao doesn’t miss how his flippant answer confuses you and decides to elaborate. “You’re not familiar with the backroads, or else I’d recommend that. Fatui have been skulking about the highly-traveled areas.”
He can only hope that it comes off as nonchalant as he wants it to.
You purse your lips, appearing deep in thought. “Well, I guess you have a point… I had never really intended to travel there myself. But it’s been months since I’ve sent my letters, without so much as one in response! How can I find work if the Ministry of Civil Affairs keeps ignoring my requests?”
Xiao feels his eye twitch. This conversation again… how troublesome. It’s so painfully human, that had it been anyone other than you, he would’ve slinked off already. Yet here he is, leaning against the wooden wall of your humble abode with no intention of leaving. No matter his attempts to dissuade you, you remain stubborn in wanting to find work in Liyue, stating it’s partially the reason you came here.
The other part being…
“My family left in Inazuma is waiting patiently for provisions,” you grasp your Vision, the same shade of emerald that Xiao boasts, body slumping in defeat. “To think I’ve been here all this time, unable to send them even a single Mora.”
A bitter laugh leaves your lips, one that pierces Xiao’s heart of stone. “I just don’t understand. The people at Wangshu Inn have said while there have been delays due to the unrest, it shouldn’t be severe enough to take several months.”
“You haven’t seen how bad things are,” Xiao points out, much to your apparent displeasure. “Besides, the Millieth are now checking everyone that comes in and out of the harbor. If you don’t have a work permit, they won’t let you in.”
This isn’t the first time Xiao’s mentioned this to you and likely won’t be the last. Much like all the times before, you sigh, playing with a strand of your hair. A nervous habit, he’s noticed. The tension in the air is thick and palpable, similar to that of an area before a battle is to unfold. Suddenly, you shake your head, slapping the sides of your face hard enough to make him blink rapidly.
Your usual smile makes a reappearance. “You’re right. You’re always right. Ah, here I am, moping like a child. If there’s nothing I can do, then what good will sitting here and feeling bad for myself do? I’ll just have to wait until the situation improves.”
Xiao closes his eyes. So that’s what you’ve decided this time, then? Tension abandons his body, his posture relaxing. He’s never been good at comforting others. Poetic words and grand gestures aren’t his forte, all he can really do is listen and offer advice. Little did you know that even being granted that by him was a rarity. Hardly anyone else got the time of day from Xiao, anyone but you that is.
He walks over to where you sit, earning your attention. Clearing his throat, he reaches out, patting your head once. Twice. His movements are stiff, a far cry from the grace he executes in battle, but still having as much effort behind it. From the way your eyes widen he takes it you weren’t expecting this. Neither was he.
“It’ll… work out.” His tone is hesitant but he manages to force the words out. You return this act of unexpected affection with a dazzling smile, unlike the hesitant one from before, eyes sparkling like diamonds. Xiao clears his throat and makes for the door. That innocent way you’re gazing at him is too much to withstand, his heart threatening to break free from his chest at how it pounds without relent.
“Off so soon?” You inquire, and he doesn’t miss the disappointment in your voice.
“I’ve got work to do,” he wraps his hands around the doorknob, unwilling to let himself look back at the pout you’re likely giving him. Xiao knows himself well enough that such a sight would make him stay. “... Take care, [First].”
He hears you laugh behind him.
“I should be the one saying that to you! I’ve never seen someone get injured so frequently.”
Xiao doesn’t bother entertaining your not so subtle teasing, already making his way down the path in front of your small cottage. Now free of prying eyes, he releases a deep breath, placing a hand over his rapidly beating heart. Troublesome, so troublesome, he thinks. To feel this way…
There’s no benefit to caring for another.
It’s a vulnerability, a curse, that slowly yet surely festers and corrupts the soul. Xiao knows this, and yet, he’s long past the point of return.
A single glance is spared to your hastily put together mailbox, made of local wood that he had helped you gather. It’s held together by sheer hope and will. Xiao recalls with fondness how determined you were to put it together yourself, uncaring of the splinters that came with it, going so far as to call them your battle wounds.
You surely are an interesting human.
Xiao’s lighthearted recollection is ruined by a singular, damning detail. His heart drops at the unmistakable sight of a letter poking out of the mailbox. That seal. Xiao’s been removed from interaction with human society for years, yet he instantly recognizes it, as it now involves him. The Ministry of Civil Affairs. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots you through the window, occupying yourself with a book. Good, you’re distracted.
Moving faster than a gust of wind in a storm, he grabs the intruding letter, the paper weighing heavily on his soul. He looks down at it in faint disgust. To think a measly piece of parchment would earn such disdain from him. Whatever the contents are, he doesn’t care to see, preferring to remain blissfully ignorant.
Keeping you here is all that matters. A selfish plea, he knows, but no longer cares to condemn himself for.
Now, the problem is figuring out where to dispose of this one, like all the rest.
1K notes · View notes
anonymous asked: helloo, I really love all your yandere hc/fic ♥️ can I request yan!xiao x zombie female!reader. like xiao neglect her when traveler came (and it's become his excuse to avoid her because he doesn't like his feelings towards her grow) but his yandere side snap when he found out the reader badly injured and died , in the end xiao will resurrect her and keep her for him self
yandere!xiao x zombie!(female) reader
art credit - pnk_crow on twt
cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied stalking, death/resurrection, descriptions of gore/blood
note - it’s been a while since I posted a full-length yandere fic. please enjoy!
Kalopsia - ‘A delusion in which things appear more beautiful than they actually are.’
Subpar cooking skills, an atrociously talkative personality, and navigation expertise that could use some work. These are just a few aspects of your character that should give Xiao plenty of reasons to dislike you. He can’t stand the way you’re so ready to see the dangerous world, even if you can hardly wrap your head around how to use a map and a compass. It’s strange when he finds himself trailing after you, silently watching your every move in case something undesirable were to happen. And though you can fend for yourself, having beat down a thief who attempted to pickpocket from you, Xiao feels better knowing that you’re in his sights.
Truthfully, he enjoys looking at you. Your taste in clothing and the way you carry yourself—it’s intriguing. He’s never met a mortal with such a confident attitude toward friendship before. When you came to him with an Almond Tofu, playfully claiming that this was the key to his heart, he wanted to dislike you. Xiao tried countless times to hate you and your personality, but your every gesture had clung to him like a parasite, forcing all sorts of new feelings onto his usually empty plate.
Xiao doesn’t want to admit it because it’s just a pathetic emotion, but he lies awake at night, his head filled with images of your vibrant smile and good-natured humor. With his own mind compromised, it’s hard to think of anything else except you. Your Almond Tofu is hardly delicious, yet he’ll eat every bite of it because it was carefully crafted by your two hands. Hands that should hold his and console him with gentle pats. Not that he’d want that, of course. But it is nice to dissolve into sweet, wishful thinking in the late hours of the eerie night.
Xiao has taken up some of your hobbies—however unconventional and odd they may seem—as a result of this weird feeling. You seem excited whenever he mentions them in your curt conversations, and the enthusiastic grin you wear fuels this obsessive desire to learn and learn and learn. He stands so close to the edge; there’s no telling when he’ll fall over. Whenever that ledge is close to crumbling, he reminds himself that you’re just a simple mortal who will succumb to death like everyone else.
And he’s an adeptus who will remain to see civilizations fall and rebuild. A mortal and an immortal, both bound by the inevitable passage of time, mix in the same fashion that oil and water mix. Both are separated and they will remain in that state no matter what. Similarly, you and Xiao will never truly have the liberty of connecting for the rest of eternity.
He considers this as he stands deep in a frozen cavern, the cold air of Dragonspine nipping at his exposed skin like tiny, razor-sharp fangs. His expression remains still and firm, hardened by the sight before him. Emotions come filing in at once, overloading his stern sensibility like a computer that has received far too much information. Xiao has never mulled over human emotions or why he tends to succumb to the negative ones, but now he’s certain of his true fondness for you.
The weight of a love that will never come to fruition leaves a foul taste in his mouth.
Your adventuring equipment is spread out on the frozen ground, buried under heavy snow and concealed in ice so thick it would take hours to melt. Dark blood paints the white canvas in a horrible, sickening hue. And preserved in the center of such carnage is the human he’s thought endlessly about for the past few weeks. You’ve been speared on an icicle, the sharpened point impaling through your back and bursting from your lower abdomen in a bloody show of destructive death. There isn’t any life in your glacial, dull eyes, and they stare listlessly into his own when he peers at your face. His heart tightens once he spies the gaping hole where the icicle protrudes, which is but another sign that proves the inescapable manner in which you’ve wound up.
Xiao finally frowns, still trying to comprehend when you left for Dragonspine and how long it’s been since then. He’s grateful the animals in this snowy cavern have yet to feast upon your corpse, and although the split in your skin provides easy access to the chilled organs resting within there isn’t any indication of animal disturbance. It would’ve been a relief had he not held his palm up to your cheek, almost hoping you’d lean into his warm touch.
You won’t ever smile at him, nor will you fail at making that tasteless Almond Tofu again—the very things that pierced through his dark heart with an illumination of sugary affection. The reality of your death is stunning, even for someone who has witnessed fatalities as gruesome as yours throughout the course of his existence. Rather than sadness, anger consumes him. He’s frustrated that you would even think to explore Dragonspine without a guide or another adventurer who could lend a hand should disaster strike. In fact, he should have been the one to accompany you. If it were him, you would most likely still be alive.
And his heart would remain light and warm.
Xiao wants to break something—a vase or a person. Anything to rid himself of the cruel fact that you won’t ever be able to thaw the frostbitten, pent-up wrath locked deep inside his very soul. It’s a sudden, eruptive thought that corrodes his logic like rust, veiling the sweet memories of your existence in a shroud. A mortal as lovely as you deserves a peaceful end, not a violent, unreasonable death. To be skewered by an icicle as though you were nothing but a slab of meat—it’s unfair.
He despises it.
Unmoving, you remain poised on that icicle like a doll built of frigid, unforgiving winters and luxurious snowflakes. Despite how painful it may seem, you appear calm and unbothered, having been frozen in time with an agonized expression glued permanently to your beautiful face.
He thinks of how moronic you are as he carries your corpse from the dreary depths of the wintry cave, holding your slowly defrosting body against his chest as if you might actually reciprocate some sort of loving gesture. Xiao can only scowl as he tries to understand why someone with such horrible navigation skills would want to explore Dragonspine. Surely you knew of the risks and how they greatly outweighed the reward. Perhaps you were led solely by your own greed.
Mortals are rather foolish creatures with sickening habits, and yet he’s treasuring one with such vigor—almost as if he depends upon your every breath to survive in his own shrunken world.
Xiao wonders if you’ll retain any of your hobbies and skills once you’re resurrected. Perhaps you’ll finally learn how to make Almond Tofu. That would be nice, considering your knack for cooking was a little less than savory. Maybe you’ll actually follow the recipe this time rather than improvising as you happen upon the ingredients.
And even as Xiao thinks about you throughout this process, where he feels so full of emotions that refuse to show on his face, he tells himself this isn’t for you. He’s merely fulfilling a selfish desire that has been scraping at his emotional wounds like a rabid beast.
Nevertheless, Xiao promises to breathe life into your stiff joints in the only way he knows how.
His glower is nothing short of vicious as he’s observing your new features. You remain poised in your seat, unblinking and straight-faced. It’s been this way ever since you woke up; his eyes were on you the moment you inhaled a ragged breath. In the deepest depths of your brain, memories are hidden and blurred, having shriveled up from some event you can’t seem to remember. When you asked the man in front of you, he simply said nothing. You assume he’s not all that talkative, opting to use action as a basis for his own unspoken words. But you can’t understand what any of it means. Perhaps he’s just angry and you happen to be the unfortunate soul who is forced to witness such vexation.
“Did I do something wrong?” Your words startle him; his eyelid twitches and he pulls away. “Um...”
No matter how hard you force yourself to think, everything turns up blank. It’s as if someone took a spoon and hollowed out your mind, scooping vital memories and pieces of your own brain. With your cognition flickering in and out of perception, it’s difficult to recall your location, the person standing before you, and even your own self.
Just who are you? What’s going on?
“No,” he mutters and his voice is far colder than anything you could’ve imagined. “It’s in the past now.”
You feel like you should ask another question, but nothing comes to your mind. It’s blank and empty, as are most of your thoughts.
“Your name is (Name). You’re staying here with me at Wangshu Inn.”
“Wangshu Inn...” Somehow that name has an air of familiarity, yet you can’t place it. “Okay.”
“You can call me Xiao.”
He stops short, debating his next words. He should just come out and say it; it would be far easier to admit it rather than lying awake at night wrestling with these horrid feelings. Even though you bear fragmented memories and have forgone your original personality, you’re still special. You’re no longer the bloodied husk of a mortal who has long since passed. You’re shiny and new, a complete opposite to the frozen girl he found buried in the coldest cave of Dragonspine.
You are a doll polished from ruin and decay, carefully pieced together by his own volition.
Friends. Xiao wonders if he even needs such a thing. Lovers? What’s the difference?
You agree without wasting a single second and Xiao blinks back at you, somewhat owlish despite his full knowledge of the situation and its heartless circumstances. Even as a zombie who can think of nothing but him, you’re beautiful. And in that beauty lies dozens of forgotten feelings and thoughts—frozen things that were once human. Your love of cooking and exploring have all but receded into your brain like waves pulling away from a tempting shoreline, and in its place are images of him. Just Xiao and his feeble relationship with you.
He despises the emotions that chain him to the floor with such a clawing hold. If it had been anyone else, he might have turned away and disappeared, leaving no room for a stilted conversation. And yet he remains near you, alert and alive with feelings that feel so blissfully sweet. To an adeptus such as himself, a saccharine mentality is useless and despicably horrendous. But this could be his chance to change the way in which you once saw him.
Rather than that, it could be an opportunity to foster that strange thing known as love.
“You can’t leave,” he says and your eyes catch his. “Not once. It’s dangerous outside.”
“Dangerous?” Your brow furrows; someone told you that before. That word was used too many times in a past you cling to with frazzled desperation. Maddening fingers tear into your brain, pricking and prying until gooey strands of brain matter snap. Life without a storybook memory is a nightmare you are unknowingly living in. “I...don’t know.”
You’ve never felt more lost before.
Xiao’s conflicted. All of that hard work to leave a lasting impression and it’s all crumbled to dust—all because of your mortal desire to seek and find. Perhaps death was what you sought when you so carelessly wandered into Dragonspine. And perhaps it is death you will continue to seek in an effort to understand creation and the inevitability that comes with time. Although your clock has stopped, frozen with hands that no longer call out the minutes, you remain lovely.
“It’s scary out there, so don’t go outside.” He’s angry again and you’re left with new holes in your mind—vacant spaces that await memories that will never surface. Things that only Xiao can remind you of. “You’ll just make a bunch of stupid mistakes again.”
Again? That must be hinting at something, but you can’t decipher the meaning.
If you were still yourself you might think to object and assert to him that you are anything but stupid. Yet the hazy curtain refuses to lift itself and you can only nod. Like a portrait painted of the finest colors and bordered in glittering gold, you are deceitfully bewitching. And Xiao has found himself entranced in a piece of art sculpted from his own corrupted creation.
All things constructed from ruin will glimmer with enough polish, and you are a light that outshines even the brightest star.
904 notes · View notes
Sharing a room with Zemo
You were the only avenger who had stayed behind in Sokovia to help rescue people. There you had helped a man called Zemo to find his family who had passed away. Years later you encounter the man again as he tries to take down the avengers and stop him from unaliving himself. After endgame you retire but Sam and Bucky bring you back to help take down the flag smashers. While traveling you have to stay the night at a hotel and share a room with Zemo.
Pairing: Zemo x reader
Warnings/Tags: Mentions of death, Angst, Comfort, Enemies to Lovers vibes,
Word count: 1.9k
This is my first time trying something like this, usually I wrote 3rd person fanfictions so this is a new experience but I need more Zemo content like this before the next episode where Marvel makes us hate him again :D
I wanted to try and portray Zemo accurately so sorry if some of the things he says about your favourite hero’s upset you
You, Sam and Bucky all stood inside of a hotel lobby. You were beside the desk staring down angrily at the booking slots and Sam’s arm rested on your shoulders. Bucky stood further back behind Sam and Zemo stood furthest away.
“Are there seriously only two rooms left” you complain.
“At least it’s not one room” Zemo interjects, stepping forward but quickly steps back again and stops talking after you glare at him.
“I’m not sharing a room with him” Sam points to Zemo, “And I don’t think Bucky should be with him just in case...you know”
They all glance at Bucky who glares back at Sam speaking.
“Fine. Zemo and I will share a room and you and Bucky can share a room. As long as you promise not to annoy each other too much”
“I’m not making any promises” mutters Bucky as he picks up the key card and walks off to the room. “Sure you’ll be okay being with him?” Sam asks you as you both glare at Zemo who awkwardly smiles back at you two. “I can handle him” you tell Sam.
“Bucky and I will be right next door” Sam affirmed taking his hand off your shoulder and walking over to Zemo, “You better not try anything”
Zemo puts his hands up in mock surrendering and his mouth curves into a smile as Sam sized him up. Finally, Sam leaves leaving you and Zemo alone. “Our chamber awaits,” Zemo says, offering out his arm for you to take however you ignore him grabbing the key card, and walking away.
Zemo quickly catches up with you chuckling at your defiance. “You don’t like to rely on people do you”
You ignore him trying to walk faster away from him but he keeps up your pace walking beside you.
You reach the door and attempt to put the key card in but it doesn’t work. You frown looking down at it and trying it again with no luck.
“Let me try,” Zemo says, brushing his hand against yours and taking the card out of it. He turns the card around putting it in the door and it clicks. He smirks at you as he opens the door and steps aside to let you in.
You huff in annoyance walking into the room focusing on the double bed in the middle of it. Zemo walks up beside you, “I can sleep on the floor”
“No,” you tell him, “we all need to be well-rested for the days ahead and you won’t get that on the floor. Besides, there is enough room on the bed for space between us”
“If that is what you wish princess”
You can feel the heat rush to your cheeks as he casually refers to you as ‘princess’ and you glance at the ground hoping he doesn’t notice. Zemo walks ahead taking off his coat and pulling off the gloves.
“I’m going to take a shower” you quickly say and rush into the bathroom and lock the door before giving time for him to respond. You rest against the door and close your eyes trying to compose yourself. You had been happily retired, putting the life of being an avenger behind you yet you had somehow found yourself caught all up in this mess again. You run the water and step into the shower, your thoughts occupying the man currently resting outside the bathroom. When you first met him he was a broken man who needed help finding his family. Through your powers, you were able to locate their dead bodies. You could still hear his screams as he collapsed to the ground. It’s hard to connect that man to the cocky one you now knew. The next time you had seen him was when you found him on the mountain after revealing to Tony what had happened to his parents. You knew why he did what he did and a part of you could sympathize. You had lost people as well. However, his need for revenge had led him to kill people. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. He was a killer and he isn’t going to change.
Eventually, you finished in the shower and dried off changing back into your clothes. You weren’t about to go out and see Zemo in a towel.
Stepping out you saw Zemo lying down on top of the bed reading a book. As he heard you come back in he looked up, his eyes gazing you up and down, and then smiled at you, “Nice shower?”
“It was fine”
Though a part of you wanted to go next door and demand that Sam stayed in this room instead you pushed it aside and laid down beside Zemo. You were much closer to him than you had been before and you could pick up on the smell of expensive cologne from him though you didn’t know how he managed to get his hands on some since leaving prison.
“The smell of the shampoo, it’s powerful” Zemo stated after a few minutes of awkward silence. Biting your lip you don’t answer, ignoring him.
He sighs, putting his book and turning on his side to focus on you. “Are you going to ignore me for the whole night? It’s going to make this very awkward no?”
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to say! What on earth could we talk about to make this any less awkward” you argued back, sitting up from the bed and crossing your arms.
Zemo sat up as well, he hesitantly placed his hand on your arm making you turn to look at him, “I...I never thanked you in the past. For helping me find my family”
Your eyes widen in surprise as he brings up the difficult subject and you feel your body stiffen.
“You were the only avenger who cared enough to help my people. Unlike all the others who couldn’t care at all”
“That’s not fair, Zemo. They had gone through a lot”
His eyes flash angrily as his eyebrows furrowed “And you hadn’t? Like my people hadn’t? It was because of Tony my country was attacked and he couldn’t even stick around to fix his mistake. Steve could have easily helped as well but did he? No.”
“And if you hadn’t split up the avengers for your revenge we might have had a better chance at defeating Thanos the first time he attacked. We could have avoided the blip from ever happening”
Zemo looks away from you frowning, thinking over your words, and shakes his head, “I don’t regret my actions. Having superheroes in his world is dangerous. With Steve and Tony gone maybe, this world can recover”
“How can you say something like that! They saved millions of lives!” You angrily replied
Zemo avoids your angry eyes staring at the ground, “My apology, I’ve gone too far”
You open your mouth to say something but can’t think of how to phrase what you want to say, you close it and open it again as you tried to put it together. “I get what you mean, I get why you are angry, because of us your people suffered. Sokovia doesn’t even exist anymore because of us. All because of Tony’s mistake. It’s why I retired in the first place, having to balance defeating bad and keeping the innocent safe is an incredibly difficult task. It’s not one I am fit to do. You hate us superheroes I get it and once we have finished this mission we’ll leave you alone”
“Correction princess, I disliked Steve and other superheroes but I didn’t hate you. I even felt the slightest bit of guilt of how breaking up the avengers would affect you” he tells you, motioning with his hands a small amount, “of course the bad outweighed the good in that case. The Avengers had to pay for what they did and you were collateral damage, much like my country. I’ve heard there is a memorial there. Have you been to see it?” he asks looking into your eyes and for some reason, you can’t seem to pull your eyes away from his.
“Every year of the attack”
“What does it look like?”
“It’s simple really, it has some faces in it and the Sokovia symbol. Occasionally people leave flowers”
Zemo scowls looking away and mutters under his breath “Occasionally”
You can feel the awkwardness creep back into the room but you didn’t want it to. Even though he annoyed you, you enjoyed talking to him strangely. There was something compelling about him. Attractive even though you could never admit that to him. To anyone. But then again it’s just you and him here. Who would know?
“Maybe we can visit it during the mission,” you tell him, tentatively placing your hand on his arm. He turns back around this time and gives you a genuine smile, placing his hand gently on top of the hand you have resting on his arm.
“I would like that. I need to pay my respects”
He slowly takes your hand off his arm, holding it in his, and brings it up to his lips giving it a soft kiss. “Maybe after we could go somewhere nice. Without Sam and James”
“Like...Like a date?” you ask surprised tilting your head
He moves his head in agreement and his eyes flicker over you, “Yes like how you would call it, a ‘date’. I would feel honoured to spend the evening with someone as beautiful as you Princess”
You gawk at his casual flirting towards you and pull your hand out of his grasp, weren’t you two just minutes ago arguing? What was he trying to do?
“What do you want Zemo, why do you keep calling me Princess”
“Please, call me Helmut, y/n. Do you not like the nickname?”
You blush once again glancing away from him, “I didn’t say that...Helmut”
“Oh? So you do like it” He smirks, moving his body closer towards you.
“Is this some sort of game to you? Have a little bit of fun before you betray us?” You bitterly reply
Gently Zemo places his hand on your chin, turning your face towards his, the space between you had closed up a lot till you could feel his breath on your lips.
“I think you are radiant y/n. Not only that though, no, you are also kind, caring, charming, funny. If circumstances were different I would have brought you many gifts and taken you around the world in the hope of winning your affections.”
Your eyes can’t help but flicker down to his lips, they were so close to you and you couldn’t help but feel drawn into them. Zemo notices and chuckles.
“Perhaps we can pretend that times are different, hmmm?”
“I shouldn’t” you whisper trying to look away but he holds onto your chin tightly and leans in, his mouth right by your ear, and purred, “But isn’t it so attractive, doing the wrong thing”
The sound of his voice and the feeling of his body so close to yours makes feelings inside of you alight and your breath hitch. You couldn’t hold it back anymore, you push yourself onto him, grabbing onto his sides as you push your lips onto his. His hand quickly moves from your chin to the back of your head getting buried in your hair and pushing your head even closer to him so he could taste your lips while his other hand wraps around your waist as you lie on top of him.
620 notes · View notes
come home with me - finn shelby x reader
a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!
love, abi xxx
prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.
warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺
Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.
“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.
“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”
“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.
Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.
“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.
“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”
“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.
“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.
“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.
“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.
However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.
Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.
“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”
Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”
You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”
He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”
His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.
“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.
“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”
Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.
“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.
“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.
“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.
“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.
“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.
“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.
“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.
“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”
433 notes · View notes
Pairing: Werewolf!Wooyoung x Hunter!Reader
Word Count: 3188
Summary: Who thought that you, daughter of famous hunters, would be mated with the very person you’re meant to kill?
Genre/ Warnings: college au, supernatural au, smut, angst, wooyoung being a smug asshole
A/N: After seeing a *beautiful* edit on the idea of wooyoung on instagram (this one!), I knew I needed to write it! This damn kid is my bias wrecker I’m sorry joong! I’ve been watching his AOTM videos since release because hes too damn gorgeous and mouth watering yummy. This is not only a long fic, it is also the first one to feature smut! I’m so nervous about it! (Also I edited this to the best of my ability, but I was taking too long and wanted to post this before my birthday tomorrow.)
It was simple, kill Jung Wooyoung. A very simple and easy task you’ve done multiple times in your head. Although when it came to the real deal, there was always something stopping you from following through. The excuse changed every time whether it be too many people around or you did not have the right weapon, you couldn’t do it. His ego grew each passing day and it was starting to look pathetic. All those years of training were starting to feel like a waste of time. How the hell could you say you’re from a famous family of hunters if you can’t even kill one smug werewolf?
"Going to kill me today, my little hunter?" Wooyoung nipped at her neck, enjoying her reaction.
The moment you met Wooyoung it was evident he’s not normal. Besides being arrogant, pompous, and attractive (this was never said out loud, so it's not real), he was a werewolf. No matter where you ended up, his kind always made an appearance since you can remember. There was no mistaking the obvious showings. Sharp canine teeth, odd-colored hair, and sharp eyes. He also didn’t hide it, announcing it to you out in the open when he first laid eyes on you. It was both shameless and brave.
"We both know I can and make it look like an accident. Don't tempt me, pup." Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you brushed him away.
"You say that, but you have yet to do it. You'll give in one day. You can't resist me, my beautiful mate." He fiddled with the ends of your hair, stalking off in triumph.
That's another reason why you need to kill him. You were Wooyoung's mate. No, he was not fooling around like you thought when he first admitted it. Although you prayed hard that he was just joking, it was true after seeing his eyes glow a deep yellow. Needless to say, interactions have been rather frequent despite how much you would try to prevent them. It was a forbidden bond between a hunter and a werewolf. It was the main reason why there are hunters, to begin with. The council would have your head, and his, if they found out about this. The legacy of your family would burn in flames, all their hard work gone. If your father found out, being Wooyoung's mate would be the last thing to be worried about.
Let’s also not forget what they would say if they found out you had a moment of weakness and allowed him into your bed. He somehow made it to your apartment while he was in heat. You knew it was a bad idea, but the sight of the werewolf begging-no whining-for you to help him was difficult to resist. Also, you got a glimpse of his size and there was no chance you were going to pass that up.
Rapid knocks woke you up from a delightful dream. You waited when they stopped, thinking it was for the next apartment over. When they didn’t continue, it was deemed safe to just go back to sleep and complain about it in the morning. Until you heard a dog whimpering. Who left their dog outside at this time? Wait, why did that seem familiar?
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Disbelief wore on your face at the man in front of you.
“Why didn’t you put clothes on before opening the door!” Wooyoung groaned.
It wasn’t until then that you realized you were just in a bra and panties, forgoing a robe in your anger. But that wasn’t the issue, Wooyoung was in excruciating pain. Bed hair sticking up in every direction, sweat-drenched clothes, and his eyes were rapidly changing colors. It was obvious what was going on.
“Are you in heat?! What the hell are you doing here! How the hell did you get here!”
“I honestly don’t know how I got here. Please (Y/N), I need your help. It hurts so much and I can’t do it myself.” Wooyoung doubled over, pain starting to get worse.
“I swear to god if you’re faking this, Wooyoung, I will neuter you.”
“I swear to you I’m not fucking around. I don’t know what to do. It hurts so much.” Wooyoung whimpered at you.
He was struggling to stand up and keep his cock down. You shiver at the outline of him in his sweats. Fuck, were you going to do this? It’s been a while since you had slept with someone and he just woke you up from a wet dream. You cursed yourself before moving to let him walk in.
“Fuck it, get in here. Hurry before someone sees you!”
Instincts kicked in and Wooyoung had you pressed against the door. The scent of you was intoxicating. You could feel his cock pressing into your stomach. He was hard as a rock.
“Before we start, I just want to say I’m sorry and thank you.” His gentle tone was a contrast to the arousal coursing through. He was so close you could practically feel how hot he was running. It was making you dizzy.
“Wooyoung, you have one second to shut up and fuck me before I change my mind.”
Lips crashed onto yours followed by hands grabbing your thighs, picking you up with ease, resting you above his hardened member. The man below you let out a deep growl against your neck.
It was going so well until he messed up and bit you, marking you. If it didn’t make you cum as hard as it did (and it was the best orgasm of your life), you wouldn’t have noticed it except you felt the pain following.
The bed was violently hitting the wall. There are going to be complaints from the neighbors for sure. But you couldn’t focus on that when Wooyoung’s cock was being driven hard inside of your pussy. He’s made you cum twice and he’s yet to even once. His knot was starting to get tighter, but he couldn’t cum inside as much as he wanted to. He was too addicted to seeing you underneath him, writhing in pleasure. This was a bad idea.
“I can’t believe you- ah- fucking bit me!” Nails raked his back as he slammed into you.
“I know, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. You just feel so good.” Wooyoung ran his tongue against the bite mark, feeling your walls tighten around him.
“This can’t happen again, Woo- oh fuck. Right there!” Your eyes roll back when he hits your spot.
“You say that, but you look like you’re enjoying it. Listen to all the beautiful sounds you’re making. Shit, (Y/N).”
Wooyoung held you close as he sped up his thrusts. He was so deep inside there was a bulge in your stomach, it was driving you crazy. You’ve slept with a few guys before who you thought were good. You hate to admit it, but Wooyoung was better than all of them. Bigger, thicker, and oh my God did he know how to make you scream. There was no way you would be able to walk or talk after this. He was thrown out the morning his heat finished because the sex was, unfortunately, phenomenal.
It’s alarming that your family has not been made aware of you’re mating to an alpha werewolf whose pack contained other alphas. (Your father would have loved to know about this). Wooyoung and his friends have been on every hunter's radar for years and yet you were the only one to have found them. So why didn’t you tell your family or the council? Was it because you were starting to feel something for Wooyoung or maybe you’re scared if anyone found out about the mark? Just thinking about it gives you a headache.
The best way to deal with stress is to not deal with it. Being a young woman in their early twenties, life was supposed to be filled with parties, hookups, and regretful decisions. To forget the reality of the world around them and go to school to get parents to believe that their child will become someone important in the future. You still have not figured out that part, but you’re still too young to worry about that.
Exams had come and gone which meant parties were in full swing. Now it was time to fully let loose, letting the anxiety and stress roll off your shoulders. It’s nothing that booze, dancing, and a one-night stand couldn’t do. Except that last part would be hard to achieve as you saw a certain wolfpack waltz in, gaining the attention of almost everyone. It was too late to make a run for it when Wooyoung spotted you. Can’t you just have one night of peace?
“My my, (Y/N), you look good enough to eat, again.”
You wished you brought your knives with you. Just a quick stab to his neck then down he goes. Problem solved.
“Did anyone check you, boys, for fleas before letting you in?” You shot back.
It was hard to ignore his outfit for tonight. Or jump his bones. Wooyoung wore a three-piece suit with nothing underneath the vest. His sculpted chest was on display along with a chunky silver chain. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t turned on. Unexpectedly memories of him above you played in your head. A growl from Wooyoung told you he had the same thoughts. You have to get away from him before you make more bad decisions.
“If you mutts will excuse me, I have a few drinks I need in my system and a dance floor calling my name. Don’t follow me.” You point at Wooyoung who took that as a challenge.
Of course, being in the same space as the wolf would ensure his presence around you at all times. Your threats meant nothing to him, just empty words despite your seriousness. There was a growl every time someone came up to you whether it was innocent or to hit on you. Yet when he wasn’t close by, he was flirting with girls, some even sat in his lap which made you a little jealous.
Don’t let him get to you (Y/N). You’re stronger than this.
When Wooyoung was pulled away by a girl to the dance floor, your eyes roamed the room to find the perfect distraction. Then when it seemed like there was no one, a good-looking guy from across the room was checking you out.
“Hi, I’m (Y/N).”
It was surprising how well you two got along. Humor was just about the same which helped the mutual attraction settle in flawlessly. Slowly you forgot about everything around you. The party, the people, and the wolf boy. Things started to feel normal just like it’s supposed to be. Holding hands, you guided him out to the secluded porch that was void of people. You caught Marco’s eyes drifting down to your lips. No thoughts in your mind as you took the lead and leaned in, placing them on top of his. The kiss turned hurried instantly. Marco’s hands were crawling underneath your shirt when he was ripped off of you.
Wooyoung ignored your fuming state to pay attention to Marco.
“What the hell man.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my girl!”
“She told me she wasn’t with anyone!”,
“That’s because I’m not. Get out of here, Wooyoung.”
“How about you listen to her and fuck off, dude. We were in the middle of something.” Marco tried to walk past him, intentionally bumping into his shoulder.
Wooyoung grabbed the guy by the collar, punching him once. You were in shock while his pack mates ran over to restrain him from tearing Marco into shreds.
"You best get the hell out of here, buddy. This guy will fuck you up, seriously." Hongjoong warned him.
The guy scoffed, walking off into the party and very far away from you both. Of course, he couldn’t leave without calling you a slur. Wooyoung ripped himself from his friends and tackled Marco to the ground. One hand held his collar while the other punched him repeatedly. If you didn’t know any better, he was going to kill him.
It was starting to gain attention from the partygoers and you were worried that someone would notice that Wooyoung wasn’t human. Words didn’t stop him, so you pulled him off, letting Marco runoff. Wooyoung glared at you, teeth bared, and breathing heavily. Any normal person would be scared, but not you. You were as pissed at him. Two can play at that game.,
"What the fuck is your problem!" Your question made his eyes bug. As if you just grew four heads.
"You were letting that desperate creep make out with you like I don't exist then he said that shit to you! I was protecting you! You're my fucking mate, (Y/N)!"
"First off, don’t act like you’re a fucking saint. Second off, I don't need your protection! Lastly, have you ever thought that I don't want to be some wolf's mate, let alone yours?!"
Wooyoung stiffened at your words, flinching at the pain of your words. Instantly his expression went from big bad wolf to small kicked puppy. Since you met him, this was the first time he was showing such a face towards you. This made your heart jolt, quite possibly his doing. His pack mates looked at him worriedly, being rejected by your mate is worse than death. Ignoring the urge to take back your words, you stood your ground as if to challenge him. Unable to take the tense atmosphere, Wooyoung stalked back into the house with his brothers in tow.
There, the wolf was going to leave you alone. Life should be better now, right?
It has been nearly a month since you've seen the werewolf. He'd disappear in thin air and you were jumping for joy. Well not really, but you had to act like it. The words you spoke were absolute lies, but you needed to make a point. You came from two very different worlds, the more said the more it seemed to make sense. It probably wasn't, but who was there to tell you wrong? Yet you were starting to feel a certain emptiness. Life didn't feel the same without him badgering you or endlessly flirting. You missed that the most. Admitting it to yourself was hard.
Perhaps doing the routine walk back to the apartment will help calm you. This was the usual solution when things would go south. It helped clear the air around and by the time the apartments were in your line of sight, whatever was plaguing you was gone. Although these days it's flooded with thoughts of Wooyoung. Where was he? Was he doing okay? Are the others taking care of him? When will you see him again? Will you ever see him? Has he moved on from you already? You were too into your head to notice a young man approaching you from the bushes. Instantly, you were pushed up against a brick wall, entrapped by two strong arms. You didn't need to see this person's face to know what they were.
A vampire. A very dangerous one.
"I've been waiting for this moment. I've been following you for a while now, but that mangy mutt has been around so I haven't been able to. Yet now I've finally had my chance."
"When word was out that Jung Wooyoung took a mate, I couldn't believe it. And a hunter nonetheless! I had to come to see you when I received the news and was floored by you. Then there was news you rejected him and I knew it was my time to swoop you up."
His fingers trailed down your neck, finding your jugular vein. He was giddy with excitement at the feel of blood pumping rapidly.
"Darling, you look delicious enough to eat. Won't you give me the pleasure of getting a little drink? I promise I won’t take too much." Malice hid behind his false innocent smile.
Terror ran through your veins. There was nothing to do to overpower the stronger man and decided to stand there still to let whatever happen. You weren't prepared for this. There was no way you'd come out of this alive or unturned. Eyes closed shut, you braced yourself for the feel of his fangs. That's when you heard it or more like him.
It was too quick to see what happened. The sight in front was too blurry to make out what was happening. Sounds never registered either as the blood was pumping too fast, the adrenaline causing everything to not function. A few deep breaths later, it was clear to see the wolf you had missed was indeed there. He held the vampire in the air by their neck with one hand.
"You disgusting bloodsucker thought it was a good idea to go after a wolf's mate, my mate!"
The vampire struggled against his grip. Slurring at the inability to talk, made Wooyoung more irate. They tried scratching at him but were becoming weak as the seconds rolled by. The sight was disgusting, pitiful even. Wooyoung decided he had enough.
“I don’t want to hear from you anymore.”
Wooyoung applies more pressure to the vampire's neck, crushing it instantly. Softly, there could be a sound released before the body turned into dust. It was flowing from his hand into the air, resembling dirt. It was as if they weren’t real except for the clothes on the ground.
Wooyoung turns around to make sure you're okay. Yet you can't say anything, but to look him over. Everything in your body was telling you to run away, but something deep down inside wanted to do the opposite. Were you seriously getting turned on after he just killed someone? No longer did you want to kill him. No, now you want to fuck him.
“I can smell you from here sweetheart and that sure doesn’t smell like fear. Still want to kill me?”
Heat traveled south of your body. Wooyoung matched your heated gaze, feeling the same sensation. You watched him run his tongue over his sharp canines and it made you shiver in delight. It was starting to get more difficult to hold himself back as he saw how affected you are. Your next words surprised him as well as yourself.
“I think I would rather you fuck me hard into the sheets until I can’t walk.”
His eyes changed to the bright deep yellow you had seen when he first met you. He took no time walking over, making sure this was something you wanted. There was nothing you could say, but running your fingers into his hair. Pulling it a little harder than you wanted, he let out a needy whine, turning you on more. Excitement flowed through you as he lowered his head, briefly showing you his canines before feeling them on your neck.
“It’ll be my pleasure, my little hunter.”
272 notes · View notes
brat || gojou satoru
➵ gojou wants you to pay attention to him. and no, he doesn’t care about how annoying he’s being.
warnings: gn!reader, gojou is Annoying, mild spoilers i guess?
a/n: hi welcome to my gojou brainrot i would like to escape and yet i cannot,,, will i deliver more mindless fanfic? who knows!
You sigh, turning the page of your book with an exhausted kind of resignation. Had you even comprehended what’s in the last paragraph? Or had you just let your eyes gloss over it, admiring the shape of the letters without actually taking any of them in?
Reading a book isn’t so difficult under normal circumstances; sure, you’ve got your own concentration to wrestle with, but that’s an (occasionally) tameable beast.
The man sprawled on the couch next to you, however, is not.
“Are you done yet?” Gojou hums, sticking his legs straight up in the air.
“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up,” you mumble, starting from the top of the page for what feels like the thirty-second time in the past five minutes.
Gojou’s not handling the boredom well. He’s spent the past five minutes cycling between humming Danse Macabre in an octave too high to be comfortable while swinging his legs in circles and poking your cheek as he crouches next to you on his knees.
“You’re the one who said I could come over,” he chirps, completely unfazed by your words.
“I never said that,” you mumble.
It’s not a lie. Earlier today, Gojou’d asked if you were going out tonight. You’d said no. He’d decided to take that as permission to crash at your place.
Although the onus is at least a little on you; he has a habit of doing things like this. You’ve got to be one step ahead of him if you want to win against him on a petty debate like that.
A head of white hair wriggles its way onto your lap.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m bored,” he hums.
That much is obvious. But you know it’s not that simple; he’s bored, yes, but more importantly, he wants your attention. Even your chest flutters at that.
“You’re a grown man,” you smile. “Entertain yourself.”
A well-worn coquettish smile plays on his lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being lewd or not.”
You slap his chest.
“Ow!” He gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to me!”
“Then stop being annoying.”
“I’d like to think I’m ‘charmingly playful’.”
“Do you take constructive criticism?” You tilt your head at him, biting back a smile.
“I would,” he muses, “if I weren’t already perfect.”
“That ego of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day,” you grin, flicking his forehead gently.
He lets you, grinning back. “Ah, but you see, my dear,” he hums, grabbing your hand before you draw it away and lacing your fingers with his. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but you don’t mind.
“I’m simply stating the truth.”
“Well, the truth hurts,” you mutter, “so it’s no surprise no-one wants to hear you gassing yourself up.”
Gojou laughs. His hair tickles your inner thighs and you’re almost convinced to give in. But it wouldn’t be good form to feed his ego after chiding him for it.
You’re well-aware his ego’s already gotten him in trouble – many times, in fact. But Gojou seems to have a way of wheedling his way out of anything.
And, of course, you know that his ego doesn’t come from nowhere.
Doesn’t stop it from being annoying, though. The fact it’s at least partially well-founded makes it worse.
You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to this blasted book. Gojou will just have to wait.
“Why are you even reading that brick?” He muses, tapping the bottom of the book’s spine with one long finger. “You look bored out of your mind. And, you’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”
“You know,” you tilt your head to the side, a sour look on your face. “‘Adult stuff.’ Upskilling and all that.”
“Ah,” Gojou grins. “Career work.”
“Mhm,” you sigh. “And some of us can’t just learn on the job.”
Although, you ponder, the thought blurred with gentle melancholy, some of us aren’t constantly risking our lives.
Gojou always tells you not to worry; he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, after all. But even that’s not enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep, to bring you warmth when your bed is cold.
You’re never truly at ease until you feel him slip into your bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms slinking around your waist and pulling you towards him. It’s like clockwork how he buries his head in your shoulder as every muscle in his body relaxes. He always thinks you’re asleep – and honestly, it’s easier to let him keep believing that.
What you’ve got isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’. At least, not in the most traditional sense of the word. Gojou’s never pretended to offer you that. But it’s not so simple as a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement.
Gojou Satoru doesn’t suit the domestic. But he relishes in it, the same way a child might enjoy playing at high tea with little plastic teacups and cupcakes made of playdough. Some might find this frustrating – the idea of existing in this grey, a dark, nebulous unknown stippled with moments of affection and vulnerability.
But there’s still comfort in it; a sense of understanding, a place to let loose and relax. Being part of this world is hard. It’s so cruel – sending children out to fight things they barely comprehend, letting them suffer and even die. And what do they have to show for it? A future of doing the same thing while also having to navigate just how shit the world of sorcerers truly is?
Why aren’t more of your colleagues angry about this? One counsellor isn’t enough to maintain the wellbeing of these children. Do the higher-ups even care? Well, you know the answer to that question – it’s enough to make you want to throttle each and every one of them—
You clatter back to earth, met by a pair of electric blue eyes. It’s easy to forget just how striking they are; it’s like they can stare right into your very core, laying out secrets you never even knew you had.
“Hm?” You blink at him. You can’t risk him knowing you’re worried. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing; he’ll just tease you for being concerned about him. Though, you’re well-aware that he enjoys being doted on.
“You’re spacing out,” he smiles. “Again.”
Sure, he sounds like he’s joking. But even he can’t disguise that little flash in his eyes, the slight tension in his face. It’s the same expression he has when he talks about that new student of his.
Gojou understands you better than you’d like. Every little tell, every tiny hint towards what you’re actually thinking. It’s near impossible to hide anything from him; it’s irritating, really.
But, at least he’s got the decency to leave the direction of the conversation in your hands.
You weigh it for a moment, deciding how exactly to respond. Should you play it off and throw his brattiness back in his face? Or should you pry open that conversation like the doors of an old temple?
Today’s not the day. Neither of you are ready for that.
You stick your tongue out at him. Perhaps it’s not how an adult should behave, but you don’t care. Neither does Gojou.
“I think,” he sighs, plucking the book out of your hands and tossing it across the room, “it’s time you took a break.”
You yelp a moment too late, watching your book slap against the wall and flop to the floor. It’s only a paperback – thank God – but you’re not ready to fix another dent in the wall caused by the force of mayhem known as Gojou Satoru.
“And I have been waiting long enough,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your neck and launching forward.
It’s too late. He’s got you pinned beneath him – and not in a sexy way. All six feet and three inches of him is laid flat on top of you, your face smothered by his chest.
You punch his side weakly.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he laughs.
“Fine,” you try to say. All you get is a mouthful of Gojou’s shirt. You slip your hands up said shirt and tickle his sides.
“Hey, hey, hey—” He splutters, grabbing at your wrists.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You smirk, continuing your assault.
Gojou whines, propping himself up by his palms and arching his back like a cat in an attempt to shake you off.
“Get back here,” you grin, lifting your torso in response.
His arms are immediately wrapped around you, pinning your own arms to your sides. You yelp in surprise, finding yourself laid gently against the couch with your face pressed against his neck.
“Much better,” Gojou chuckles, still on top of you as he nestles his head into your shoulder.
It’s not the most comfortable position, but that’s rarely a priority when it comes to Gojou. You wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t just his way of goading you into relocating to your bed for ease of cuddling (although you have your doubts that it’s the only thing on his mind).
“You want attention that bad, huh?” You chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.
“Mhm,” he smirks, bringing his head up to get a proper look at you. “I’m a busy man, you know. I don’t think you’re appreciating my free time enough.”
“And yet, you never seem to leave my damn house,” you muse. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually have a job.”
Gojou laughs, leaning down and kissing you properly.
“That’s not an answer,” you say against his lips.
He ignores you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
You sigh, conceding. His lips are so soft yet so persistent, somehow both desperate and playful. He’s aggravatingly good at this sort of thing – before Gojou, you didn’t really understand what it meant to be a ‘good kisser’. But of course, he manages to excel at this, too. And annoyingly enough, he’d been right to brag about it.
He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and moves another down to your waist. It’s a surprisingly chaste move for him, but you don’t mind. You tangle your own hands in his hair, resisting the urge to tug it. If you do that, you’ll officially lose any chance of getting more reading done tonight. Although your ability to focus on anything other than him is waning quickly.
When Gojou pulls back, he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that always makes your cheeks flush, makes your heart feel a little lighter. The one that almost makes you say something stupid.
Thank God you always have your wits about you.
“You get five minutes,” you sigh. “And then you’ve got to let me finish the chapter I’m on, okay? Then I’m all yours.”
Gojou’s grin blossoms with delight.
He slots himself beneath your chin and rests his cheek against your chest. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
You smile, propping your chin on the top of his head and wrapping your arms around him.
Despite all his big talk, his irksome demeanour, even his obnoxious height, Gojou Satoru loves to be held.
You always oblige. He never asks – that’s too close to admitting weakness.
But you understand. He needs this. Sometimes he just wants to be tended to.
Being let in like this is an honour. He’s letting you be part of his life, despite his grand plans. Plans that, when he’d told you them, shifted your whole understanding of him.
Gojou represents change.
You have to have faith in him. You have to believe he’ll make good on his promises and turn the sorcerer world on its head. It’s no easy burden; and despite what he claims, even he falters in the face of something so monumental.
But despite all that, he’s still him. He hasn’t let the weight of his goals crush him; at least, not entirely. He finds the little joys, indulges in mundane delights, sees the humour in things.
Gojou Satoru wants to change the world, but he still lets himself be a part of it.
Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to love him.
Even if he can’t offer the stability and promise of a stable relationship.
Even if he’s a little brat.
1K notes · View notes
A/n: happy Tuesday everyone! I hope your day is going alright. my week so far has surprisingly been great! let’s hope it stays that way :) anyways, enjoy everyone and stay safe!
Summary: arguments with their s/o.
Parings: Xiao/Reader, Zhongli/Reader, Albedo/Reader (all gn)
Warnings: arguments, fluff, angst
Word count: 1.3k
Requested by @fernackerman
if you and Xiao get into an argument, you best believe it’s over something serious
they aren’t full-fledged screaming matches tho, he doesn’t wanna waste his energy on that
argument examples: boundaries, personal space, etc.
he finds his personal space very important
he simply doesn’t engage petty arguments
why? because they’re a waste of time and energy
he can be difficult to deal with, let's be real
he’s blunt, though respectful, but he speaks his mind a lot, most of the time it just happens that way
so if you happen to argue, which surprisingly happens quite a bit because of his bluntness, you’re in for it
he’s not cruel, he’s not mean either, he’s just very, very blunt and DOES NOT CARE
he’s bold let's just say that
I feel like he doesn’t like overly clingy people, so if you happen to be clinging to him like a lost puppy, sorry, he’s going to be irritated and an argument will happen
he enjoys personal space and if you’re hanging all over him, he hates it so much
and trust me, he has a sassy retort for everything
“Quit clinging to me, it’s annoying.” Xiao snapped, pushing you away from him.
“I’m barely clinging, you’re just bitter.” You huffed in annoyance.
“Yeah, because you’re hanging off of me like a lost dog. Get off.”
don’t ask him stupid questions either, especially if you already know the answer to them and are trying to be funny, tease or get a rise out of him
he may seem like a fun sponge shh
do you have questions concerning his past? don’t ask... most likely if he hasn’t told you yet, there’s a good reason for it (he might one day)
so pls pls don’t do this, he’ll get all defensive and show you his wrath
“Stop asking so many questions, why do you need to know everything?”
“You’re annoying, I don’t know why I even put up with you...”
of course he doesn’t mean it, he's just upset and feels his privacy is being invaded
rule number one, don’t ask about his past if he hasn’t shown interest in speaking about it
don’t worry though, after arguments, despite his pride, he ALWAYS apologizes
he doesn’t want to lose you
you’re the one great thing in his life, he can’t lose you
he’ll apologize and give you a kith on your cheek muah
fight me I know despite being touch starved, his preferred love language is physical
y’all don’t argue, simple as that
so arguments usually don’t happen tbh
Zhongli is incredibly forgiving and the least argumentative of the three boys
the arguments are never serious (okay not never, but you get what I mean)
they’re usually playful, peaceful, zero malice behind words
“Zhongli, did you drink all the milk and not replace it?”
“So what if I did, dear.”
“I was going to use that to make a cake you brat!”
“Me a brat? You’re acting very bratty right now, dear.”
it’s arguments like these that are entirely playful and don’t leave you both angry at one another or bothered
he doesn’t like arguing, with anybody!
he likes to keep the peace with his s/o
on the rare, rare, RARE occasion that there’s an argument it usually about your wellbeing
“I told you I’m fine! Archons, leave me alone, Zhongli.”
“You’re bleeding! I am trying to help you. Stop being childish.”
“Me childish? You worry about silly things.”
“This is not silly! I don’t want to see you hurt!”
he really, really cares and wants to protect you, so that’s going to be the root of the arguments
you putting yourself in danger really angers him, humans aren’t expendable in his eyes, you’re not expendable
LISTEN TO HIM
please stop putting yourself in danger Y/n, or else you’re going to face an angry Archon
but even during arguments, he’s not mean at all
the point of the arguments aren’t to belittle you or make you hate him, no
they’re to make you realize that he’s worried about you
a wake-up call, I should say
his intentions are cruel or malicious, you just need to realize that he’s worried about you and that’ll fix everything
it doesn’t take Zhongli a long time to apologize, especially if you’re visibly upset
he’s apologizing immediately
right after the argument, he’s practically bowing at your feet, asking for forgiveness
he really does not want to hurt your feelings, he loves you so much
just listen to him when he has concerns and everything will be good
okay, you two don’t argue a lot, simply because Albedo is not a hostile or angry guy
he’s so gentle pls (how many times do I have to say we gotta protecc him?!?)
he has no reason to argue with you, none at all
but arguing is normal, a healthy part of relationships he says, despite the obvious
the arguments happen when he’s usually stressed, other than that they don’t happen
so, you only argue if you touch something of his that he doesn’t want you to OR question his thinking and try to persuade him into believing a theory of your own
one, his lab is a complete mess, so yeah the thought is nice when you attempt to clean it yourself and the first few times he accepts it
a clean space is better than working in a messy and shrewd one
but if you constantly keep misplacing things and cleaning the area to the point where he can’t find or reach something, he’s going to be mad
“I’m not mad, but it really bothers me when you misplace my stuff.”
“You sound mad...And I’m sorry, I was just helping.”
ummmm... just say you’re mad sir lmao
his anger is a different type of anger... he can be very passive-aggressive during arguments
he doesn’t want to make a big deal, but he’s going to show and let you know somehow that he’s bothered
two, don’t try to persuade his thinking or tell him his findings are incorrect/not valid
he despises this so much
nothing in the world is set in stone, science doesn’t have rules, unless it relates to equations
he’s not a puppet so don’t try to make him believe in what you do
he may agree, but if he doesn’t don’t force it, he won’t like the idea of feeling like you’re trying to box him into a single thought
pls don’t do this, even if you mean well, don’t
and trust me when I say this, he prefers a s/o who questions his findings
he WANTS you to be engaged with what he does, or else this will never work
so he enjoys that you question his findings and bring a better understanding to the table, possible other equations and even broaden his thinking
but he hates when you try to tell belittle his thinking/research and state you know something better than he does
that may be the case, but don’t lmao
of course you’d never do it on purpose, Archons no
“I really don’t think this is correct.” You said.
“There are no limitations to my research.”
“You sound like a know-it-all, did you forget I’ve studied this for years?”
yeah, end of the day, don’t touch his stuff, don’t try to be a puppet master or control him
but even then, you two don’t argue unless he’s very, very stressed
he works the hardest to apologize
he hates the idea of going to bed beside one another, and there being “bad blood”
he’s going to do whatever it takes to show his sincerity when he apologizes
because although this is not an excuse, his snappiness is majority of the time due to stress and that will be the only time he lets anger control his thinking
698 notes · View notes
albedo, diluc, jean, kaeya: general relationship headcanons
*disappears for like a month or two and then comes back with this* HEY GAMERS. i'll do mona, lisa, and sucrose another time, or if someone requests them!
characters: albedo, diluc, jean, kaeya
content: fluff, angst if you squint
patience. oh my god you need so much patience with this man. he isn't trying to be difficult, he really isn't, but he's very new to this sort of thing and isn't completely sure what he's doing yet. he wants to get better at it just for you, though. he's done his, uh, research (if flipping through dime store romance novels and blanching at the figurative language used could be called that) on relationships, and is willing to try to apply what he's learned.
he has a very secret but not-so-secret soft spot for you. a soft spot in the form of letting you play with his hair while he works, and leaving in whatever you put in it. maybe those rainbow hair clips are cheap and tacky, maybe that braid is a bit uneven or messy, or maybe it's just a mess from having your fingers comb through it, but they do their job of keeping it out of his face (except that last one) and you enjoy it. he also enjoys it, even if he won't actively seek it out from you. he'll also occasionally hear you out when you inform him that, hey, you want attention. sometimes you'll come to a compromise and end up sitting in his lap while he does what he needs to.
albedo doesn't really hold hands often. he uses his hands for a lot of things, so he likes to have them free-- or simply doesn't think about it. even if he's not the most touchy feely kind of guy, mainly because he doesn't think to initiate it most times, he does find immense comfort in having you nearby. he likes to sit near you so your shoulders touch, or will occasionally squeeze your hand in passing if he thinks about it. it never fails to get a little smile out of him whenever you kiss him on the cheek, and he will absolutely melt under your touch if you kiss that star on his neck. he's also very subconsciously cuddly in his sleep. he doesn't trap you in a bear hug or anything, but he always ends up seeking out your warmth so that he can drape an arm around you.
he tends to do or say really sweet things without even thinking about them. he'll usually brush it off, saying it's not a big deal, those gems or flowers were just what was left over from some bigger experiment- yes, they were pretty so he thought of you. what about it? he also sketches you often, and when you're not in his presence they'll be simple doodles. he can't help that he just likes to look at you, but it's a shame that he can't quite capture your looks accurately enough.
A relationship with Albedo is gentle, but it keeps you on your toes at the same time. Like, oh, suddenly there's a bouquet presented in such a casual but sudden way that it's almost disorienting, when just an hour ago you were poking at him to take a break. It's filled with quick, distracted kisses over a desk cluttered with sheets of paper and various pieces of equipment where you can hold his attention for just long enough before he engrosses himself back in his work. It's smiles that are just barely there, a cornflower blue gaze on you when you're not looking. It's finding little sketches of yourself in an open notebook, only to witness the very rare sight of a flustered Albedo when you tell him he "didn't quite get your nose right" out of nowhere over lunch.
this is how i'm manifesting diluc please sir i've been trying to get you to come home since the game came out diluc acts aloof. he acts as though he's just so over everything and everyone around him. then he practically glows while when you walk into angel's share while he's working, a small but pleased smile on his lips as he watches you waltz up to the bar. suddenly everyone is in his good graces. behind a cold exterior lined with sandpaper and some barbed wire for good measure, diluc is a very sweet man who is always looking out for you- whether it be outwardly or from the shadows.
diluc can get very protective. he's got this constant paranoia, even if most of the time it's only in the back of his head instead of the forefront, that he's going to lose everything. years ago it took only one moment for everything to quickly be gone, unraveling at the seams all around him. you've fueled his need to keep mondstadt safe just by being there. he treasures his time with you, because he understands how quickly and how mercilessly it can be taken away. he doesn't think you to be weak or somehow incompetent, but he can't help worrying for your safety. let him be your bodyguarding sugar daddy god damn you
he's not the most adept at showing his affection, but he's trying. you'll have to get accustomed to smaller gestures. he lives for linking arms with you, walking side by side and having you close to him in a way that doesn't make him uncomfortable in public. he'll always be a gentleman with you, it's just a special way that he expresses his love. kisses on the back of the hand are also one of his favorites, and he can't keep his face from burning whenever you lean up to give him little kisses on the cheek. in private you two can literally be attached at the hip for all he cares. he never realized how much he loved to have his hair played with before you, and can fall asleep like a big redheaded cat just by resting his head on your chest and letting you card your fingers through his hair.
Dating Diluc is a fond glance cast your way from across the tavern, always knowing that you're safe so long as it's there. It's kisses on the forehead in the morning before the start of the busy day, and being drawn into a warm embrace towards the end. It's your hands being held in his when you complain about the cold, looking up to see his worried little frown at the numbed and reddened state of your fingers. It's a feeling of security, of knowing there's someone who will always watch out for you and be on your side.
please make this woman take a nap for the love of god. it's like she never rests, you don't know how she's even on her feet at this point. there are days where you're going to have to make her slow down before she ends up burning herself out. her hardworking nature and dedication to mondstadt is endearing and admirable, but she needs to be reminded that she can't work for the city if she works herself sick. offering her your help with the mountain of commissions she takes on is a better course of action than asking her to simply not do it.
although she's busy and may find difficulty in finding time for you, you're always on her mind. there's lots of little things that make her think of you. your favorite flowers that she passes out in the wilds or at flora's shop, the songs played by bards telling the tale of two lovers, or smelling your favorite foods. the reminders of you are just even more motivation for her to continue on with her tasks, especially if there's the promise of spending time with you when she's done.
jean has a reputation to uphold, one that she's already worried about not living up to, so she isn't one for a lot of PDA. however she still loves to hold your hand while the two of you walk. whenever you initiate it, she gets the sweetest little smile on her face and looks down at you with soft, loving eyes. she'll often squeeze your hand, or run her thumb over it. if you kiss the back of her hand, bowing your head and closing your eyes, she'll lose her shit a little bit on the inside. it's one of the best ways to get her flustered. she'll also like it if you play with her hair. maybe you're scheming because it puts her to sleep, but she'll still let you do it despite knowing your nefarious plans.
Being with Jean is early mornings spent together, squeezing in the last bit of time you have together before your responsibilities pull you apart. It's the smell of coffee before the sun has fully risen in the sky, the two of you standing close by as you prepare your respective morning beverages. It's long walks through the city at night, hand in hand. You can see her look at the people of Mondstadt with pride and fondness, both of which she directs towards you when her gaze lands on the one right beside her.
fruit (derogatory) kaeya is an acquired taste to have a serious relationship with. he's spontaneous and the slightest bit insufferable. it often seems like he can't take anything seriously, but that couldn't be further from the truth. he takes your relationship very seriously, and although he's not going to change who he is or how he goes about business, he's extremely dedicated to you and respects you more than you know. he values everything you say to him, and tucks it away for later use. he listens to what you have to say, and he cares.
kaeya loves smothering you with physical affection. a hand on your waist, an arm draped around your shoulder. if you're a good bit shorter than him he may use your head as an armrest, just for a reaction. but he also loves kissing you; delicate kisses on the forehead or the cheek, on the back of the hand, or kisses that sweep you off your feet (both metaphorically and physically, depending on the day) and make you forget everything else around you.
he loves to make you laugh and smile. there's days where he swears he'll do anything just to see you happy, that it'll be all it needs to keep him going. he also loves the attention from it, don't get me wrong. being the reason that you're sent into an uncontrollable fit of giggles or why you're smiling such a soft, sweet smile as you look out over the lake from your spot on one of mond's many hills. it warms his heart in a way that he's still getting familiar with.
he's got a massive soft spot for you. anything that makes him think of you puts a little spring in his step and oh my god he will not shut up about you. he loves to brag about you, any chance he gets. even if it's something small or just barely related to you in any way, he will find a way. you're dabbling in art? well, his s/o is actually an amazing artist and it's such a shame that they won't show off their talent. you bake? his s/o makes the best bread in mondstadt- no! in all of teyvat! diluc knows more about you than someone you barely know should, and that's all thanks to kaeya gassing you up at any chance he gets.
Being with Kaeya makes you feel like you're melting. The way he smirks at you is nice and it makes your knees weak and all, but the sound of his laugh or the sight of a genuine smile sent your way makes you feel like you're made of jelly. It's lying in bed beside him, your name whispered late at night instead of an "I love you," but you know what it means all the same. Your relationship is keeping up with his long strides as he swings your hands back and forth while you walk. It's finding your own ways to fluster him instead of the other way around, and being satisfied with yourself because you're the only one that can tell that he just mentally stumbled for a moment. Being with Kaeya is the honor of feeling so, so special because he chose you to show himself to.
284 notes · View notes
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: The Reader and Bucky go through different stages of the Reader’s pregnancy.
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, giving birth
Y/N had been mulling over how she was going to tell him since she found out a week ago. She had thought her anxiousness and worries would have faded away after she saw those two little lines on the test. No, they had only increased ten-fold, only worsening when she went to her doctor and got an official test. Her stomach tossing and turning when the doctor told her that she's been pregnant for eight weeks. Y/N was now stuck with the most important and difficult part of this whole thing-telling Bucky Barnes that she was pregnant with his baby.
How does one tell an over one hundred year old super soldier that they're going to be a father? Getting a tiny Brooklyn Dodgers onesie made? Too cliché. Make some awful pun themed dinner that might include "buns in the oven"? Might go over his head. Hand him the sonogram that she had gotten after the pregnancy test just to be sure? He's from the forties, what the fuck is he going to know about a sonogram?
Y/N was terrified over he was going to react. Bucky was barely getting used to the world, barely getting used to having control of his own mind. And while he had been doing a lot better and he makes sure to take care of himself, Y/N didn't know how he would handle the stress of a baby. Did he even want to be a dad? Y/N didn't even know if she wanted to be a mom, but she know that somehow it felt right. They've never even talked about having children and now-well they were sort of past the point of thinking about having kids.
The whole situation made her want to vomit, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just from the morning sickness.
Y/N eventually landed on telling him over dinner. Nothing too fancy, just the usual place they always go to so that Bucky wouldn't think anything was up. All day long as she sat through meeting after meeting, her date got closer and closer, and that dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach grew with every second. Y/N felt like she was going to vomit by the time she met up with her boyfriend back at their apartment. Luckily, Bucky talks the entire car ride to the restaurant, complaining about something Sam did that day. She uses her training for good, covering up her nervousness with a neutral face.
They made their regular small talk as they sit in the back of the restaurant at their usual table. Y/N orders her usual lemonade while Bucky orders a Coke. They share a basket of bread and Y/N hopes that the carbs soak up the acid that keeps threatening to rise up her throat. Each time she wants to bring up her news, their waitress would come up with refills, an E.T.A on their food, or just to ask how they were doing. And each time, Y/N would glare daggers at her back once she was turned around to walk away.
Then their respective plates of pasta were placed in front of them. Bolognese for Bucky, arrabbiata for Y/N. While usually she immediately dives into her plate, the way her stomach is twisting and turning, she's unable to eat. Y/N pushes her pasta around with her fork as she works up the courage to talk to him. She just didn't know how to say it. All she knew is that she had to say it. Y/N puts down her fork, moving to wipe her now sweaty hands on the cloth napkin on her lap as she looks up at him. Bucky was raising a pasta laden fork up to his mouth as she opened hers.
"I'm pregnant." She finally blurts out. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, barely audible over the noise of the other guests at the restaurant. She was afraid that he couldn't hear her, afraid that she was going to have to say it again. But by the way Bucky's eyes widen, she knew that he had heard her loud and clear. He lowers his fork, mouth opening and shutting.
"I-What? You're-What?" The super soldier asks, looking from her face to her stomach and back to her face. Y/N felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach, the blood draining from her face.
"I-I'm pregnant. I found out last week." Y/N manages to get out, still looking down at her plate. Her eyes started to sting and she tried to blink her eyes rapidly in order to keep her tears at bay. Bucky's silence is deafening and Y/N wishes she could run out of the restaurant, but it's like she's glued to the chair. She wants him to say something-anything, but he is silent. Y/N is about to say something when he holds his hands up, almost in defense.
"Wait. I-I don't want you to be upset. I'm not mad-I just don't know how to put my feelings into words. I'm happy. I'm really happy. I just-You know I'm not good with words." Bucky finally speaks, stumbling over his words. Her eyes widen and she quickly looks up at him.
"I-Really?" Y/N asks, the knot her stomach slowly unraveling. Bucky nods, a small smile appearing on his face. This time the tears that are filling her eyes from happiness.
"I'm not going to pretend that I know anything about babies or raising a child, but I'm sure I can figure it out." Bucky jokes, his metal hand fiddling with his utensils on the table. Y/N feels a million times better, a huge weight being lifted off of her shoulders. He looks up at her again, "I'm happy, Y/N. I am."
"Me too. Me too."
As Y/N walked into her apartment, the only thing on her mind was kicking her shoes off, taking off her bra that was digging into her sides, and taking a much deserved nap. Her meeting had ended early and with Rhodey not needing help with anything, she had decided to return to her apartment. Yet, with not even a foot inside of the apartment, she was immediately greeted with an argument.
"No, what I am saying is you're painting wrong." Bucky snaps, which makes Y/N's eyebrow raise. Her boyfriend wasn't in sight, but he certainly was in the apartment somewhere. She sets her things down, walking over to where the arguing is coming from.
"How the hell can I be painting wrong? I'm putting paint on the wall. The wall is getting painted." Sam fires back and Y/N has to force herself to not laugh, covering her mouth. She stands in the doorway of the guest room, taking in the sight in front of her. The floor and furniture was covered in plastic tarp, blue painting tape lining the white molding and outlets. Painting supplies littered the room and standing in the middle of all of it were two idiots, both of them holding paint rollers covered in a light sage green paint.
"I'm sorry-what's going on here?" Y/N questions, motioning to the two of them and the mess in the room. Their heads snapped towards her, nervous smiles spreading across their faces. They looked like two kids that have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
"Hey doll-uh fuck-surprise." Bucky announces a little defeatedly while Sam gives a one handed jazz hand. Y/N laughs, carefully stepping into the room as the 106 year old man tries to explain, "I-We were going to surprise you by painting the room. Why are you home so early?"
"My meetings ended early and I am extremely surprised. Thank you and thank you too, Sammy." Y/N says sweetly, smiling at the two of them. Bucky lets out a sigh of relief and Sam chuckles. While the men may not see eye to eye all of the time, Sam has been a great help to both of them. The man had some knowledge about babies and children, being the proud uncle to two little boys, and he had been trying his best to put some of Bucky's worries at ease.
"I'm just trying to be a really great uncle." Sam teases, which makes the super soldier roll his eyes. Bucky didn't have any living siblings and Y/N's teammates were the closest thing she had to family so it was going to be Uncle Sam, Uncle Rhodey, Auntie Pepper, Auntie Wanda, and so on and so forth. Their little patchwork support system that they were incredibly grateful for.
"Do you two need any help? I can't because I am pretty sure I'm not supposed to be inhaling paint fumes. But I can give Peter a call, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Y/N offers, grinning from ear to ear. She knows that both men weren't exactly best friends with Peter Parker, both of them having gotten their asses handed to them by a teenager. Y/N didn't have any issues with the kid, hell she talked to him on a weekly basis. He reported to her every Friday, filling Y/N on his week. While it had first started as him telling her what Spider-Man did, it soon turned into a three hour long meeting that included take out while he filled her in the weekly drama and tales of him and his two friends. And every Friday when she would return to the apartment, Sam and Bucky would greet her by calling her traitor.
"Jesus-No, we are okay doll. I think we can manage, right Sam?" Bucky asks, looking at the other man. Sam just nods, holding his paint covered roller a little higher.
"Yeah yeah I think we will be okay. This room will be done in no time."
Y/N watched from her seat at the kitchen island as Bucky moved around the kitchen, attempting to make dinner.
Y/N had been put on bed rest due to the fact that the Super Serum that had affected Bucky's DNA was causing the baby to grow at an accelerated rate. Seeing that this is going to be the first baby born with the serum (that they know of), the doctor wanted Y/N to be cautious.
Bucky, had taken the doctor's words incredibly seriously, going so far as to not even let make any food, like he is doing now.
"Bucky, baby, I can help you, y'know." Y/N tells him as Bucky attempted to follow a fairly simple recipe for marinara sauce. It was already going south pretty fast. He hadn't bought the right type of tomatoes and hadn't chopped nearly enough garlic. She kept herself from micromanaging the whole thing, but it was getting harder and harder to do so.
"Doll, I used to make dinner for me and my sister. I think I can handle this." He replies, setting the knife he was using to chop up the yellow onion aside. He scoops up the onion in his hands, moving to toss it into the big pan on the stove. The onions sizzle as soon as it hits the olive oil covered surface of the pan.
When Y/N had told Bucky she was craving pasta, she had kind of meant that they would just pick something up. Bucky had decided that he would make the meal himself and Y/N, once she saw how excited he was, didn't have the heart to tell him that she had wanted take-out.
It was actually sort of sweet, seeing him trying to hard to make this meal for her. All he wanted to do is take care of her, take care of their baby. She loved cooking for him for the same reason. It was a way to show her love, to show how much she cared about him and he just wanted to do the same.
"Alright, Barnes. I believe in you." Y/N responds, smiling at him. She just watched as he cooked (and occasionally danced to the jazz music that was playing on the record player). It didn't matter if the meal sucked, Bucky was just trying his best to take care of his girlfriend and their child.
But for the record, the meal did suck.
It was a sight, seeing them together.
Bucky held their daughter close to his chest, bouncing her carefully as the light started to filter through the blinds of her hospital room. A smile was stretched across his tired face as he moved from side to side, cooing to her softly. His hair was a mess, his clothes incredibly wrinkled. The morning light surrounded the two like a halo and if Y/N could, she'd take a picture of them. A picture of her family.
Their daughter had been born a month early, which wasn't too surprising considering with how fast she had been growing. Although it was a shock when Y/N's water broke the night before while they were sleeping. Then Y/N had spent most of yesterday in labor, finally giving birth to their sweet baby girl-Rebecca Natalia Barnes, named after Bucky's little sister and Y/N's best friend-in the evening. Bucky had started crying when Y/N had told him that she had wanted to name their daughter after his sister, not thinking that Y/N would have wanted to pay tribute to his long dead sister.
"Look Rebecca, mommy's awake." Bucky says softly, looking over to where Y/N was laying in her bed. The Super Soldier grinned at her, still rocking their child. Y/N smiled at the two of them, shifting on the bed so she can sit up a bit more as her boyfriend walked over. She looks up at the two, her heart swelling with the way Bucky looks holding their daughter.
"Hi baby." Y/N says hoarsely, the bundle of pink shifting and squirming in Bucky's arms. She holds her arms out, silently asking if she can hold Rebecca. Bucky carefully places the newborn into her arms before he pulls the plastic chair closer to the bed, not wanting to be too far from either of them.
"I can't believe she's actually here." Y/N announces softly, taking in every detail of her daughter's face in the early morning light. She had Bucky's blue-gray eyes and his nose, but her hair. It felt weird to see her, felt weird to be holding her. Y/N felt like she was dreaming, but the pain she had gone through the night before-the pain she was still feeling now-had made it real.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Bucky asks, looking at mother and child interacting. Y/N nods, tears filling her eyes as she looks down at her daughter. She presses her lips against Rebecca's forehead, taking in that baby smell that every parenting book seemed to mention. Bucky is still smiling, looking at the two, "My two beautiful girls."
Hours from now, the hospital room would be filled with friends what were more likely family, wanting to share this incredibly special moment with the Y/L/N-Barnes family. Rebecca would be introduced with her aunts and uncles, each one of them getting a chance to hold and introduce themselves to the newborn.
But for now, for now, the three of them were alone. The three of them sat together in this room, all getting used to each other. Nothing else existed outside of this room, nothing else mattered outside of this room. All that mattered was that they were together.
344 notes · View notes
There was only one thing that made sense for me to give to you for your gift of 2K followers to me.
I love you. I would not be here without you.
Daddy Steve and Baby Bucky would not be here without you.
So without further ado...
Rating: T (Teen)
Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers
Tags: Meet-Cute, First Meetings, Steve Rogers Feels, POV Steve Rogers, Developing Relationship, Bucky Barnes Feels, POV Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Nat is the best Wingman, Clint is also the best Wingman, Mentions of Past and Toxic Relationship, Insecurities, Only Happy Endings Here
Summary: How it all began.
Bucky doesn’t even hesitate once the beer is set down in front of him, doesn’t even grimace as he swallows down his first swig of it.
“This is disgusting,” he remarks flatly, going in for another gulp. If he drinks more, he’s sure it won’t be long before he doesn’t care about the taste of the beer in the slightest. Then again, was it even possible for him to get drunk from beer? This local IPA that Nat insisted he get makes him hopeful of just that.
“Mmm, good thing we’re not picky,” Nat responds with, reaching for her own glass and tipping it back. Bucky grimaces, agrees to disagree, and instead dips a fried pickle deep into a cup of ranch.
“You know this might be the best decision you’ve ever had. Why talk about our feelings when we can just…eat them?” Bucky asks rhetorically and with a flick of his fingers towards their tabletop. Lamb meatballs, spinach artichoke dip, truffle fries— treat yourself comfort bar food at its finest.
“Right, but also when we were at home like thirty minutes ago you were crying after having communicated with me very clearly what your feelings were so…”
Bucky smiles, taps a few fingers under Nat’s chin two times before reaching for a few fries.
“It’s the best of both worlds, baby.”
It’s been one hell of a week for the two of them, one thing after the other, encouragements of keeping their head up fading and becoming weaker as the days passed. Nat has spent the majority of her time at work, her asshole boss overworking her, taking advantage of her thinning kindness. Bucky has barely seen her this week, their paths crossing between classes and work, showers and breakfast. And with his schedule and his workload from classes, he spent most of his time at the library preparing for Dr. Banner’s midterm exam.
The two of them finally reconnected, Nat crawling into Bucky’s bed once she got home well into Thursday night, Friday morning. It felt good to let his feelings out, to talk to his best friend, to cuddle close and have his hair played with.
“Just us today. We’re gonna do whatever we want to do today, Buck. Fuck everyone else,” Nat had told him, and he wholeheartedly agreed, mind already light from letting out the stress of the week with a good cry.
“Yeah, fuck ‘em…”
Bucky likes this bar. It’s a bit dingey but somehow charming, the music soothing and low, the warm chatter of other patrons surrounding him. It’s comforting and everything that would come to mind if Nat were to suggest a bar, which she had with an easy, “I know one of the bartenders, c’mon.” Bucky is about to give Nat shit for the way the bartender’s eyes lit up when he saw her, for the way he said her name and the way she replied in kind, when Bucky sees him.
Bucky has to pull his eyes away almost immediately as soon as they land on the man at the bar. His chest grows warm and it isn’t because of this bitter beer.
“Holy shit,” he repeats out loud, dropping what’s left of his handful of fries into the basket of friend pickles. He wipes his hand on his jeans, adjusts in his seat, chances a glance back up to the man at the bar.
“Oh my god, did you stutter? Why? What’s—”
“Nat! Don’t look!” he hisses, gives his best attempt to avoid making a scene when Nat turns in search for what it is that Bucky has seen to cause such an immediate reaction. It fails. Nat spots him immediately as well, head slow to move back in Bucky’s directions, eyes wide nonetheless.
Bucky’s cheeks go up in flames. He can feel it where he sits, that throb of color, that wave of sensation. He reaches for his beer, manages to look over it and back at the bar as Nat whistles lowly.
“I know, I know.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, is that your walking wet dream?”
“I don’t…oh my god.”
He doesn’t even have the space in his mind to protest any further, knows anyone who has ever crossed paths with this man would know Bucky is full of shit if he made an attempt to.
Bucky’s never seen anyone so beautiful before in his life.
This man has a face and physique for a runway, a Vogue catalogue, for in front of a camera. His side profile alone has a ball of arousal dropping into Bucky’s stomach like a stone, a boulder, sharp and rugged. A strong nose, a neatly trimmed beard, a pout Bucky can see from here, effortlessly swept back hair. Even sitting down, Bucky knows this man is a large man, that he takes up space in more way than one, is broad.
Bucky swallows heavily.
Casual yet professional, a dark polo that gorgeously clings to curvature of his arms and the span of his shoulders, jeans that miraculously fit and stretch around thighs so thick they make Bucky’s mouth water. A simple pair of brown boots and to top everything off, what Bucky thinks is a watch. Simply looking at him has Bucky wanting to think up incredibly inappropriate thoughts starring this man and this man alone.
Bucky is inexplicably drawn to him.
“Nat, don’t,” he mumbles, eyes not leaving the man at the bar as he speaks and sets his beer down. Nat turns around against, chances another glance of her own.
“Bucky, you have to talk to him.”
“What?” Bucky squeaks, leaning forward in his seat to make himself clear. “Are you insane? Not a chance in hell. He...he's probably just looking at you anyway. Maybe he's...maybe he's not into men!”
Natasha grabs for his wrist, the closest part of him she can get a grip on, leans forward to face him head-on.
“You’re going to talk to that man before we leave here tonight.”
“Thanks, Clint,” Steve sighs as the other man brings him another glass of whiskey, not even the good stuff. That rightfully made Clint’s eyebrows raise when Steve requested it, “Well is fine.”; this isn’t the kind of place to drink shitty whiskey. It is almost painfully harsh, no depth, just pure burn, but it’s what Steve wants in this moment.
Steve is sure his smile falls flat so he covers it up with another drink, nods his head.
“Yeah, yeah I’m…m’okay.”
Clint doesn’t look convinced but nods his head and blessedly leaves it at that and moves onto the next customer. Steve’s sigh is long and is a relief that racks his body. He fills up his lungs with air, holds it momentarily, breathes out, brings his glass back up to his lips.
“Right, Steve but…you’re not happy. And I’m tired of seeing you try and pretend that you are. You know who you are, you know how important having a loving and doting partner is to you. You need to be consumed. That’s just who you are! I hate seeing you go through these patches where you pretend you’re alright with somethin’ physical, but then when the time comes for that conversation, that ‘what is this’ talk, you lie and say you’re fine with what you have with someone because you think you are protecting yourself and saving face. But you’re hurtin’ yourself, man. You’re hurting yourself. I’m sorry…”
Steve hasn’t stopped thinking about Sam’s words since he heard them three nights ago. They’ve kept him up at night, have been ringing through his head, have weighed heavy on his heart. They are words he has been thinking for months, years, words that Sam has tried to slowly tell him over time but in an emotional outburst ended up saying all at once over dinner.
They were long overdue but stung nonetheless. Steve didn’t know who he was trying to fool anymore, words out there for him and the person closest to him to see, crystal clear. He’s spent months bed hopping, trying to make the most out of physical relationships, yearning for more yet pretending he was okay with merely fucking around when that kind of relationship was the last thing he desired.
His age, his job, his lifestyle, his personality—every part of Steve, everything that makes up who he is, is desperate for a partner in life.
He has the house for another person, a stable career, the space in his heart. Maybe this is a wakeup call, one that he has needed for a long time, one that he has been too stubborn to see himself. Sam is right—he doesn’t deserve to take this treatment from himself. His immediate follow-up thought is a negative one, is how difficult it is to find someone who is open to and accepting of his intensity, of how he thoroughly enjoys falling head over heels for someone. People tend to not take to that well, don’t like that about Steve, that he’s an all-or-nothing kind of guy.
Steve is bringing his glass back up to his lips, is ready to toss the rest back and ask for another, when he seems him.
“What’s that?” Clint asks, Steve blindly unaware that he was within ear’s reach, but he sets his glass down onto the bar top anyway.
“Nothin’, nothin’. Another?”
Steve thinks Clint nods before he turns and takes Steve’s glass with him, Steve diverting his eyes to the floor. He blinks a few times, maybe he hadn’t seen correctly, glances back up at the man sitting across the room.
He releases the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding out, low and slow, as soon as his eyes rake over this man’s face once more. Steve feels his heart hammer against his chest a few times, the aching thing making a reappearance that he tries his hardest to tamp down. He’s almost certain he’s never seen someone more beautiful in his life, has never been swept away by someone’s physical appearance before. He’s met beautiful people, has seen them, has been intimate with them, but this is something entirely different.
This kid has a face that would make angels weep. A pair of sinful lips, rose-tinted cheeks, caramel-highlighted hair that curls and wisps as it pleases and is artfully effortless—Steve wants to tuck this one close to his chest for fear of others setting eyes on him. He has boyish charm that Steve has never come across and when he watches this man laugh, eyes wrinkling in the corners, nose scrunching up delightfully, Steve feels something he hasn’t felt in so long stir in his chest.
The realization that this feeling is indeed hope has another one tucking in alongside it.
This final awareness that Sam has brought to the forefront of his mind has Steve uncharacteristically doubting himself. He’s on shaky ground, slipped footing. Where he is normally confident and self-assured, he is overthinking and questioning every action and thought he comes across. He feels like he once did when he first started dating, unaware of what is acceptable and what is not, overthinking every possible future scenario inside of his deafening brain.
“Here ya go, man,” Clint announces, placing Steve’s glass down in front of him. He pauses before reaching for it, pulls it towards his body a bit, yanks his eyes away from the man across the bar.
“Clint,” he starts before he can stop himself. He picks up his glass, uses it as an excuse to lift his finger. “Do you know them by chance? That redhead and the…the guy with her?”
He sips his whiskey as Clint turns and looks across the bar. He smiles.
“Eh, kinda. I know the girl’s name is Natasha, been tryin’ to get her number for weeks. She’s stubborn. I like her.”
Steve doesn’t hesitate.
“And what about the man with her?”
Clint shrugs his shoulders, “Yeah, not sure. Sorry, guy.”
“Nah, don’t…don’t worry,” he brushes off, lets his hands cup his glass as he feels nerves he hasn’t felt in years slip through his system. He wants to keep his eyes downcast, wants to reel himself in, but he feels an undeniable pull, an unavoidable urge, to take in as much of this man as he can while he’s been given the chance. When he looks back over across the bar, his heart leaps up into his throat as he sees the man looking over at him.
He would like to think it’s the small amount of mustered up confidence that keeps his gaze locked across this busy room, locked onto what he swears is a pair of summer sky eyes, but he’s only fooling himself. It’s like he’s in a trance. Steve swears this is what people feel like when they claim they are “lovestruck”. It feels more like “dumbstruck” though. His palms grow sweaty, his heart races, he tries to find something to do with his hands and fumbles with his whiskey glass.
Either way, he meets this man halfway, looks on for a time that is more that socially appropriate, but one that feels so very right. When Steve lets his eyes wander down this man’s face, the curve of his jaw, to the delightful dimple in his chin, and back up, he’s broken his gaze and is turned towards the redhead with him.
“You…you wanna know what he’s drinking?”
Steve looks over at Clint, had entirely forgotten he was standing so close. Steve swallows, noise loud in his own ears but to no one else, looks down at his hands.
It’s a simple and generous question, one with a heavy implication. Steve cannot ignore the timing of this moment; how divine it almost feels to be sitting here questioning what he wants in a future relationship and being in the middle of promising himself things will be different when he sees this breathtaking man.
"You...you think he'd be interested?"
"Only one way to find out, bud," Clint answers easily enough.
Sending a drink over is harmless, is something he would normally have no reservations in doing, would in fact take it over himself. But if he’s trying to be changed, if he’s seeking out a different kind of relationship, is this the way he wishes to go about it?
When his eyes cross the bar again and land on a blush that makes Steve’s gut curl pleasantly, hid decision is made.
“Yeah, why don’t you lemme know what he’s drinkin’…”
“He keeps looking over here, Buck…”
“Nat, I swear to god,” Bucky starts, unsure of what he is swearing about and unable to finish his sentence because her statement is true. The man at the bar keeps looking over in their direction, has continued to do so since he mortifyingly caught Bucky looking over at him. The only reason Bucky knows this to be true is because of the fact that he too cannot stop looking up and over at the man at the bar.
His stomach flips pleasantly and nervously when he sees the bartender talking to the man at the bar, unable to contain his noise when he sees them gesturing gently over to them.
“Oh god, they’re pointing over here, they’re looking over here!”
“I’m so serious, Bucky. If he doesn’t make a move and if you still sit here struck stupid, I’m going to get involved somehow. This will happen.”
Bucky has no comment in response, finds no use in refusing her efforts when he is almost certain he wants to talk to this man. Who wouldn’t? Panic rises up in his throat, thick and heavy, familiar. Why would a man to whom everyone would wish to talk to have an interest in Bucky? His eyes wander over to the bar once more, greedy for any crumbs of this man he can tuck away into his brain, when he sees the bartender start to walk over to their table, mischievous smirk on his lips, beer in hand.
“Oh my god, Natasha.”
“No fucking way. Clint didn’t take another order of ours, did he? That’s gotta be—”
Clint is all sparkling and tickled eyes when he saddles up to their tall table, sets the beer down in front of Bucky.
“My good sir,” he starts, shifting his body in a way that doesn’t block the man at the bar from Bucky’s view. “Another beer for you from my dear sweet friend sitting at the bar all alone over there.”
Clint gestures towards the man, arm extended, and when Bucky follows the movement, his eyes meet a gentle smile followed by a wink that has a physical force to it.
Bucky’s tongue is thick in his mouth, a pleasant tingle at the nape of his neck, the warmth of his no doubt opaque blush creeping down his neck as he looks down at the beer. The smile that blooms on his lips is a slow one, but a loud one that is accompanied with a giggle, one that a bitten lip cannot hold back.
“I hate this beer,” is what he stupidly says in response, his giggle uncontrollably growing as Nat rolls her eyes and begins to laugh with him. She turns to Clint, lays her hand on his forearm and says, “Thanks, Clint. Looks like I need to take it from here.” The way her touch and his gaze linger is not lost on Bucky.
Clint claps his hand down onto the table, goes to turn away and walk back towards the bar, when Bucky asks, “What’s…what’s his name?”
“That’s not how it works, pal. The drink is an invitation to go over there and find out for yourself.”
Bucky stares down at the amber-colored beer, mind racing, practically begs himself to not look up and across the bar. He feels Nat’s hand on his arm, a squeeze then.
“Are you freaking out?” she asks even though it is quite obvious that he is indeed freaking out. He speaks before he can think to keep his thoughts to himself.
“Why…why did he buy me a drink?”
Nat’s eyebrows knit together, Bucky looking up at her.
“Buck, he’s hitting on you. He wants you to talk to him.”
Bucky shakes his head.
“No like…why did he buy me a drink?”
Nat’s eyes soften as she brings her other hand up to grab for Bucky’s hand. Her eyes are specifically soft for a reason only she is aware of. Bucky reaches to squeeze for her fingers, swallows down the lump in his throat.
“Buck…” she starts, and Bucky knows what is coming yet needs to hear it anyway, even nods his head to encourage her.
“You deserve positive attention. You deserve to be wanted. This man is requesting your attention and you have every right to say no or walk away at any time.”
Bucky will not cry. He’s done that already today. This is too positive of a night and too exciting of a moment to ruin it with more tears. Nat’s words are one hell of comfort, one that settles over his shoulders and runs down his back, into his mind. These are words she has told him before, words she has lovingly given him time and time again when he needed them the most.
Brock didn’t treat you right. You aren’t the names he calls you. One day you’ll find someone who worships you and loves you the way that you deserve, someone who doesn’t make you feel bad for the things that are you and the way you are made. You are stronger and better than he’ll ever be.
It’s been months, almost a year, since Bucky finally walked away from his last relationship, one that was very unkind to him in many ways, one that Nat had begged him to leave for fear of his physical safety.
“It’s words now, Buck. It’s the words and the manipulation but it could become physical. Please.”
He had gone back to therapy, moved back in with Nat, worked on his physical health, even gone on dates and had purely physical relationships with others. All things he is immensely proud of, that anyone would be proud of, yet here he is questioning his self-worth in a bar.
This has turned into one hell of a night.
“I’m gonna go over there,” he decides with a squeeze of Nat’s hand. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his body is wracked with nerves, so much so he has to let out a whooshof air, a few more to follow.
“Holy shit, I’m gonna go over there.”
“Thank god. I was going to go over there if you weren’t. Buck, look at that man. He’s a sweet talker in the best way possible, I know it, I can tell. And you not only need a sweet talker, you want a sweet talker.”
“Nat, don’t…don’t get my hopes up, please. Shit.”
He slips from his chair, his feet hitting the floor, and the second thoughts come rushing in. He wishes he had put on a nicer outfit, wishes he would have put on some moisturizer, done up his hair—all of those physical alterations that can enhance a first meeting. He’s got on dark jeans, some old college robotics club shirt on, a jean jacket. He’s certain his face makes it look as if he’s been crying recently, and he has, but this man doesn’t need to know that.
He grabs for the beer, takes a few steps.
“Don’t leave without me, please,” Bucky mumbles to Nat as after he kisses her on the cheek. She squeezes his arms once more, nods her head.
“Remember, Buck—you look sexy as hell when you bite your lip.”
Steve signals for Clint to bring him another round the moment he looks up to see the kid walking over to Steve with the drink he had delivered to him in hand.
The rejection stings more than usual. He isn’t used to it and it happens to be right as he is feeling his most vulnerable. It most certainly doesn’t help that the closer this man gets to him, the more Steve wants him. He’s gorgeous, devastating, has features and carries himself in a way that has Steve’s insides yearning, pulling, aching.
Steve turns towards him as he approaches anyway, softens his features, looks as welcoming and confident as he can knowing what is about to happen. He’s bashful, this one. Doesn’t look up at Steve until he’s all but three steps in front of him, but when he does, good lord.
“Hi,” he says, simple and nervous, his crippling smile growing once he sees Steve’s own welcoming one. He sets the beer down on the bar.
“Hi,” Steve starts, ready to get this over with so this kid can get back to his friend. “I’m sorry if this was forward of me and I understand why you wouldn’t be interested in my forwardness, it’s just—”
“No, wait,” the man says with a quick shake of his head, his eyebrows knitting together. Steve stops talking immediately, a bit startled. “I…I’m very interested in your offer of a drink I just…I hate beer.”
“But you’re drinking it?” Steve inquires gently, a smile playing with his lips, unable to hold it back as relief and hope sweep in through his chest. Cutie huffs, rubs the back of his neck and leans, rests an elbow on the bar.
“Yeah, umm…my friend said I’d like it and she uh, she was very wrong.”
With every passing second Steve spends in this man’s presence, the more comfortable he feels, the more he can sense his confidence returning with the undeniable pull between them. It slips off of his tongue easily, naturally—
“Alright, well lemme get you one you actually enjoy drinkin’, sugar.”
The reaction to his words is immediate and absolutely delicious. If Steve was a tad nervous saying these words out loud, throwing around a pet name, this reaction has his mojo solidifying like concrete underneath his feet. The man’s cheeks glow pink, he bites his lip, almost preens into the sweet name Steve gives him. Steve doesn’t know if it’s intentional, but he also tilts his head, exposes his neck as he wiggles where he stands. This one may be bashful but he’s dangerous.
“I’d love a Moscow Mule?”
Steve waves his hand, knows Clint is busying himself nearby on purpose, unable to prevent his knowing grin from shining through. He turns back to the man by his side, holds out his hand.
“My name is Steve.”
“Bucky. My name is Bucky.”
Their hands meet, Bucky’s skin as soft as it looks, grip firm, a tight shake. Steve doesn’t want to let go and that’s cheesy, awful, but it’s true and Steve lets himself feel the want coursing through his body and his heart in full, doesn’t shy away from it. Bucky doesn’t seem to want to let go of Steve’s hand either, but as he does, he sinks down into the seat next to Steve, right where he belongs.
Clint returns with a twinkling eye and Steve orders his drink for Bucky, turning his attention back to him once Clint has walked away with a wink.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. What’s brought you into this bar on this rainy and gloomy Friday night?”
Steve is grateful that Bucky chooses to turn his body towards him instead of sitting next to him, almost face to face and not shoulder to shoulder. It makes him feel more at ease, calmer, to have someone’s attention in such a way, for it to seemingly be on him and no one else. Steve likes that.
“I was feeling pretty gloomy myself,” Bucky tells him, voice gentle and pleasant. Steve is taken aback by his honesty. “My friend and I decided to cheer ourselves up, ease our spirits with some bar food. How about yourself?”
The two of them share a laugh, but Steve is quick to address Bucky’s emotions.
“I’m so sorry you’re feeling gloomy, Bucky. This sounds like a reliable plan to make yourself feel better though,” he hesitates before continuing, cautious of oversharing himself, but Bucky deserves the same level of vulnerability he’s given Steve. “I’ve been feeling down as well. Thought a bit of a moody moment, a drink in a bar on a rainy night, might make me feel better.”
Bucky thanks Clint, drink in his hand as he immediately grabs for it. Steve watches as he eyes it for a moment, takes the tiny straw between two fingers and stirs. When he looks back up at Steve under his lashes, the look is coy, is gutting, his little lip bite sexy as hell.
“Do you feel any better after your drink in a bar on a rainy night, Steve?”
Steve lowers his voice purposefully, meets Bucky’s gaze.
“The drink isn’t the thing that’s makin’ me feel better, sugar…”
Bucky is in love.
He’d never admit it out loud, to Nat, to himself, but he’s certain that Steve is so very special and that this is a moment that Bucky will remember for years to come. Even if they part ways tonight and never see one another again, he knows in his being that he’ll remember this night he spent at the bar with Steve.
Bucky’s never felt more comfortable with another person so quickly. Their shared conversation rarely stops flowing, nor do the winks and the chiding, and Bucky knows Steve has to be exhausted of hearing Bucky giggle or seeing his cheeks glow red at his flirtatious behavior. Bucky doesn’t care. Steve makes him feel at ease and Bucky is three drinks into their conversation and Steve’s eyes are full of warmth and Bucky doesn’t care.
Steve is kind. He listens to Bucky as he talks, eyes on him, not distracted, like what Bucky has to say is the most important thing in the world at the moment. He asks Bucky about school, his majors, what interested him in pursuing such a lofty double-major. Steve even compliments Bucky, tells him how impressive that is, how smart Bucky must be. It has Bucky practically melting right through the floor.
“What do you do, Steve?” he asks, wanting to divert the attention away from himself, wanting an excuse to hear Steve talk more, to say his name. Bucky hadn’t realized the two of them have gotten so close, chairs already near one another, their bodies even closer, leaning towards the other. Steve has to be a warm person. Bucky knows that if he touched Steve, he’d want to wrap all of his limbs around him, would absolutely cling to him.
Bucky wants to touch Steve. He wants to do more than touch Steve.
Bucky needs to start drinking some water.
“I’m a lawyer,” Steve says easily, tilting his head into his hand, watching for Bucky’s reaction as he takes a sip of his own drink. Bucky is impressed, transparent as his eyebrows raise.
“Well, thank you. It’s not a bad gig.”
“If it ain’t that bad, why don’t you sound excited?”
Bucky doesn’t expect Steve to smile softly, for his eyes to wrinkle handsomely at the corners. It makes Bucky’s lips curl in kind, hopefully one that pulls Steve’s answer out of him. To seal the deal, Bucky mirrors Steve’s head tilt with his elbow on the bar.
“That’s a really good question, sugar.”
It’s been dropped a handful of times already and Bucky never wants to be referred to as anything else from this moment on. It makes his tummy turn pleasantly, indeed makes him feel sweet. It feels old fashioned and makes Bucky feel desired and Steve says it with such confidence it makes Bucky ache.
“I think…” Steve hesitates, looks over at Bucky with a thoughtful grin. “I think I’ve reached the point in my life where work isn’t my everything. It has been easy, ya know, up to this point in my life to throw myself into my work and let it be my all. I just…I don’t think I want it to be my all anymore.”
Bucky can’t hear anything but Steve’s words and the meaning behind them. The noise and words of the people around him turn into a dull roar. Steve shares his thoughts with Bucky with such emotion, he almost feels as if he should apologize to Steve for asking that sort of question within their first meeting. Did he push too hard? Should he not have asked? This doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be having with someone he’s met just an hour earlier but that thought is the only thing that makes this feel wrong.
It feels very right to be communicating with Steve this way.
Which is why, heart racing as he asks the questions of, “And what do you want to be your all now?”, he knows the answer will be—
Bucky is going to remember this night for the rest of his life.
He feels as if he is sealing some sort of deal when he murmurs, “Yeah. Love is…love is a pretty valid thing to throw your everything into.”
Steve’s soft smile feels like a warm blanket draped right around Bucky’s shoulders. There have been few times in Bucky’s life where he has not regretted being so vulnerable and open with someone and this moment will be added to that short list. Eyes locked, knees almost knocking, belly warm with vodka, ginger beer, arousal, and sugar, the two of them resort to sitting there and drinking each other in instead of their drinks, of sharing any more words.
Bucky maps out every minute detail he can of Steve’s face, from how soft the hairs in his beard look to the way his eyes seem like storm clouds ready to break, back to his bitten, cherry-red bottom lip. Do people do this? Stare at each other longingly, no words being shared, all in dimly lit bars? Maybe Bucky has been doing this whole dating thing wrong for the past few months. Maybe this feeling is because it is Steve.
Shut up, heart.
“You two want another?”
Bucky doesn’t even jump back at Clint’s boisterous interruption. That’s most definitely the vodka’s fault. Maybe it’s the whiskey coursing through Steve’s own body that that has him reaching forward, closing the short distance between them with a hand. Bucky’s heart doesn’t have enough time to even stutter by the time Steve is brushing Bucky’s hair back from his face, his fingers gently tipping Bucky’s chin as his eyes dance between his own, over the features of his face. Bucky almost whimpers when Steve’s hand falls from his face, when that warm touch is broken.
“I think your friend might be gettin’ a bit restless, Buck,” is what Bucky hears Steve murmur, watches him say, eyes locked on the older man’s lips. A tap on the underside of his chin has him comprehending what Steve’s words mean. He forgot all about Nat to be honest, but that realization doesn’t have him pulling away from Steve in the slightest.
“I think that’ll be our last, Clint. I’ll pay for their meal as well,” Steve tells Clint, eyes not leaving Bucky’s as he speaks, merely glancing down once to retrieve his wallet before his eyes are back on Bucky’s. Bucky’s gut burns pleasantly hot at Steve’s show of money, of his show of providing and taking care of Bucky. It scratches an itch that is a deep one for Bucky, one that hasn’t been scratched properly before, one that Bucky wants Steve to keep scratching.
If Steve asked, Bucky would go home with him. He’s only done that a few times before, but he’d do it for Steve. One question and that’s all it would take for Bucky to go home with Steve.
“Bucky,” Steve starts, and Bucky watches as Steve stands from his chair, and fuck, he’s bigger than Bucky thought he was. Even sitting in a barstool seat, even with Bucky being six-foot himself, Steve is a large man. Bucky’s mouth waters. Just one question, just that one question and Bucky would be out the door with Steve in a heartbeat.
“Can I give you my number?”
That isn’t the question Bucky was expecting but it’s…it’s better. You don’t give your number to people you intend to never talk to again once you spend the night with them. Right? Bucky isn’t sure but he likes this question more, likes the idea of having Steve Rogers’s number in his cell phone to utilize for whatever purpose he deems necessary in the future.
Steve smells so good and he’s so warm, and Bucky isn’t even touching him. He’s incredibly close though, and when he looks up at Steve, tilts his head up while still feeling that tap under his chin from seconds prior, Steve steps in close.
“Yes,” Bucky breathes, almost stutters, as Steve slips his hand into Bucky’s jacket pocket, pulling out his phone on his own accord. Bucky reaches forward and naturally rests his trembling hands onto Steve’s hips, nothing Bucky would ever feel confident doing it this weren’t Steve. He is warm. He’s sturdy as well, feels like all things strength and power underneath Bucky’s hands. Steve holds out Bucky’s phone, Bucky types in his passcode. The confidence has the tremble in Bucky’s hand shifting and rolling throughout his entire body.
Bucky doesn’t want to let go of Steve.
“I’d like to see you again, Bucky. I know we didn’t have long together tonight but I think you’re special and I’d like to take you out on a proper date,” Steve practically purrs as his fingers work on Bucky’s phone, and Bucky feels like he’s about to combust on the spot.
“I’d…I’d like that, Steve,” Bucky breathes, still in awe at his luck, how this night has turned out, and how someone like Steve Rogers wants to take him out on a date. Steve’s smile reaches his eyes and then some, makes his features glow. Bucky’s fingers twitch where they rest on Steve’s hips.
“That’s good, sugar,” Steve tells him and oh, Bucky is going to be thinking of those three words all night, all week, all month. Steve slips Bucky’s phone back into his jacket pocket, taps it and lets his hand linger on Bucky’s body. “You just let me know when you wanna see me and I’ll make it happen, I’ll be there.”
“Now?” Bucky presses too quickly, too eagerly. He’s mortified for a moment, swiftly thinks of a way to play it off as a joke, but Steve’s smile is growing, features going soft and mischievous.
“Buck,” Steve breathes, coos, and this time a soft, strangled noise does slip passed Bucky’s lips. “Now doesn’t give me the proper amount of time I want with you.”
“You’ve been drinkin’ and I don’t think your friend over there would like it if you left with me anyway, no matter how much I’d try to convince her I’d do nothin’ but take good care’a you.”
Bucky doesn’t know why he says the other man’s name a second time, maybe as an excuse to watch the way Steve reacts to it, heavy eyelids and slick lips.
“Text me. Call me. Please, Buck?” he requests, hand rising back up to Bucky’s chin, the back of his knuckles running along the front of Bucky’s throat in a casual show of touch that has Bucky struggling to take air into his lungs.
“I will, I promise.”
“Mmm, I’ll talk to you later then, sugar,” Steve whispers as he ducks his head, presses his lips into Bucky’s heated cheek. Bucky wishes it were a kiss on his lips, wishes he could push Steve back into his chair and follow him, climb right into his lap. But that’s probably the vodka talking. Or his hindbrain.
Steve is slow to pull back, is slow to remove his fingers from Bucky’s chin, is slow as Bucky drops his own. He looks down at Bucky as he does so, lets his fingers slide to squeeze at Bucky’s hand as he turns, tucking his wallet back into his pocket, Clint returning with the bill.
“I’ll see you later, Buck.”
“Bye, Steve,” Bucky smiles and Steve turns on his heel and walks towards the front door and out, Bucky’s eyes on him every step of the way. As soon as the door closes, he has no choice but to turn and press his forehead against the bartop, to let out a heavy and loud exhale as he does so.
“Oh my god.”
“Well, I for one am horny after seeing such a display,” Clint shares, a low whistle following his words. Bucky giggles, Clint’s thought amusing and his own mind and body unsure of what to do with all of this pent-up energy.
“Yeah, you aren’t the only one, Clint. Jesus fucking christ, Bucky. I can’t believe what I just witnessed. Did that just happen?”
Nat settles into Steve’s old seat, Bucky reaching for her as soon as he hears her voice.
“I was hoping you could tell me. Holy shit, Nat. Is this a dream?”
“Hmm, let’s see, kid,” he starts, turning to Nat. “You wanna utilize this newfound horny and capitalize on it together, Natasha?”
Bucky doesn’t see the look that Nat gives him in return but it’s enough to have Clint quickly conceding with a, “Nope, nope— not a dream. This is real life, my friend.”
“Did you get his number? Are you seeing him again?” Nat presses without much patience and Bucky is huffing out a giggle once more, raising his head up to look at Nat. He squeezes her hand.
“He gave me his number, I’m…I’m gonna see him again. Oh my god, Nat—I’m gonna see him again.”
“Hey, it’s…god I’m so sorry I had to push back plans. No, I know it’s like the fourth time I’ve done this, but I swear I have a good reason this time, swear. No, I can—yeah I can meet you there instead. I uh…no I met someone. God, Sam he’s…this one’s different. A fucking hour and I know he’s different. He's so special. I feel…god I feel so good. No, yeah I’m gonna see him again, I’m…I’m gonna see him again.”
see daddy steve and baby bucky here 💕 listen to their playlist here 💕 read more of their story here and here 💕 come shout with me here 💕
309 notes · View notes
Kaeya Alberich - Yandere Profile
YES I love my eyepatch boy!! I really like him as a yandere, because he's definitely got several traits and behaviors that would make him a very unconventional/different yet absolutely terrifying one to have. Him or Diluc as your yandere is basically like playing a game on maximum difficulty. He's so arrogant dammit why does he have to make it hot
More importantly, someone take the ability to write n/sfw away from me I s2g... I go from trying to make serious content to nasty weird kinks and completely feral in .002 seconds the moment I add that readmore
tws: gaslighting, manipulation, yandere, mentions of mutilation
tws (below cut): noncon, a good deal of sadism, mentions of an*l
What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?
He's actually one of the worst yanderes you could have in almost every regard, for two very simple reasons: his crippling psychological issues, and his intense selfishness. The first manifests as severe abandonment issues. It's the origin of his unhealthy feelings, most likely. Kaeya doesn't like the instability of people - based on his backstory, people always leave, or die, and even if they don't intend to, somehow it feels like abandonment, and he resents it. People leave him all alone and afraid and uncertain. That's generally all he knows, and despite the smug exterior, he's actually pushed people away quite a bit, keeps everyone at arm's length to ensure they can't become someone too important for him to accept their sudden absence. He can't care about someone, because that someone is fated to inevitably leave him, no matter who it may be.
That's why, once you manage to worm your way into his feelings and heart despite his best efforts, once he finally caves to acknowledging the feeling, he's aware. Painfully aware, because be can't stop worrying every waking moment about you, your well-being, your location. It reaches a point where he can't go about his job because he's simply too consumed with his worry.
The solution that kept him safest in the past was to avoid developing emotional attachments, but when he does, he's terrified of both your safety AND you intentionally abandoning him. Really, the latter would hurt worse, since he can't fault you for dying, but to abandon him? It would break him.
And, to some extent, he's developed a lot of prideful anger about it, deep, deep down. He feels that he doesn't deserve to be abandoned, doesn't deserve to just be left behind under the guise of some greater purpose, and he'll be damned if he just lets you toss him aside like he feels others did. Even if you reject him, he won't accept it. You don't get to reject him. He won't allow that. What has he ever done to deserve everything that's happened to him? Nothing. You're the one person who has stayed with him, and you're going to continue to be with him. Forever.
That being said, he's still somewhat confident because he's got that arrogance about him. He doesn't perceive rejection, because he's always gotten a lot of attention for his looks, even if he's never actually followed through on anyone else's attention out of those same fears. He'll write off any perceived rejection as being for some other reason, something besides an actual rejection, and he'll seek to eliminate whatever he feels is keeping you from just accepting him.
Honestly, one of the most likely to have a full blown, classic-yandere-style psychotic breakdown. He can be driven to a snapping point, if there's enough stress or obstacles, and in case of that, he'll be a lot more willing to kill, and a lot more willing to hurt you, but it's a point that would still take a lot to reach.
But what's really terrifying about Kaeya is his delusions, primarily his ability to mentally justify everything he does without hesitation. Even most delusional yanderes struggle - they feel like it's wrong, they know it is deep down, and they take time to convince themselves of their delusions, tell themselves it's ok over and over, beg for reassurance, and get defensive when called out because they know they're in the wrong. The same isn't true for Kaeya. He automatically justifies his actions by default, and has absolutely zero doubt or hesitation to do so. He doesn't even need a complex reason for justification - it's a simple one. He deserves what he wants. Anything necessary to achieve that is fair.
How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?
Highly likely and very quickly, right up there with Diluc and Razor. And he's absolutely remorseless about it. It ties back into his delusional state and ability to justify anything he does - this is what's best for you. If you don't get that, that's your problem, not his.
He's another one to not want to pull some barbaric move like knocking you out, rather, he'd rather just trick you into walking right into your new home. He gets that you'll be upset about it, but to him, that's just part of the process. Not that he'll tolerate it for too long. 12, maybe 24 hours is enough time for you to reasonably be upset, but if you're still trying to fight him on this after that, he's going to get snappy about it, thinking you should already be over that by now.
How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?
You're not leaving.
It's not worth trying, really. How he manages to do it is a mystery to you, but he'll manage to keep you locked in right there at the headquarters with him. How Jean and Lisa haven't found out about you being there, how he convinced all of his guards to be on his side of things, you have no idea. Realistically, if you get out, he's likely to make you out to be some kind of criminal that needs to be found -- just not to hurt you in any way, so goes the order, and the knights know better than to question why.
He has eyes and ears everywhere, it won't take them anytime at all to find you. He's so confident in that, and combined with his pride, he doesn't feel the need to go get you himself. No, it's a lot more satisfying to sit back and watch as they drag you through the doors of the headquarters, slowly pull you to the end of the room and drop you down at his feet, where he can look down on you with that closed-eyed, artificially wide smile that tells you that you have seriously fucked up.
Escape attempts aren't going to be met with a single shred of mercy, really. The thing about Kaeya is he's ultimately a selfish, selfish bastard with a lot of deep-seeded, highly repressed emotional issues, and he has absolutely no problem with keeping you bound hand and foot, or maybe even make some permanent modifications to your body if that's what it takes to keep you. It's not a wise idea to even try unless you're absolutely certain to succeed, otherwise you may find yourself never getting the opportunity again. You don't really need those Achilles tendons intact, you know. And your ankle bones are just so fragile, they'll snap with just a little twist. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad, giving you more reasons to be grateful when he's doing everything for you.
He's not one to just let it go, either. No, escape attempts are the one unforgivable thing for him, the one thing that will make him totally and completely snap. You don't get to do that. You're the one thing that doesn't get to just disappear out of his life in a flash. Half the reason he sends the knights to get you rather than going himself is to give him some time to let the rage settle down, otherwise he knows he might not be able to control himself and might end up hurting you even worse than he intends to. He's not going to buy any excuses and won't go any lighter on you if you beg and grovel or anything. But you will apologize -- you get to choose how hard it is. You can apologize the easy way, or, if you don't want to, there are many ways to force it out. But by the end, he'll get an apology, and a promise to never try again, out of you, no matter what that takes. It's by far the worst state you'll ever see him in, and really, once is enough to dissuade you from trying again.
How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?
You'd have to try pretty hard. He doesn't have the sheer amount of years of life experience like Venti or Zhongli, but he's not the captain for no reason - he's perceptive, and highly intelligent.
Rather than simply mastering reading human voice and facial expressions for telltale signs of deceit, he's good at learning individuals in particular - memorizing the patterns of thought and action of a particular individual, and predicting how they will act. He can do it with everyone else with ease, how much more, then, with the object of an obsession? If you're trying to formulate some plan to trick him, he'll already predict what you'll do, if you lie, he already knows. It's creepier than the others, really, because it's not just that he can tell when you're lying, but rather he already knows you're going to lie or try some scheme before you do it. It feels so tailored and personalized to your thought patterns, it almost feels like an invasion of the privacy of your mind, which, really, is the one privacy you thought you had left.
He's great at gaslighting himself, too. He's a very good liar, and can make you believe anything he wants. He'll target your fears and paranoias, make you believe you're going crazy, and he'll do it all so perfectly you'll never suspect a thing. You'll end up coming to him for protection and guidance, exactly as planned.
How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?
Pretty strict. He doesn't let you have any outside contact, and you're limited on what you can do when he's gone. He'll bring you some books, maybe something to draw on -- no sharp writing utensils, though. In his mind, that should be enough to occupy you.
You won't get outside walks or visits. It's just too risky for him, and he really doesn't like seeing other people look at you. If you really, really beg, and you've been on amazing behavior, and you're well into your relationship, maybe a few months or so, there's a chance he'll take you out at nighttime, or sunrise, but at the slightest sign of intentions he doesn't like, you'll be dragged back, and you won't see the sun for a long time.
You'll have a very limited wardrobe, he doesn't see why you even need to wear anything, but if you're going to be stubborn, he can get you something simple, like an old shirt and some underwear, but that's about all you can have. Any requests for actual clothing are going to be denied. It's ridiculous for him to spend money on something you don't need, and besides, he prefers it this way, y'know?
What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?
Generally, it's a simple one: obey. You do what he tells you to do, and you don't do something if he tells you not to. This stems to similar rules that develop: be submissive, don't be argumentative, don't be defiant. Follow those, and you can both be happy, and that's what you want, isn't it? It had better be - he's not very lenient, and will harshly punish even small offenses. As for that punishment... most of it isn't going to be sfw. That's just how he is.
What he will do is emotionally manipulate you, and he's rather good at it. You wanted to escape? Ok. He'll let you have your way, let you be alone. All alone. All by yourself, in a little room, with no one at all, which is exactly how you would have left him, had you succeeded. He knows very well how that kind of loneliness bites. He's not totally cruel, though, and he won't withhold affection from you by the time he returns -- he doesn't need to, you'll already be crying and apologizing, which is exactly what he hoped for. Not that he won't briefly mock you for it.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're crying like that because you actually missed me. Oh, you did? Being all alone isn't particularly fun, now is it? I'm sure you understand that now."
How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?
Kaeya's an insanely jealous person. It doesn't show on his face, but it eats at him internally. It doesn't matter if it's a love interest, a platonic friend, even a family member. It's all the same -- people who want to take your attention away from him, people who you smile at that aren't him, people you love that aren't him. He's not one to delude himself into thinking everyone secretly loves you romantically, rather, it doesn't matter. Romantic interests are the worst threat, sure, but friends and family aren't much better.
He sees himself as above killing, though. He has people to do that for him, and he likes knowing that he has that much power. He's not going to dirty his hands with it, and frankly, they're not even worthy of his time and effort to kill them. Knights and other connections can take care of it just as well.
How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?
As somewhat previously discussed, the primary form of making him mad is attempting an escape. That's on a whole new level of anger because it strikes at a very deep, wounding insecurity. On a normal day, though, he's more easily exasperated than angry. He gets frustrated somewhat easily, especially if you're trying exceptionally hard to be a brat. He has very clear warning signs. His signature little smirk drops, he gets quiet, he balls his hands into fists and digs his fingernails into his palms. At that stage, he's irritable and might snap at you, but won't get too angry until you ignore those signs and push it.
If you do push him, though, he gets genuinely mad, which is a very quiet anger at first -- he doesn't talk much when he's mad. He acts. You'll know he's snapped when he puts down whatever he's doing, and just silently stomps over to you, face completely empty and flat, looking down at you with a cold expression. It's enough to put fear in you, but at that point, even if you apologize, you're not getting out of whatever he's planned.
So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?
Strongly in the "below" camp, a rather unusual stance for a yandere. Like many things with him, there's an inexplicable duality going on there. You would think that if you loved someone so strongly you'd kidnap them, kill for them, and potentially suffer consequences just to have them, that you would really think highly of them. On the flip side, you would think that if you really saw someone as lowly, you wouldn't care for them, you'd see them as disposable.
But neither is true for Kaeya, no, he balances both obsessive love and complete narcissism regarding you. You're not disposable, no, he can't live without you, he needs you. But at the same time, you're not gonna be on any kind of pedestal. No, if anything, he sees himself on one, more like a throne, and you on the floor before him, how things should be.
He has a similar mindset to Zhongli or Albedo - you're fragile, you're dumb, you're incapable, and you need someone to care for you, protect you, guide you, someone who knows what's best for you, since you clearly don't. However, he's lacking in the attitude those other two have -- there's no seeing you as an angel here. There's no viewing himself as being absolutely honored to take care of you, or viewing protecting and caring for you as some kind of privilege that they're blessed to do, the way those two do.
No, as much as he loves those things, he'll never admit it, not even to himself really. Rather, his mentality is that you should be grateful. Here he is, a very highly respected, accomplished, capable person, and you...? You have what to offer, exactly? That's right, nothing, really, only cuteness and obedience, the latter of which you refuse to give him even though you really ought to. He's taking on the burden of making sure you don't get yourself killed, and how do you repay him? By getting mad about it, throwing a fit like some little kid? He puts up with your tantrums, which are really undeserved, by the way. He puts up with your disobedience and repeated rule violations, your sheer determination to defy him when he's going out of his way to do what's best for you.
One day, he thinks, you'll mature a little bit and understand why he does what he does, and when you do, you'll come groveling and sniffling about how sorry you are, how you'll never defy him again, how you'll be good and obedient from now on, and he'll love every second of it. He looks forward to that day quite a bit.
"Sigh... you know, you're pretty lucky I love you so much. You could stand to show me a little thanks, don't you think?"
How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?
He's strongly determined, and yet... doesn't do much to try. It goes back to his mindset that really, you're the one who should be grateful for him, and eventually, you will love him. He's not gonna grovel to you or try different ways of making you love him, no, he's far too proud for that. But he's a smart man. He knows the effects that complete and total isolation other than one other person can have on someone. He's just going to sit back and wait for that effect to kick in, and slowly watch your fragile little mind deteriorate until you're desperate for affection. At which point, well, he can use it against you.
"You were so mean to me before, weren't you? You fought me every step of the way, and now you're just going to turn around and act like that didn't happen...? Well, if you're really sorry, I'll forgive you. But how am I supposed to believe you really are...? Maybe you can think of a way to prove it, hm?"
Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?
Probably the severity of his degradation. As aforementioned, most yanderes, even the more confident or cocky individuals, either worship the ground their beloved walks on and sees themselves as beneath them, OR sees their darling as some sort of fragile, angelic being, and they are simply a protector or caretaker to that being.
It's a bit different with him, ever the narcissist. It's a strange duality born out of a rare mix of neediness, obsession, and pride. You're more like a toy, or a pet - an invaluable pet that he could never part with, but a pet nonetheless. He certainly looks down on you more than the average yandere - he mentally associates you as naive, fragile, even dumb like a lot of the aforementioned protector/caretaker types, but without the reverence to make up for it.
It's a bizarre duality that not even he fully understands - don't think for a moment that that means he'll ever tire of you, or view you as disposable. No, he's actually one of the most obsessive ones, yet very demanding of attention and praise, rather than giving it.
He frequently tests you - things like leaving the door unlocked, waiting outside just to see if you'll try it. Seeing you open that door, watching your face go from ecstatic excitement and drop to wide-eyed terror, it's priceless.
"My, my, you didn't waste any time at all, did you? Why do you look so surprised...? You should know I wouldn't slip up that badly."
Pet names, but in the most infuriatingly condescending way, and uses them more often when he's mad and trying to warn you that you're pushing his limits. Particularly fond of "sweetheart," especially with a low warning tone and clenched teeth.
General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?
Horny fucker, all the way. The man has a lot of stress and frustration in his life already, that much more if you're... less than compliant with your new lifestyle. Sex, especially rough and hard, is a fantastic stress reliever.
Very little reservation. He's not crude about it, but he tends to make subtle innuendos very frequently, and laughs at your embarrassed reactions. Definitely the type to pull the whole shtick in which he says something with a blatant sexual undertone, then elaborates in a way to make it sound like having meant something else, follows with that smirk and says, "Why? What did you think I meant?" It's something he really enjoys doing, and loves to get embarrassed reactions out of people, particularly yourself.
"Touchy" doesn't begin to describe it. Pretty much from the moment you meet him, he's got his hands somewhere on your person. He grabs your shoulders when he stands behind you, he wraps an arm around you from the side when he walks up to you, he's always pressing his hands on your back and sides whenever you're navigating the streets, walking through doorways, wraps an arm around your waist when sitting next to you. It's highly uncomfortable, but really, he's just got something very subtly, but very strongly intimidating about him. You almost don't want to confront him on it. If you do, he'll laugh it off, and stop -- for maybe 48 hours or so, and then he'll be right back at it.
To the surprise of, well, everyone who's ever met him, he doesn't actually live up to the rumors of having been around the block, so to speak. His experience is actually little to none - that kinda happens when you push everyone around you away. Not that he'd ever let you know that, of course, and will probably lie if asked, but you can gleam a little bit of truth from slightly awkward movements and a bit of noticeable shakiness.
How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?
Kind of like Razor, the issue is that he loves you, and what better way is there of expressing love? He's not much for gift-giving or words of affirmation - no, he's a lot better with words of degradation, it comes more naturally to him. And he's certainly not one to enjoy acts of service -- well, not doing them, he'll gladly take them as a sign of your love, though. No, he expresses love through touch. It's like how, when you hug someone you really love, someone you missed, you squeeze them extra tight - the love manifests as a physical urge for some strong expression. Humans are physical about their emotions -- we punch walls when we're mad, we jump up and down when we're happy, and when you love someone, sometimes you just really, really want to pound them into a mattress as hard as physically possible. That's normal. That, and really, he's got his vices. He's actually fairly weak when it comes to resisting temptations, and prone to give in to urges for physical sensations like drunkenness and sex.
Is another one to be convinced that, with time, you'll come around. And is absolutely the top candidate to be one for using your own body against you - if you get wet, if you whimper, if you cum, that's just proof that you really do want this, that you're just being difficult because you enjoy being a brat, and he'll be sure to tell you that.
What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?
This is nearly indistinguishable from punishment, sadistic bastard
Arrogant fucker wants to be served and worshipped, you could see it coming from a mile away. Anything that puts you beneath him is going to make him happy - anything where you're where you're supposed to be. There's a lot of options, but it doesn't really matter, as long as he feels like he's in control and ownership of you in some way, and as long as you act accordingly.
He wants it to be something that’s not just for sex, but rather, he’ll end up carrying it over into normal life, whether you like it or not. If you just went along with it in hopes of getting it over with once he cums, you’re going to be in for a treat when it starts to carry over. He gets a little too used to being worshipped, and decides he likes that submissive attitude on you enough to want to see it all the time.
It really helps that he sees you as something of a pet already, but really, the collar is the selling point. Even if you never go outside, there's something unbearably hot about the possessiveness of it all - really, it's there to remind you of your status as property. He wants to own you, and for you to be forced to acknowledge that he owns you, and there's really no better way to do that than something with his name on it. It's even better with a leash, one he can pull on when he's fucking you to pull you back onto him over, and over, and over, hearing it choke you the more he shortens it.
But really, having you crawl towards him on all fours and obey little commands so simple they're humiliating is pretty nice, too.
There's really nothing quite so powerful feeling as watching you cry and squirm from it, y'know? He's another one that just likes the marks his hands, belts, or anything else can leave all over the skin of your ass and the back of your legs. The thing with him, though, is it's not even always a punishment, he just does it for fun, and that makes it unpredictable. Will definitely make you count, it's a sadistic torture for your mind and body.
May be used as a punishment measure, may just be because he's craving it, either way, even if you have a gag reflex, you won't for very long. He'll train it out of you gradually, grabbing the back of your head and just slamming all the way down into your throat, holding you there, making you choke - it's a beautiful sound, really, listening to you gag, all while your throat spasms around him, it's the best feeling, really, and will definitely be used as a threat if you need incentives to behave.
Ties into the dynamics, but really, there’s not much to say on this one. He likes the power trip from having his hands wrapped around your throat, seeing you struggle, watching your face go red, hearing those little choking noises. It puts power over you into his hands, and if you get pleasure from it against your own will, that’s even better.
How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?
Absolutely one of the ones to use it as a tool. If you have a baby, you'll be so much more bound to him. You'll need him more, you'll want him around more, you'll be much less likely to leave, and in a way it feels a little bit like a sign of ownership over you.
That being said, he's also acutely aware of his jealous tendencies, and realizes he would also be very likely to become jealous if he felt like you loved a baby more than him, or gave it more attention and affection than you do him. He doesn't like the thought.
So ultimately, the latter side prevents him from willingly trying, but if you really, really have defiance issues even after he's tried everything he can to break you help you adjust, he might consider it.
What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?
If it's mild enough, he can just take the route of extremely rough fucking - it gets rid of the frustration, he likes hearing you whimper and squeal, and he can leave lots of little bruises as reminders of what not to do in the future.
But, again, he already gets off to putting you in pain - it'll be that much worse when you've done something to deserve it. Harder hits, no mercy whatsoever, and he just loves all your little cries, wiping away your tears and smiling at you, right before bringing down whatever instrument of pain he's chosen again. If you really, really make him mad, and he really wants to make you cry, he's not above fucking your ass, either, watching you cry and beg, but you'll learn with time that begging doesn't ever get you out of anything.
What body parts of their darling do they like the most?
Definitely an ass man. Likes fucking you in doggy, seeing the ripple every time you bounce back off of him, pulling your hair or arms to add some force. He likes seeing all the little red marks that his hands and belts and anything else will leave on the skin, views it like marks of possession. Grabbing, beating, fucking, it's all good.
618 notes · View notes
Wanderlust. Yan Diluc x Reader
Warnings: Typical unhealthy yandere behavior.
Word count: 1.2k.
For such an expansive land, you’ve come to know every nook and cranny in Mondstadt.
The best shortcuts to take to avoid hilichurl camps, which time of year the local produce gives a bountiful yield, even the names of traveling merchants that come and go. This intimate knowledge is a testament to years spent in this nation. What bloomed as pride in your heart warped into prickly thorn-covered vines, that chain you down in place. Familiarity became mediocrity.
Each day blended with the last like watercolors, an amalgamation of harmless shades, as inoffensive as the last. This discontentment with life had you lamenting to the Knight’s of Favonius’ Kaeya. Somehow piecing together your troubles through drunken ramblings, he had offered you advice.
“Why not travel?”
It was a simple suggestion, said half-jokingly, that resonated with you the rest of the night. After feeling his words follow you a week, you relented. Bag in hand and ready to see the world. Goodbyes were temporary, you know you’ll be back, it’s a matter of when. Excitement flutters in your heart -- excitement that you haven’t felt in years -- at what is to come. The limitless possibilities, memories to be made, and possible experiences aplenty. Friends old and new alike had wished you well on your journey.
Now all that’s left is to take it.
You hadn’t even made far in the path to Liyue when he showed up.
Blocking the sun from your view, Diluc stands tall, his face is relaxed, unlike his rigid posture. He looks down at you through thick eyelashes, adjusting his gloves. You don’t move, confusion clouding your senses. Why is Diluc here? Where your other companions had sent you off in kind, Diluc did no such thing. Not that you had expected sugary words from the notoriously impassive man, but having known him a majority of your life, came an expectation of getting something. Even a lackluster “Good luck”, would’ve sufficed.
Did a guilty consciousness bring him here? For some reason, you doubt it.
He jumps down from the hill on which he stood, landing softly on the grass in front of you. The air feels tense with unspoken emotions. Your heart leaps into your stomach, hammering without relenting. Diluc’s stare is smoldering. Deep, vermillion hues never depart from your own gaze. Taking a deep breath, you decide to break the silence.
“Is there something you need? I don’t think I left an unpaid tab at the tavern.”
Diluc doesn’t acknowledge your lighthearted comment. “You truly intend to leave?”
The question, though inoffensive on a surface level, is a trembling lid over boiling water that threatens to overflow.
“Not permanently. I just want to explore.” You respond, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Why do you feel like a child being scolded by their mother? Diluc takes a step closer to you, presence imposing.
“Explore, huh,” he says more so to himself than you. Another step. “I was hoping you’d abandon this troublesome idea.”
You don’t want to hear anymore. If he came here only to belittle your ambitions, then you’ll leave, simple as that. There’s no reason for you to stand here and deal with this on what is meant to be your eventful day. Dealing with Diluc’s protectiveness is a thing of the past. He grabs your wrist when you go to walk past him, your Vision subconsciously activating at the unwarranted touch. Gust swirls around you both until you calm your emotions.
“You’ll be endangering yourself for no reason.”
A noise of frustration leaves your lips, eyebrows knitting together in displeasure. “I can handle myself. Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately, but you have no right to boss me around.”
His grip tightens when you try to tug yourself free.
“I’ve seen it all myself,” Diluc’s voice is dignified and unwavering, in contrast to your disgruntled tone. “You don’t know how dangerous the world is. How much evil there is. Stay, it’s far safer here.”
You want to be understanding of his sentiment. Diluc might not be open in his feelings for others, but you’ve come to learn he expresses his care in more subtle ways. He’s lost a lot -- you remind yourself -- but hasn’t everyone? It doesn’t give permission to enforce your views and desires on others. It’s like he hasn’t learned anything.
“I’m not a naïve, defenseless child. I’d appreciate it if you stopped treating me like one.” You wish you didn’t have to be harsh. Diluc’s stubborn as his adopted brother, even if he’s better at hiding it. With a final pull, you manage to free your hand. It’s unfortunate that you’re leaving on tense terms, but it’s his own doing, you reason. There are better ways to express concern over someone’s safety than to make unreasonable demands. He’s always failed to recognize this.
You fool yourself into believing he’ll let you leave until hearing the sound of metal cutting through the air. Cold, hard steel presses again your neck, and you freeze in your tracks. What is he--
“If I had wanted it, you’d be dead by now,” Diluc is impossibly calm, walking in front of you while maintaining his claymore against your neck. You shiver at the sharp blade hovering above your skin. “You’re not weak, no, but you’re not strong either. This foolishness will be your grave.”
No longer will you withstand this insult, having had enough of this back and forth. Any self-restraint you had remaining snaps, as do you. “How can you be so oblivious…? Is this not the exact reason why I couldn’t be with you anymore!?”
His grip around the hilt of his blade tightens. That struck close to the heart. You still feel vindicated in your actions, having been pushed to this point due to his actions. Chest heaving, you test the waters by moving forward, only for him to remain unwavering in his stance. The blade stops just shy of piercing your flesh, your resolve as firm as his.
Diluc doesn’t respond to your enraged exclamation. Whether it’s because words escape him, or the ones he has to say are too hurtful, you’re uncertain. His eyes narrow when you move again, lips contorting into a deep grimace at your challenge. Craning your neck in the same direction as his blade, he moves it just far away as not to puncture skin. Despite Diluc’s harsh words, he’s still soft on you, it appears.
He clicks his tongue. “Stubborn as you’ve always been.”
“I’m leaving whether you like it or not, so stop making this so difficult.”
“So I’m the difficult one?” Diluc tilts his head, finally lowering his blade. “Maybe so. But if being difficult is what keeps you alive, then so be it.”
You’ve seen him in action before. His swift, agile movements followed up by roaring flames have always been a breathtaking sight, making you question if he’s even human. The air smells of burnt ash as he springs forward. Everything is dark and you feel far too light, your brain not even registering his movements before it’s too late. At his movements, you fall unconscious, only to be caught in his arms before reaching the ground. You feel like you’re floating as Diluc secures you firmly against his chest.
“Hold it against me if you must. But… I cannot let you part from me yet.”
The wind that was meant to extinguish his flames had only served to fan them.
1K notes · View notes
tummy rubs → t.h
summary: tom loves to take care of you during your period. up until the boys find out about your unusual behaviour and start teasing you about certain things.
warnings: lots of allusions to sex but fluff overall, very suggestive, harrison and co being (hilarious) dicks to y/n and tom, period talk, mentions of porn.
notes: very convenient that i'm on my period right now. and all i want is domestic bliss.
word count: 1.5k+ | masterlist
within only moments of finding out that you were on your period, the inevitable pain kicks off in your lower belly, making you stop in your tracks towards your bedroom.
you cursed under your breath, only wanting to shove yourself under the covers and take a nap. to make matters worse, by the time you shut your door, you felt the pain worsening in your abdomen and that horrible feeling of what was going on down there. the need to get in bed only intensified the more you thought about it.
somehow, throughout the whole ordeal, you didn't notice tom, or moreso, actually acknowledged his presence. and although you've been dating for quite some time, you haven't exactly lived with tom and the boys since you met. typically because he'd be at work and so would you.
which is why the concern on your boyfriend's face only grew the closer you got to your bed since you came through your bedroom door. the noises of pain you whined was enough for him to approach you in an instant.
immediately when you grabbed the duvet, your hand was caught with tom's - in which you slapped away to get hold of the comfort inbetween the sheets.
you heard a wince behind you not long after. it was when you were cuddling yourself in a foetal position that you saw tom standing next to the bed, clear worry still written all over his face.
even then with no understanding of how you were really feeling, he sat down, a hand nearing your head to soothe down your hair.
tom decided to lay down besides you, examining your expression ─ a mix between a grimace or a frown portrayed on your face. it was evident that you were in a lot of pain.
"love?" he asked in a whisper. you let out a hum in response, signalling him to continue, "did you get hurt?"
you shook your head with all the energy you could muster at the time, eventually asking him to retrieve you a hot water bottle. he was quick to get one and pop the kettle on to do so.
however, he had totally forgotten about his mum coming over that day. the confusion plastered on her face at her son, who was absorbed in thought, at once disappeared when she noticed what he had in his hands.
a while later, with enough information from his mother and items in order to come to your aid, he was upstairs, taking care of your needs - whatever they may have been. he was extremely patient with your mood swings, too, to no surprise - even if it's only been around half an hour that he's tried to massage your sides and back to relieve the awful cramps.
it was possibly the least he could do for your ongoing and never-ending support for him and his career and being there for him when nobody else was - a gift he would always be thankful for.
many uncomfortable positions around the bed afterwards, you settled on the edge of the bed, with tom kneeling in between your legs, and his hands and fingers continuing to work nimbly on parts of your stomach.
he kept up with rubbing circles wherever you asked him to - upon which you never forgot to say that you loved him for his tender affection he was showing you.
finally, you said to tom that you felt miles better than you did a while ago. and so did he - knowing that you looked at peace and far from the agony you endured prior to this.
tom's upper half moved down so his face was in level with your own, puckering his lips after he mumbled, "babyyyy."
you giggled at his wish to kiss you. then, without contemplating any further, you slid your hand into the back of his head, fingers weaving into the curls you adored so much.
hands still proceeding to trace your hips, the door opened, revealing a shocked and very surprised tuwaine. both of you hadn't heard anything yet until:
"absolutely mingin' what the actual f-" he came out with, there and then squeezing his eyes shut and turning away. yet, he didn't leave at that point. and all you and tom did was stop kissing. because you weren't technically doing anything wrong.
but to tuwaine - all he thought was that you were doing something else other than just simple tummy rubs. the angle (behind tom's back, specifically) didn't seem to help either.
"tom bro, you could've at least made some noise or locked the freaking door."
tom ascended from you to sit perched amidst your thighs, his warm hands also leaving your body at that, to your disappointment.
tom replied, "mate, we're fully clothed."
"so?" tuwaine quipped back, finally looking at you both, eyebrows wiggling in a humorous way, "you can do all sorts with clothes on."
"well, we're not doing what you think we're doing." tom moved next to your figure as you also sat up to pull a face at him.
"whatever, kids." he responded, then quickly added,
"sheath that knife, she ain't your wife."
and as soon as tuwaine banged the door shut, tom was at the door, intending to chase after his friend. but by the time he was there, your glare had already softened and he heard your laugh - your sweet laugh - and the irritation he felt instantly melted. like music to his ears.
it wasn't long when he joined in to laugh with you too, bringing you closer to snuggle up with him and to kiss your forehead.
as soon as the laughter died down, tom declared, "you're not laughing about the wife part, are you?"
throughout that day and given that it was your first week staying with them, the boys in the household had grown suspicious to your weird behaviour; the complete opposite to the bubbly persona they were used to.
nicki had gone by then. it also seemed that tuwaine hadn't told them about what he had seen a few hours ago - since his face was indifferent to whenever tom came close to you and rubbed your back at times when you made a face at absolutely nothing.
deep into the night, you were all seated on the floor in a circle by the gas fire, drinks at hand and playing the widely known game: truth and dare (making sure to refuse alcohol when the chance came about).
it was all fooling around and having fun - which the boys didn't seem to suspect a thing - until a few rounds in, you felt your back aching again. you did your best to try stretching a little. but tom being tom, wasn't subtle about it at all.
when his hand again came over to your lower back, harry sensed the uncertainty the hundredth time that day and didn't hesitate to pipe up, "okay, what's up with you two? you've been acting weird all day now, i'm getting pissed."
you raised your eyebrows at his forwardness, not surprised nonetheless, and shrugged, your eyebrows furrowing a bit as you feel a jab in your stomach. thereafter, haz asked the question that was totally unexpected,
"you pregnant, y/n?"
you heard sam's plate crash onto the laminate flooring, breaking the thick silence almost immediately.
"no fucking way-" sam started and there was an eager tone in his voice when he carried on, "-oh my god, please tell me i have a niece or nephew coming on the way and this smashed plate will be worth it."
tom widened his eyes - his brain processing the information slowly somehow. and ultimately, when he found the appropriate words, he spoke, "first off, she's not pregnant-"
"-oh for fuck's sake," sam muttered under his breath, already getting up to clean up his dinner that fell onto the floor.
tom, although actually loving the idea, retorts, "if we were having a child, i’m pretty sure i would be buying a house and decorating it for our baby but anyway."
our baby tugs at your heartstrings immensely. you’re sure you fell in love with him a little more.
"she's yanno... monthly stuff," and he closed his eyes, mentally slapping himself for sounding immature and it made you snicker loudly, "she's on her period."
everyone's faces then seemed to have registered what he had said, whilst you bit your lip to hide the smile at their boyish awkwardness. though, harry seemed unfazed,
"oh, so no sex, huh?" he quizzed.
you pursed your lips before responding simply, "you can totally have sex; i just choose not to."
"how's that going since you're like fucking horny rabbits?"
tuwaine scrunched his face in a grimace, "already saw that today. please don't remind me," and turns his face to look at harrison and harry, “i’m telling you, probably because i’ve not got dicked down for a long while now but i swear it looked like i was watching porn─”
"─i was rubbing her stomach!"
harrison snorted and tuwaine joined in, liking where this was going and seeing their best mate's red face was actually worth it.
tom insisted, "fuckin' ell just shut up, mate."
"ah, so ive been told that a few days after a girl's off her period, there's a high chance of conception," haz interjected, dismissing tom's comment, whilst he wiggled his eyebrows, "what you gonna do?"
the more you sat there, the more the urge to laugh was getting increasingly difficult to suppress - but your embarrassment resembled to that of your boyfriend's and there was no getting out of it.
yet if you were honest, you wished you had gone out of the living room by then when tom had told them,
"i'll fuck her senseless. what are you gonna do about it?"
1K notes · View notes
Java Jive (Reid Request)
Request: something really fluffy. A cafe that Spencer goes to a lot just to relax and see Reader. Then he brings the team one day after a tough case because he finds it easy to relax there.
A/N: Here is a sweet and funny Spencer!POV café fic for you 🥰 with wingwoman Emily!
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Content Warning: None!
Word Count: 2.9k
We all have our way to unwind. For me, that process has always involved a good cup of coffee, opposed to the stale instant coffee kept at most stations. It also has almost always included a book or some other type of reading material.
But most of all, for almost the entirety of my existence, it involved being alone.
That remained true even through many years at the BAU, which is arguably one of the most difficult jobs out there when it came to relative exposure to traumatic experiences. It remained true through multiple kidnappings, addiction, and heartbreak.
The only thing, it seemed, that could break my terrible habit of self-isolation was her. It was (y/n).
I don’t know why. Maybe it was just something about how it felt the first time she looked at me that my brain couldn’t let go of. Maybe it was because her job at the cafe meant she always smelled like my favorite thing in the world. Maybe it was her smile or her laugh or the way she never made me feel like I didn’t belong.
I don’t know what it was, but no matter what happened, I always preferred her company to being alone.
The drive to see her became so common, so overwhelming, that when a case left us back at Quantico in the middle of the day, I had to see her. Routine be damned. It didn’t matter to me that I wasn’t even alone yet, or that it would cause my two seemingly separate worlds to collide.
I just had to see her.
Emily was none the wiser of what this coffee run meant to me. I hadn’t actually thought to tell her, considering I had no idea whether (y/n) would actually be working. If she wasn’t, then it wouldn’t matter, and I could at least enjoy a better cup of coffee than I would have had at work.
But, sure enough, fate was on my side (or not, depending on who you asked). Because as soon as we stepped inside, I heard her laughter fill the bustling room. She hadn’t spotted me yet, but I didn’t mind. I actually liked the chance to see into her world. She seemed so different around me, and I still hadn’t figured out if it was a good thing or not.
“Is something wrong, Reid?”
My head actually shook as I jumped back to reality. Emily stood a few steps ahead, having moved forward with the line while I stood and stared dumbly ahead.
“No, sorry. I just zoned out.”
She accepted my answer, but only barely. I saw the suspicion creeping over her features as her eyes stuck to mine. But I wasn’t looking back. I was still staring ahead, lost in thoughts of what to say when it was finally my turn.
I was never good at coming up with words around her. She never seemed to mind. In a weird way, I sort of think she liked when I rambled. But that couldn’t be true, right? But then why did her face light up almost immediately when she saw me?
“Spencer!” (Y/n) cheered over the grinding of machines. Usually the added noise would make the tiny, crowded cafe atmosphere unbearable, but at that moment, it felt like there was nothing else in the world but her.
“Hey,” I answered dreamily. At first, that was all I said. But after a strange wayward glance from Emily, I continued, “It’s busy this time of day.”
“Yeah, not everyone works your weird hours,” she giggled. Like myself seconds prior, her eyes flickered over to the dark-haired woman at my left.
“I’m assuming you’ll have your usual, but what about your... friend?”
The woman that I still hadn’t introduced.
“Oh! Right, I’m sorry. This is Emily. She works with me,” I explained with only the normal amount of weirdness. Luckily for me, (y/n) had enough charm for the both of us. Once the name had registered, a wide smile stretched over her cheeks.
“This is Emily! Wow, it’s nice to put a face to the name!”
Again, both of the women stared at me. Except this time, I was actually too distracted to have caught wind of what was expected of me.
“Wish I could do the same,” Emily suggested with a not-so-subtle knock of her elbow against my side.
“Right! Sorry!” I squeaked, pausing only to hear the soft giggle that (y/n) gave in return. “Emily, this is, uh— this is (y/n).”
Then there was silence. An incredibly awkward, stunned silence, that for once in my life was not my fault. Emily’s eyes bounced back and forth between the two of us with an increasing speed and mounting confusion before she repeated, “This is (y/n)?”
“… Yes?” I answered warily. She seemed even more confused.
Thankfully for the both of us, (y/n) didn’t seem to mind. Or at least, she didn’t mind enough to hold up the line. With that typical charming demeanor, she leaned forward on the counter and brought our attention back to where it ought to be.
“Nice to meet you, Emily. What can I get for you?”
I could barely follow along for the rest of the order because my eyes were too busy burning into Emily. She definitely noticed, but just sort of shrugged at me like I was somehow responsible for the increasingly tense situation in my favorite place to relax.
As soon as we stepped out of earshot, Emily’s hand grabbed my arm like a vice, pulling me further out of the way and shouting in a hushed whisper, “Reid! What the hell?”
“What do you mean what the hell?” I whisper-shouted back, “Why were you being so weird?!”
With even more exasperation, she scoffed, “I’m the weird one?”
She had no reason to act so shocked by the accusation. I wasn’t the one who’d just stared slack-jawed at the barista because she told me her name.
“For once in our friendship, yes, you are being the weird one!”
There was some sympathy in her expression, but it was buried under layers of anxiety and confusion that I still couldn’t find an explanation for. Her hands were waving in the air like a goddamn lunatic (or me on any given day), but that provided little context for what the hell was happening.
Eventually, she relented in her torture with a deep sigh. But as she started to talk, I felt the frustration mount again with quickening words. “Because I—I mean, from the way you talked about her I always assumed she was your girlfriend, not your barista!”
Both of us paused as we heard her voice calling our names through the cafe. I turned to find that she’d left our drinks at the counter without another glance. I couldn’t tell if she was just preoccupied with the ever-growing line or if she was somehow upset I’d dragged my work life into her world. Which, to be fair, I was also currently regretting.
“What did you expect me to think?” Emily continued in a high pitched whisper while we made our way to our seats, “You talked about her eyes for like five whole minutes last week!”
I hated the way my face immediately burned red, but I at least maintained enough blood elsewhere to have the wherewithal to respond, “Yeah, Emily! I talk a lot. I thought you already knew that about me!”
“You don’t talk like that,” she shot back with a clever little smirk that made any flushing exponentially worse.
“Whatever,” I conceded before tagging on, “Just... act normal, please.”
It was a sentence I’m not sure either of us had ever expected me to say to her, but it had happened, and we were living it. Emily seemed just as lost in the situation, and just shook her head with a little scoff as she said, “I’m cool.”
And surprisingly, she was. The rest of the outing was spent in a comfortable quiet; we didn’t have to talk a lot to enjoy each other’s company. We lost ourselves in our respective reading and popped back into the real world every couple of moments to share something interesting. It was the perfect kind of symbiotic relationship that I loved about my friendships.
But I couldn’t get what Emily had said out of my head. If she noticed the dramatic drop off in my reading speed, she said nothing of it. The truth was that I was distracted. More so than usual, even for these circumstances.
It wasn’t that grand of a revelation to realize that I spoke highly of (y/n). What was strange and intriguing was the idea that she would ever return those feelings. The very notion made my stomach do flips in a way that was more enjoyable than I was used to. My pulse would spike every time I pictured something as simple as holding her hand, so eventually I had to stop thinking about it entirely for my own well-being.
Unfortunately for my heart and my sanity, (y/n) had other ideas.
I say unfortunately, but I had no regrets or reservations about what happened next. After all, how could I worry about anything else when I felt familiar arms wrap around me from behind? (Y/n)’s hair tickled my cheek as she practically threw herself over the back of my chair to hug me as best as she could given the circumstances.
“Hey! Are you on break?” I asked as I turned to see her. Thankfully I got the words out before I was rendered breathless by the mere proximity of her face to mine. She didn’t move away at all, either.
“No, I’m just popping by. Couldn’t break our tradition.”
We both turned to the other woman at the table, and I shrunk a little bit back into (y/n)’s arms at the look Emily was giving me. It was this cloyingly sweet yet devilish smile that told me she had something up her sleeve. And sleight of hand was my thing.
But (y/n) wasn’t bothered by the challenge flowing between the two of us. She just pulled back enough that she could rest her chin on my head as she mumbled, “Whenever Spencer doesn’t come visit for over a week, I owe him a hug when he comes back. Since it means it was a tough case.”
“You’re kidding. That’s so sweet,” Emily said, her voice rising in inflection but falling in volume. But then her eyes shifted back down to me for just a second, almost like she was trying to convince herself that the person in front of her at that moment was really the same one she’d known for all these years.
I didn’t blame her. It must have been strange, to see me so comfortable in the arms of someone outside of the team. But honestly? They weren’t that far apart in my mind. How she’d done it, I wasn’t sure, but (y/n) had wiggled her way into my heart and become a part of my life just as important as the ones I’d called family.
And… I wasn’t complaining about it.
“Can I ask you a question?” Emily blurted out.
My whole body tensed beneath (y/n) in response. Although she pulled away from me, I didn’t take offense to it. I managed to convince myself it was just because she could tell I was uncomfortable, and not because she was bothered by my reaction.
Regardless, I couldn’t hide my discontentment at the loss of her warmth. And that, combined with the sneaking suspicion of what Emily’s question was going to entail, led to my very heated glare being aimed directly at the woman across the table.
“Sure. What’s up?” (Y/n) answered casually.
“Why aren’t you two dating?”
Neither of us were prepared. However, having just taken a sip from my drink in an attempt to distract myself from the awkwardness that was ensuing, I was decidedly less so. I nearly choked on the hot liquid, and I was grateful that (y/n) had moved out of the way so I hadn’t smashed her chin as my body jerked up in the chair.
“What?!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in an exasperated act as she continued, “You’re just so cute! It’s an understandable question!”
I don’t know what I expected. There were many likely possibilities. (Y/n) could just laugh the question off, or perhaps ignore it entirely. She could nervously come up with an excuse to leave, or even make up an entire fake boyfriend to dodge the question. There were many, many ways for her to let me down easy. But what I definitely wasn’t expecting was what happened.
“No worries,” she shrugged.
That wasn’t the interesting part. It was what immediately followed.
“He never asked.”
That time, it was my turn to look confused. Emily, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted. Her mouth hung open in a goofy grin that seemed to be aimed more at me than (y/n).
“What?” I barely managed to ask.
There was no similar hesitancy or struggle for her, though. She just cocked her hip to the side and dropped her head with it. “You’ve never asked me out, so we aren’t dating,” she explained, like that was the part I was confused about.
But the words to describe my scrambled thoughts were too far away. I couldn’t figure out how to express to her that it wasn’t the asking that left me paralyzed. It was her answer. And really, she seemed a bit too progressive to be so stuck on traditional gender roles.
So, my brain, in all its absolute stupidity, decided to take that route instead of the one where I sing her praise. Naturally.
“Well... y-you never asked, either!” I squeaked, cringing at my own tone.
She paused, shifting her head side to side a couple of times before she conceded, “That’s fair. Do you want to go out sometime?”
Then, for what felt like the millionth time, the only word I could think to say was, “What?”
“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” she repeated, this time with a little smile that robbed my lungs of air and my heart of its rhythm. A smile that signified a freedom and a fun that I never thought was really possible.
“Uh—Y-yeah. Yes. Yeah, sure,” I stammered. When she continued to just look at me with that smile slowly shifting into a smirk, I cleared my throat and the insecurities that had no business sticking around at that point.
“Yes, I would like that,” I said more confidently.
“Okay, cool,” she chuckled back. It was so casual, so calm and cute and perfect that I almost forgot the rest of the world existed. The tiny world we’d found ourselves in didn’t have the devilish giggles of Emily or the grinding and banging of machines.
All it had was me and her, facing the futures we’d each apparently envisioned in secret, realizing that it had always been in our reach. My hands burned with the desire to touch her, to bring her closer to me and show her exactly what I’d had bottled up all along.
But then the rest of the world came calling, literally and figuratively.
“(Y/n)!” her coworker called from behind the counter.
She turned to me, first, an awkward, lopsided smile falling over her face as she finally looked back up to the third person with us and anxiously laughed, “Oops. Sorry, gotta get back to work. It was nice meeting you, Emily!”
“Likewise,” the other woman answered with a far more complacent smile.
Realistically, I knew that the rest of the world had always been there, and I became aware of it almost immediately after (y/n) had left. But with that same mystic magic that normally existed in her presence, the chaos of the coffee shop didn’t bother me.
A perplexed smile was practically glued to my face, and it stubbornly persisted even as I choked out, “What just happened?”
“I’ll tell you what just happened— I won,” Emily answered with a snicker.
“Won what? We weren’t competing for anything!”
“But I was right,” she cut in before I could find a way for her to have been wrong. Lifting her drink up, she gestured to the girl that was still shooting us happy little glances between customers. “She is your girlfriend, you two just didn’t know it yet.”
“That’s not at all how that works,” I mumbled, unable to come up with a better argument while still lost in the life-altering levels of bliss I felt at that moment.
“Whatever you say,” Emily contentedly sighed, “She’s your girlfriend now, though. You’re welcome.”
With another glare, I shook my head and turned away from her. It was partially to gain a better vantage point, and partially because I didn’t want her to see the blush that appeared from the repeated use of the word ‘girlfriend’ in relation to (y/n).
“I’m not going to thank you,” I scoffed.
“That’s alright,” she hummed as she watched my eyes drift away from her again, “The knowing and the coffee is enough for me.”
(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)
817 notes · View notes
Walking fashion disaster
Marinette glared at the cover of Gotham Gazette. Why would they ever pick such an outfit to be on the main cover, she would never understand. Well, she did actually. Dick Grayson, son of Wayne, one of the most well known local names to be sure to sell anything off the shelves. But...why instead of the looks when he is with the family, a suit, stylish and simplistic, or even his uniform when he worked looked fine. But they instead chose things like this, a complete utter buffoonery of fashion, a mockery of her life's work and dreams.
Marinette had never even met the guy and his outfits splayed across the pages ruining her day. Who wore such terrible fashion, she would never understand. But that wasn't the worst thing about her day.
Marinette frowned at the wall as she considered the timetable for such a request.
"Jagged, most items tend to take months to make, it is normal for a wedding gown to take between 6 and 9 months, and then fittings taking an extra few days, depending on the dress style, it could even be longer. That doesn't include the design process, let alone sourcing such materials for a unique piece like that, and that's just one outfit. You want me to do 5. The bride, the groom, and the two people of honour, and a custom suit for Fang. And you think 4 months is possible?"
"...Right, can't rush Rock n Roll I suppose. Good thing I haven't proposed yet. Would a year work better then?"
Marinette held in her splutter.
"You haven't asked?"
"Well, not with a ring. We've talked Penny and I. We agree on it, but I haven't officially asked to get the ball rolling you know? Figured I'd get you on board first." Marinette smiled.
"Okay. Yes then. A year would work fine."
"Rock n Roll Marinette! I'll see Penny about arranging sit ins to talk about designs and such and go from there, plenty of time to design, create, and perfect." Marinette grinned.
"Oh, my best friend who's the best man, if he says yes, I'll probably send him your way with his kids, you don't have to worry about their clothes, plenty of suits in their closets, but my main man needs to play off me and Penny in a way, so that's why only he needs one. But they might commission you anyway."
"Okay, I'll keep that in mind thank you Jagged. Goodbye now." Marinette hung up and shook her head in amusement. Honestly that musician was such a hassle to deal with some times.
She regretted this.
She definitely regretted agreeing to this. The best man was Bruce Wayne.
And apparently, his old guardian turned butler was one to think that a family unit looked best when everyone was wearing the same designer.
So Bruce was commissioning her to do the additional suits required.
Which brought her to meeting Dick Grayson, who wore a white shirt covered in multicoloured polka dots, with black pants and then some brown shoes.
In theory, it should have looked fine.
But he had a giant puke green long coat over it. And green was not a dot on his shirt.
How was this his casual, how?!?
Marinette refused to even look at the guy, directing conversation with Bruce on how he wanted his sons to match the theme in terms of smartness and each other. Plain suits in black, dinner jacket, slacks. All nicely done.
Until Tim his third youngest with bright sparks in his eyes leant forward and ask a question.
"Do you do little notes in the outfits to really individualise them?"
Marinette confirmed, but that would be in individual consultations. All the boys perked up. And given it was Jagged's wedding, being a little obvious wasn't a bad thing.
Three of the brothers had good taste. Damian wanted sleek designs, customised cufflinks that Marinette picked out to be little katanas, and something with green to bring out his eyes. Marinette asked about grey tones included and they arrived at inner lining green, and a forest grey flecked tie with some other outer lining and details in the same grey. Tim had so many ideas that Marinette ended up with a few options. A skateboarder was to be sewn onto the inner pocket, standard cufflinks, but there would be barely visible wifi signals on it ended up being what they settled on.
Jason wanted it as baggy as it could be whilst still being fitted. He wanted classic red and no details at all. Marinette eventually figured she would add a book in the stitching somewhere with a well known book quote on the inside somewhere as they talked and Jason eventually grumbled an agreement.
But Dick. Dick was impossible. Dick wanted on a black suit, blue and yellow.
Pinstripes down the leg or in some weird twin stitching and wanted a bird easily visible on it. But embroidered completely and in blue and yellow.
No wonder he had such bad taste in fashion. They got to the end of the initial appointment and Marinette heard about what he wanted, not who Dick was which made designing for him harder.
Marinette liked to have her outfits compliment the wearer. While colours were fine, solid blue and yellow wouldn't work. Yellow as a warm and blue as a cool suited different people in skin tones and while some could cross over and still look good, it wasn't common nor likely to work together, evem on black, which goes with everything.
Needless to say, at the end of the appointment, she was frustrated and he had a frown as if making his life difficult was an abnormal occurrence.
They had another consultion booked in for next week. Marinette had a basic idea of where to start, but personalising the outfit would be next to impossible for now.
Marinette was highly frustrated and red filled her cheeks as she glared at her irritated customer. They had no progress, she was still fighting on simple decisions for his suit and he wasn't able to help her with figuring anything out, just insisting on the blue and yellow. It seemed the more she tried to steer from it, the more he tried to force back the focus onto his desires. It was the pure thought of not letting her business suffer that kept her from screaming at him. Oh, and it had been a month.
His suit was proving to be harder to do than even the bride's dress at this point, because he wouldn't co-operate with her design process. And even now, with another meeting, he was slowing everything down because he couldn't help but flirt with her subordinate. Who was positively glowing under his attention.
There was a reason why he was on the magazine covers frequently. Marinette huffed at another flirtatious remark and stormed over.
"Sorry, I believe you and I had an appointment for your suit?" Marinette interrupted. Dick gave her a tight smile that showed his annoyance with her.
"Right, yes. Talk to you later." He addressed the girl and both made their way into her office. This session was no more productive than any other had been.
Marinette felt her eye twitch as she saw another appointment booking with Dick Grayson. It was still going nowhere, but somehow she figured a compromise.
Blue details to bring his eyes out, and then tiny, barely there gold details in a couple of places. She got the feeling he only agreed because 2 of his brothers had gotten their suits and only needed to be fitted and Damian was the last one who she needed to see in the suit before he could take it. And it had been 3 months.
But now she needed a personal detail and he was not sharing. Marinette was left fuming.
"You seriously do not have any interests or hobbies."
Dick squirmed in his seat. "Okay, important memories?" Dick frowned in thought.
"I use to be an acrobat in the circus." Marinette blinked.
"Okay. There's a few options. A trapeze, another part, a big top tent,"
"I think an elephant." Dick interrupted.
"An elephant." She repeated. Dick nodded.
"Okay." Finally, some progress.
Marinette could admit that Dick was nice. Personality wise. His choice in fashion still left a lot to be desired. But he was cheerful and tried to make her laugh when she sent along stuff as updates on his suit. Which was great.
What was not great was he seemed to act the same to all the girls and they thought he was flirting. That was annoying. His outfits in the magazine's still left a lot to be desired too. But this, was weird.
"You also going to Jagged and Penny's wedding?"
"Yep, I got my invitation before he proposed."
"Cool. You taking anyone?"
"No point, I'm going to be spending more time either fixing minor details, or Jagged let's Fang play with his Jacket and I need to repair it again. Anyone I invite is going to be on their own and bored."
"Oh." Dick frowned. "So you wouldn't be open to going together?" Marinette blinked.
"What?" Dick squirmed.
"Well, paparazzi seem to be focusing on my bachelor status lately, and Alfred suggested having a date to the wedding. Now I can't have a plus one, and you're the only person not in my family that is going, so.."
"You're not serious." Marinette winced at the flinch.
"I thought you could be my date." Dick stared at the ground.
"What gave you that impression?" Marinette asked. "We've been at each other's throats since your dad commissioned me. I hate your choice in fashion,"
"Whats wrong with my clothes?" Do m frowned.
"They are an eye sore and should never have seen the light of day."
"But they are good clothes!"
"They are not. No wonder you only look good in a suit, you have the worst ideas in what pairs well."
"I like to live on the edge."
Dick somehow was grinning.
"What can I say, I like to give acknowledgement to my roots. I did grow up in a circus." Marinette felt her lips twitch,
"Their clothes serve a purpose and still look good."
"Sure, but you still haven't given me an answer." Marinette stared and grinned.
"Fine. Only because Jagged would try something and an extra pair of eyes is handy to keep him in line." Dick grinned.
If they somehow ended up in a nook away from prying eyes in a liplock well, Marinette was right.
He looked good in a suit.
221 notes · View notes