#Some are random designs - some have been barely introduced over here - so on and so forth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wingedjellyfishflight · 7 months

Text

Abandoned

Ghost x König x Reader

CW: Smut, attempted non-con, blood, naked burly men, slight yandere vibes, but darling reader is on board with it

Working on behalf of a charity in the Middle East village you are working with is taken over by Al Qatala. One faction wants to kill you, and the other wants the improvements promised before they kill you. Many months of serious negotiations pass without an agreement being made. A US military squad moves through one day, shooting those who shoot them, seemingly on a random patrol.

You have been working on getting the placement for a new well pinpointed during this time, which was the goal of the charity on this trip, and now is one of the only reasons you still live. All of your possessions have been taken save for the shoes on your feet, soft-soled, so you can not escape, and your niqab which clothes you from head to toe, with a small opening for your eyes. Oh, and a single pair of underwear that has definitely seen better days.

A US soldier in desert camouflage near the edge of the village grabs you when you try to escape, and you think you are saved. Instead, he chuckles and decides he is going to have a little fun with a local woman, dragging you into a nearby empty house. He rips at your niqab, tearing your clothes from you blindly. It is only when your face is uncovered that he realizes that you are not local and not even Arabic, but an American like him.

As he continues to tear at your clothes, there is a noise at the door and a surprisingly warm, Scottish voice says, "Whatcha doin' in ere?" The soldier freezes, then glances next to him where his rifle is just out of easy reach. Before he can even fully make his decision, there is a metallic noise from next to you.

Another voice, cold and British this time, says, "Don't give it a thought." When he turns to face this second man, a set of hands gently clamps down on your arm and shoulder and pulls you backward against his body with a quiet but firm, "Danke." Your head barely reaches his shoulder, despite being tall for a woman at 5'10". In a smooth motion, he passes you over to the man at the door who wraps his arm and most of his body around you as he guides you to the alley between the houses. Just as you cross the threshold, you hear the US soldier say "Kilgore" in the most terrified voice you've ever heard.

There is screaming, yelling and some rather gruesome sounds of what, you don't quite know floating from the house. The man who led you to the alley tries to distract you, introducing himself as Soap. He asks you your name and other questions you struggle to answer, including why you are here in such a dangerous place alone before the other two men join you. You don't hear them walk over so much as you feel their gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck rising up in a primal warning.

When you look up from the much too interesting patch of dirt you have been focusing on, you see two tall men advancing, both wearing face coverings to rival the one you were wearing just minutes ago. The shorter man is wearing a neoprene type mask with a skull design. You snort internally at the idea of a man over six feet tall being considered short, but the sheer size of the mountain of a man next to him dwarfs even a six feet frame. Said mountain of a man has a curtain of fabric covering his face. It is black with two red streaks running down from the eyes. The former is introduced as Ghost by Soap. Ghost gives a brusque nod before turning away to speak into his radio.

The taller man you realize is the one who passed you off to Soap in the house. As you step closer to thank him, you realize that he is covered in blood and bits of...what is that?! You blanch, but with a smile pasted on that is much too toothy for the situation, you say, "Thank you, a-all of you." Soap is clearly weirded out by your deranged grin, and you say through clenched teeth, "Sorry. Tying not to puke." A look of understanding crosses his face. You glance back at the blood and viscera coated man, but he turns away from you. Soap says quietly, "That is König. Now, we need you to stay put so we can finish what we came to do and then you will evac with us." You nod, managing to control your stomach with enough swallowing.

The three men head out, each glancing back when they think the others aren't watching. As they leave, you find a small spot to hide and curl yourself up into the tightest ball you can to not be seen. It feels like hours of listening to guns firing, men yelling and screaming, and worrying if you will finally be able to escape when they finally return.

"Schatzi. Mein Schatzelinchen, where are you?" Surprisingly, it is König calling quietly for you as he and Soap enter the alley.

Soap exclaims, "Schatzi?! What the hell is a Schatzi? She has a name, you know." König shrugs.

"She is Schatzi to me. Ich liebe mein Schatzi," he replies in a possessive voice.

"Leibe? What does that mean? Lo-" Soap jumps in surprise as you wiggle out of the tiny hiding spot you found, and König blocks him from bringing his gun to bear, seemingly having already known you were hiding there and that it would surprise Soap.

"Come on, Schatzi. It is time to go." He holds out a hand, which you hesitantly take. It squelches in your grip, which you try very hard not to react to. The sound and feeling of it distracts you enough that you don't notice the loose sand near the edge of the road and trip into König's side. "Scheiße Schatzelinchen. None of that now. We must hurry to the evac." He picks you up and cradles you to his chest like a fragile bride. Soap eyes him hard, but hurries to keep up when König takes off in a sprint to join Ghost at the evac.

Ghost is waiting impatiently, and you see his eyes widen behind the mask as he sees you being carried, covered in blood. Soap calls out, "She just tripped. Blood is all from the big guy's 'work', and he decided we needed to leave like the hounds were after us wee hares." Ghost's shoulders drop as he lets out the breath he was holding. A chopper drops down just as they reach the evac point. You bury your face into the copper-scented vest of König's gear to keep the sand out of your eyes and try to ignore the sticky feeling it leaves on your forehead.

They throw themselves into the seats, and you end up between König and Ghost. They lean hard against you as the helicopter takes off, and you can feel your shoulders creaking. After a minute of this and the helicopter stabilizing the path it takes back to base, you lean back as far as you can in your seat. Ghost and König lean with you, still pinning you between them. They both yell in surprise when you jerk forward, and they knock heads together behind you. Soap belly laughs as they both sit up and rub their heads, glaring at each other over the top of you. Your quiet giggles go unnoticed by all three men.

Ghost apologizes quietly in your ear, and you immediately sober as a shiver passes through you and your cheeks redden. It seems an eternity later when you finally land at the base they are working out of. Soap takes the lead, and you walk between the two giants through the base until you reach a building off to the side. You freeze in the doorway when you realize it is a large communal locker room and showers full of men in various states of undress.

Ghost pushes you through the doorway and says, "Just follow Soap. We need to clean off this blood and...stuff." You hurry up to Soap and grab his vest, then shut your eyes tightly, trusting him to lead you safely. He brings you to a quiet and empty corner. You glance around carefully, looking for a washcloth or something only to slam your eyes shut and bring your hands to cover them when Soap starts to quickly undress in front of you. The sticky feeling your blood covered hands add to your face is even less pleasant than before.

Soap jokingly says, "What? Never seen a naked man before?" At the shake of your head, he goes quiet, and when you peek up at his face, his mouth is hanging open in surprise.

"No, this is...I've never..."

From behind you, you can hear the quiet shuffle of clothes, boots and gear being pulled off and Ghost drawls "Well, glad we can be your first and ruin you for all other men, but we still need to get the blood off." You glance back at them and get more than an eyeful of both Ghost and König before turning a deep shade of red. You realize that they have kept on their masks and guess that their anonymity must be deeply important to them.

"Fine, I'll just...umm..." You stare down at your torn and disgusting clothes. With a sigh, you shed your clothes quickly, piling your torn niqab, underwear, and shoes on a nearby bench.

"That is all you were wearing, mein Schatzi?" König sounds a bit out of breath behind his mask.

"Yeah, they took everything else months ago," you say shyly.

Soap tosses down a set of sandals for you to put on. "Well then, let's go rub me all over and clean up," Soap jokes, trying to break the tension. The looks of horror and disgust let him know that his joke hit perfectly, and his laugh echos through the room. You stare at your sandals, trying hard not to look at anyone as the three men walk nearly touching you in a bid to keep your nudity hidden behind their large bodies in the tight quarters of the communal shower. Soap finds a quiet corner and gently pushes you into it. "There's the soap, hun. Lather up really good, and then we will all rinse off together so nobody bothers us."

"Thanks." You shoot him a smile and quickly get to work rubbing the lather across your body. As you scrub down facing the wall, you try to get every bit of your body clean after nearly 9 months of bare minimum cleaning due to the village's rationing of water. You jump at the feel of hands on your back. Glancing back, you see König rubbing soap across your back, cautiously. You slowly relax as he gently scrubs the areas you can't reach. When he stops, you shyly gesture for him to turn around so you can scrub his back. The crinkle around his eyes that you can see makes you blush lightly, but you scrub his back anyway, returning the favor.

Ghoat seemingly pouts, at least you think so based on the glares he is sending König. You gesture for him to turn around after you finish with König. He groans as you gently rub the lather across his shoulders and back. You feel his breathy moans in your core, and when you look up, König is watching you like a hawk. You think he is mad, but he just says, "Good girl."

Soap has a baffled look on his face, looking between the three of you. After a minute, he just shrugs as if to say, none of my business and guides you to rinse off nearby, declining your offer to scrub his back. As you wash the soap out of your hair, you hear a man clear their throat nearby and open your eyes to see a stranger has worked his way near you while the men are focused on rinsing off quickly.

"Gonna scrub my back now?" He leers at your body unashamedly. You get your first view of an angry König as he claps a hand down hard on the man's shoulder and drags him backward.

"Leave my Schatzi alone, fotze." König moves to stand just inches from you as he rinses off. When he closes his eyes, you can't help yourself and take a peek down his body. A dark chuckle brings your eyes back up to meet his, and you quickly turn away to wash your hair again. The image of his cock is burned into your brain. You had no idea they could be that big and it was still soft. How big could did that thing get?

Clean but wet, your hair feels lighter than it has in months, and you've never been so happy to have a shower. Ghost turns you to face him, giving you a quick once over with his eyes. He uses his hand to scrub a few spots and splotches of blood off your face that you missed. Finally clean, you follow Soap back to the lockers with your eyes focused on his sandals. König and Ghost glare at anyone who dares to even glance at you.

Ghost hands you an oversized towel to use when you reach the lockers. It smells like manly and you wonder idly if that is what Ghost smells like all the time. Inspecting your clothes, you realize that none of them are fit to wear at this point. They are ripped, worn, and covered in blood, not to mention dirty from near continuous wear for nearly six months. You sigh and slip on your shoes, but just stare at the rest of the pile, trying to convince yourself to climb into them temporarily.

Suddenly, you are awash in a sea of clothing. As you struggle to get your head out, you feel calloused hands tugging it down your body. Your head pops out the top of the dress and you look down to realize it is a shirt. It smells like König, not Ghost, though you don't know how you are able to identify them so quickly. "Thank you, König," you say as you turn toward him, sliding your arms through and tugging a bit at the hem.

"You're welcome, Schatz." Your mouth goes slack as you realize he has literally given you the shirt off his back. His hairy chest and naked abs are on full display, a small trail of hair dipping down into his pants. You see a multitude of scars and a few fresher injuries, maybe even from earlier today. When you finally tear your gaze off his torso, he seems more than pleased to see you wrapped in his clothes from the look in his eyes.

The shirt barely reaches your thighs, but it's better than nothing, you decide. König disdainfully throws your old clothes into a trashcan, and you can't regret the loss at all. Ghost balls up your towel and throws it into the nearby laundry bin as you follow Soap back out, eyes trained studiously on his back. As the door shuts behind you, voices rise as many talk about what they had just witnessed, and one man checks the blossoming bruise on his shoulder, lamenting to his friends. They just shake their heads and tell him he was lucky to have gotten off so easy messing with a woman belonging to The One-Four-One.

Soap leads your group to a set of buildings seemingly on the opposite end of the camp. As you near the entrance, a frowning man in a hat waits. His voice booms out, "About time. (Y/n) with me." He walks off without checking to see if you're following. Ghost and König follow as well, while Soap heads off elsewhere within the building with his gear. Price stops at a door and turns to gesture you inside, stopping when he sees the two tall men flanking you still. "No, just (y/n). You can debrief later."

König grasps your hand with his free hand and staring into your eyes, says, "Goodbye for now, my Schatzi." You blush and croak out a goodbye as he walks away. Ghost shoots a glare at Price before turning to you and saying, "See you soon, Love." Price seems frustrated at how quickly you have charmed two of his best men and slams the door shut before gesturing at the open chair wordlessly. He stomps to the window behind his seat, looking out into the base. After several tense minutes, he turns back to you, gripping the top of the chair.

"Who are you, really?" Then, silence. As though he expects your answer to change now that you are alone. You stutter out your full name and his face changes from frustrated to angry. He slams his hands on the table. "I said, what is your real name?" You whimper and say it again, breaking eye contact in fear. He growls in frustration. "Then why the fuck can't I find you listed as missing?!"

You freeze in shock. "But... but... I've been a hostage in the village for... six months. I swear, I work for Blue Hope. I was here trying to get a well built for the village before they were taken over by those extremists."

"Well, Blue Hope has no record of you working there. Hell, whoever set up your cover must hate you because I can't find much of anything that says you ever existed at all." His glare somehow intensifies as you cower and try to think of a way to prove yourself with no I.D. or really anything connected to your life at all.

"I... I can prove I exist. I have an apartment that Blue Hope leased for me as part of my compensation in New York!" You sniffle a little as you try to keep your emotions in check, but it's difficult with your tendency to cry when you're frustrated.

He drawls, "they leased it, so how does that prove you exist?" He sits carefully in his chair, watching your every move carefully.

"I broke the rules of the lease and installed cameras. Bit of a nervous person, being away from there constantly, so I wanted to be able to check in, ya know."

"I don't, but how will cameras prove you are who you say you are?"

"I have two bachelor degrees on the wall of my office from Bandern University. They have my name and my majors and-and my minor. One is in environmental science with a specialty in water resources. The other is a political science degree with a specialty in international affairs. I'm still working on my Ph.D. in hydrology. That's why I'm working for Blue Hope instead of a private company. Nobody will hire a hydrologist without a Ph.D." Your voice strengthens as you explain your accomplishments; you're very proud of them for good reason. "I can show you on the computer. It's just a login on LinkUs to see the whole place."

"That doesn't seem secure at all for cameras that look into your whole house." He is definitely less angry and more surprised now. Captain Price navigates his computer to the website in question and puts in the login information you share.

"Yeah, I know. I turn them off when I'm home, but I know that isn't much of an excuse. I'm hardly ever there, so I wasn't as worried about it as I probably should be."

He frowns as the videos load on his screen. "Do you normally live... like a pig?" His try at diplomacy fails spectacularly as his shock slipped through. He turns the screen so you can see.

"Uhh... what?! My house isn't always the cleanest, but I don't live like a pig! Let me - oh god! What happened?!" The video feeds show nearly everything overturned and every drawer dumped on the floor. "I... I think I've been robbed! Umm... there. There is my office. If you click."

Price clears his throat and clicks on the office feed. "Ahh, does this? Yes, it does zoom. And there they are with (y/n) on them and the degrees you said. I'm still not 100% convinced, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt for now." He exits back to the main feed. "I need to investigate why you weren't-. Is anyone supposed to be there, a caretaker?"

"No. I should have hired someone." Your voice drops to a whisper as he clicks on the living room feed. "Wait, can you see someone?" Together, you listen to the man talking on the phone.

"Done. We haven't found it yet. I will have the full report once it is clean and empty tonight, but I don't think it is here." The strange man listens to the phone intently. "When will her body be recovered? We may need to intercept it, just in case she had it on her." He pauses. "Hopefully it was lost then because a local with computer access could be just as dangerous as an employee with the recording. Anyway, all traces will be gone..." The voice gets quieter as he walks away and out the front door.

You sit in shock. All traces gone. Does that mean what you think it means? Like, all of your things just gone forever? Price turns toward you with a careful look on his face. "I've never had someone exonerated so clearly and quickly before." His attempt at a joke falls flat.

"When." Your voice wavers, and you clear your throat trying to hold back tears. "When can I go home?"

Price looks decidedly uncomfortable now. "I don't know if you can, to be honest. I don't think it would be safe." The stress of the day seems to be finally catching up to you, and your sniffles turn into full-blown sobs. Price is now so uncomfortable that he can't sit still, jumping up and rushing to the door. "Where did those damn giants go, now? You!" he points at a man walking by.

"Me? Wait, is someone crying? Who's crying? I don't do crying." The soldier is quickly backing away quickly, looking nervous.

"Just go get König or maybe Ghost for fuck's sake, Roach!" Price snaps at him as he withdraws, missing the look of shock on Roach's face. He sidles along the wall toward his desk, watching you sob. The look of relief in his face when the door opens stops Ghost in his tracks. "Fix it, please," he says as he sits heavily in his chair, face in his hands.

Ghost stares at him, uncomprehendingly. "How the fuck did this happen? She was happy when we dropped her off." Despite the frustration in his tone, he moves to comfort you. He wraps his arms around you and picks you up. Ghost sits and settles you in his lap with your head tucked under his chin and shushes you gently. The glare he aims at Price is very short of comforting for him, though.

"Her home was wrecked and it sounds like it was the same company that stranded her here in the Middle East. She can't go home," Captain Price quickly shares.

Ghost perks up a bit, but keeps comforting you. Suddenly the door slams into the wall and König bursts into the room. "Mein Schatzi! Hands off her - she's mine!" He grabs you tightly and yanks you out of Ghost's embrace. Ghost tries to pull you tight to him, but there is truly no contest when König is running on adrenaline, so he lets you go. The giant of a man pulls you tight, tucking you against his chest, much like Ghost had and muttering in German about all the things he is going to do to Price in revenge.

You nestle against him, feeling safe encased in his arms and finally manage to rein in your sobs after a few minutes. König switches to muttering what he wants to do to comfort you, his fingers playing with the hem of the shirt. Your quickly spreading blush stops him in his tracks. "Uhh...sprichst du Deutsch?"

Your shy "ein bisschen" in response makes him groan and you're sure the skin around his eyes is red with embarrassment. When a throat clears behind you, he jumps and his entire body tenses, ready to fight.

"Sorry Schatzi. I shouldn't have wrestled you away from comfort." König gently sets you back in Ghost's lap. You grab his hand when he begins to back away toward the office door and settle yourself so you can keep hold of him. Ghost wraps an arm around your torso and pulls you flush to his chest before focusing on Captain Price again.

"Well, uhh, now that the crying is done. What are they looking for? What did you stumble on?" Price tries to get everyone back to the problem at hand with slim hopes that the other men will forget this.

"I overheard and recorded a confusing conversation working late one night just before I left the country. I guess it was way scarier and more important than I thought. I just remember thinking it was really weird for them to be talking about bribes when we are supposed to be an above the board charity. I only recorded it in case we get audited or something, because I didn't want to go down with them. I didn't want anyone to know what I'd heard, because I knew it would screw everything up for me and the village. I just wanted to get a well put in for them so they always had water."

Price rubbed his temples. "Did you hide it in your apartment or leave it in the village, then?"

"No, neither." He looks up surprised. "I put it in a cloud server...or three. I wanted it in case we got audited or something. It's easiest to listen to on my SoundLight storage because you don't have to download it."

Price's jaw has fully dropped by this point and the quiet "attagirl" growled in your ear makes your eyes glaze over and a shiver pass through you. You lean forward and pull it up on the computer, hitting play before settling back into Ghost's lap. The hard cock pressing against your ass surprises you, but Ghost's only reaction is a shaky exhale in your ear. König takes your hand again, making you glance up with a smile. He squeezes gently and you turn back to Price as he focuses on the recording.

The frown on the Captain's face intensifies as the recording plays and you feel Ghost's erection flag quickly. The tightening grip of König's hand just adds one more layer to the realization that what you overheard is much more serious than you could have ever guessed. When the recording ends, Price looks happier. "This is a serious matter. We will need to take action on this immediately and with this recording, we have some great leads."

You perk up. "Does that mean I can go home soon? Maybe save stuff from getting tossed?" Price shakes his head no.

"It isn't that easy. We have to thoroughly investigate before we commit to direct action or we might risk only getting part of the operation. It could easily be another six months before we have enough to act on. Even then, you might need a whole new identity. I'm truly sorry."

"What am I supposed to do then? I don't have anything to my name... or do I even have my name now? Do I go into Witness Protection somewhere?" The sharp "No" and "Nein" from both Ghost and König surprises you and gives you butterflies in your stomach.

"As your body guards have said, no. Witness Protection isn't safe enough. You'll stay here in our protection. I'll organize a room for you and we'll get some clothes together so you don't have to wear the cast offs of your dubiously generous friends." You're sure that König has a possessive grin under the curtain of his mask as he looks at the shirt you wear again.

"She won't need a room. We have that handled." Ghost slides you off his lap gently and guides you toward König and the door. "The clothes would be appreciated, though. And toiletries. And anything else, Love?" You shake your head, too overwhelmed to think very hard about what you need now that you truly have nothing, not even the niqab you wore for so long.

"I'm grateful for anything right now. I have more questions for later, but-" The yawn is sudden, but not unexpected. Price nods and waves you out without a word, already typing away on his report.

Ghost hangs back for a moment. "Debrief, Captain?"

"Tomorrow. This report can't wait." He pauses, having switched back to the camera feeds. "They found one of the cameras. We will have to keep this as quiet as a church mouse if you want her safe." Ghost nods and jogs to catch up.

König, unsurprisingly, has picked up (y/n) and is carrying her with her head tucked into his shoulder. Ghost sighs, not wanting to fight König verbally, but knows they need to hash out living quarters. "So, my room?" He tries lightly.

"Nein, no. She needs to be safe. That means she needs a room none will enter. That's my room."

"Nobody goes in my room" Ghost immediately protests, only to groan when he sees Soap walk out. Soap spots the three of you and takes off quickly in the opposite direction, having intended to sneak in and back out without being seen.

"See? No one dares to enter my room. She will be safe there when we go on missions. And...I would not mind you being in my rooms. Besides, Colonels get bigger rooms." The last was a bit of an unnecessary jab, but a good point all the same.

"Fine. Your room. Just no throwing fits if Johnny shows up at the door, alright."

"No promises." König's pace falters as your stomach growls. "Verdammt! We must take care of our Schatzi better. First crying alone and now starving." Ghost chuckles as König about faces and hurries to the kitchen. "We will find you a good meal before bed."

Upon entering, Ghost pushes the two of you toward the table and quickly puts together a meal. "Luckily, I just finished eating before Roach screamed at me to get my ass over there. Seems crying women can panic most of the crew." You blush and bite your lip.

"Sorry. It was just too much." König sits you on his knee and starts trying to feed you. "I can do it myself, I promise." You grab the fork from his hand and hunch over your food, eating quickly. The men sit watching you and talking quietly as you struggle not to shove the food into your mouth. The moans you make at the taste of the food have them adjusting their pants. "Oh, this is good! I haven't had anything this good in so long!"

With your plate emptied and your stomach full, you finally sit back. König pulls you close as he stands up. "Let's go to bed, Liebling. You can sleep off your feast." Ghost cleans up quickly and the three of you leave for König's room with a quick stop at the bathroom, which luckily was empty at this late hour. Ghost stops off in his room for a moment to grab some gear and half-jogs to catch the door to König's room before it shuts, locking it behind him.

After tucking you in the giant bed, König quickly strips off all of his clothes, leaving just his mask. "Some warning before you strip down, mate," jokes Ghost. König ignores him and climbs in on the far side of the bed, wrapping an arm around you. Ghost shakes his head before taking off all but his pants, carefully folding his shirt and trousers to sit on a chair near the door. He flips off the light, climbing into bed carefully to not jostle you. "Goodnight, Love...König."

"G'nigh Ghos, Köni," you mutter, falling toward sleep quickly.

"Schöne träume, Schatz, Geist." Arms wrap around you from each side and you curl up happily between them, feeling safer than you've ever felt before in the arms of two killing machines.

You wake up to a hand gently caressing your face. The skull on Ghost's mask is the first thing to come into focus. Even though you know it has inspired fear in the heart of many men, you smile, looking deep into his eyes. He seems surprised to see you smile, but you can tell somehow that he is smiling back. "Good morning, Ghost." Behind you, a hand tightens gently on your hip. "And König."

"Good morning" they say at the same time, making you giggle. You reach out and run a finger along the edge of Ghost's mask, catching the stubble there.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes," he breathed out as you ghost your fingers down his throat. König's hand on your hip slides up to your ribs under your shirt. Your hand continues to slide down Ghost's body, running through the coarse hair on his chest, then back up and over his arm. Goosebumps rise up in the wake of your fingers and Ghost sighs as you caress each scar and imperfection on his skin.

"C-can I kiss you?"

"Yes, Love." He leans forward and you kiss him through his mask. Ghost gently turns you toward König who also kisses you through his mask. You run your fingers along the hem on it, making him tense.

"May I?" You feel even more nervous at his nod, but steel yourself and gently lift the fabric, sliding your fingers up his neck to his cheek. The column of his neck is revealed, then his chin and finally his lips. Leaning forward, you kiss him hesitantly, melting into it when he passionately kisses you back.

"Mein Schatzi," he groans as you pull away slowly, feeling flushed. "Would you like to touch me, Liebling?" He waggles his eyebrows down at you and smirks.

"Yes, sir," you cheekily answer back, kissing your way down his neck instead of using your fingers. The long, low moan he lets out goes straight to your core, encouraging you. Ghost presses his cock against your ass and runs his hand up to your breast, struggling against your shirt. He palms it gently. In response, you kiss König's nipple, giggling as his grip on your hip tightens, encouraging you.

You kiss every scar on König's chest and arms before he turns you back toward Ghost, again. Together, they tug off your shirt and it's only when they both press against you that you realize that Ghost has taken off his pants, leaving all of you completely naked, but for the masks. Ghost slides his mask up to kiss you deeply and König lifts your thigh up to nestle his cock against your core. The head rubs directly on your clit when he presses your leg back down. He smirks as you gasp into Ghost's mouth with his first thrust between your thighs.

Ghost pulls back and slides down your body, kissing his way to your breasts. "Is this ok, Love? We can stop if it's too much."

"It's so good."

"Good, that's a green light then. If you need us to slow down or pause, that is a yellow light. And -"

"Red means stop?"

"That's right, sugar. Red means stop and we will stop and take care of you, ok?"

"Yea, don't stop. Too good." He chuckled darkly as he went back to sucking and biting at your breasts. König kept thrusting against your channel, driving you closer to an edge you've rarely visited.

"Braves Mädchen," he murmured in your ear. "Good girl." You melted against him and he changed the angle of his thrust to press against your opening, stretching you wide as he gently pushed. He paused at your whimper, gently petting your hip and wrapping his other arm around your shoulders. He pulled you tight against him without choking you.

Ghost was quick with his "Color, sugar. Tell me what your color is."

"G-green. Mehr." Your casual slip into his mother language had König kissing your shoulder as he pushed in a little more at a time. Ghost kissed you again, sliding one hand down to tease your swollen clit and whispering encouragement in your ear. König carefully stretches his way deeper, trying to let you do most of the work as you move your hips back and forth in your excitement.

When König bottoms out deep within your core, you groan. Ghost smiles against your lips. "Did your greedy little cunt take that huge prick? Attagirl. You're goin' t'cum on that cock, aren't ya?"

You nod silently, whimpering as König pulls back then pushes in deep again, his thighs clapping against your ass. "König! Fuck!" You brace against Ghost as König moves faster and harder behind you, driving toward his own orgasm. "I'm gonna cum on you, König!" Your whines and whimpers are driving him on. "I'm cumming!" König bites down on your shoulder as he cums with you. His cock throbs deep inside your core with little thrusts that grind him deeper and deeper. Your squeal and clenching sleeve make him twitch harder inside you.

"Good girl. Good girl cumming all over me," he croons. After a few moments, he pulls out and turns you onto your back to catch your breath. Ghost rubs his hands against you, still worked up. You smile up at him and pull him close. He smirks back, kissing you deeply and spreading your legs to wedge his hips between them.

"Is this ok, Love? Color?"

"Yell-no, green. Green."

He stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge your honesty. You slip your hand down to wrap around his weeping cock and gently tug him toward you. "Want you to cum, too. It feels so good." He chuckles, but abides by your wish, pulling your legs to wrap around his waist as he enters you. König caresses your body and kisses your neck as you take Ghost's cock to the hilt in one sharp thrust. From this position all three of you are able to see the bulge in your stomach when he hilts himself into you. In response, your body clenches down on him to his delight.

"Sugar, not gonna last long with you milking me," he groans. You boldly reach down and push on his cock through your skin and clench at him again. His hips stutter, then he is pounding into you and pinching your clit as punishment. You squeal and König takes advantage of your distraction to gently bite your nipple then lave it with his tongue in revenge for your earlier cheekiness. The mischievous slant of his lips tells you that is just the beginning as they work in tandem to bring you over the edge again.

Ghost suddenly leans down and bites at your earlobe. "Who's fucking you so good the whole base can hear you? Say my name, (y/n). Tell everyone how well Simon is fucking you."

"S-Simon! You're gonna make me cum! Green? Fuck...Simon!" He thrusts harder, his balls slapping against your ass as he tries to make you cum before he does.

"That's it, (y/n). Tell everyone how good it feels."

"Cumming, Simon" you shout as you squirt cum all over his cock and abs. The sudden wetness shocks you and nearly ruins your orgasm, but the look of excitement on Ghost's face when he looks down keeps you cumming.

"Attagirl. Attagirl. Gonna cum in you, Love. Gonna fill you up!" The look of bliss on his face has you more convinced than anything he could have said that he isn't disgusted by what happened in any way. He collapses down onto you, still praising you as he tries to collect himself. You brush a kiss to his temple and shyly glance over at König to see the biggest grin on his face.

"Good girl. You are perfect." You blush and pull him over to kiss you, too. When he pulls back, he pulls his mask back into place and relaxes in a boneless heap with one arm possessively wrapped around your stomach. Ghost slides off of you, half asleep already. Your giggle wakes him back up some, but the best he can do is a cheeky grin as he cuddles into your side.

It feels like just moments later there is a pounding at the door. Both men are immediately on high alert with König pushing you toward Ghost and preparing to leap out of bed. It's only the voice on the other side of the door that makes him pause.

"Simon! Simon! Answer the damn door! I need to talk to you! C'mon Simon! I know you're in there!" Soap's voice has Ghost dropping his head back onto the pillow in frustration. "Come to the door already!"

"No fuckin peace around here. Can't even enjoy the afterglow." He huffs and puffs, debating on ignoring the jackass at the door.

"Answer the door. He's here for you and clearly not going to go away. I will cuddle our Schatzi while you are gone." König sounds almost mocking as he brushes kisses across your shoulder and you gently push Ghost out of bed.

"What in the bloody hell do you want, Johnny?!" Ghost yells as he answers the door dressed in only his mask.

Soap yelps and covers his eyes, "Jesus Ghost! Put on some pants!"

"No, you pulled me out of bed with (y/n). Now you gotta deal with the consequences, ya knob." Ghost stands with his feet planted shoulder-width apart in a mock parade rest. Soap refuses to look at him, choosing to stare at the ceiling instead and thrusts a canvas bag at Ghost.

"I was just bringing by some clothes for her. Price said she needed some that actually fit and that he better not see her bare-assed running around in just König's shirt again." Having passed on the message, Soap abruptly about faces and takes off down the hall.

"Thanks, mate," Ghost calls after him as he closes the door. You blush as he turns back and says, "Well, won't be needing these anytime soon, will we?" He tosses the bag of clothes onto the chair with his clothes and jumps back into bed, his crown jewels flopping about.

König chuckles and slides out of bed. "I need to piss. I'll be back." You sigh and hold his hand loosely, trying to keep hold as he walks over to his clothes without a trace of shame in his bare body.

"I'm losing all of my cuddles," you sigh. Ghost grumbles and tucks you into his side.

"I'm back, Love. We can cuddle all day." You smile and trace a line down his chest, lazily. He growls, "Or maybe skip the cuddles and go right back to making you scream my name."

"Hurry back, Köni. I already miss you," you call as he leaves. You catch a hint of a blush around his eyes as he carefully shuts the door. Turning back to Ghost, you smile lazily.

"You're getting awfully bold for someone who had never seen a cock before yesterday. I like it, Sugar." He kisses your forehead and relaxes against you. "I'm happy to share you with that giant if it means cuddles whenever we are home."

Your sigh catches him off guard. "I don't know how one of the worst days of my life led to this, but I don't think I've ever been happier and more contented than I am right now, Simon." Hearing his name, his real name, sends a shiver down his spine.

"When König comes back, let's get you dressed and have some breakfast... well, probably lunch by now, sugar." You can feel his grin under the mask and nod sleepily.

"Food sounds good. Very... good..." Your voice trails off as you start to drift to sleep. Ghost jostles you gently.

"Nuh uh, sleep after food or you'll wake up feeling sick with hunger. C'mon up ya get. König has a surprisingly too comfortable bed. And I honestly don't think I have ever seen one this big."

From the doorway, there is a deep laugh. "That's what she said. I abuse my body too much on missions to sleep on a shit bed, though. Let's see what Soap brought, hmm?" König dumps the clothes out onto the bed, quickly sorting out a set of clothes for you. "Here, (y/n). Put these on and I'll air out the bed a bit. Can't sleep on sweaty sheets." Ghost practically dragged you onto your feet before going to get his own clothes on.

"I hate these clothes," you mutter to yourself, grimacing as you pull the shirt over your head.

"Why's that, Schatzi? I hate to see you cover yourself up, but why would you hate them?" You blush, having not intended for them to hear your griping.

"They smell like other people. I don't like when my clothes smell weird," your petulant tone belies your deep discomfort with the perfume-scented clothes. "I have no idea where or who Soap got these from, but they smell... gross."

"Easily fixed, my Love." Ghost gently pulls you into a hug and rubs his body all over yours. "Your turn, König," Ghost says as he shuffles you into his arms. König happily rubs you with his hands, then picks you up and squeezing your ass, grinds you against himself.

"Yes, that is an easy fix," he says with a gleam in his eyes. You huff, but can't hide your grin as he sets you back on your feet. "Let's go eat, Liebling. Then, we can eat you later." You duck your head and groan, realizing how much König loves his double-entendres.

"Don't worry, Love. I won't use dirty innuendos to make you blush in front of everyone." Ghost whispering in your ear has you biting back a moan. "I'll just say dirty things in your ear so you blush and fidget over things no one else can hear and hope no one else overhears."

"Kommen, you two. Time to eat before we get called to attention again." You giggle at König's teasing and caught up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. The smile you flash back to Ghost is full of promise. The sharp look in his eyes in return sends a shiver through you.

#konig x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x könig x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #könig x reader #size difference

243 notes · View notes

imnotasuperhero · 1 year

Text

Deep, in the dark, you’ll surrender your heart.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: What started like a playfull banter leading to a nightstand, turned into something else in the span of hours. (There’s a small part containing smut that I set the font in cursive and it doesn’t affect the story if you scroll past it)

A/N: I’ve gotten this request Tuesday night and it refused to leave my mind untill I created it, so here it is! An over 4k gigant that had taken a night off my life, literally. I’ve been writing and planning since last night at 8pm and It’s past 7 am now, which I hope helps you dismiss any possible mistake since my two braincells are squeezing their fuel thank. Enjoy!

“I agree. That specific shade should be garnet instead of burgundy.” You commented, leaning into the stranger sitting at a barstool with her sight lost into space.

“I-” The body in front of you stood petrified for a few seconds too long. “What?” Frowned the brunette looking back at you with a quizzical expression.

“You’ve been staring at that wall for so long I thought you were analyzing it.” You shrugged. “Is this seat taken?”

“See if I care.”

You smirked, asking the beardy man for your drink.

“Interesting choice you went for,” the woman beside you noted, clearly hearing your order.

“You see, when you’re in my line of work, you’re forced to combine things even in random aspects of your life.” You spoke confidently, determined to try a new bed tonight.

“That’s so, huh?” The green eyes beauty sipped from her drink, and you felt your legs tremble at the ghosting smirk perched on her lips.

Thanking the man, you dragged your glass in her direction. “Wanna try it?”

“How do I know you didn’t pay the guy to roofie me?”

Clicking your tongue, you faked your best deception look. “Damn it. You’ve got me.”

The playful smile on those red lips captivated you in ways you never thought possible. “If something happens to me, know that you’ll have to watch your back for life.”

“I’m good at defending myself,” you winked, earning a hearty laugh from her.

Seeing in anticipation how the stranger brought your cocktail to her lips, you choked at the low moan she breathed after the cold, sour drink collided against her taste buds. “I see you know what you want,” she nodded just to take the drink out of your reach. “Nu-uh, this is mine.”

“Am afraid it won’t be free,” you warned, and you patted yourself on the back when you noticed the stealthy deep intake of breath she took.

“Is it beet what I taste?” She scrunched her nose in a way that made you smile.

The following hours were spent talking with that beautiful woman that has taken your breath away from the other side of the bar in which you met your friends at. You could always rain check for another day.

Wanda, as she introduced herself, was a woman of many achievements and the CEO of some growing interior design company located on the outskirts of Manhattan island and, just like you, she didn’t lack the guts to do whatever she pleased which, being honest, you embraced with open arms.

Sending a quick text to Charlie, you extended your arms, smirking when Wanda accepted the gesture, after considering it for a moment.

To say the distance to her place was taking so long was an understatement. Luckily the car had a tinted window that separated the driver’s space from you both, not that you would mind if it didn’t. Lord knows the things you’ve done in the backseat of multiple taxis.

Wanda’s intoxicating lips casted a spell on you for all you could do was try to win the prevailing war between you both. Your hands rummaged upwards, squeezing with just the right force, taking a throaty moan out of her.

But what had you gasping was the sudden weight on your laps.

“Someone’s needy,” you rasped, moving your lips from her lips down her throat, kissing and sucking on her pulse point.

“You’re the one who drugged me,” Wanda moaned, moving her hips against your bare thigh.

Moaning, you grabbed her waist, guiding her through the chasing. “In my defense, you were warned,”

“Shut your smartmouth and kiss me.”

But before you could do so, the car came to a stop, making her grunt. “Hurry up,” she commanded moving off of you, waiting to exit the car.

After she got out, you quickly closed the door, following her to the entrance of the captivating facade.

The simple yet strong lines of the elements conformed an appealing look, calling you to understand the unique blend of the different textures intricated in a good-looking puzzle of warm colors.

“Nice contrast,” you commented, scrutinizing every single aspect of the exterior of the house in front of you.

“I can give you a tour later,” Wanda spoke a few feet from you, the expectation clear in her green eyes.

“Right,” you rushed inside, not able to scold yourself for admiring the modern style.

“The way you chose abstract-” you stopped mid-sentence when Wanda’s slender finger burned the skin on your lips.

“Less talking, more kissing.” She smiled something impatiently.

“Yes, ma’am.” You smirked, capturing her lips once more, re-exploring every single spot you could reach.

Stumbling through your steps, your hands held tightly onto Wanda’s hips, your fingers itching to be in contact with the softest sking you could only imagine in your dreams.

“Zip,” she indicated as her hands reached for yours.

Doing a quick job of the zip at her back, you broke apart from her lips, looking intently into the darkened green eyes as your hands brushed the thigh fabric down her pale skin.

You could only gasp as your eyes ran down her body excruciatingly slowly, determined to take in her natural beauty.

Once her black dress was discarded on the floor, you quickly strip to your underwear to then push her softly to the bed.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you vowed looking at Wanda in her birth suit, fusing with the sea green of her silky sheets.

Smiling softly, Wanda took your hand, bringing you on top of her. “Show me.”

You didn’t need more indication than these words for the hungriness inside you roared at the hallucinating taste of her lips.

Your tongue fought against hers, in a game of dominance that only the strongest one would win. You constricted the muscle of your thigh against her core as Wanda’s hips bucked upwards with expertise, coating your warm skin with the sticky substance and you made a mental note to taste her. But for now, you worshiped her body like the goddess she was.

The sheets wrinkled in her fists as your teeth marked her burning skin, sending her into a spiral full of ecstasy.

The painful moan she released when you moved forward just right enough had you grumbling at the need taking over you.

“Don’t hold back,” you ordered her, kissing her as deep as you could, not having enough of her. The tips of your fingers itched with electricity the more your hands explored her lustful body, and the willpower to keep her wanting was dropping critically fast.

With one last kiss to her lips, you began a long but enjoyable trip down the sea of warm, smooth skin, feeding a hunger you didn’t think you could ever fill.

Sloppy, wet kisses pampered Wanda’s skin, sending her to cloud nine as she gave into the pleasure you provided her, turning her into a complete mess under you.

The nails dipping on your back took a guttural grunt out of you, which only served for you to bite just above her pert nipple. You smiled when Wanda trembled under you, jotting down your discovery on your mind for later use.

“Please,”

“Hmm?” You growled, too busy sucking on her pinky nipple, as your free hand pinched and massaged her other.

“I need you,” Wanda cried softly, thumping hard against your overcoated thigh.

Sighing expectantly, you left her breast with a pop.

Looking up, you made sure Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours as you descended through her sternum down to her lower stomach, amazed by the utter craving reflected in her darkened pupils.

A primal moan escaped you when your tongue lapped at her folds, your taste buds coated in that elixir you’ve got the pleasure to discover.

Not getting enough of it, you poked and licked every single corner you could reach, enjoying the animalistic moans coming from over you.

“Oh, fuck!” Wanda cried when your tongue entered her. “Don’t stop.”

Grunting, you obliged.

She asked you to show her your devotion, and you just did that for a few more rounds, until she asked you for mercy.

“You sure you can’t give me one more?” You smirked against her lips, gradually slowing the pace of your fingers after guiding her through her fall.

“Maybe later,” she wrapped her arms around your neck, bringing you closer to her, enjoying the mixed warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Giggling, you decided to give up. Propping yourself on your elbow half on top of Wanda, your hand started to draw invisible patterns on her chest, quietly listening to her humming.

“Wonder what other qualities you withhold,” Wanda mused, breaking the comfortable silence that settled between you two a few moments ago.

“Not to brag about, but I’m doing well in life,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

At the silence settling once again, you looked from the hand in her chest to Wanda’s eyes, questioning silently.

“Go on a date with me,”

Your fingers stop mid-movement as those words sunk in. She wanted… more?

“I don’t do dates,” you shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand to your personal space.

“It doesn’t mean marriage, you know?” Wanda frowned at your refusal.

“I don’t care. I’m not looking for more than what this is. A nightstand only.” You remarked on every word, making sure she understood.

You heard her sigh pregnantly as you stood up, dressing up.

“Do you even know who I am?” the brunette stood up, too, walking around the bed to reach you.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are,” you hissed internally at those words. “I’m not interested.”

“I’m Wanda fucking Maximoff! You should be glad I looked at you,” the woman stepped forward, sending chills down your spine. The look in those green eyes that held so much glint a few moments ago shifted to one of anger. Her body stance alerted all your senses and you choked at the need to win the match once again, fucking that rage away.

Instead, you grabbed her shoulders, moving her closer just enough.

“Goodbye, Wanda fucking Maximoff.” You walked away, leaving a steamy Wanda behind.

A week passed since your encounter with Wanda and she hadn’t been able to expel you from her mind. The captivating, mysterious persona you possessed had her hanging with unanswered questions that, with the way you gave but held back, only seemed to grow by the minute. And the plans and documents she had on her desk only added to the headache her eyes were acquiring the more she looked at the different colors and textures.

‘I need you’ she sighed sending the text, turning around in her chair to enjoy the skyline in front of her. The imaginary finger scratching at her brain was getting the best of her, affecting her work.

The grasp on her phone faltered for a moment as the chiming startled her.

‘It’s an easy day. Come over to the bakery and we’ll talk.’ Wanda smiled gladly. She knew she could always count on her friend.

Stepping into the chilly air of mid-October, Wanda snuggled into her velvety coat and decided against driving. It was just a few blocks away and she knew for sure she could use some oxygen.

“I ordered your usual,” the redhead greeted as Wanda took a seat at their designated table.

“You’re a blessing,” the brunette thanked. “I was praying you were free.”

“That bad, huh?” Natasha smiled pitifully.

“Remember I hooked up with a girl last week?”

Wanda wasn’t someone to avoid subjects. She didn’t had the time nor the strength to kick around the bush. Much less when it was something that took over her whole life.

“Thank you,” Natasha thanked the young girl placing their food at their table. “She’s stalking you?” The smirk on the redhead’s lips made Wanda’s blood boil. “You should get used to it by now, Wands. Or better yet, create an alter ego.”

“Haha, very funny.” Wanda snarled, taking a bite of her cinnamon roll. “She basically discarded me like some piece of-”

“As your best friend, you had it coming a long time ago, babes.”

Those words ricocheted through her mind, suddenly realizing some… no. She was a goddess and everyone knew her worth.

“I’m serious, Nat! She didn’t even allow me to ask her out.” Wanda cringed at the whine in those words. You’ve come around like a brick wall and all she wanted to do was to climb it up.

And boy, did you come.

Wanda looked up from the sweet treat on her plate at the sound of the voice that haunted her since the day you left.

“Y/N!” The brunette witnessed quietly how -her- Natasha stood up, hugging you as you giggled, unaware of her presence.

“Long time, no see.” You smiled, keeping an eye on the barista preparing your order.

“Dude, yes! I’m sorry for not going the other day-”

“You’re okay, Nat. I knew it was a long shot for you to be back in time.”

“Really. We can meet tonight if you want.”

The whole interaction panged at Wanda’s heart as she saw you interacting so carefree with someone who wasn’t her. And the fact Natasha had known you all this time didn’t ease the betrayal she was starting to feel.

“-Wanda.” The brunette came out of her reverie at the calling her name and she’d be lying if the look of indifference in your eyes sent her soul to the underworld.

“Hi,” you acknowledged her with a polite smile.

Before she could answer, you hurriedly kissed Nat’s cheek, claiming you were in a hurry and your order was ready.

The feeling of emptiness invaded Wanda once again, forming a lump in her throat.

“What’s wro- It’s her?” Natasha asked scandalized. Her green eyes wide open.

“That’s Y/N,” Wanda sighed, looking defeated at your attitude.

“Oh, my.” Natasha sat back down, her gaze full of pitiness. “I’m sorry, Wands. She’s… she’s out of reach.”

“You have to help me,” she begged.

To be honest, Wanda was tired of portraying someone she really wasn’t. She’s been for a while now. Her own past molded her to protect her heart and never let her naive self show again. But if the last few days served for something, was to show her she might have found the person she could trust her heart to. If only she could have you.

“I don’t know,” the redhead squeezed her hand supportingly.

”You know her, Nat. Why is she closed up to me?”

“It’s not you, Wanda.” Natasha smiled tenderly. “She… she has her own dilemmas, too. Just like you,”

Looking down at the design in front of you, you sighed tiredly as your mind seemed to refuse to let go of the encounter from hours ago. Wanda’s sad face was engraved into your retinas, making your chest inflate with something akin to sorrow with every breath you took.

But you’ve made your peace with your change of character. You valued yourself too much to be left as a second option for some businesswoman. That kind was never a nice feature.

You just couldn’t take the risk. Your heart weighed more than any pretty face with a killer body that invited you to their bed.

Thankfully, the knock on your door took you out of your head, smiling at the grumbling of your stomach as the time on your phone read 8 pm.

“Did I ever tell you I love you?” You greeted the redhead, grabbing the bags out of her hands.

“Once or twice, but it better be true for that cost me a lung,” Natasha smirked as she saw you licking your lips at the food in front of you.

“I’ll pay you back,” you shrugged, hurriedly placing both pairs of chopsticks beside the containers on the wooden coffee table.

“How about you design my future house for free?” Nat tried walking into the kitchen, looking for the cold bottle of wine and two glasses.

“You know you’ll need to buy me more than this, right?” You clicked your tongue, earning a laugh from your friend.

“We’ll discuss it another time,” she sat by your side on the floor, taking the remote to choose a movie.

Content, both of you decided on a lighthearted movie as you dig into the delicious sushi calling your name, commenting here and there throughout the whole duration.

The weight in your heart lifted a bit as you smiled at the peace the redhead provided you. No matter how long you’ve been apart, your friendship was always intact.

“So,” Natasha spoke as the credit rolled on the darkened screen. “Have you got an offer yet?”

“Still waiting,” you sipped from your wine, enjoying the tingly sensation.

“I might have found you a nice spot,”

“You what? For real?” Your eyes almost fell out of its sockets at the words. “Oh, my lord, Nat!” You launched yourself at a giggling redhead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It was nothing,” her long arms wrapped around your waist for a moment. “They asked if I knew someone and I thought of you.”

“You’re the best, really!” You gasped cheerily, breaking away from the hug.

You couldn’t fit more happiness in your chest. Granted, you still had to get interviewed and everything, but the idea of taking a break from the hustle of being your own boss looked like a great vacation after working solo for the last 2 years.

To say that night you were unable to sleep was an understatement for all your mind could think of was the different projects you’d direct for the next few years. No more deals with the clients nor complaints about prices.

Feeling optimistic, you looked at your reflection one last time before confidently walking out of your apartment with a steamy travel mug of coffee in hand. The blasting music coming from the speakers of your car had your head bobbing at the beat, adding to the feeling of pure joy you experienced.

But said joy muted into nervousness as you stepped through the floor-to-ceiling doors of the building. The bodies scattered around unbothered by your presence.

“Hi,” you greeted the lady at the front desk. “I’m here for the design team director’s interview?”

“One minute, please.” The blonde smiled warmly before tapping away on her keyboard. “Take the elevator to the third floor, then walk straight to the office at the back.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, fasting your grip on the strap of your portfolio bag as you walked the directions you were given.

Stopping by, you knocked on the ginormous wooden door, you straightened yourself, confident enough to not think about the looks the people working on that floor were giving you.

You prayed silently as the muffled voice on the other side invited you to come in.

But all the nervousness and expectations you had flew outside the window at the woman sitting in front of you.

“Y/N,” Wanda gasped, standing up and walking slowly towards you.

You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to calm the turmoil forming inside of you.

“I should've known better,” you grunted thinking back on the comfortable space you found Natasha last Thursday. You should’ve known someone like Wanda wouldn't stop until she got what she settled her eyes onto.

“No, please stay.” Wanda hurried to the door, blocking your way.

“Is the position even open?” You changed your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the previous cheery feeling slipping through your body.

“It is,” Wanda said, hurt showing in her eyes. “It was just a coincidence Nat knows a potential talent to replace Julio.”

“I’m sure someone else will pop up,” you sighed, ignoring looking her in the eyes. The magnetic pull between you both, getting harder and harder to ignore.

“Please. Just give us a try. The company, I mean,” Wanda corrected herself.

Looking up to those green eyes that liked to hunt your dreams sometimes shined with hope and you couldn’t resist. Not when you had finished the last project and had nothing to do until you found something else.

“Whatever,” you walked over to the desk, unbeknownst to Wand’s toothy smile.

“Here are a few of my designs,” you handed her the black leathery folder, fighting the urge to pay attention to Wanda’s reaction to every page she inspected.

Focusing on every single detail in Wanda’s minimalistic office, you quietly calmed your erratic heart as you dried your hands on your jacket.

After a few minutes of silence, the brunette hummed approvingly and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“They’re really good, Y/N,” Wanda smiled proudly at you and you felt your heart do a somersault at the look in her eyes. “I like how detailed your lines are.”

“Thank you,” you smiled shyly.

“I have a question, though,” Wanda closed the folder and placed it on her desk, her intertwined hands over it. “I only see your designs lead towards the simplistic, detailed styles. How do you manage with Victorian style?” The perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in a criticizing way and could only stand still, hiding the unsettling tickles on your stomach.

Was that still ongoing? You knew there was always someone who wanted their place overcrowded with furniture that only served to suffocate you the longer you stayed inside the room. But never thought it was something this company specialized in.

“It makes me cringe, but I can put the client's wishes over my comfort,” you answered honestly.

“Good, because as the head of the interior design department, you must be open to things that give you nightmares.” Wanda smiled, trying to win your trust.

And that she did. Every new interaction she pulled out of you, served for you to see her as Wanda the person and not as your boss. With every project you both discussed, the closest you two became and what started like an overstay on a stormy night to finish some big project, turned into impromptu after-hour at least once a month. And Wanda couldn’t be prouder of herself for fooling you into deadlines that could easily be met the following day.

“Food is here,” Wanda informed you, walking towards the door. “Hope you feel like having Thai.”

“Sure,” you agreed, your attention focused on the different palettes of blues trying to find the right shade for this nursery. Unaware of Wanda’s soft gaze on you.

One of Wanda’s oldest clients asked for her to be the one who designed the brand new house he wanted to gift her daughter, and of course, she thought this was a great way to have you stay longer.

The more you opened up to her, the harder it was for Wanda to give up her hopes. And in consequence, the deeper she felt for you, like an innocent girl walking towards a spooky candy store filled with the sweetest treats you could imagine.

“Let’s take a break,” she suggested entering her office, looking at your couched form painting on the plan under you.

“It’s okay, I can multitask,” you shrugged.

Sighing, she walked over and took the coloring pencil off your hand. “I’m not asking,” she looked sternly at you.

“Fine,” you huffed, following her to the small sofa adjacent to her desk.

Allowing the comfortable silence that settled between you, Wanda ate her noodles thinking of the right way to say what she needed.

The curiosity was taking the best of her and the fact that Natasha was secretive about it only added to the itching feeling eating her from the inside out.

“Can I ask you something?”

Wanda could only smile softly at the innocent look you gave her as you nodded with the chopsticks still in your mouth and a single noodle escaping your lips.

“Why you refuse to go on dates?” She braced herself for the stormy argument about to start.

Only, it never came.

“Why so insistent?” You swallowed, allowing your shoulders to fall.

“It’s the only thing that haunts me every moment since we hooked up,” Wanda explained honestly, seeing how your face shifted from discomfort to resignation.

“My ex was a lawyer. She always put her work over me, no matter how much I tried to get her to come home before midnight.” You spoke softly and Wanda felt a pang in her heart at the disappointment in your voice.

“After I stomp down my foot, I promised myself to never be the second option for someone else. If my girlfriend can’t stop working to come to our bed, then she could never be the right one.”

“I’m sorry,” Wanda could only ache at your confession, the tugs at her heart only pulling further, imagining you alone in bed feeling so small in the nighttime.

“You know not everyone is the same, right?” She tried, tiptoeing into the idea forming in her mind.

“Says the one who stays after hours every other day,” you smirk.

“I don’t like being alone,” Wanda thought it was only fair to share her own issue.

Your small laugh got Wanda frowning. What could be funny about this?

“Nat would be all braggy about this,” you nodded in the negative. “She said we were meant to be,” you looked up at her and Wanda’s heart missed a few beats.

“Wouldn’t doubt that,” the brunette smiled at the thought of her friend teasing you equally as she did with her.

“Can I kiss you?”

If her heart was having trouble beating by itself, she was sure she now needed a cardiac pacemaker for the dizziness that appeared for a second or two.

Smiling brightly, the brunette launched herself at you, savoring the lips she’s dreamed of for so long.

“Is this some default movement?” You smirked as she settled on your lap.

“Oh, hush. It’s not like you don’t enjoy it,” Wanda countered attaching her lips to yours, not having enough of you.

“Does this mean I get to take you on a date?” She asked hopeful, after breaking the link for much-needed air.

The look of playfulness that she found in your eyes made her squeal in anticipation.

“One missed date, one late anniversary, hell; even one plan canceled at the last minute, I walk out of your life.”

Wanda could only nod frantically at the prospect of you having accepted her. The foggy dreams at the back of her mind cleared away as her determination lighted brighter than ever.

“You have my word,” she leaned down to seal the pact with a kiss.

She knew that it was too soon to jump into the pool. But having you in her arms after surrendering your heart to her, Wanda made it her mission to never leave you down. No matter what trouble she got in, she’s had the emptiness of her heart be filled by you and she couldn’t retribute you any other way than to put you first above anything else.

As always, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @red1culous @wandabear

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #my writing #requested

404 notes · View notes

howdoyousleep3 · 8 months

Note

oh mama k I have a thot for you

took a social media break for the first couple weeks of the school year so this has been bouncing around my head for a miiiinute

i had a dream a few weeks ago about daddy steve and baby buck (my comfort pairing, ofc) and how their dynamic becomes part of their every day lifestyle slowly over the course of their relationship which leads me to this

how do you think baby buck would react to finding out daddy had met with an architect to renovate a room in their house to create a special room for them to use for their more formal scenes?

in my head, daddy goes through the whole meeting and then surprises his baby boy so he can ask Bucky what he wants added to the room

omg hi bb i hope the start of the school year has been as peaceful as possible!!

Comfort pairing, absolutely. This scenario, absolutely.

It just makes so sense in my head and in their story that Bucky (and in return, Steve) would want a different kind of play than they're used to at some point, something that is harsher and more intense. And Steve, ever the proactive planner, immediately starts to think of a space they could have that would allow them to play like that.

He won't allow for any random person to see his baby in such a vulnerable state so clubs and public spaces are out. But Bucky really needs help getting out of his head sometimes and that's hard for him to do when they're just in their bedroom.

So, it's obvious that Steve converts a spare bedroom into their room.

And it's also obvious, that Steve can only plan to a point before he has to consult with and share his secret with Bucky.

He definitely goes through some steps, like you said. He meets with an architect, a designer, gets the professional opinions he needs before he wants Bucky's input. He doesn't need it. He could do this all on his own all the way up to the end, but he hates that thought.

He wants Bucky's input and involvement. This is their space.

It makes sense in my brain that Daddy Steve has this plan on how to introduce the room to Bucky...and then the plan totally changes when Bucky is dragging his Daddy to their bedroom and Steve just...

…drags Bucky down one more door.

Instead of letting Bucky look at blueprints and plans that are laid out on his desk in his office, Steve decides to lay Bucky out on the bare floor of their newly bare spare room and start running his mouth about just how he'd put this room to use.

Clothes are torn, half on half off, the high points of Bucky's cheeks are cherry red, as are his lips. Steve gets bits of sentences out, full ones broken up by groans and curses.

"You know how my sweet boy sometimes wants to be bad? How he sometimes wants somethin' different than what Daddy normally gives him? How about a room for that, huh?"

Steve has Bucky ride him, has him bounce right there on his cock, in his lap, as he mentions all the things they could have.

A bed with less forgiving bondage straps, a leather couch, a pole for Buck to give his Daddy a show on. A bench, an examination table, a St. Andrew's cross, a cage. A proper place for Daddy to put his toys and for Bucky to put his collars.

"There are so many dirty fuckin' things Daddy could do to you in this room. Whatever you want, whatever that sweet slutty side'a you wants, we can do it here."

And he'd make Bucky start to say what he wants in this room, right there and in between moans and mewls as he fucks himself open on Daddy's cock.

"Want...a big chair I can tie...tie you to. Want that pole to be...fuck, to be on a little stage. Want a desk or a chalkboard where we can...can pretend you're my teacher..."

Needless to say...Steve's surprise is a fucking success. 😵‍💫😍

#askK #daddy steve and baby bucky #daddy steve #baby bucky #UGH YES #this is SO them!!!!!#thank you for sharing!! 😭

40 notes · View notes

0x1-lxvesxng · 2 years

Text

evanescent

when 7 club leaders obsess over the quiet newcomer to the school

afab reader, yandere content

---------------------------------------------------

part 1

an exasperated sigh left your lips as you opened your locker, immediately noticing a sage green envelope joined by a pastel pink carnation. these envelopes were a common sight by now, though they were unwelcome.

a few months had passed since you had switched schools. ever since your first day you made up your mind to avoid conflict, barely talking to people and just getting through your school days. of course you had a friend (his name was beomgyu), but he was a childhood friend you met again in class one day per chance. considering how little you tried to communicate with your peers, it came as a big surprise when you received your first letter. you were flattered, you truly were. until the contents started getting creepier and more obsessive the more letters you received, that is. you came to the conclusion that this wasn't an admirer, but a stalker. it was odd. you never caught anybody staring, nobody talked to you, and the envelopes changed colors at random. it was as if the personality of the creep changed together with the color. you came to the conclusion that they probably just change the color depending on how they felt, and left it at that.

back to present you. the you that has been staring at the flower for a little too long now. "hey, y/n!" you hear a familiar voice behind you call out, a pair of arms wrapping around your neck from behind "oh no, another one?" beomgyu sighed. you just nodded, swiftly stuffing the letter into your bag, not even bothering to open it. you grabbed the carnation slowly and investigated it absent-mindedly. beomgyu swiftly snatched the flower from your hands, furrowing his eyebrows "another flower". you nodded a little "yeah, it's always the same flower but different colors. at least when the envelopes are green". beomgyu hummed and handed you the flower back "how about we go to the gardening club? maybe they have a member with an, uh, appreciation for carnations" he suggested. "oh my god beomgyu, that's genius!" you exclaimed, quickly slamming your locker shut and hurrying outside to the designated club area which was situated outside.

the weather was lovely but you payed it no mind, excited about finally having a lead to figure out who this psychopath was so you could confront them. or report them to the police. or both. you walked into the gardens, beomgyu following close behind you. the both of you took a look around, soon identifying the leader of the club by the little tag on his sweater. he was carefully tending to a small succulent, head tilted as he carefully removed a dead leaf or two. you walked over to him with swift steps and tapped his shoulders, making him turn around. you didn't miss the way his eyes widened ever so slightly as they landed on you, paying no mind to beomgyu whatsoever. "hi, uh..?" "..jungwon" he introduced himself, clearing his throat and looking back at the succulent he was repotting "right- hi jungwon- i need some help. do you have a member with a, for lack of a better word, preference for carnations?". the other furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, head tilting to the left "hmm, no, not that i know of. why? did somebody forget a plant in a classroom again?" he sighed and stood up, now noticing beomgyu for the first time. you didn't catch the way his eyes darkened ever so slightly, glaring beomgyu down until you gently grabbed his arm and tugged him somewhere more private to explain the situation. "okay look so- this is private so keep it to yourself okay?" he nodded quickly "i've been getting these- letters and flowers for a while now and they're very unsettling, so i hoped i could get a lead here. would you please let me know if you see anything?" jungwon frowned and tilted his head again, nodded with a worried expression "i'm so sorry about that, of course. i'll keep an eye open here" he pulled you into a gentle hug "here's my number as well, just call or text me if you ever need anything" he hurried off to write down his number on a scrap piece of paper before handing it to you. you couldn't shake the feeling that something about jungwon was wrong, so very wrong as you pocketed the paper. you shrugged it off and thanked him, turning to leave the club with beomgyu, once again not catching the sinister glint in the club leader's eyes. "oh, take this. a pretty flower for a pretty girl" jungwon quickly ran after you, handing you a rose with red cheeks before hurrying back to his succulent. you looked at beomgyu in confusion before shrugging, leaving the club together. "i'm sorry that that was useless" beomgyu sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "it's okay. let's just go home" you smiled and he nodded "i'll walk you there"

#yandere niki #yandere kpop #yandere jungwon #yandere jay #yandere jake #yandere heeseung #yandere enhypen #enhypen #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #jake enhypen #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunoo #heeseung enhypen #enhypen jay

313 notes · View notes

slothgiirl · 3 years

Text

the spy part 1(keith x reader)

8k. explicit content. while on medical leave reader meets the red paladin of voltron during the war against Zarkon.

The corridors are well lit. It’s like being in a brand new hospital, this ship in the rebel fleet.

People hustle around, landing, taking off in smaller ships to distant planets. Your hand goes to your arm. The medic had given you a movement’s leave, so you were resting for now on this ever moving ship.

Outside the widows, you spy an assortment of ships, each one’s origins clear from the design. So many planets, so many peoples banding together against Zarkon. You’d win the war.

It was what you kept telling yourself.

You would.

It was just a matter of time.

You round the corner, stretching your arm across your chest, a simple form of physical therapy in deep space. You hadn’t seen earth since being deployed. The galaxy garrison seemed like a dream from another life. You had been on track for the chemistry department, long term missions to mars to analyze soil and dust, not this, not a war. You take a breath.

And spot the Red Paladin.

He’s one of the most recognizable people in the universe, and his grungy hair and distinctive outfit does him no favors. You’d never seen him before, not in the flesh. Sure. Voltron had saved your ass a handful of times. You wouldn’t have survived the assault on Arrakis if Voltron hadn’t rammed the shield. Trapped. Piloting a fighter craft that was closer to a mosquito irritating the Galra then pushing them back.

But you hardly knew him.

He’s gripping the railing tightly, trying to camouflage into the wall as an alien with crystalline blue skin and hair like saturated indigo leans into him.

The line of his shoulders is taut, brittle.

You don’t even think.

“There you are,” you force yourself to be synthetically cheerful as you smile easily at the paladin, who you realize quickly you don’t know his name but you know what he is and that must be an awful feeling, being so recognizable without being known. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you lied, elbowing the blue alien out of the way. You could never tell much from a single glance at themis species despite their largely humanoid appearance.

You put your hand on his arm loosely, “come on, we’re late enough and you know how annoyed the others get.” Good, that seemed convincing enough.

The red paladin’s eyes go wide, his mouth a grimace and it’s then that you notice the feverish flush to his skin.

But he doesn’t pull away or argue.

You ignore the alien and decide small talk was the way to go until you put some distance, “I’m kind of hurt you didn’t come visit me while I was healing,” you stick close to the truth, “but since it only took an hour? a varga? for me to heal I won’t hold it against you.” He’s too warm.

Maybe the space flu?

Was that even a thing?

You weren't sure.

Mostly, you snuck into work camps and blew up strategic targets using whatever you could get your hands on to make a bomb. The chemistry came in handy.

He sways as he walks, looking like your roommate at the garrison after a few too many hits after an exam. “Do I know you?”

You flush, embarrassed. “Sorry, I just,” you look back, but the alien’s been left a couple turns back, “you looked uncomfortable.” You take a step back, letting go of him. “Are you okay?”

His expression furrows, mouth a pinched line as he goes from suspicious to annoyed, takes a u-turn back to suspicious as he studies you, before relaxing. “Yeah. yeah. . .who are you?”

You introduce yourself, taking on the meaningless garrison designation at the end, “technically second year member, though I’ve been with the runners mostly.” No designation more than a number.

“You do look human,” he replies simply, moving to get a look at your ears, “not many of those out here.”

“And yet somehow the sentries always look the other way,” you muse, “not very bright. I’m almost convinced the Empire’s in it’s failing bureaucracy days.”

He winces, before deadpanning, “eh, I don’t know how useful a lion is against the DMV.”

You laugh.

He takes slow deliberate breaths, steadying himself, “I’m Keith.”

“Seriously though, do you need to see a medic?” He looked in serious need of a tylenol. The ships were usually crisp, you wore a jacket most of the time to stave off the permanent chill.

Keith shakes his head, chewing his lip before meeting your gaze with an intense concentration in his violet eyes, as if he was gauging how much titrant he could add before hitting the endpoint and if half a drop was worth the risk. “I’m just. . .going through something.”

“Anyone I can call for you?” You weren't about to abandon him here. Sure, he was a paladin and could probably look after himself. But you couldn’t in good conscience walk away.

He swallows, looking down for a moment and you are startled to find how much you miss his attention boring into you with the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen.

“No,” Keith replies mulishly as he jerks away from you. “I’m fine.”

Which was a total lie. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling well but you weren’t about to get on his case. You were sure he had people for that. He wasn’t some random soldier in arms with you that you watched out for and hoped not to have to watch die.

You swallow the bitter thought away, crossing your arms over your chest.

Leaning back against the hall, you watch evenly as Keith stumbles, catching himself on the wall. His mouth is a drawn line of determination.

You didn’t understand why.

There was aid here. It wasn’t the same as crawling through cramped mining tunnels and swallowing back pain forcing yourself to work through it until the mission was accomplished.

“Do you need help,” you ask.

“No.” He leans a hand against the wall.

You raise a brow, wondering if he would pass out for whatever weird space flu he had clearly caught and you could only hope it was nothing like the infections that ran rampant in the work camps, or if he would give in and accept your offer of help. The former seemed more likely.

You don’t ditch him though, focusing your attention on the porthole to the stars.

There was no rush: no reason to help him by force. People didn’t learn if you babied them you’d caught on quick back on earth during your tutoring hours. You had to let them fall and smash their face in sometimes.

So you stay, watching the stars.

Keith makes no move to take another step.

It still got you, looking out into the vastness of space and realizing this really was your life now, you were out here, further than you’d ever dreamed. Everywhere you looked, novel stars, distant planets teaming with life. You could have done without the war, but it was what it was.

“And here I thought Mars would be the furthest I’d go,” you comment more to yourself than Keith.

The red paladin makes a small sound of acknowledgement.

“Earth’s, or was, at the beginning of our space age. People had barely begun to live on the research bases on Mars,” you watch him out of the corner of your eye in case he really does pass out, “so no Star Trek for me but now I’m here.”

“There’s a war going on.”

You turn over to look at him, sort of annoyed because yeah you got that, spent enough time in the trenches without a fancy lion spaceship, but the bubbling annoyance dissipates when you see the upturned corners of his mouth. Keith was teasing you.

Shifting your weight, you add, “yeah well, instead of being a footnote in a Mars base’s history I’ll be a footnote in this war instead.” Gallows humor. You needed a lot of that when regularly infiltrating camps and posing as a slave, as a prisoner, the bottom of the barrel that wouldn’t get a second glance from the Galra soldiers.

He frowns. “I don't think anyone’s just a footnote.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” Keith looks away.

You feel bad. “It’s probably better not to be so cynical,” you muse, “but it’s like the vice president thing, no one remembers them unless the president gets assassinated.” God you couldn’t help how dark your humor could veer even when trying to be positive.

He looks over at you, head tilted, considering. Despite being standoffish, Keith was easy to read unlike the slick space pirates you’d encountered.

You meet his gaze head on.

“I might need some help,” he allows.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. “If you’re sure,” you utter, regarding him carefully and unable to keep the teasing from your voice. You shouldn’t. You barely knew him and what little you’d learned made it clear he wouldn’t take well to your teasing.

War made quick brothers out of everyone.

But Keith held himself afar.

A questioning glance danced in his uniquely violet eyes as he tried to get a read on you. “I am.”

You nod, stepping besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. You were always caught by surprise by how heavy a grown adult could be. And depending on the alien. . .

He takes a step, still holding himself afar from you, barely resting any weight on you. His muscles were stiff under your touch, back rigid that matched the uncomfortable look on his chiselled features.

You follow his lead.

At Keith’s sedate pace, it would take quite a while before you dropped him off where you needed to go. Being personable was part of being a leader or it’d lead to mutiny. Not that you had ever gotten that far. The Galaxy Garrison had slapped the graduation badge on your uniform and sent you into space.

You scrabble for familiar territory, earth and the garrison. The Black Paladin was a Garrison member returned from the grave. Rumor had it all the paladins were garrison deserters.

Veronica McCain did share a familiar resemblance with the blue paladin. It was probably true.

“I attended the Garrison campus at Guiana,” you offer. “I was hoping for Texas or Florida to be closer to home, but I didn’t test into pilot or engineer.”

Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat.

Even through the fabric of his uniform, he felt warm. How anybody could be warm in such cold halls was anybody’s guess. A permanent chill had sunk its way into your bones. You missed the humid heat of Guiana.

“It was nice though. The jungle was pretty close and it was always hot,” you tell him. “I thought I wouldn’t miss the humidity, step outside and it was like having just showered but I do. These ships have to be at 15 C.”

“Texas is hot too.” Keith utters quietly.

“Isn’t the desert cold at night though,” you ask, already knowing the answer. It had been basic earth science.

“Yeah. It is.” There’s longing in his voice. You wish he’d say more just to hear him speak.

Warmth spreads, an embarrassing tell, through your cheeks.

“I did miss the snow while there,” you continue, “it didn’t snow much up in Vancouver but it was never as hot as Guiana, and the rain was warm!” You had never gotten over that. The rain would spot and start throughout the day but the sun would keep on shining.

“What were you,” Keith asks bluntly.

“Chemisist, more the physical and inorganic type,” you admit, “it was fun doing wet labs.” That had gotten you hooked back in regular school. “Then got shunted to command track after a few too many volunteering opportunities. Guess the lesson there’s to not try too hard.”

That gets a laugh out of him.

“You,” you ask him as he shifts more of his weight onto you, finally accepting the help he asked for. Stubborn guy.

“Pilot.”

You look over at him, his wild hair brushing against your cheek and the simple action shouldn’t excite you but it does. He was hot with sharp features offset by a certain enthralling earnestness but he could run a comb through his hair.

Keith didn’t seem the pilot type: arrogant, loud, generally strong personalities.

“You any good,” you ask though you’ve heard about Voltron so he has to be pretty fucking good to be part of them. How did Voltron choose its pilots?

He smirks easily, close to a smile at the mere mention of piloting and you knew that moment he loved it: didn’t matter if he was good at it or not. You swallow hard as anticipation buzzes under your skin for no good reason.

Get your head out of the gutter, you tell yourself.

“I’m a pretty good pilot,” Keith answers, somehow managing to sound like he’s stating a fact instead of bragging.

“Just pretty good?” You smile at him, letting him know you were only joking around as you both round another corner, finally making it to the transient quarters. People were always dropping in and out of mobile spaceports like these.

He snorts. “Better than most.” Keith shrugs, smiling over at you.

“Don’t be modest on my account,” you utter, looking away, not sure what to do about the growing heat in your body that had nothing to do with temperature controls.

“It’s true,” he says simply.

Honesty was a hard thing to come by. You were finding more and more reasons to like the red paladin as you reach his current room. No special treatment here.

Or maybe it was politics and optics, making sure everyone knew Voltron was of the people and not aiming to replace Zarkon as rulers of the universe.

Keith places a hand against the door, putting space between you both.

You swallow, glancing away, feeling some of the tension ease.

“You sure you don’t want me to send a medic,” you ask him, looking over at his striking eyes. The heat under your skin is a live wire: you curl your toes in your shoes. People usually didn’t affect you this much. Even the smell of him was so distinct, drawing you in.

It was an unprecedented reaction.

He must feel it too.

Keith studies you with an enraptured fascination shining in his wide eyes, mouth parted on the verge of answering. Both your bodies sway towards each other like branches in the wind: sunflowers orienting towards the sun.

You shift your weight from one foot to another.

It relieves enough tension for you to shift away.

“No. No medic,” Keith finally answers.

“Right then.” But you don’t make a move to leave.

He says nothing.

The silence is broken by the hum of the ship's engines under your feet. People move about and you can hear their footsteps echoing on the metal floors.

Supposedly quintessence powered ships smelled like ozone.

This one was powered by crystals and some Olkari engine. You wouldn't know the specifics, they were beyond you. And not your job.

You look back at him, ready to leave. The space between you could so easily tilt to awkward and you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you found yourself so entranced by Keith. You barely knew him. You didn’t want to be one of the soldiers with a photograph in your pocket and a farflung hope that you’d-

He’s looking at you, cautious, movements slow and deliberate as if he’s caught between thinking and simply doing.

Then Keith’s demeanour becomes determined: deciding to take the leap without looking down. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you.

For a second you’re baffled, trying to figure out how you got to point B when this wasn’t a bar and you had no agenda, before you shrug and kiss him back. Keith was undeniably attractive. He was even a bit taller than you which was compelling, you were on the tall side for a girl.

It’s not some unsolvable thought experiment, you kiss him back.

And a current of static electricity runs through your core. Heat pools after only just a kiss that steals your breath away.

You can’t get enough, his hands warm against your skin, igniting a delicious sensation in your very core. You want more. You kiss him harder, your mouth against his, sucking on his bottom lip.

Your hands clutch at the fabric of his shift.

Keith kisses you back, matching your frenzied energy, his mouth parting against yours and pulling you flush against his chest.

It does nothing to dissolve the tension, the charged energy between you spikes. Like a fire fed by wood it grew.

It was a heady feeling, his hands caressing your cheeks as Keith kissed you with a vigor you thought only existed in soapy dramas. Heat pools in your belly like a sinking stone: you liked his intensity.

Keith pulls away, catching his breath, resting his forehead against yours.

Some of the muddled list clears from your head, now completely in the gutter as you press Keith against the door to his room.

Oh. . .were you really doing this?

Keith looks a fuckable mess, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. Still, he hesitates.

You can feel the question linger in the air, can feel it in the featherlight touch of his hands ghosting over your cheeks as he makes to pull away, to let you go if you want to turn back now. But you don’t.

You want to run your hands through his hair. You’re practically burning up wondering how Keith would look splayed on the bed between your thighs. . .how he would feel.

Would he be just as intense in bed as he fucked you?

“You feel it too,” he asks quietly.

You furrow your brows, thrown. There were a lot of intense emotions coursing through you all narrowed down to feeling horny as a teenager back on earth. Masturbation only went so far.

You swallow, trying to rack your brain cells together and say something. Yeah. It was a bit. . .much. Space much. But that didn’t make any sense. You hadn’t taken any drinks from strangers.

The connection was too strong to discount the possibility of space weirdness affecting both of you.

“Yeah,” you reply, sounding more whiny than you’d like to. The apex of your thighs throbbed with want. Anticipation had built up and he was right there; Keith

s breath fanned over you, his forehead against yours like a touchpoint.

Your fingers were still curled into the fabric of his shirt.

In the hall.

Where anyone could see.

“So what now,” you ask, “medic?”

Keith snorts, “No. I just-do you want to come inside?”

You smirk. Everyone knew what that meant. There were so many variations with the same outcome.

“Yeah. Okay.” You put a pin in any alien space nonsense and slip inside Keith’s assigned quarters for however long Voltron was here for.

The lights are off. You don’t bother to study the room when Keith crushes his mouth against yours. You stumble around in the dark, feeling emboldened now that he’d voiced an invitation, he wanted this as much as you did, and run your hands up his chest. He was lean and lithe. Keith leans into your touch, a shiver running down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair and run your tongue over his bottom lip.

Keith moans, the sound scratchy from the back of his throat excites you.

It was thrilling to know you could elicit such a response from someone. You liked feeling hot and sexy. And from a guy like Keith who you were vibing with. . .

He finds the jagged hem of your cut tank top, which had doubled as a bandage, and slides his hands under your shirt. His fingers are calloused, skin hot against yours and there was always something so carnal about skin on skin touch. Keith clutches at your sides and leads you backwards.

You trust that he knows the layout.

Your mind has boiled down to simple desires.

“Keith,” you mumble against his mouth as he guides your hips against his and you feel his cock beneath the fabric. It goes straight to your ego: straight to your pussy.

More heat. It’s unbearable how much your body throbs and you moan against him, against his lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling.

“Mhm,” he asks, just as overcome with lust as you were. Keith tilts his head up, and you kiss his jaw, kiss the side of his throat, nipping at the flesh and enjoying the breathy moans he makes as your knees hit the bed.

You want more.

You move your hands to his shoulders, “let's get this off,” you utter softly, pushing at his jacket.

“Okay,” he replies, crowding you against his bed until you have no choice but to sit down. Keith discards his jacket, and pulls his shirt over his head.

Your breath hitches in your throat. It’s dark. You can’t see him well. You still react like a charged electron.

“Now you,” Keith states simply, not exactly a command. It was nice, the lack of mind games and subterfuge.

You scoot up further on the bed, shrugging your bomber jacket off.

He’s watching.

Awkwardness creeps up on you. There was no sexy way to take off a sports bra.

You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Then you peel off your sports bra. The elastic worked too well.

Keith’s sitting up on his knees.

“You’re beautiful,” he states.

“Come here,” you utter, inviting him closer.

He complies readily, cupping your cheek and kissing your mouth eagerly, closer to a lover than a random encounter.

You grab his other hand, guiding him up to your chest, to your breast. Keith runs his thumb over your nipple, gooseflesh rises on your skin. He trails bruising kisses down your throat.

Your breath catches in your throat. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you, savoring the feel of his chest against yours.

“Fuck,” you groan as Keith bites down hard at the crook of your neck, harder than you’d expected.

He stills. “I’m-I,” making to pull away.

“No,” you reach for him, tilting his head up as you move to straddle his waist, “it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.”

“I won’t do it again,” he stammers out.

“I didn't say I didn't like it.” You push him down against the bed, topping him. “Just warn a girl.”

Keith wraps his hands around your hips, tugging at the waistband of your trousers. “These are kind of in the way.”

Laughing, you reply, “could say the same to you.” Your hands pop the button of his jeans.

It’s a fumble to pull your trousers down. Neither of you care, eager to get on with it. He shoves his jeans down his legs along with his boxers.

You straddle Keith, completely naked and lean down to capture his lips against yours. His cock twitches against your thigh and your toes curl up. His tongue runs over your top lip, you part your mouth, letting him in.

You cup his cheeks between your hands, your hips rolling against his.

He thrusts feverishly against you. His fingers dig into your bare hips, skin against skin.

“Come here,” Keith utters hoarsely, “I wanna fuck you.”

“Think I’d rather ride you,” you reply back breathlessly.

“You can do that after,” he whines, a rumble emanating from his chest but your head is too fucked up to make sense of it.

You sit up, hands on his chest. “That’s presumptuous of you.”

Keith grins, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and rolls you over so he’s on top. “Is it,” he asks rhetorically as his hand reaches between your thighs, ghosting over the wetness of your pussy, “when you’re this wet?”

You moan, canting your hips, cashing the feel of his hand, wanting relief. It was a mounting pressure in your belly, a forest fire under your skin and you needed Keith. “Okay. yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes when Keith bent his head and licked a stripe from your nipple to your collarbone. You whimper, lost in the sensation.

“Tell me what you want,” Keith asks.

“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” you utter, you hands clutchinf at his shoulders, bringing him flush agaisnt you.

Keith aquieses.

You bend your knees, spreading your legs as he positions his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Keith mutters as he pushes into you.

Fuck indeed. You moan his name without thought, closing your eyes and laying your head back against the bed. His cock fills you up, sliding into your pussy with ease given how turned on you were.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he stretches you out.

“God, yes,” you utter dazed.

Keith moves his hips. You roll your hips up to meet him. He nips at your collarbone as he thrusts into you with favour.

As promised he fucks you.

Keith captures your mouth in a kiss that catches the moans you make as he reaches between you and runs his thumb over your clit. His pace, the way he was kissing you madly. . .the heat that had been building since you’d met him comes crashing down.

You come.

Leaving you boneless.

“Keith,” you whimper.

“Sh,” he tells you, kissing the shell of your ear, “let me make you feel good.”

“You..sort of already did,” you utter completely fucked out.

“Turn over.” Keith says even as he’s already helping you move, his arms supporting your weight. He presses his lips on the back of your neck, as he grabs a pillow and sets it under you.

You bring up your knees, laying on your legs, “thought I was going to go next,” you tease, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

He stills, “if you. . .”

“No. No,” you shrug, “I did ask you to fuck me.”

Keith runs his hands over your shoulders, sliding down your sides. He squeezes your ass with his hands.

“Best two out of three,” you offer, half joking half serious because while you were still blissed out from having just orgasmed, you could already feel your pussy clench with anticipation. Seriously, the effect he had on you-

You can feel his smile against your skin, “If you think you can handle it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you reply, arching your back into him, titling your head back, and pulling his hair so you could kiss him. It was sloppy, and the angle was awkward, but none of it mattered when Keith stroked your pussy with his fingers, dipping into your wet folds.

Already stimulated, you shudder with pleasure.

Your tongue strokes his in an open mouthed kiss. He tastes as good as he smells, Keith filling up your senses like an incense stick wafting through a room.

He wraps an arm around your chest, his hand caressing your breast, pulling you against his chest, both of you melding together. Keith thrusts his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hand fisting the sheets of his bed, moaning into his mouth.

It was a combination of his cock in you, his thumb rolling your nipple in his hand, that set you aflame.

You couldn’t get enough, your hips jerking back, up to meet his. Keith fucks you against the bed.

He palms your breast in his hand, pulling you up to him, keeping you close as he plants a kiss at the juncture of your ear and jaw, on the side of your neck whilst nipping the skin and you moan, his cock hitting just the right spot as he slams into you.

First he grows comfortable, pulling almost entirely out before thrusting hard as he finds a pace that leaves you both a mess.

“Right there, right there,” you utter.

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, his fingers draw a circle around your clit without giving you the satisfaction you desperately seek, already building up to another climax.

You nod jerkily. “So fucking good Keith. Your cock feels so fucking good,” you manage to reply.

He speeds up, faster, deeper, at your words. The bedframe, bolted down into the floor, creaks.

“Just like that.” You moan wantonly. “Right there.”

He responds to your words, pulling out to the head of his cock, teasing your entrance just so before slamming back in.

You shut your eyes and whimper, over sensitive to your very marrow. It was too much. Keith was trailing kisses down your spine, his breath warm, his cock twitching inside your filling every inch of your pussy up.

With a shudder, you come, stars behind your eyelids and short circuiting. You never knew sex could be this amazing. Not in real life.

You got what people meant about the right partner.

The right sexual energy to match.

You collapse, a puppet with its strings cut. Keith’s hand across your chest is the only thing keeping you from melding into the mattress like a blob. His hips thrust against your ass mindlessly, chasing his own climax.

With another couple of thrusts, his hips snapping against you, Keith moans your name and comes undone behind you.

He comes inside you, hot and sticky.

His hand grasps the back of your neck, holding you in place as he comes inside you. It’s unexpectedly hot. You didn’t know you could like this in bed.

You didn’t know how much you liked an obstinate expression with wide eyes until you met Keith. He had the type of soulful eyes you could drown in.

He had drawn out something in you that you hadn’t even been aware of.

Your thoughts center on him as he finishes inside you.

“You take my dick so good,” he says with a surprising amount of softness for what amounts to a one night stand and a pang strikes your chest, wishing you had met him under better circumstances where there might be-

Keith gets off you, slumping next to you on the bed.

There’s a thrum of satisfaction running through you as you look at his face in profile. The insane idea that you might just stay and cuddle plants itself.

That was impossible.

It was time to cut and run.

Sure, he’d fucked you. But he was also still half a stranger. No matter how jumbled your thoughts were, you refused to give into the pull he had on you.

You wanted to lay there with him.

Keith blinks slowly, looking as blissed out as you feel, reaching out a hand towards you, but stopping himself halfway.

You feel a little disappointed, but say nothing. It was just a one off thing you remind yourself, no matter how you felt.

Now that you can think a little more clearly, though the sensation remains like a lump in your throat that starts there no matter how much you swallow, you glance around the dark room. Only the barest red lights on the floor illuminate enough to cast shadows.

Keith’s own eyes reflect the light like a cat. Just a glimmer of traffic sign yellow.

But you’re too tired to think, so you file it away in your head under the nebulous details you’ve learned about the red paladin.

You blink, grimancing as Keith’s come runs down your thigh onto the sheets. At least they weren’t yours.

He closes his eyes.

“I’d say sorry about the mess,” you break the easy silence lulling you into staying there, “but it's your fault,” you tease way too familiarly.

Keith sounds embarrassed when he utters, “sorry about that. I can get carried away.”

You smile softly, tracing over his shadowed form with your eyes but resisting the urge to reach out. That part was over. “It was good.”

“You did mention.”

So he could joke.

You giggle in the darkness that envelopes the room. You were good at being friendly and taking charge but you understood the hesitancy to open up to people you just met.

Keith’s chest makes a rumbling sound akin to a cheetah purring.

You try and hold onto the thought, sure it means something, but the sound draws you in and you lose the battle against yourself, curling up into his side.

He takes this as the permission it is, and tangles his limbs with yours.

A thrum of warmth surges where Keith’s skin touches you and you’re not sure if its his running warm or if it's all in your head or-

your eyes drift closed.

He’s purring.

You know Keith would be embarrassed if you pointed it out.

So you say nothing.

Everything seemed so intangible anyhow. The world had been turned down a notch. The post orgasm glow remained unrivalled.

Even a hit from a bong didn’t measure up.

Your first time had been a real embarrassment (you hadn’t managed to get the boy’s cock in you), this was just a weird quirk of his, and it was soothing.

You close your eyes.

Keith’s breathing is deep and steady, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but don’t feel pressured to check.

It was nice, not scurrying off, not being more than a little drunk. War was exhausting. Earth had only been in it for less than three years. No wonder some aliens were in such shit moods.

You exhale.

There’s no way to mark the passage of time.

The bed shifts under you. Keith runs the back of his hand gently over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open.

“So would this be round two or three,” you ask lightly.

Keith smiles lightly, “you did say…”

“I did,” you laugh easily, blushing, the flush creeping from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.

You swing a leg over his waist, straddling him, but not without feeling the start of a soreness in your legs. It doesn’t deter you.

Keith lays back, watching you through his lashes as you sit up. He looks lovely.

You lean down and kiss his mouth, reaching for his cock with your hands. He was already half hard when you wrap your hand around his shaft.

His breath hitches in his throat as you move your hand. It’s been a moment since you’d jerk anyone, but it’s not rocket science. You press kisses down his throat, moving your hand firmly up and down his length until he’s completely hard. You nip at his collarbone, marking him the way he’d left bruising kiss all over you.

His cock twitches in your hand, Keith’s hips thrusting up into you.

Anticipation builds in your belly, but you want to set the pace, stay in charge. So you still your movements.

Keith whines under you, his hands holding your waist.

“Be a good boy for me,” you tell him. “Can you do that?”

“Mm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yeah,” he manages hoarsely, “I can be good.”

You smile, lining him up against your entrance. You shift your hips, teasing his cock against your wet folds, closing your eyes as you moan at the feeling.

Keith thrusts up, trying to get more friction.

You still wanting to drag it out. Though your thighs ached and your pussy throbbed and you wondering if you should just-

You rub his cockhead against your pussy, “oooOH,” you moan. Your nails scratch his chest lightly, trying to steady yourself. Your heart raced, back arching down to him.

“Come here,” Keith groans, his fingers trailing up, asking for more, his hand on the small of your back.

You give in, sinking down onto his cock.

He moans your name, shutting his eyes.

It’s pornographic, the way Keith rises up to meet you, hips bucking against yours, the expanse of his pale throat.

You roll your hips slowly, fucking yourself on his cock. At this angle, the way he filled you-

“Fuck,” Keith moans, “you feel so good.”

“I could say the same,” you reply, sliding against his hips, picking up speed. You hold yourself up, hand on his chest.

You suck in a breath as his cock thrusts into you. Static filled your head as you chased your pleasure, grinding against him. You tilt your head back, moaning his name, everything but Keith becoming background noise.

He palms your breast.

Your breath hitches when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Ah,” you sigh.

Your stomach was taunt.

He doesn’t go further. You sort of wish he would. You trusted Keith not to hurt you. . .too badly.

The idea excites you, as he wraps his hand around your throat.

You match him, curling your fingers in his hair and pulling hard, “look at me,” you try and order but your voice is a whine. You’re too hot and heavy to think.

His cock twitches inside you, filling you up and fuck it felt good to be streched out.

Keith’s thumb strokes the side of your throat, his grip firm. “Do you like this,” he asks, his gaze heavy on you. He was entirely concentrated on you. It was like being worshipped.

It sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“I wouldn’t mind if you got rougher,” you admit, finding it easy to trust him.

He looks away.

You falter. Had you read things wrong?

Keith bucks his hips up against you and you let the thought go, sinking onto his cock and groaning, “Keith…”

It was easy to let go when it felt this good. His hand around your throat, fingers digging into your hips, you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. Not that anyone would be able to tell from over your uniform.

A shudder runs down your spine, you squirm on his cock mindlessly, thinking about bruises in the shape of his hands, about the marks on your neck you could already feel blooming on your skin. Heat surges in your chest, something primal as your thoughts linger there.

You nails run down his chest, leaving shallow scratches as you try and get a better hold, desperately grinding against Keith, down on the bed, his cock ramming into you. “Fuck,” you think, “fuck. . .Keith. . .”

You can’t stand it.

The pressure in your stomach, the heat scorching your pussy, the sound of Keith’s whines and moans, your name tumbling out of his mouth like a hymn that raised your heart beat, blood pounding in your ears.

Keith squeezes your neck, your throat bobs under his fingers and fuck-

You come.

Your legs tremble, unable to support you any longer as you collapse, a quivering mess on Keith. His hands move down to grip your thighs, pulling you down flush against him, down to the hilt of his cock as he comes, moaning erotically.

The thread of heat doesn’t dissipate entirely as you rest on his chest, boneless and sticky with sweat, but it relaxes and you breath the scent of him in instead of pulling away entirely.

Keith strokes a hand down your spine, an afterthought, “that was. . .”

“Yeah.” You’re exhausted.

You close your eyes, listening to the inhuman rumble of Keith’s chest as it rises and falls with every breath you take.

You end up slipping out. The halls are in the light cycle, but no one bothers you as you walk.

Getting up the next morning is hell.

Your legs are sore, and that’s not even mentioning how much your pussy hurts when you take a step. You take a dose of painkillers still remaining from your injury and check your messages.

Nothing from earth.

That was expected.

The meager universal communications were taken up by the war effort. You still sent your family messages, even if it was just one way. It was a way to keep in touch. It felt like watching starlight and knowing it was millions of years old, a form of time travel.

You shower.

Keith’s come was a mess on the inside of your thighs and the thought is not as gross as it should be, your skin warming up, zapped by static. You run your fingers over your clit and fuck yourself in the shower thinking of the red paladin and his come.

You get out, brushing your hair out, not looking in the mirror at the purple hickies spread out like a constellation on your chest, and realize how weird you were being.

Come was gross.

You hated swallowing so you never did. The tentative relationships at the garrison had been short, you had all been teenagers, and now anything that happened was a one off thing sometimes involving aliens.

You swallow, gripping the counter of your sink. You were horny again.

No.

Not going there.

No space weirdness this morning.

Because you’re on leave for the space equivalent of 6 or 5 days, you don’t have much to do. You get food. It had taken getting used to, and figuring out which brightly colored pastel goo thing was good, but there was a variety. You still had no clue what was plants or animals up in space.

The more liberated planets, the more supplies trickled in. Pirates loved to take a cut.

You eat as soldiers stop by to refuel, fill up on supplies. Despite the stress, you missed being out on the front. Being out of the action sucked.

Sitting around on a spaceship was boring.

It wasn’t like they had shops or movie theaters. Walking around too much ended up with you being in the way.

You clench your jaw, feeling feverish.

And you had just been getting better. . .

You shove the thought away.

You end up watching space TV: reality TV shows like Galra Ninja Warrior and nature docu series on plants, some you’ve been on, before finally sliding your hand under the waistband of your trousers and rubbing your clit.

It takes the edge off, but the heat’s still there, pressed up in the pit of your stomach, cheeks flushes and you sigh, unsatisfied as you click to something other than the marine biomes of Kmeolsuahr. For aliens larger than a schoolbus, they were peaceful creatures. Since they were filter feeders, agriculture had never developed a hold on their planet, but water generators were plentiful.

Yet another show starring Galra. It was the most common type of show in the Empire. Hijacking communications had given this traveling spaceship TV. You were glad for it now.

You curl up, the communicator snug around your wrist translating everything instantaneously. It was the part in the soap where there has to be a duel for honor. What a load of crap.

The two Galra circle each other, close ups of their face like a mexican stand-off. Through TV you got to know the Glara in the empire as more than just soldiers. Spending time in the camps taught you that even Galra citizens could be arrested for treasonous statements against Zarkon.

They make growling alien sounds, something between a jaguar and a sound not found on earth, an underlying clicking that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

You connect the dots.

The glowing eyes, the purrs and rumbles, and whatever weird alien thing was going on: the red paladin was part Galra.

Only that made no sense.

He was from Earth.

First contact had been what, when the paladins had disappeared? When the Kerberos mission had been abducted, and boy had that made fringe conspiracy theorists happy. . .how could he be part Galra?

Was it even your problem?

Surely this would go away. . .

You were leaving in a little over five days.

You curl up and watch TV until you fall asleep, determined to enjoy the rest while it lasted and your weren’t trudging through waist deep mud.

“Read through the debrief,” a commander with a nebulous rank above you asks. In your line of work, so much was redacted. Information gathering was a fancy way of saying spy. It was why you worked so closely with the rebels.

You don’t even blink at the slight pale easter egg yellow alien, ears that resembled hair, long and droopy like a rabbit: there were four of them. You’d met stranger. “Yeah. Long mission.”

You were not looking forward to being on a planet with an inhospitable surface. A sun close enough that set the surface on fire with it’s rays, no thanks.

Still, it was your assignment.

“It is vital.”

They always said that.

It seemed to be extracting some key players. Who they were remained unknown until you had to know. It was a lot of flying blind to keep information from leaking to the wrong ears. Loose lips sink ships and all that jazz.

“I’ll treat it that way,” you nod, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It would be fun flying a hijacked Galra fighter ship. The planet was pretty deep in Empire controlled space.

“And,” the alien looks you up and down like a Garrison RA finding a stain on your uniform during morning inspection, “get rid of that scent.”

“What,” you ask plainly, “scent.”

The alien raises a hairless muscle over its eye. The gesture is human enough. “Voltron has docked here.”

It was subterfuge. Both of you were in the same line of work, you could do this dance in your sleep. “As far as I know, yes.” You are careful to keep your expression neutral, feeling stupid for not having used negating get. It wasn’t even rationed, but used pretty widely. There were many aliens who relied primarily on scent, and those whose sense of smell was far sharper than yours.

“Mm.”

You hold their gaze.

You weren’t one to waver.

“Any further questions?”

“None.”

“Good.”

You walk blithely back to your room, intending to shower, again, and probably take care of the warmth in your gut. The heat was like an uncomfortable itch under your skin that stubbornly remained no matter how much you ignored it.

How was it even possible that Keith was any part alien let alone Galra? You were pretty sure the entire planet would have known if the Galra arrived on the planet.

It was intriguing.

Your mind drew up the details you knew, trying to make them fit. It was half mental exercise, half the urge to actually get to the bottom of this. Keith didn’t look half Glara like Prince Lotor and his gang of misfits. . .quarter, one sixteenth. . .

Occam's Razor.

The mystery occupied your mind as you made it back to your quarters.

Keith is pacing outside your door.

How did he even know where your quarters were?

“Did you sniff your way here,” you ask, genuinely curious. Maybe the traits might not be apparent. . .just how Galra was the red paladin. You were reminded again how little you actually knew him.

Understanding fills his eyes; he knew you knew. Keith looks over at you for a second before ducking his head dejectedly, a straw dog expecting to be run off.

Your heart ached.

How a paladin of Voltron could be so self conscious despite going toe to toe with the Empire on a daily basis. . .you didn’t know. They were only flesh and blood after all.

You take pity on him, “so is this going to be a thing,” the corners of your mouth lift into a small smile. You were still a little sore. You wouldn’t mind going another few rounds. . .

But you needed to clear some things up first.

Just how much of this between you was space Galra funkiness?

Keith snorts, looking up, meeting your searching gaze. His shoulders were still tense, unsure that you weren’t about to tell him to shove off. Not the loner type entirely by choice then, his innate awkwardness must have made it hard to connect.

It wasn’t a problem you’d ever had, rushing into everything headfirst, taking charge.

“Not like there’s a lot of humans to choose from up here,” he says self-deprecatingly.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m down for some alien funkiness,” you answer evenly, taking a step towards him. He inhales sharply, looking away again, this time in thought.

The lines of his face increase, clearly uncomfortable, frowning.

“I can’t usually,” Keith admits in a tense voice, “smell this well. . .though I can smell better than Shiro.”

“Shiro?”

“The black paladin,” he explains, surprised he has to explain at all.

You answer his unvoiced question, “everyone tends to focus on the color of the lion rather than the pilot inside.”

“Oh. That’s dumb.” He looks a little relieved at the anonymity that grants.

“Is it just me then,” you ask, getting to the bottom of things.

He nods, meeting your gaze. “I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking of fucking you,” he says without ceremony.

You find yourself blushing. The connection went both ways, the very alien connection. “Don’t hate me but I think we should go to the medic.”

Keith frowns. “Or we could just fuck.”

“That horny,” you tease, raising a brow, “or was I just that good?”

Keith cusps a hand against your cheek, his thumb running over your lips.

Your mouth parts, the tip of your tongue grazing his thumb.

“So you don’t want to fuck,” Keith asks, a playful smirk on his lips.

You swallow, the urge to say yes right there as his touch on you entranced you, sending desire cascading through your body down to your toes. “This isn’t just alien weirdness is it?” You wanted it to be more.

“No,” he shakes his head, his breath mingling with yours. “That’s-I’m not that impulsive.”

“Good,” you mutter, pressing your body against his, and opening the door to your room.

#keith kogane #vld keith #keith x reader #keith kogane imagine #mine #smut #surprisingly soft for being esentially a take on the whole galra heat thing in fanon #part 2 will b just sex lol #feedback much appreciated (as a motivator too)

399 notes · View notes

arrowflier · 3 years

Note

hi arrow! can i get a fic of ian being jealous on a date (maybe someone flirts with mickey??) and mickey just loves it bc it makes ian all passive aggressive and bossy and saying 'my husband' 283949 times ❤️

Of course you can! Or at least I tried lol, it got a little random.💖

That Green-Eyed Monster (is my husband)

They never had really gotten in the habit of going on dates, before. Not real dates at least, in public places where you could eat with utensils or sit side-by-side and pretend to watch the entertainment while you were really just watching each other. They had tried, but something always got in the way--the military, jail sentences, arrest warrants, pandemics, family emergencies--they just had shit luck, alright?

So when things got a little less crazy on the aforementioned fronts, they started trying a little bit harder. They had a designated date night, now. Sometimes they planned together, sometimes they took turns surprising each other with heartfelt (or sometimes comical) plans.

This time, it had been Mickey's turn.

“Where are we going?” Ian asked yet again from where he was blindfolded in the passenger seat of Tami’s car. They’d usually take the ambulance, but Mickey didn’t want to stick out too much today—not in a place where an ambulance could potentially be needed.

“I still ain’t gonna tell you,” Mickey answered, but relented enough to add, “we’re almost there though, you’ll see soon.”

Sure enough, the entrance to the parking lot came up on the right, and Mickey swung in in that ridiculous little car.

As soon as Ian felt the car stop, he was reaching for his blindfold—not one of their good ones, just an old headband they had found on Debbie’s floor—but Mickey grabbed his hand before he could slip it off.

“Hey hey hey,” Mickey chastised. “What’s the rush there, flash?”

“What, I can’t be a little eager for our date?” Ian pouted, knowing it would get Mickey to give in. No matter how many times he tried to pretend that he wasn’t soft, Mickey always gave in to the pout.

He was right. Gentle hands pushed the headband off of Ian’s eyes, which were immediately filled with the sight of Mickey’s own as the other man ran fingers through Ian’s hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

“Alright, come on then,” Mickey ordered, leaving one firm kiss at the corner of Ian’s lips before pulling back and getting out of the car. “If you’re so eager, you get to pay.”

Ian chuckled as he let himself out and met Mickey around the front of the car. “Why would I pay?” he asked jokingly. “It’s your week to woo me, asshole, you get to foot the bill.”

“Foot the bill with your money, sure,” Mickey retorted, and Ian rolled his eyes as he automatically fell into step beside him.

“Our money,” he reminded his husband, getting an arm around his waist. He was always surprised when Mickey let him do that—he said it felt awkward to walk with the jolly red giant suckered onto his side—but this time Mickey actually leaned into him.

He didn’t even notice where they were, outside a little building in the middle of nowhere. He let go of Mickey to walk through the door ahead of him, fully intending to continue their playful banter, when he stopped still.

There were a lot of guns in this place.

Paintball guns, that was.

“Mickey,” Ian said slowly as his husband came up behind him, “did you bring me here to shoot me?”

Mickey just smirked as he swanned past toward the check-in desk.

“Maybe, hotshot,” he answered. “You gonna complain?”

Ian shook his head with a shit-eating grin.

“Hell no,” he declared. “You better be ready for me.”

Mickey signed his name on a waiver with a flourish and took the gun handed to him by a worker, tossing it to Ian.

“Am I ever not?”

—

Ian was having a blast, pun intended, as he shot the shit out of everybody else on the range. Mickey wasn’t faring too badly either; despite being on the opposite team, neither one of them had managed to shoot each other yet.

It didn’t hurt that Mickey looked damn good, either. He was completely in his element out here, taking guys out left and right with perfect marksmanship and even more perfect form, his shoulders barely moving with the recoil as he shot. Half the time, Ian missed his chance because he was too busy watching him to fire—the other half, he didn’t even want to if it meant taking Mickey out of the game and losing his eye-candy.

Finally, a break was called, and everyone filed off the course while it was reset for the next round.

Ian grabbed a bottle of water from a long table near the building, guzzling half of it in one go before looking around for his husband.

He found him quickly enough, recognizing his back immediately even in unfamiliar gear with his hair all mussed from the protective helmet they had to wear.

But he did not recognize the man standing next to Mickey, raking his eyes over Mickey’s stocky build.

The stranger was saying something, Mickey tossing his head back in laughter, and then a hand was on Mickey’s arm and Ian suddenly found himself at Mickey’s back.

“Everything good here, fellas?” Ian asked casually, standing a couple feet away.

“Fine, Gallagher,” Mickey said with a smile. “Johnny here was just tellin’ me he could give me some pointers before the next round.”

Ian raised his eyebrows, glancing from Mickey’s face to the stranger’s and back.

“Pointers?” he asked, voice going a touch high at the end. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, offering shooting pointers to Mickey fucking Milkovich? He had gotten there just in time, it seemed, because there was no way in hell Mickey would let that insult slide.

“Yeah,” Mickey said. “Says I need to work on my form a little, widen my stance, you know. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

Wait. What?

“I was just telling him,” the stranger—Johnny, though how they were on a first name basis already Ian had no idea—chimed in, “that I have a lot of experience with real firearms.”

“And I was sayin’ how much I admire a military man,” Mickey interjected with a smirk, “so I might as well let him show me some moves.”

“Mickey,” Ian hissed lowly, “what are you doing?”

Mickey didn’t answer.

“You ever shot a real gun, Mick?” Johnny asked abruptly, catching on that he was missing something but determined not to lose Mickey’s attention.

“It’s like nothing else, dude, I swear. The feel of that smooth metal in your hands,” he continued as he moved closer, lifting a hand to Mickey’s arm again. “The way it moves with you, goes off when you,” he leaned in even closer, and added in a low voice, “pull the trigger.”

Alarm bells were ringing in Ian’s head at this point.

“Nah,” Mickey was answering, “my guy won’t let me play with the real stuff.”

“Sounds like you need a new guy, then,” Johnny murmured, and Ian had had enough.

“He’s taken,” he cut in gruffly, moving to stand by Mickey’s side. He couldn’t hold Mickey with the gear in the way, but he got a hand on his back, at least, curling fingers into the top of his waistband.

Johnny looked at him askance, and shrugged.

“I don’t see a ring,” he pointed out, and Ian grit his teeth. They had taken them off before starting, for safety, and he never regretting following the rules more a day in his life.

“Besides, who are you to speak for him?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, this is Ian,” Mickey introduced quickly. He was smiling, the asshole, like some guy wasn’t trying to steal him from right under Ian’s own nose. “He’s my—”

“His husband,” Ian stated firmly, and watched Johnny’s eyes go wide. “His ex-army, ex-con husband.”

“Hey man, I’m sorry,” Johnny apologized, hands up. “I didn’t know.”

Ian nodded, ready to let it go despite his urge to send the man packing, when Johnny insisted on talking again.

“You can’t blame me though, right?” he said with a little, nervous laugh. “I mean, he looks so damn—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, too busy keeling over with his hands on his groin after Ian shot a paintball right at his balls at point-blank range.

—

Two minutes later, Ian and Mickey were racing to the car as employees chased behind them, yelling. Apparently it was frowned upon to shoot someone on your own team, outside the course itself, during a break. It didn’t help that Mickey had done the same right after, just for fun.

“Hurry up, you jealous fuck,” Mickey shouted at Ian as he fumbled with the door handle. “We gotta get outa here before they realize I gave them fake names!”

Ian fell into the car, giddy with adrenaline and laughter.

“The fuck did you do that for?” he giggled as Mickey threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the lot.

“Cause I knew you would do something stupid!” Mickey said, shoving at Ian’s shoulder with one hand when Ian just laughed harder.

Ian gather himself as they drove, and felt his heart-rate start to normalize after a few minutes on the road. He held Mickey’s hand over the gearshift, finger rubbing over the spot where his ring should be—where it would be again as soon as they had a minute to breathe. Then, just as he was almost calm—

“Shit, Ian,” Mickey gasped. “We didn’t return the fucking guns.”

That set them off again, and they had to pull over halfway home until they could stop laughing and hide the paintball guns under the back seat.

Franny and Fred would love them come Christmas.

#daily speedwrite #fanfic #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #omc #jealous Ian #little shit Mickey #date night

147 notes · View notes

itsapeterthing · 3 years

Text

Paint || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter sees a figure walking through the trees during his run and investigates only to meet a girl named y/n painting in the woods.

a/n: requested by anon! a short and sweet meeting story.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter was almost regretting his decision to join the Avengers at the moment. Nearly getting himself killed dozens of times by adversaries was nothing compared to the run Cap had him and the other Avengers going on in what he considered to be the middle of nowhere. Although he had superhuman abilities that had definitely aided in his run at the beginning, he could feel himself struggling for air and his legs beginning to ache.

A few of the others had already fallen behind a while back and Peter felt himself about to trip over his own feet as he began to run slower.

“Getting tired?” None other than Steve himself asked, running up behind him.

Peter jumped, but then began to push himself to run faster. “N-no. No sir.” Peter huffed. “This... is... easy.”

Cap eyed Peter. “You should take a breather, kid. There’s no harm in that.”

Although Peter was always one to go out of his way to impress the Avengers- especially Captain America- he could barely breathe and his whole body felt like it was just begging for him to take a break.

“A- are you... sure?” Peter asked in between breaths.

“You know your way back?” Steve asked, matching Peter’s pace.

Peter, running out of breath, no longer able to speak just nodded.

“Alright kid. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

And with that, he picked up his pace, leaving Peter behind. Peter slowed to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees, heaving and struggling for breath. He attempted to salute in Cap’s direction, but he had already run past Peter’s point of view.

Still breathing heavy and exhausted, Peter stumbled over to the side of the road and flopped down on his back onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and as he did he saw a figure making their way through the trees.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “H- hey!” He called, but no one answered.

Peter pulled himself up, balancing himself on his elbows to get a better look before calling again. “Hello?”

After he once again did not receive an answer, he pulled himself onto his feet. He questioned whether he really did see someone or if the figure was just a figment of his imagination. He was unable to ask any of the others for reassurance since they either fell behind a while ago or they were ahead with Steve. Deciding to trust this own instincts, Peter began walking through the woods, using his “Peter tingle” as Aunt May liked to call it, to know where to go.

He stopped when he heard the snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves. Following the noise, he carefully walked over the branches scattered across the ground, not trying to alarm whoever he had just followed into the woods. As he approached where the noise had come from, he stopped and attempted to hide himself behind a tree.

In front of him he saw a girl pulling a chair up and off from the top of a table, onto the ground. He watched as she sat down in the chair, opening the bag at her side and pulling out a pad of paper, along with a tray of what he assumed to be paint and brushes.

He knew he probably should have turned around and that this was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but watch as she painted. He was lured in by how peaceful she seemed. Around them was a peaceful quiet, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze flowing through the trees able to be heard.

It was so much different than what he had been used to. Even before he discovered that he had superpowers, he had lived in the city and there seemed to never be a moment of complete silence- from sirens at all hours of the day to groups of people chatting outside his window at all hours of the night. He thought he had found peace in the noise, but he had barely known the peacefulness of quiet.

Now that he was Spider-Man, it was even harder to find peace whether he was in the city protecting locals or tagging along with the Avengers to save humanity. He was so busy all of the time, it was difficult for him to find peace and quiet, never mind the serenity he felt around him in this exact moment.

Just as he was becoming lost in his own thoughts, he was pulled out of them by the snapping of a twig beneath his feet. As he did, his eyes went wide and he watched as the unnamed girl, jumped from her seat to her feet, scattering brushes and papers along the ground.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry!” He spoke.

“Who are you?” She asked. “Did you... did you follow me?”

He could tell her heart rate was speeding up, worried that some random boy had followed her into the woods. That’s fair, he thought.

“No!” He said, quickly. “I mean yeah- yes. But not in a creepy way! I just saw someone walk into the woods and I called and no one said anything so I- I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

She just stared at him.

“You know what? I should go. Yeah. I’m gonna leave you alone.” He said, about to turn around.

“Wait.” She called, finally speaking up and stopping him. “Are you... an Avenger?”

Now his heart was the one racing. “What? No!” He chuckled nervously. “Why... what would make you think that?”

She smiled, pointing at his t-shirt. “Because you have their logo on your shirt and it’s the only place out here for like a mile.”

Peter glanced down at the gray t-shirt he was wearing with the Avengers logo printed across his chest. Quickly, he attempted to spin a lie. “Oh this? No. Nope.” He shook his head. “I just... work... at the Avengers Compound. I... hand out waters and stuff to um Thor and ya know... other... people.”

There was a pause as the they stared at each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You told him, moving your hand out to shake his.

He calmed down as you introduced yourself and your own heart settled, knowing now that you weren’t scared of him- meaning you either believed what he said or just simply accepted his lie about working at the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a whole lie, he told himself though. He did “work” there and occasionally, as the youngest person there, was asked to fetch water from time to time.

“Peter.” He said, taking your hand. “So... what are you doing out here?”

You then remembered what you had come out here for in the first place. You spun around turning back to look at your set up. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “I come out here sometimes to paint. It's really peaceful, you know?”

Peter nodded. He had just been thinking the same thing before he first saw you. It had been difficult for him to know peace for a long time, but here he felt as though he could breath even if it was for a short time.

“I know what you mean.” He told you, then glancing at the mess he had caused when he first spooked you. “Let me help.” He smiled, gesturing to the paint brushes and loose papers scattered along the floor.

You turned around, looking at the mess behind you. “You don’t have to. It’s okay!” You told him, striding over to your workspace and beginning to haphazardly organize the area.

Despite your assurances that you could clean up yourself, Peter followed behind you and began picking up your scattered paintings on the ground.

“You did all of these yourself?” He asked.

You watched as Peter stared at each of your quick paintings in his hand. He, admittedly, did not understand much about art, but he was in awe at the work he saw in front of him. The paintings he held in his hands depicted what he believed to be fairies sitting light as a feather on flowers and hidden in the trees. The design itself was soft and gentle and he was afraid to ruin something so precious in his hands.

“Yeah,” You chuckled.

“They’re really good.” He told you, impressed. “I wish I could do stuff like this. How do you even do this?”

You smiled. A part of you was always nervous showing your paintings to someone else, especially a stranger, but it made you feel warm inside to have this cute, sweaty boy complimenting you on your art and impressed with your skill.

“Everyone has their thing.” You told him. “What about you?”

Peter then thought about his abilities, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t divulge on his strengths without the risk of exposing his identity. Although he couldn’t share that part of himself with you- someone he just met- it made him remember who he was without his abilities- the skills and talents he possessed without the assistance of an accidental spider bite.

“My friend and I build lego sets.” He shrugged.

“That can’t be it.” You laughed. “Come on! What are things you’re good at?”

Peter hadn’t been asked that question in regards to just himself in a while. He felt that people only cared about him recently because he was Spider-Man, not because he was Peter Parker. It felt good for someone to care about him for more than the things he couldn’t control.

“Sciency stuff I guess.” He told you as the two of you stood up and he handed you back your paintings.

You smiled, accepting the pages back and placing them on the table. “See! And you thought you weren’t good at anything.”

Peter smiled before scratching the back of his neck. “So... do you always hang out here in your free time?”

You sat back in your chair, this time organizing your desk space again. You placed your current work-in-progress in front of you and set out your paints. Taking a brush from one of those scattered across the table and dipping it in your desired color you laughed. “Not all the time. Why do you ask?”

Peter felt himself stiffen up. He knew why, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It wasn’t often he met new people and felt comfortable enough around them, but around you, there was a carefree air. Although he had barely learnt anything about you besides your name and your inclination for painting in the wilderness, he wanted to learn more about you.

“Oh... well... you know...” He began. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? Not in the woods I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just- you know-”

At that he heard the strokes of your brush halt on the page as you lifted it and set it down in the glass of water in front of you. You turned back in your chair to look at him, leaning your arm over the back of it. “Like a date?” You asked, cutting him off.

Even though Peter had been through a lot that most teenagers his age had never experienced- that some would even claim required an excessive amount of bravery- he still got flustered when you asked him whether it was a date or not. He thought you were interesting and wanted to get to know you regardless. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in going on a date with you, but he also didn’t want to risk facing rejection and embarrassment.

What do you have to lose? He asked himself.

“I’m sorry if that was forward-” You began as he took a bit longer than you had anticipated for him to answer.

“Yeah. Like a date.” He cut you off. “If you want to anyway... you don’t have to.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since you first met him a few minutes ago, you smiled. “I’d like that.”

And with that you and Peter exchanged numbers before he insisted you go back to painting and that people would begin looking for him soon if he didn’t get back to his run. When his feet hit the road to start running again, he felt a new bolt of energy and pride rush through him as he thought about the cool painter girl’s number he had just gotten in the woods and the date he would share with you that upcoming weekend.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x yn

331 notes · View notes

kojinnie · 3 years

Text

AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good)

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

#aot #snk #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #aot modern au #levi ackerman #hange zoë #erwin smith #modern headcanon #lawyer erwin smith #professor hange zoe #accountant levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojin writes

167 notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Bloom, Bloom, Pow! |2| - CHANGMIN

Again. The pining. I know I was okay with pining in Sunflowers, but BBP is just levels of stupidity that are incomprehensible and you will see what I mean here. Anyway, once more, thanks to @wingkkun for dealing with me screaming and helping me come up with plot points I LOVE YOU <3

(Suggested playlist for reading: Bloom Bloom, Just U, and DDD by The Boyz!!)

Pairing: Changmin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, university!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.5k

Dancing with you, Changmin feels flowers blooming in his heart.

Part 1 | Part 2

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ you

It’s with narrowed eyes and a smile threatening to burst through your faked scowl that you confront Kevin the next day about him shoving you into a circle of random partygoers to dance with Changmin (“Y/N, that wasn’t even a dance, that was a mating dance or cult ritual or some shit – hey – don’t slap me, I’m right!”). He doesn’t even blink an eye when you hit him, just smiles that stupid shit-eating grin that he always wears when he knows he’s succeeded at something.

And God, even though it legitimately blows your entire mind, he actually managed to do something right. He somehow got you and Changmin to speak, no matter how unconventional the method, and as much as it pains you to say it, he did you a favor.

Look, normally a meddling Kevin just makes more messes (literal and metaphorical) and makes another when trying to clean them up afterward. This time, though, you have to give him a little credit for utilizing his singular brain cell to come up with this plan.

Because after several games of drunk mafia, wherein Jaehyun is accused of being the mafia three times despite being the narrator (“I thought Chanhee was smart?” “He only uses his brain for math, nothing else.”) and you and Changmin are paired up as the killers twice in a row, you get Changmin’s number, and he gets yours.

If you spend the entirety of the next day texting a certain doe-eyed boy with dimples deep enough to make you swoon, what of it?

He meets up with you for coffee the next week. Untouched by alcohol, your mind only registers his image in the real-life equivalent of HD when he stops moonwalking in place outside the café to fix you with the sweetest smile. It’s strange, the way just a single quirk of his lips or a slight squint of his eyes sends your heart fluttering to the next dimension, and his voice only makes the vision better. Changmin speaks in soft tones that wash across your skin like starshine, soothing with a slight bite of mischief that complements the sparkle in his eyes.

His soft sweater and large glasses only complete the lovely image you’re painting in your mind. Sitting down across the small table, you think your heart is either going to melt into your bloodstream or burst its way out of your chest.

He introduces himself again, as though you could’ve forgotten his name within the twenty minutes you stopped texting him on the way to the café. It’s impossible to resist saying a teasing “I know” and watching him shyly cover his face with a sweater-covered hand.

Even though it might be evil, you cheekily introduce yourself too, unable to contain a laugh when Changmin groans, putting his head in his hands. But when he lifts his face once more, it’s your turn to grow shy at the sight of his pink cheeks and the embarrassed upturn of his lips.

Once, for biology, you watched a video of a flower blooming overnight. It glowed in the dark as its petals stretched out, slowly, over the course of minutes that felt at once like seconds and eternities. Changmin’s smile is that blooming flower, petals blossoming into the widest grin that smacks of a beauty that sinks far deeper than the skin, that spreads through the blood and brushes the heart and mind with the gentlest, sparkling touch.

It stays with you, that blooming smile, on the bus ride back to campus (Changmin doesn’t come with you – he has to go to work, volunteering at a nearby dance center for kids). The memory presses warmth in your body for the rest of the day, horribly visible in the permanent (lovestruck) twinkle in your eye.

“Had a good date?” Eric asks you later, mischievous smirk on his face. He just laughs at your scowl and dodges your swat, mocking the “It wasn’t a date!” that bursts from your lips.

After all, it wasn’t a date, as much as your heart pounded throughout the entire two hours of conversation. It wasn’t a date, no matter how much you really wanted it to be. It was just two possible friends getting to know each other over a cup of coffee, right?

And even though it stings a little in your heart, you can be content with that. Seeing Changmin’s grin, that wide grin that shows all his teeth and scrunches his eyes into the cutest slits and makes flowers bloom in your heart, is all you could ever ask for.

. . .

~ changmin

Changmin just wants to know when getting punched in the chest repeatedly started feeling so good.

No, he isn’t actually getting punched in the chest every other day. It’s just that it feels that way, every time his phone vibrates with a text from you or he sees your sparkling eyes across the hall coming his way to do the dance you two have become so known for (what happened at the party went viral on the university Snapchat, sadly. Jaehyun denies taking the video, but it might just as well have been Jangjun). Your presence makes his heart thump once, twice, a thousand times in the space of mere seconds, and the force with which the thumps sound make it feel like someone is punching him in the chest over and over, but in a good way.

God, when did he get like this? Younger Changmin would cringe at these feelings, at the million metaphors he can come up with for your smile. But Older Changmin takes the feelings, stores them quietly in his heart, and lets your sparkling warmth illuminate his presence every day.

“You’re shining,” Chanhee remarks at one point after you pass by, leaving Changmin inevitably awestruck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pregnant. You’ve got that glow.”

He runs, of course, when Changmin leaps at him with teeth bared. Chanhee’s never really known when to shut his mouth (resulting in his entire friend group clowning him to high heaven), but, well, he’s kind of right, Changmin supposes. His lips have never spread as widely as they do when you’re trying to step all over his toes. He’s not pregnant and he’s pretty sure he isn’t glowing, but you make him feel like he might be. Glowing, that is. Not pregnant.

That’s definitely not it.

“Maybe suggest a date?” Younghoon says one day, face still half scrunched into a cringe from your biweekly dance in the literature building. “I’m so sick of seeing you two literally dance around your fucking feelings.”

“Don’t curse,” Changmin says, evading the question. “It doesn’t suit your puppy persona.”

“Like your obsession with horror movies suits your doe eyes,” Younghoon snorts, tossing his bread wrapper into a nearby trash can. “Don’t avoid the question. Why won’t you ask them out?”

That’s a good question, one that spins around Changmin’s mind every second of the day. It whirls even faster when something reminds him of you, like a pretty flower that might look nice tucked behind your ear, a notebook that’s the same design as the one you use for biology, or the special ringtone he’s set for your text messages so he can respond as fast as possible.

An awful lot of things remind him of you.

But as much as he’d like to form the words in his mouth, let those six simple words burst from his throat – “Will you go out with me?” – they die the moment they reach his lips. He’s analyzed this phenomenon from so many angles, worked through it after every time he’s met your lovely eyes, and there’s only one conclusion he’s come up with.

He, Ji Changmin, lover of horror movies and dolls and clowns and possession, is scared. Scared of asking you out, only to be rejected because you have your eye on someone else. Scared of asking you out, only to be faced with the fact that you don’t love his smiles the same way he loves yours. Scared of asking you out, only to have his heart crushed under your gentle, well-meaning hands.

The thumping in his chest turns painful and bitter when he thinks of this, unpleasantly cold and sharp, nothing like the sparkling warmth you evoke in his heart. It makes his mouth thin into a line, lips tight with the fear of splitting from your smile, never to see it again after your rejection.

“Y/N might not like me back,” is all Changmin says, though, keeping all of the metaphors and analysis hidden deep in the crevices of his brain. “I want to at least keep what we already have.”

Younghoon probably wants to start ranting about Changmin’s idiocy like Kevin always does, yelling about how there’s no way you’re not in love with him as much as he’s head over heels for you. He probably would, but Younghoon’s known Changmin for over a decade and a half so he knows there’s real fear in Changmin’s voice when he speaks of your possible rejection. His eyes soften as he pats Changmin’s head, and though he’ll complain about Younghoon messing up his hair, he’s grateful for his friend’s understanding. He’s grateful that he won’t push it further (at least for now).

So Changmin contents himself with looking forward to your texts, going on coffee dates that aren’t dates, seeing your smiles and hearing your laughs. He resists the urge to push back strands of hair that fall into your eyes, hugs you for only an appropriate amount of time, and does his best not to stare at your lips for too long, imagining what it would feel like to kiss them. Pillowy soft, sweet, gentle –

Hey. No. Changmin shakes his head. None of that pining nonsense. Your smile is everything he’s wanted to see in his life, and he’ll be content with that.

Just knowing you’re well and happy is enough.

. . . . .

~ you

It’s late afternoon, almost evening when Changmin calls. He sounds slightly breathless on the other end – he must have just finished dance practice – as he chirps your name, sending butterflies flitting into your heart. “Wanna get coffee?”

“It’s nearly six, Changmin.” You snort. “You want to get coffee now? You won’t be able to sleep later.”

“But coffee,” he whines. “I want coffee.”

“No coffee,” you decide firmly. “But I’ll buy you dinner. What do you want?”

Changmin squawks. “I can buy my own dinner!”

“You bought the coffee last time,” you argue. “It’s my turn to pay.” You can almost hear him getting ready to argue, even if he hasn’t said anything, so you head him off. “Don’t argue with me, I’ll fight you over this.”

“With what, your mediocre dance skills?” Changmin snarks.

“Excuse me?” you snap in mock indignation, secretly smiling as his laughs fill your ear. “Mediocre?”

“I’ll call you a good dancer when you actually succeed in tripping me,” he says, still giggling. “We can go to the ramen place just off campus?”

So instead of spending the evening at your dorm, working on a paper that’s due in a few days, you spend it in the dimly lit, cheap ramen restaurant across the street from the university entrance, laughing and talking with Changmin all the while trying desperately not to show how deeply your heart beats for him.

It’s so hard, you think, walking out of the restaurant a couple of hours later (after fighting over the bill – you’re pretty sure the waiter was going to have an aneurysm by the time you finally managed to toss your card to him). It’s so hard to pretend Changmin doesn’t mean something more to you, when everything about the doe-eyed boy just makes you feel like melting into the ground.

“You never stop dancing, do you?” you ask idly, watching his feet slide along the rough sidewalk. “How do your shoes hold up? They’ve got to be rubbed smooth by now.”

Changmin shrugs. “I manage,” he says, dimple visible as he twirls under a streetlamp, spinning neatly onto campus. “Dancing’s in my blood, I can’t just stop.”

“I can see that,” you say, amused. “Want some music?”

It doesn’t matter what song comes up on your phone, you’ve come to learn. You used to be a bit self-conscious of your music taste and would try to pick songs you thought he’d enjoy, but Changmin, you know now, will find a beat or a melody that he likes in anything that ends up playing. Sure enough, as soon as the first few bars sound from your phone, Changmin’s already grinning, arms floating, feet sliding in a slightly silly but nonetheless lovely dance.

For a few moments, you two stay where you are, Changmin dancing with the grace of a butterfly under the darkening sky, you watching from the side. His grin is bright, so bright, brighter than the streetlights and the moon beginning to glow behind the clouds. You can’t do anything but watch, rooted in place by his grace and beauty.

It’s a bit like touching stars, seeing Changmin’s smile. It should seem impossible to be within reach of something so bright that it can shine across unfathomable distances to light up the night sky, just as it feels impossible to be in the presence of Changmin’s blooming grin. His eyes crinkle like small beacons of light sparkling across the rippling blanket of night, his mouth curving into the brightest crescent moon.

And as you watch, mesmerized, with that lovely crescent smile comes a twitch of the fingers, a slight glint in the eye that’s all too familiar by now.

It’s more of a smirk than a smile, you muse, as the corners of your lips begin to turn upward as well. It’s endlessly alluring, pulling you into his space as Changmin’s elegant steps evade your awkward feet. Your laughs fill the empty university paths, smiles lighting the sidewalk as music blasts from the phone you’re still clutching in your hand, flooding the air, mixing with your yelps and giggles into one singular melody.

“Still mediocre,” Changmin sings as he steps around you once more, effortlessly avoiding your flailing arms. “When will I ever be able to call you a good dancer?”

Once again, like it often does in Changmin’s presence, your body makes a decision without waiting on input from your brain. All you know is that your mouth is suddenly yelling, “Today!” and then you leap.

His eyes widen in surprise, but even his graceful legs aren’t enough to keep him upright this time. You crash into his chest with an audible thump. For a split second, you feel yourself suspended in air as your feet leave the ground, and then the two of you topple over onto the soft grass lining the edges of the path.

Silence. Dead silence.

Then breathless, uncontrollable laughter erupts from Changmin’s lips.

It feels like seconds and it feels like hours that you spend there, embarrassed giggles turning to snorts as you realize how stupid this whole situation is. Changmin’s chest is warm beneath your body, heaving with laughs that burst from his throat and mix with the music still blaring from your hand. You can only follow his example, wheezing breaths from the pit of your stomach.

“Am I a good dancer?” you finally gasp, the last strains of the song fading in the air. “Am I, Changmin?”

His eyes stare into yours, crinkled with joy, twinkling under the rising moon. “Yes,” he says, lips stretched wide. “You are.”

The last vestiges of laughter have died by now. Slowly, silence takes over the moment as you stare into Changmin’s soft eyes, losing yourself in his gaze.

And only then do you realize the position you’ve put yourself in.

He’s right under you, chest pressed flush against yours. You swear you can hear his heartbeat – he has to be able to hear or at least feel yours, it’s hammering at a pace that’s definitely unhealthy – and oh God, your faces are barely inches apart.

You should move. This is a horrible, awkward position, and it must be even worse for Changmin, who’s being buried underneath you. But you can’t shift. You can’t. Something’s rooting you in place.

Changmin doesn’t move either, despite how uncomfortable he must be. If anything, he looks peaceful as he gazes into your eyes, his smile growing smaller but infinitely gentler, lips slightly parted and –

Oh.

His lips.

Your throat goes dry as you realize just how close you are to kissing him.

It isn’t just you, you swear. Changmin’s eyes move, too, shifting slightly from staring into yours to gaze upon your own lips.

Your heart races.

For a second, one blissful, agonizing second, you think you’re going to close the inch gap and press your lips to his, or maybe he’ll brave the chasm and press his lips to yours. For one single warm second, you really think that Changmin might return your feelings, that he might even feel as deeply for you as you feel about him.

Then the next song starts playing on your phone, and with that song, something snaps. The moment breaks. You become painfully aware of the cool night air brushing against your arms and making you shiver. The blissful moment disappears as Changmin moves, presumably to roll out from under you, and you quickly shift yourself off of his chest, freeing him. With fingers still trembling with adrenaline, you turn off your music.

He stands up quickly, brushing off his pants, smiling like nothing happened. Under the glare of the streetlamp, you can’t tell if you’re just imagining the pink dusting his cheeks, the red tinting his ears. “You’re a good dancer,” is all he says. His words betray nothing about his thoughts on what just happened.

Hot, shameful embarrassment rushes through your blood as you take his proffered hand, pulling you up. “I’m glad you think so,” you say, trying to sound as light and teasing as you always do while inwardly beating yourself over getting your hopes up.

How could you ever think a boy as lovely as Changmin would love you, after all? How could such perfection ever fall for you, someone with barely a hint of Changmin’s grace and fire? How could you be so foolish as to even think that way?

Changmin drops you off at the front of your dorm like he always does, smiles like he always does, hugs you like he always does. He’s as close as he always is, never more than a few feet away, yet even wrapped in his embrace, you feel further apart from him than ever.

You watch him walk away from just outside your dorm, waiting for the last possible moment to slip inside. Something’s different about him, something strange. Lost in your own disappointment and embarrassment, though, you can’t put your finger on it.

It isn’t until hours later that you realize he wasn’t dancing as he disappeared into the night.

. . .

~ younghoon

When Changmin walks into the room and immediately collapses on the wooden floorboards, the door swinging shut behind him with a bang, Younghoon knows something is wrong even before his friend’s head thumps against the ground with a loud noise that probably won’t mean good things for his few remaining brain cells. Judging by Changmin’s prone position, though, he doesn’t seem to care. And anyway, his brain cells have been malfunctioning ever since he met you. Younghoon doesn’t think losing a few of them will be too big of an issue.

Younghoon shuts the lid of his laptop with a brief sigh, resigning himself to a night of consoling an angsty Changmin and not catching up on all of the episodes of the dramas he’s missed. “So what happened with Y/N?” he asks, making sure to infuse his voice with as much exasperation as it can hold.

“How do you know it was with Y/N?” Changmin asks, voice muffled against the floor.

Younghoon snorts. Even after all this time, Changmin is still as dumb as ever. “Any time you get like this, it’s because of Y/N,” he says. “So tell me what happened.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Changmin mumbles, picking his head up off the ground just enough to look at Younghoon. He opens his mouth to talk, then shuts it. His lips press together and he raises his head further, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes with a groan.

“I’m waiting,” Younghoon sings, barely able to disguise his eager impatience.

Changmin scowls, which sends chills down Younghoon’s back, but he thankfully starts talking. “We went to dinner,” he begins, “at that ramen place. You know, the one right across campus?”

“Is this important?” Younghoon interrupts, then puts his hands up when Changmin gives him a death glare. Better not to anger the squirrel further. “Uh, never mind. Continue.”

“Okay, well, we went to dinner. And Y/N paid by throwing their card at the waiter.” Changmin’s lips jut out. “Then we left and were walking back and… I was dancing? Y/N was playing music? And, uh, we were kind of dancing together at some point when we got on campus and like, before, I told them I’d only say they were a good dancer if they could trip me up so Y/N actually just leapt at me and then we fell over and they were on top of me and, uh, we started laughing until…”

Oh, God. This is just a K-drama in real life. Younghoon leans forward, bunching blankets into his hand with a vice grip, waiting for the climax that he knows is going to come. “Until?” he prompts when Changmin stays silent.

Changmin takes a deep breath. “Until we realized what position we were in,” he squeaks. His head thumps back to the floor.

Younghoon shifts on the bed, now clutching his pillow as he tries desperately not to scream. “Tell me you kissed,” he says, voice strangled. “Tell me you fucking kissed. You better have.”

He better have, or Younghoon is going to pull a Changmin and start biting things.

Changmin rolls over and stares at the ceiling for a solid second in silence. For that one blissful moment, Younghoon really thinks that a stupid smile is going to break across his dumb best friend’s face, that he’s going to start waxing poetic about how your lips felt against his, soft and pillowy and so much better than he imagined (because there’s no way Changmin hasn’t imagined kissing you with how deep he’s fallen, absolutely no fucking way).

Then Changmin screams.

Years of growing up together have taught Younghoon which Changmin screams mean excitement or sadness or every emotion in between. This scream is nothing good. There is no happiness in Changmin’s raw vocal cords, no hidden joy in his tightly shut eyes, only pure angst and disappointment and frustration palpable in the screech that’s echoing between the dorm walls.

Younghoon heaves the pillow in his hand and throws it at his best friend. He picks up a nearby stuffed animal and throws it too. Then he throws another. And another. And another.

Changmin just takes it, soft things bouncing off his body into random corners of the room. His eyes are still squinched shut as though seeing nothing will erase the angst undoubtedly coursing through his blood. But Younghoon knows better.

“You fucking idiot,” he snaps when he’s run out of things to throw (hell, he even went so far as to throw Changmin’s Annabelle doll too). “You, Ji Changmin, are a fucking idiot.”

A muffled “I know” sounds under the pillow, which Changmin has taken and put on top of his face. He says something else that Younghoon can’t hear.

“Take that pillow off your face,” he says, feeling more like a long-suffering parent than a best friend (is this how his mom felt every time he did something stupid? If so, he’s now gained a whole new level of appreciation for her). “I can’t hear you.”

“I wanted to kiss them!” Changmin wails, sitting up. The pillow drops off his face, landing on the ground with a sad flop that Younghoon thinks very much represents Changmin’s current state of being. “I wanted to, but then their phone started playing the next song and it just broke the moment and I actually started thinking, what if Y/N doesn’t like me, what if I’m reading everything wrong, what if –”

“Ji Changmin.” Younghoon cuts in before Changmin goes completely off his head. “You are undoubtedly the dumbest human being I have ever had the displeasure of knowing for over a decade.”

“I –”

“I thought I was the dumb one in this friendship,” Younghoon continues, refusing to let Changmin even get a word in. “I thought I was the stupid one – I get worse grades than you, I have made questionable choices, the only things that run through my mind are anime and bread, but you – I have no words for you.” It’s Younghoon’s turn to flop facedown, though on his bed and not the floor. “You idiot.”

Silence. Then – “What if Y/N doesn’t like me, though?”

Younghoon very nearly groans as he picks his head out of his blankets, but the quivering note in Changmin’s voice keeps him from voicing as much of his frustration as he would like. “Ji Changmin,” he says carefully. “I’m dumb, unobservant, and I know I didn’t realize I liked my own partner before we had that confrontation, but even I’m smart enough to tell how head over heels Y/N is for you.”

More silence. Then Changmin speaks again. “I moved first,” he confesses softly. “I kind of twitched and I think Y/N took that as me not liking it, and then I just made things worse by pretending nothing happened.”

“You need to clear that up,” Younghoon says. “Talk. Admit that you really have feelings. Suggest a date. I don’t know what exactly you need to do, but I do know that if you let this go because you’re scared of rejection, you’re going to regret it for a long, long time.”

There’s still a pout on Changmin’s lips, his eyes wide and soft and sad, but there’s a slight steel to his gaze now, a sliver of determination glinting on his face as he nods the slightest bit. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Okay.”

Younghoon breathes a sigh of relief. “Please get this done within the next week,” he says, opening his laptop again. “I can’t stand the two of you pining any longer than that. And also, you’re picking up all the stuffed animals on the ground. I don’t care if I threw them, you caused me to throw them and you can’t deny that you deserved it.”

Changmin grumbles but he does as he’s told, tossing the soft things littering the ground back onto their respective beds. Younghoon just sighs, turning his attention back to his abandoned drama. If his best friend doesn’t get his shit together, he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands. In fact, some preventative measures might be needed. And he knows who’s ready to provide.

He opens the schemers group chat.

. . .

~ eric

Eric has done his absolute best to avoid acting like Kevin his whole life – look, he might be a nice person, but he’s a complete and utter mess – but when he reads Younghoon’s account of what apparently happened between you and Changmin earlier tonight, he feels the sudden urge to start screeching as loudly as Kevin does when things fail.

He looks at the texts one more time. Maybe he read something wrong. Maybe the ‘he didn’t kiss y/n’ actually says ‘he kissed y/n’ instead. Maybe his brain is just malfunctioning at a scale it has never attained before (which is insane, considering the heights of stupidity he’s already reached in his less than twenty years of life).

bread boy: so I ask him if he kissed y/n bc why wouldn’t he. why the fuck wouldn’t he

bread boy: and he just screams

bread boy: DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?

bread boy: H E D I D N T K I S S Y / N

There’s more after that, stuff that Eric doesn’t want to read a second time for fear of losing more brain cells than he can afford. Anyway, the little read by one message at the bottom of the screen has just turned to read by two, and Eric has a sinking feeling he knows what’s coming next. He counts one, two, three seconds of silence.

Then an ear-splitting scream sounds from the floor beneath him.

Yep. That’s Kevin, expressing all the emotions Eric can’t because Sunwoo is passed out on his bed not three feet away.

In lieu of a scream, a pained groan bursts from Eric’s throat and muffles itself into the pillow he’s pressed against his face. He’s always done his best to be understanding of people who can’t as readily admit they’re in love as he can – he knows he’s somewhat of a special case, really – but this level of dancing (literally) around each other is reaching levels of idiocy that even he can’t process.

moon boy: my ra just yelled at me and threatened to write me up

moon boy: but in my defense

moon boy: I cannot handle this

skater boy: neither can i

skater boy: I’m going to talk to y/n

This last text is the reason why the next day, at precisely one in the afternoon, Eric is waiting on the quad just outside the literature building, sitting on soft green grass that looks a little too bright for his current frustrated brain to be happy about.

After a few minutes of waiting, you show up, looking very tired, slightly unhinged, and in general like you spent the whole night thinking about a certain doe-eyed dancer. Eric raises an eyebrow at your disheveled appearance when you flop down on the grass. “Thought too hard about Changmin last night?”

Your head whips around so fast Eric’s surprised your neck didn’t snap. “How did you know?”

“It’s so obvious,” Eric replies. “You only get this worked up when Changmin does or doesn’t do something. So what happened this time?”

You narrow your eyes. “You already know,” you state. Not a question. A statement.

Embarrassment floods Eric’s face, but he just raises his arms and shrugs. “Guilty,” he says, mind racing for a way not to tell you about the schemer group chat. “Changmin spilled everything to Younghoon and he texted me to rant. So.” He leans forward, fixing you with a stare that won’t allow you to question his story. “That was a moment worthy of an entire fucking K-drama. So why didn’t you kiss?”

With a groan, you lie flat down on the quad. “Wouldn’t K-dramas drag it on, just for the sake of angst and extra views?” you mumble.

“Y/N.”

You groan. “I just… I wanted to,” you defend. “But my fucking phone was a cockblocker and it started playing a new song that ruined the god damn moment and, well…”

“Well?” Eric prompts.

Your eyes turn from staring up at the sky to looking at him. Something that reeks suspiciously of fear dances in your gaze. “I don’t know. For a moment, when we were just looking at each other, I really thought he might like me the same way. But, just… how could anyone like me that much? Especially him?”

For a second, Eric debates whether or not to say the words sitting on the tip of his tongue. They’ll reveal a part of himself that he doesn’t necessarily want you to know about. What he wants to say could sour your relationship, maybe even ruin it completely.

But his mind chooses this moment to throw caution to the wind, and the words slip out of Eric’s mouth before he can stop them.

“I liked you.”

Eric can pinpoint the exact moment his three-word sentence registers in your brain. Your eyes display a myriad of emotions – blank, then confused, then surprised, then something that looks like sadness and disappointment and terror rolled into one messy ball. You sit up. “Run that by me one more time,” you say slowly. “Tell me I heard you wrong.”

“I didn’t lie,” Eric says, trying to soothe the tiny pinprick of hurt in his heart. It’s much less painful than he expected, which is nice, but it’s still there. “I liked you the moment I helped you up after I hit you with my skateboard, but it was so easy to tell you were in love with Changmin that I wasn’t going to say anything about it.”

You put your face in your hands. “Eric,” you say, voice muffled behind your fingers, “just… why? How? We didn’t even know each other back then.”

Eric sighs. “I’ve always fallen in love too easily and with the smallest things,” he says. Years of working through this phenomenon have produced a coherent explanation that rolls off his tongue with ease. “Small stuff. A smile, or, like, a laugh. One time, I fell in love with this guy because of the way he tapped his pencil against his lips when he was thinking. I don’t know, you might just call it a crush, but… I don’t think crushes are supposed to be as deep as they feel for me.” He shrugs. “I fell in love with you because of your voice.”

Your eyes peek out just between your fingers. “My voice?”

“Yeah.” He plucks at the grass around him, nervously trying to give his hands something to do. “It’s… your voice is really soothing. Gentle. When you talked to me for the first time, it felt like… it felt like I could drown in it.” The words make him want to cringe, but they’re real. They’re truly how he felt, how he still feels, a little bit. “Really. I swear I’m not lying.”

This time, you fully put your hands down when you speak. “Are you… are you still in love with me?” you ask in measured tones, though he can still hear the slight shake in your words.

Eric debates whether or not to lie, then settles on the truth. You’d probably see through him, anyway. “A little,” he answers honestly. “But this isn’t about me. I fall in and out of love easily, that’s just part of who I am. You’re in love with Changmin, and this is about you and him. You just asked how anyone could fall in love with you, and I just wanted to tell you that it’s entirely possible for someone to fall in love with someone as amazing as you are. If I felt this way about your voice, imagine how Changmin must feel about your everything.”

Now you’re back to hiding your face in your hands, though it looks a bit like you’re holding back tears this time around. Eric waits in silence for you to gather yourself.

“Why are you helping me, if you liked me like… like that?” you finally ask, looking up once more. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Eric shrugs. “You’re worthy of love,” he says. “I knew I was going to get over this… crush sort of love at some point. You, on the other hand, are definitely going to regret letting Changmin go, if you do. You’re so obvious.” He snorts. “But yeah. You’re worthy of love. And I think Changmin can give you that sort of love that you deserve.”

Soft steel enters your eyes as your spine straightens slightly, exhibiting a determination that wasn’t there before. “Eric,” you say carefully, “anyone who ends up falling in love with you will be the lucky one. Not the other way around.”

It’s Eric’s turn to get shy. “Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbles, uselessly trying to swallow his smile and hide the pink rising in his cheeks.

The hug that you give him afterward feels sweet, soft, gentle in the grip of your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Eric,” you say when you pull away. “Remember what I said, yeah? You’ll find someone who falls as deeply for you as you do for them.”

“Only if you remember what I said,” Eric bargains, smiling. “Talk to Changmin.”

A tiny sigh leaves your lips, but you nod. “I will.” Your smile turns slightly scared, but the soft steel is still in your eyes, brightening your gaze. “See you later?”

Eric prays that the light in your eyes never fades. “See you,” he says softly.

You turn, just about to stand and walk away. Eric’s about to walk off himself when you spin back around. “Hey, Eric. For the record, you’re a great friend.” The smile on your lips is genuine, lovely, brilliant in the afternoon sunlight. “I’m glad to know you.”

Something blooms in Eric’s chest, erasing the pinprick of pain that came with your initial rejection. With those words, his heart grows warm, full, happy.

There’s no hurt left.

Eric smiles back, this time with full sincerity. “I’m glad to know you too.”

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin can’t believe that he isn’t even dating you, but he’s already gotten the heart-stopping text that consists of four deceptively simple and terrifying words: we need to talk.

He knows what you’re referring to. After all, the mere thought of your lips so close to his, breath puffing slightly against his skin and eyes sparkling under the starlight, brings butterflies to his stomach and makes his brain turn to mush.So he agrees, mostly because Younghoon knocked some sense into him, but also because he needs some closure or he thinks he’s going to explode.

A quick ok! when are you free? (hopefully) doesn’t hint at any of the fear squeezing his heart into the next dimension, and as a result, he’s standing on the empty green quad just outside the literature building, feet tapping uncontrollably against the ground. A few students glance at him as they pass by, but he can’t register their stares. There’s only one person on his mind.

You appear just a few minutes after he’s arrived. Somehow, his heart speeds up even more when you lock eyes with him – it feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. “Hi,” he says, barely able to keep the squeak out of his voice.

“Hi,” you reply, carefully coming to a stop just in front of him. “I, uh…”

Silence falls as the two of you look anywhere but at each other. Changmin can already feel the heat creeping up his cheeks. “Um,” he says, trying to breach the insurmountable gap building between you two, “I…”

A voice that sounds a little too much like Younghoon’s screams in his head just confess! as you look up hesitantly. “I didn’t want to move,” he begins lamely. “Last time. When, um, you know.”

The slightest dip of your head indicates comprehension. Nothing else in your face changes, save for a slight sparkle beginning to grow in your eye that gives Changmin a little bit of hope. “I got startled by the music from your phone,” he continues, voice still small but growing in strength. “And, um. It made me start thinking again. Because I like you, I like you so much, but, well, I just didn’t think you could ever like me that way. So I moved.”

Your gaze has dipped down once more, focused intently on your hands tightly clasped together. Then, just as Changmin’s beginning to fear the worst, you snap your head up. Your eyes glimmer with something that feels dangerously like the hope beginning to bubble in Changmin’s heart. “You like me?” you ask, gentle tones strained, desperate for something it seems you can barely even dream of.

Changmin swallows. “So much that it hurts,” he admits, voice softer than ever.

One terrifying second passes in silence after his admission, then a smile breaks across your face that’s so blinding, so bright it could rival the golden afternoon sunlight streaming from the sky. “Come here, Changmin,” you say. Your fingers twitch in a gesture he’s shown you so many times, and, like a magnet, he steps forward, following your words as though there’s nothing he’d rather do in his life.

And like a wave, like water crashing against the rocks at the bottom of a cliff, you surge forward, gripping the front of his shirt and pressing your lips to his with a gentle strength that physically knocks the breath out of Changmin’s chest.

Kissing you is everything he imagined and more, Changmin thinks once his brain catches up to the present. Your lips are still locked with his, eyes open just enough to gaze up at him through your eyelashes. Changmin can feel his own eyes beginning to flutter shut with heady bliss, but he forces them to stay just slightly open, just enough that he can see how you’re sparkling in the sunshine.

You taste of blooming flowers, of roses scenting the air, springtime, clear skies with not a single cloud marring the expanse of blue. His eyes finally close as he gains the courage to raise a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. Warmth blossoms in his heart as he deepens the kiss and you respond with gentle fervor, fingers still clutching the front of his shirt.

Air forces you to break away, shy eyes unable to gaze at each other for longer than a few seconds at a time. Heat has risen fully up Changmin’s cheeks – he’s sure his ears are bright red – and you can’t stop the smile that’s spread across your face, embarrassed and lovely all at once.

“I like you too,” you confess suddenly, as though the fact that you just kissed him didn’t give that completely away. “So much. I never thought that you’d feel the same.”

“Your smile is more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen,” Changmin protests, ears burning even more as you cover your face, flustered. “I don’t think there’s any way I couldn’t feel the same.”

“Glad to hear that.” You uncover your mouth, letting Changmin bear the full force of your grin. “Because I’ve said the same thing about your smile to Kevin a million times.”

Changmin giggles, this time hiding behind his own hand. “Our friends must hate us,” he says.

Your eyes crinkle with laughter. Changmin thinks he’s in heaven. “They must,” you agree. “I mean, we started interacting with a… Kevin’s calls it a fucking mating dance, but, uh…”

“Younghoon calls it a cult ritual,” Changmin supplies, giggling as you snort with laughter. “But yeah. We must have put them through a lot, huh?”

“True.” Eyes sparkling like rose petals in the sunshine gaze into his with a softness that makes him want to melt. “Doesn’t matter, though, does it?” You smile even more widely, if that’s possible. “I’m glad that we met. That we’re here now, no matter how strange the beginning.”

Changmin’s smile turns smaller, lips no longer stretching as widely, but holding even more warmth than before as he raises a hand. This time, though, his fingers don’t twitch. He simply holds out his palm. “Dance with me, Y/N?” he asks.

When you tangle your fingers with his, Changmin feels flowers burst into bloom in his chest. Sunlight sparkles like glittering rain around your grinning figure as he twirls you on the grass, eyes crinkled and smiling with laughter, so much pure laughter that echoes in the air and mixes with the sunshine to create a golden warm aura of bliss.

(“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks you two reach the front of your dorm. You’ve stopped dancing in favor of holding each other’s hands softly, tightly, gently, and Changmin thinks he’s going to melt in your gaze when you nod with the most brilliant smile on your face.

If the exchange ends in a kiss that feels like a dream, a dream of flower petals tinted with gold raining around him as warm as your fingers interlaced with his, well, Changmin doesn’t mind if Younghoon teases him about it later. He doesn’t mind the smirks, the nudges, the one too many pokes in his side.

His heart is too busy blooming, after all, blooming with thoughts of your love and your smile.)

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 punch in the face for this couple for giving me so much pain while writing them)

108 notes · View notes

sourwolphs · 3 years

Text

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (1/8)

Read on Ao3 (For better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Kidnapping, Degrading Language (not from Bucky) A/N: This story takes place post-Endgame, but everyone is happy and living in the compound and nobody died :-) Because I said so. Also switches POV between Reader and Bucky, with Reader in first person and Bucky in third! Follows typical A/B/O dynamics, with some random headcanons thrown in and explained.

The first thing I felt was the searing pain in my wrists.

My eyes flickered open, slowly taking in my surroundings, my heartbeat picking up as each terrifying detail came into my line of sight. My back ached terribly, cold cement beneath my skin. I was slumped in the corner of some kind of cell. It was dimly lit—just light enough to reveal the shadows of the large space, and the light of a hallway stretching to my right through the bars of the cell. I looked down at my body to find it clad in the clothes I’d been wearing the night before. My shoes were missing, plain socks dirty on my feet.Worst of all— my wrists were bound in a thick metal band, glowing with a soft blue light that ached where it touched my skin.

My memories were blurry. The last thing I remembered was approaching the front door of my 3rd floor walkup late at night, seeing a shadow slip from the dark alley to my left, before everything went black.

The red-haired agent had warned me it was only a matter of time before those with bad intentions discovered me and the things I could do. If I could, I would have kicked myself for not listening to her when I’d been warned.

I lifted my hands to test my powers, summoning the energy I felt like an icy throb in my chest. But when I tried to channel it down through my hands, urging even a snowflake to appear, all I felt was a stinging pain. Whatever the device on my wrists was, it completely neutralized my abilities. If my heart had been beating fast before, now I was approaching unprecedented levels of panic. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I told myself. Panicking won’t get you out of here. But as I took my next inhale, my other senses kicked in.

The second thing I realized? I was not alone in this cell.

I could smell my own scent, layered with sickly sweet anxiety and the sharp, metallic scent of panic. But a foreign scent, distinctly Alpha drifted towards me from the shadows of the cell. I instinctually curled closer to the wall, my Omega hindbrain working overtime to protect me. Bare your throat. Make yourself small. You are defenseless. Not like I needed the reminder with the sharp pain still throbbing at my wrists.

I curled into a small ball, taking a quiet gulp of breath to assess the situation as I peered futilely through the shadows. I didn’t smell anger, or danger—just a heady, strong Alpha scent. Cedar, a hint of campfire and the crisp, clean scent of… snow. Not typical. But… good.

But the Alpha scent also had a hint of something else. Something strong. Something like rut. I tilted my head, confused— I heard a shifting, and the glint of metal moving in the far right corner of the cell. Two pinpricks of light—his eyes— lifted up and connected with mine.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose in fear. An Alpha nearing rut. Locked in a cell. With me. I took another few deep lungfuls of air, willing my heart rate to slow down and making myself smaller. Whoever locked me in here couldn’t have had good intentions. Should I… introduce myself?

I didn’t get the chance to decide. A door at the end of the hallway opened, and a pack of men filed in to stand outside the cell doors, peering in at me. I squared my jaw, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep myself centered and tamp down on the inner voice telling me to submit.

“Not so powerful now, are you?” barked a weaselly looking Beta at the front of the group. He wore a tactical vest, buckled in an X shape in the front. His muscles, overcompensating an embarrassing amount for his designation, bulged on his compact frame.

I glared at him. “What do you want with me?” I spit.

He laughed. “Careful with that nasty attitude, Omega.”

I suppressed the disgusted shiver that trembled down my spine at his use of my designation.

“Big Guy in there won’t like a defiant bitch,” he continued. The men at the back of his pack laughed darkly. “Better get ready to submit.”

The Alpha in the corner was still motionless— still staring. I felt dread settle in a pit in my stomach at what they implied. Show no weakness. I put on my most defiant face.

“Oh, him?” I tossed my head in the Alpha’s direction, feigning indifference. Don’t show fear. “You can’t scare me. Take these cuffs off me and let’s see who submits first.”

The Beta growled, the laughter momentarily draining from his face, hackles raised. “Shut up, whore.” Then, he seemed to remember I was in the cell and he was outside of it. He smirked, before turning around to head back down the hallway with his pack. “You’ll see.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

I let out the breath I’d been holding as quietly as I could, willing my anxiety to settle so I could think. But it was then that the Alpha decided to stand and stalk slowly towards me.

Rationally, I knew Alphas were big and scary. They always were— overly tall, overly aggressive, insufferably controlling and dominant, and so strong-scented it made me feel lightheaded and stuffy. But this Alpha, well, all of the above was an understatement. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a wide chest and legs thick with muscle. He was wearing tight-fit, black clothing that showed off the muscles of his body to an exorbitant degree, and it looked, well, tactical—buckles and straps and belts with holsters that had been disarmed by whoever threw him in here with me. His face was still mostly in shadow in the dim cell, but I could make out curtains of brown hair and a strong jawline speckled with stubble. And the closer he got to me, the stronger his unique scent grew, washing over me like a wave— along with the growing scent of his rut.

You’re staring. Be small, my Omega hindbrain reminded me. I cowered, feeling fear wash over me again. What if he was in on this with them….I didn’t let myself think that far. I turned my head to the side slightly, baring my throat in an appeasing way to the dominant force in the room.

Then the Alpha’s full form came into my line of sight, and I realized exactly who I had been trapped in a cage with. Oh, fuck.

—————

Bucky didn’t know what possessed him to step forward. Chivalry, perhaps? Though according to Steve, that whole concept had died in the 21st century. Omegas didn’t look to Alphas for protection the way they had in the 40s. Something urged him towards the defiant Omega in the corner, and he would be lying if it didn’t partially have to do with her intoxicating scent and the weird and uncharacteristic prickliness he was experiencing that he couldn’t shake off. Her scent was sweet like peppermint, laced with the crispness of a cold gust of winter wind, but her anxiety at waking up across from him had soured it slightly. He didn’t blame her—but he couldn’t resist another lungful.

Bucky stepped forward slowly, his movements measured so as not to scare her. She had pushed herself as far into the corner as possible, her throat bared and chest rising and falling quickly. But as his face—and his recognizable arm— came into view, he saw the change in her expression as realization dawned. She gasped, her scent turning dark and desperate with fear. He stopped short, swallowing. Fuck.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. Then, improvising, he lowered to his knees in a position he hoped looked as non-threatening as possible, turning his face to the side to show her his throat in return. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s… I’m—“ He stopped, shutting his eyes in resignation. This was not going well. She was still panicked, curling in on herself.

“I’m in control,” he said, hoping that would be enough to quell her fears. These days, the public knew all about the Winter Soldier and the horrible things his hands had done. But Shuri had erased the loophole from his brain over six years ago now, if you count the blip. Which is why it made no sense that Hydra had gone to such lengths to trap him here on a mission gone awry in Northern Europe.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell, though. He estimated he’d been trapped here for no more than about 15 hours, and he didn’t doubt that Steve, Sam and the rest of the team would track this base down within 24. He’d already examined his body for injuries, tested the bars for give and scoped out any other potential entry and exit points before Hydra agents had cracked the cell door with three assault rifles trained on him and dumped the Omega inside three hours ago. The only thing that felt off was this strange, growing feeling that he needed to get out of his skin. He’d already removed his outer layer of Kevlar, feeling hotter than normal.

The woman looked normal enough, besides the panic taking over her faculties and the unknown, bulky device clasped around her wrists. She was small, but deceptively strong—he could see the lean lines of muscle on her limbs. Her long hair was loose around her pretty face, and they’d removed her shoes— if she’d even been wearing any in the first place. But god, her smell. Bucky couldn’t help taking another deep lungful, trying to be as discreet as possible. It was like his body was on autopilot, drifting closer and closer to where she was pressed against the wall.

She looked confused by his placating bared throat. Nowadays, Alphas were insufferable hotheads. She’d probably never seen one so willing to submit to an Omega. Bucky noticed that the rise and fall of her chest was slowing. “A-are you really….?” she practically whispered.

He nodded, clenching his jaw. “The Winter Soldier?”

She nodded back—so small, it was almost imperceptible.

“You can call me Bucky. I’m not— The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore.” He laughed a little. “They actually call me the White Wolf now…”

Something was wrong with his body. He was feeling itchy—painfully so now. He shifted forward even closer, on his knees, and she flinched imperceptibly— turning to face the wall next to her. He took another deep lungful of her scent, and the sweetness lit every cell in his body on fire. Was he… getting hard?

Realizing her distress and how close he’d gotten to her body, Bucky stood up and put distance between them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on…” He gasped. Her scent was addicting. His Alpha was screaming at him to close the distance, grab her, shove his face into her scent gland and inhale. To run his hands all over her body, to rut into her, to sink his teeth into her gland and bite, to claim her as his own and mark her body all over…. Holy shit. He was going into rut. After 75 fucking years, he was going into rut while trapped in a Hydra cell with an unmated Omega.

Against his better instincts and training, Bucky started to panic.

————

I could tell exactly the moment that the Winter Soldier—Bucky, I corrected myself— realized what was happening. He’d been drifting closer and closer to me, his ice blue eyes trained on my gland, taking deep lungfuls of my scent as if I couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing.

When he recognized my distress, he forced distance between us, wiping sweat from his forehead and inspecting his hands—one flesh, one metal— as if they’d have an answer.

“Rut,” I said quietly. Our eyes connected. His were wide, panicked. His scent was sharp with fear and anxiety, so strong with lust it was making me dizzy. I pushed my forehead against the cold cement wall to center myself. Why would they kidnap me as Omega bait for a fucking Avenger? Why me?

“I’m on suppressants—I don’t know how…” He trailed off, then abruptly ripped the leather sleeve off his shirt in one swipe to inspect his upper arm. Holy shit, he was strong. I mean, I knew he was a super soldier, but Jesus Christ. “They stuck me with something.” His jaw was set in a tight line when he turned back to look at me, pupils blown wide with lust.

I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening.

He growled sharply in frustration, slamming his metal fist into the concrete wall of the cell so hard that cracks appeared on impact. I yelped in fear, my heart racing. Before I could open my mouth to apologize submissively, he dropped down to his knees again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I—“ He cut off, growling in frustration, fists clenched at his sides. He shook out his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes, before he looked up to meet mine again. “Please, don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth.

I nodded weakly, feeling the tears start to spill from my eyes. He was trembling now. Whatever they gave him was working quickly, and the strain of keeping himself contained was obvious in the restrained quiver of his limbs. Maybe I was fucking crazy, but I actually felt sorry for him. An ex-assassin Avenger twice my size, pumped full of super soldier serum and rut hormones. That couldn’t feel good— especially not with his history.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated again. This time, it seemed more like he was trying to convince himself. His hands were clenched so hard I could hear his Vibranium fist squeak with the strain. “I won’t. I won’t—“ he gasped for a centering breath.

Against all rational instinct, I started to believe him. He wouldn’t hurt me. At least— he really didn’t want to.

I knew about the Winter Soldier. Everyone did. How Hydra had kidnapped him, tortured him, and turned him into a brainwashed weapon for their murderous intent. I couldn’t imagine how horrible this would be for him— with his very public history— to have control wrested from him again. Especially like this.

Comfort Alpha, my inner Omega cooed unhelpfully. Alpha is hurting. Help him.

Fighting back my fear, I came to my hands and knees on the cell floor, shuffling a few paces forward until we were only a few feet apart. He was still shaking slightly, murmuring to himself in what sounded like Russian, breathing shallowly. I risked another lungful of his scent, and it made my Omega go wild. I felt my own body start reacting to his arousal, my scent billowing out in soothing notes, slick between my legs. It was impossible for Omegas to launch into a sympathetic heat when they were distressed or in danger, but I couldn’t ignore how intoxicating his scent was to me— or the growing need I felt to soothe and calm him as his chest heaved with the strain of restraining himself.

“Get— Get away from me. I can’t—“ he spit through gritted teeth. I paused, hesitating, my bound hands reaching towards his knee. “I don’t want to hurt you—“

“It’s okay,” I murmured soothingly, hardly recognizing the calm sound of my voice when my heart was racing a million miles an hour inside my chest. I was too cowardly to be a hero before, when the red-haired agent had found me and urged me to join her. I had always run from responsibility and hidden my abilities from the world. Maybe today, I could be courageous.

I placed my hands on his forearm, feeling the sweat-slick heat of him. His head slowly raised to look at me. Up close, I could see his plush lips, the stubble along his jaw, his pupils blown wide with lust. His scent, God.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” I said. Bucky was panting now. “I— I trust you.” He narrowed his eyes at me disbelievingly, but my words and tempting closeness seemed to tamp down his initial panic. He leaned in closer, close enough that I could see the stubble of his jaw, his adorably delicate ears tucked behind the loose strands of hair framing his face, the plush cupid’s bow of his lips.

The pictures in the news don’t do Alpha justice, my Omega murmured.

“Isn’t someone coming for you? Aren’t you, like… a superhero?” I asked.

He grimaced, breaking eye contact. “I’m not a hero. But the team should be here within a few hours. We’ve never… lost someone for longer.”

I took a shaky breath. Okay. So we’re getting out of here.

“Do you know what they want?” I murmured. I could guess. Scum like Hydra only see Omegas as good for one thing: breeding. But I didn’t want to voice the horrible thoughts out loud.

He scoffed. “Whatever it is… I won’t do it.” The resolve set in his jaw, muscles ticking as we made eye contact again, the scent of his rage and restrained instincts washing over me— bitter as gunpowder and steel. He was still trembling, fists clenched. “I won’t.”

I felt something soften inside of me at his words. I should be terrified, rolling over on my stomach to submit— throat bared —but I felt… protected.

“Do you mind— Would it be okay if I—“ He cut himself off, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and looking pained.

“If…?”

“It helps if I can… scent you,” he sighed. “I won’t—“

Before he could finish that thought, I nodded my head in assent. There’s no greater pain to an Alpha in rut than being unable to touch. I shifted off my knees, intending to curl against his side, but he shocked me by standing and scooping me up into his arms, returning to the shadowy corner of the cell he’d been in when I’d first woken up. I bristled a little at his intentions, but he quickly set me down on a soft pile of leather and thick canvas that smelled strongly of his heady cedar scent— clothes he must have shed from the heat of rut.

“Sorry,“ He murmured. “I won’t touch you if you—“

“It’s okay,” I interrupted, taking a deep breath to steady myself and leaning back to get more comfortable. He hovered over me, propping his metal arm by my head. His ice blue eyes searched mine, our breaths loud in the quiet of the cell as we settled into the comfort of each others’ scents. I tilted my head to the side a bit, feeling my mating gland peek out from behind my hair.

Bucky growled softly, leaning down to press his face into my neck and taking deep lungfuls of my scent. I squeezed my eyes shut, bringing my bound hands awkwardly to touch his side to anchor myself. Under my palms, I could feel the tension leaving his muscles as he breathed me in.

“Omega,” he groaned, his voice raspy and deep. I shivered. Arousal stirred in me again, his chest pressed tight to mine as he nose trailed up and down my neck, into my hair and onto my cheek. “You smell so good. Fuck,” he whispered.

He was starting to lose himself. His flesh hand came to my waist, strong grip catching me off guard as he settled closer to me. My heart rate picked up again, and I fought the urge to bolt. Alpha won’t hurt you, my Omega supplied. Please your Alpha. Bucky must have picked up on my fear, because he pushed himself back.

“Sorry. I’ll—“ He shifted so he was laying next to me but with his lower half intentionally tilted away, arm across my waist and face near enough to my gland that he could continue to breathe me in. “Okay?” He grunted. I nodded, shocked that he was able to control himself enough to hold himself stiffly away from me. The scent of rut was so strong that from what I knew about Alphas, he should be animalistic with lust— unable to stop himself from shredding my clothes and taking me on the cell floor. Small mercies.

“Sleep,” he said gruffly. When I didn’t move or shut my eyes, he tightened his much gentler grip on my waist. “Please. I won’t… I won’t do anything. We’ll be out of here, before…” he trailed off, again. Boy, was he a man of few words. But he didn’t need to say it out loud for me to understand his meaning: Much longer, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

I took another soothing breath, trying to settle myself. Alpha wants you to sleep, my Omega purred. Alpha will protect you. For once in my life, I listened. I took in a lungful of his strong smell, taking comfort in the protective weight of his arm thrown over me, and let myself drift off.

#like an animal #my fic #bucky x reader #buckyreader #bucky reader insert #bucky x yn

54 notes · View notes

devoidwrites · 3 years

Text

Summary - Your friend decided to drag you to a party a friend of hers was throwing. There you met Jun, who wasn't too much of a party person either. The two of you decide to skip out and it turns out to be a fun night.

Words: 2.2K

Warnings: none

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

"I'm not going Yerin!" You tried to pull away from your best friend, but there was no way she was letting you out of this one alive.

"You've been cooped up in your dorm for the passed two weeks y/n! You have to get out an associate with people!" She argued her case as she continued to pull you alongside the sidewalk. She had taken it upon herself to put you in clothing far too tight and drag you from your shared dorm room on a chilly Friday afternoon, barely getting out the words 'party' and 'cute guys' before pulling you out the door.

"I do associate with people!" You countered, huffing as you were finally able to pull yourself away from her grip. Yerin stopped walking, turning to make sure you weren't going to make a run for it. You knew better. If you did that you would never hear the end of it, so you decided to brave through this, for her sake that is.

Yerin rolled her eyes before turning to walk once more, making sure you were following after her. "Being paired up with random people in your introduction to psychology class does not count."

"I talk to you!"

"Barely, and we're roommates!" She reminded you with a scoff. "Do I need to remind you that I'm the one that started this friendship. If it weren't for me you'd be stuck back in the dorm with your nose in a book."

"So I'm guessing it's too late to back out of the best friend deal then?" You questioned, obviously joking. Yerin laughed sarcastically before squealing excitedly and pointing towards the building in front of you. You two had arrived at the party, which was in full swing.

You sighed before following your friend into the house filled with sweaty college kids. Something about being surrounded by drunk people doing drugs and acting like fools just never felt right to you. You would much rather be home watching tv or reading a book. You would rather do anything else over having to push through hormonal young adults grinding on one another just to get to an area where you could breathe.

Yerin handed you a drink as soon as you made it to the kitchen. "What is this?"

"I don't know, but it's free alcohol, so drink up!"

You couldn't believe you were friends with someone so outgoing and trusting. You knew it was a rule for a young woman to never leave a drink unattended, but here was your best friend, drinking the first thing she was handed. It just didn't make any sense.

"Do you wanna dance?"

"No thanks, I'm gonna go sit by the pool." You told her. Once she made sure you would be fine by yourself, she made her way onto the dance floor, instantly finding someone to dance with. It was a perk of hers, she never met a stranger. Then again, that wouldn't always be a good thing.

You tore your eyes away from your friend and made you way to the backyard, where the pool was. It wasn't an ideal situation, sitting around and watching people hump on each other in the pool, but hey, at least you could breathe out here.

It's what you always did when you were dragged to a party. You found a nice spot to sit until Yerin was ready to leave. Of course you could always leave her, but what if something happened after you left? You would never forgive yourself. It's the only reason you ever stayed at these damned parties.

"Not a party goer?" A voice spoke up from beside you, making you jump slightly. You turned your eyes away from your phone to look up, catching the stare of the boy beside you.

You could say he was handsome, but that would be an understatement. The way his straight brown hair cascaded down his face made his jawline pop, and his bright eyes shone in the twinkling lights above you. He gave you a sweet smile before clearing his throat.

You blinked, quickly turning away to hide your tinted cheeks. You were staring at him like a shocked little girl! "Oh yeah, being surrounded by a bunch of drunk hormonal college students is always a thrill!"

"Ah, sarcasm. I like it." He sat back in his seat. "I'm Jun."

"Y/n." You introduced yourself, gripping your phone a little tighter in your hands. "Are you not a fan of parties either?"

"They're alright, but I'd rather spend my time elsewhere." He told you before taking a sip of his drink.

"Then why are you here?" You couldn't help but ask. You had surprised yourself really. Normally, you wouldn't strike up a conversation with someone so naturally, but something about him made it easy. He had a nice vibe to him, and yours seemed to match easily.

"My friends dragged me here." He pointed over to a group of boys towards the pool. One of them did a back flip off the diving board, interrupting the couples make out session making the others laugh. "I figured I'd come just to make sure they didn't set the place on fire or something. What about you? Why are you here if you don't enjoy this type of scene?"

"Well, my roommate decided I needed to associate more with people, so she dragged me here and left to go dance with a stranger." Now that you said it out loud, it sounded somewhat depressing. She had just left you when she was the one to drag you here in the first place. You couldn't blame her though. She was trying to get you to open up, but it obviously wasn't easy.

"Sounds fun." He sat up straighter in his seat, his face more serious now. He glanced around, his eyes glancing everywhere before they finally landed on you. "Do you wanna get out of here?"

You blinked again, taken back by the question. This guy was brazen to ask you to just up and leave with him when you didn't even know his family name yet. "What?"

"Do you wanna get out of here?" He questioned once more, only this time he turned to look at you fully, his gaze capturing your own. "Let's escape the party and find something more fun for the both of us?"

"We literally just met." You reminded him, pointing a finger in his direction. "How do I know you're not some creep who's gonna kidnap me?"

It was a good thing to be cautious, but then again if you did something as crazy as go off with a random guy you met at a party Yerin would leave you alone for at least a week.

Your words made the boy chuckle. Jun slid a hand through his hair. "Do I seem like the type to want to kidnap you?"

"Nobody thought Ted Bundy looked like a killer." You informed him matter-of-factly, but your words only made a small smirk grow on his lips. "But he got his victims because he was attractive."

"Are you saying I'm attractive?"

"I-" You sighed, knowing you were caught in your own words. You then caught sight of your friend grinding on another random boy, which brought you back to reality. You couldn't believe you were even thinking about leaving with a random boy you had just met. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave my friend alone."

"Y/n!" A voice called out happily. You turned your eyes to meet Yerin, who had obviously had more to drink since you departed from her. "This is Wonwoo. I'm going to his place!"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" You questioned, standing up to give your friend a questioning glance. You felt Jun stand up as well. He leaned over to whisper in your ear.

"You have nothing to worry about, Wonwoo wouldn't hurt a fly."

You turned around to look at him with an arched eyebrow. "You know him?"

"He's my roommate." His face morphed into a look a disgust as he realized what this meant. "Which means I have to find a place to go tonight."

"Who's this?" Yerin asked, giving you a drunken smile.

"Uh- this is Jun. You told me to associate more right?"

Yerin nodded as she leaned closer to your ear. "He's cute."

Rolling your eyes, you pushed her off of you. After fixing your shirt, you turned back around to talk to Yerin, but she and Wonwoo were already making their way through the mass of people still partying. You sighed, turning back to the brunet boy, who was smiling hopefully at you.

Now you had no reason to deny his offer of a spontaneous adventure with him, not unless you just didn't want to that is. You sighed, unbelief settling in that you were about to do something so crazy.

"Okay, let's get out of here."

"You suck at this!"

"It's not my fault my hand slipped!" You groaned as you walked back over to the seats the two of you occupied. Jun had brought you to one of the only fun places open this late, which was a bowling alley just down the road.

You had never seen an all night bowling alley before, but the owner informed you that he only stayed open late whenever it's was the weekend. It attracted the drunks and he got money off their drunken antics and it gave the teens something to do on their nights off from school. It was a smart move, actually.

"Let me show you how it's done." Jun was confident, something you weren't, unless it was about your studies. You knew you were smart, and you weren't afraid to announce it to whoever.

He waltzed over to the ball rack and picked up the yellow bowling ball he had been using the past hour you two had been here. He stepped up to the line and reeled his arm back before swinging it forward, letting the ball speed down the middle of the alley, hitting the middle pin and giving him a strike.

You clapped, laughing as he did a dance. "I admit, you're better than me."

"Why thank you!" He bowed over dramatically, making you laugh once more. You were actually having fun with him. It was something about Jun that made it feel like you've known each other for months instead of hours. He was just so lively and outgoing.

You had learned that he wasn't in college anymore, but he lived close by and stayed in contact with his friends he made in college. He always followed them to parties to make sure his friends were okay, and he was usually the designated driver so they wouldn't have to stumble all the way home. He wasn't too much older than you.

He worked at the local cafe, spending his days serving coffee to tired adults and treats to hyperactive children. He was extremely kind, always making sure you were alright at every chance he had. You always made sure to reassure him that you were fine, giving him a sweet smile to sell it.

"Sorry to interrupt your game, but I have to close it down whenever you two are done." The manager informed the two of you, making the smile drop from your lips. Checking the time on your phone, you gasped when you realized in was almost two in the morning.

"We'll try to hurry." Jun told the older man with a smile and a bow. The two of you did as promised and hurried up with your game, finishing just in time.

"I told you I'd win!" Jun boasted as the two of you walked down the sidewalk and towards the college campus. He offered to walk you home, and with it being late you happily accepted.

You chuckled at his happiness for winning a silly game. "I haven't bowled in years."

"Maybe we could do it again some time." He suggested, brining a smile to your lips. It was strange, but you were having a great time. Once you got passed the fact that you barely knew the boy beside you, you were able to have a good time. Perhaps it was the same for Yerin, but different aspects.

The two of you stepped up to the entrance of the girls dorms, meaning your night of innocent fun would be coming to an end. "Surprisingly, I've had a lot of fun tonight."

"Next time time you feel like you want to go on another adventure, call me."

"Is that your way of asking me for a date?" You questioned, cocking an eyebrow at the boy in front of you. He let out a breath before biting his lip and looking down quickly.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Absolutely not." You told him. You leaned forward, taking a daring move to press a soft kiss to his cheek before turning around to walk into the building. "Goodnight Jun."

As you walked towards your dorm, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. Perhaps Yerin was right after all. It's good to talk to new people every once in a while.

#seventeen x y/n #imagine #fluff #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt au #jun x reader #jun seventeen #jun self insert #self insert #kpop imagine #kpop #kpop x reader

59 notes · View notes

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“Lucky Together”

Summary: Harry and Y/N always have wine night as best friends, but when Harry brings up the possibility of him going on a date, some confessions are made

so best friends to lovers! and its WINE WEDNESDAY!! I’m not entirely happy with this and I had an original plan for it and maybe someday I’ll actually do that, but for some reason my hands like to write angst sometimes. It’s mostly FLUFF but there is a little bit of tension, but it ends on a good note. Also it just felt kinda cliche but I still liked it - im conflicted. Let me know what y’all think feedback is appreciated :)

Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: swearing, a little angst

Harry heard the door opening before he even heard the knock on the door. Y/N swung inside his home as he began to get up. A grin was plastered on her face as she bounded inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Harrry!” she exclaimed, dragging out his name in voice that wasn’t exactly her own - a more exaggerated, silly persona. “Are you ready to get fucked up on…” she slowed down as she looked at the label of the wine she was holding, “A $20 bottle of a lovely red wine that I can’t read the name of?!”

She threw her bags and coat haphazardly on the floor and Harry grinned back at his best friend. Y/N was so impossibly electric sometimes. He loved feeding off her energy and she was always quick to feed off his as well.

It was Wine Wednesday, a tradition Harry and Y/N have had since the beginning of their friendship.

They had met at a corporate party thrown by Capitol Records. They worked in completely different sectors, Y/N’s job would never cross with Harry in the studio normally, but they met that night and hit it off. A friend of Y/N did in fact work with Harry and had introduced them casually. After spending the night laughing their heads off together, Harry and Y/N had exchanged numbers, promising to follow up on things they had thrown out as things to do together. One of those ideas had been always wanting someone to have a Wine Wednesday with. She had told Harry that she did it a few times in college, but had wanted to start again now that she was a sophisticated adult. He had laughed and agreed, saying he had never had a designated day for wine, but he thought it sounded like a class idea.

That next wednesday, Y/N had called Harry asking for his address and then told him she’d be over in twenty minutes. Y/N had burst through the door similar to how she had tonight, except the first time Harry had to open the door for her first. She had thrown her things to the ground, found her way to the kitchen and uncorked the random bottle of cheap wine she had found at the market down the street from Harry. After that, they began to switch off who was to supply the wine, but Y/N always insisted it be cheap and that they were always at Harry’s house.

They had lost track a long time ago about how many times they had done Wine Wednesday together. And it was always together and no one else.

He scoffed at his friend as she beelined to his kitchen, “Naturally!”

Y/N smiled, grabbing a fish mouth bottle opener. Y/N took it and played with it for a second, animating the bottle opened to look as if it was swimming. After amusing herself enough, Y/N set to work on opening up the random bottle of wine. Harry joined her in the kitchen, moving around her with ease to grab their two extra large wine glasses.

On their first Wine Wednesday, Harry had only brought out his regular sized wine glasses and Y/N had told him that she’d bring bigger ones next time. He had stopped her, reassuring her he had larger glasses, but hadn’t realized that was what she wanted. Her reply was that it was only the two of them drinking the bottle, “Who the fuck else is getting poured a glass?”

“What are you doing with that fish, gonna break it, love,” Harry teased as he placed the glasses to the right of Y/N.

She rolled her eyes playfully at him as she finally freed the cork from the bottle. “Was just giving Mr. Fish a proper swim before using him. It’s the same as knocking before you enter a room. ‘S polite.” She smiled smugly, before pouring two extremely full glasses of the red wine. After resting the bottle back onto the table, Y/N grabbed her glass and nodded to Harry to take his. Knowing what she meant, Harry immediately took up his glass and clinked it with hers. They both threw back their heads slightly, taking large initial gulps of their wine.

Y/N led the way into Harry’s living room, which was big and spacious. He furnished it with big comfy couches and various art pieces on the wall, some random items laid around, but mostly it was clean.

Y/N had brought over a few of the random items that laid around, when she had first come over, she had told him how bare it was in here. Next time she was there she brought over a scarf - to hang over a lamp - she’d embroidered and a small rainbow sculpture. Harry had thanked her for the gifts, but Y/N insisted he was doing her a favor by allowing a little more life in the room. “Don’t get me wrong this art is...so you. But why is there nothing else in here that screams Harry or like, I live here? Feels suffocating, so lonely” she had mused about the room. Harry didn’t have an answer for Y/N and she was okay with that.

“Okay, so what are we doing tonight? Movie, music, or gossip?” Y/N relaxed into the couch and stretched her body out, leaving her almost prone on the couch with her feet on Harry’s coffee table. Her stare fixated on his smiling face, awaiting his suggestion. He shut one eye while contemplating their options, then he took a sip of his wine and went to settle beside Y/N on the couch. “Think gossip and music, yeah?” Harry said thoughtfully as he threw his toned arm around the back of the couch.

Y/N shifted to allow herself to look at Harry. He was in a hoodie and sweats and he looked a little sleepy already. She knew that meant this Wine Wednesday was going to be a short one. As much as she loved hanging out with Harry and drinking wine, she knew that he needed his rest. If he was already looking tired, it was likely the half drunk wine bottle would end up in the trash can and she’d be catching a cab before midnight. It wasn’t annoying, Y/N always wanted Harry to take care of himself first, rather than putting others' needs ahead of his own.

Nodding, Y/N took a sip of her wine. “Alright, for music...What are we thinking? Beatles? Or...uh, Beatles?” she said as if ruminating on the bands coming out of her mouth. Harry’s hand that was on the top of the couch came down to swat at Y/N’s head. “Hmm, good choices...But I was feeling more Hall & Oates tonight. You mind?” She shrugged after hitting his hand right back. “Don’t care, but Lennon and Harrison just might be rolling in their graves right now,” Y/N said as her eyebrows rose and she looked disapprovingly at Harry. “You literally love Hall & Oates, Y/N, hush,” he popped back up after scolding Y/N and flicked on his speakers and pressed play on his Hall & Oates playlist of their discography.

“Would I have persuaded you more if I had asked for Fleetwood?” Y/N asked when Harry returned to his seat. She shifted to sitting completely, cross legged, fully facing Harry on the couch. Harry barked out a laugh before visibly considering her question. “Maybe,” he said with a scrunch of his face like ‘if only you had asked, oh well’. They both laughed.

“Okay, now you’re usually not one for gossip,” Y/N started after they had drank some more of their wine and talked a little more about the music, “So what’s your gossip. Spill.”

“So you know the bird at the coffee shop down the street, who started working there last week?” Harry started excitedly. Y/N finished her sip and nodded seriously, curious to hear what Harry had to gossip about that concerned this woman. “Well, today she told me my coffee was on the house, and then when my black coffee was ready it had her name on it and her number!”

“That’s forward,” Y/N mused, her tone wasn’t necessarily judgemental, but it definitely wasn’t ecstatic as Harry had expected when he had decided to tell Y/N the story.

“What? Would you not have liked that if someone had done that for you?” Harry asked, genuinely wondering what made Y/N not be her usual excited self. She was also a hopeless romantic, so he had thought she would have loved this.

“I mean, I guess I would have been flattered, but you’re not seriously considering taking her out? C’mon, Harry, she obviously knows who you are,” Y/N paused, trying not to sound like a total asshole, “Just, if I were you, I would always be wary of people’s true intentions before I started anything.”

Harry sighed and took a long gulp of his wine, decreasing the amount in the glass significantly. Soon, he’d need a refill. “I know that...but she seems so sweet and I haven’t been out with anyone in awhile. Romantically.” He added the last word after a beat, like it needed clarification that when he went out with Y/N it wasn’t something romantic. She twitched and shifted in her seat, trying to push away the negative feelings she got when Harry made that distinction.

“Okay, if you’re that desperate for someone then go for it,” you said not fully realizing the exact words coming out of your mouth. Your mouth dropped when you processed what you had just said. Harry looked at you with slight disbelief. “I didn’t mean it in that way, Harry. I just-”

“No, I got what you meant. You think this woman is just using me for attention and that I’m so starved of any romantic connection that I’m willing to be used. Have you ever thought about why I’m so starved of any romantic life? Maybe because I’m always hanging out with my alleged best friend who never approves of anyone I bring up.” Harry sounded hurt. Y/N felt terrible. He set down his glass and shifted to face her more fully, his face set in a good amount of anger.

“That’s not fair, H,” Y/N sighed and placed her glass on the coffee table. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You give your heart away so easily and then people just end up taking advantage of you and hurting you. And I hate seeing you hurt. Because I’m the one who is always there to pick up the pieces.”

“Why are you always there though, Y/N? Why do you stick by my side when I’m always apparently making the wrong love choices?” Harry asks, his tone rising to something that was almost aggressive.

“Because you’re my best friend, Harry!” Y/N laughed incredulously. She was in disbelief that Harry would even ask her such a question. It was strange that their evening of fun had escalated into this nightmarish confrontation.

“That’s not enough,” Harry insisted, forcing them to continue the conversation. The conversation the two of them had never thought they needed to have. “You’re right, you’re always there to mend my broken heart. And you always discourage me from going for risky romances. And you never talk about any potential people for you? Why?”

“You’re my best friend! I don’t know what else you want me to say? What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“You know what I’m asking, Y/N.” And just like that, Harry turned from aggressive to pleading. He wanted her to say what he had always thought about her, but had never pushed it because she was his best friend. His jade-toned eyes were glassy and wide, begging for her to answer truthfully.

Y/N gripped her jaw in place at Harry’s pleading words. She raked both her hands through her hair and couldn’t believe what Harry was saying right now. Finally, she sighed when she risked a glance towards Harry’s face. It turned everything around for her, she couldn’t hide from that face. She couldn’t hide from Harry, ever.

“Because, I love you. I love you, Harry, in more than a best friend way. Happy now? That was literally the most unromantic way to tell someone you love them, but you asked for it,” she shook her head and threw herself against the couch, flailing her arms slightly in exasperation.

Harry moved himself to Y/N’s side and moved her so that she was looking at him. He rested his hand against her cheekbone, and stayed and cradled her face right there.

“I love you, too. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you. It just...something made me press the subject. It wasn’t very kind of me.” He rushed to say, instantly feeling conflicted. He was overjoyed and relieved at Y/N’s revelation, but also felt guilt for the way it had come about. He had been the one to escalate the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to call you desperate,” Y/N said softly as she raised her own hand to Harry’s face. “You aren’t desperate. You’re amazing and wonderful. You love with your whole heart and anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Darling, you’re the one someone would be lucky to be with.” Harry brushed a stray hair behind her ear and moved his face closer to hers.

“We could be lucky together?” Y/N whispered as his nose brushed up against hers. Harry blew a short breath out of his nose, hitting Y/N’s face. “I’d like that,” he responded.

Then he leaned the rest of the way and connected his lips with hers. She pressed back eagerly tasting the red wine on Harry’s lips. As they kissed, Harry felt something wet slightly touch his face.

He pulled back slightly, “Are you crying, petal?”

Y/N sniffled, “I just, I never thought this would happen. I’m happy...it’s just a lot.”

Harry nodded and wrapped his arms around her waist. “C’mere, we can just be here in this moment, together.”

Harry pulled Y/N into his lap and settled back into the couch. Her head rested softly on his shoulder and she ran a hand up and down his muscled arm. It was smooth and soft, and it radiated heat. Harry’s presence was always soothing, but especially helpful right now. Y/N calmed down, significantly, while in his arms.

“So does that mean you won’t call that bird?”

“No, no, I will definitely...not call her.” Harry chuckled at her question. He was happy that she was feeling more like herself, sarcastic and bubbly.

The pair sat snuggled on Harry’s couch, taking in each other’s presence as “Sara Smile” by Hall & Oates played softly through the speakers. They both smiled and sang softly along to the words. Happy in one another’s embrace.

taglist: @cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrys-cherrry @harrxier @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #best friend!harry #best friend! y/n

635 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 5 years

Text

On the corrupted!Steven theory...

So, originally when I mused on this yesterday I was just playing around with random possibilities.

After combing the series for info about corruption, though, I’m mildly spooked at the increased potential for this to... perhaps be a thing? I’m not saying that this is what I for sure believe will happen- to be honest, I’m not even sure Crewniverse would go this direction at all- but just for funsies, let’s see what kind of “evidence” or “foreshadowing” exists that might support this potential story path in the context of canon.

(EDIT: 10/7/19

I honestly no longer think this creature is a worm at all whatsoever, it’s either more akin to a horned caterpillar or potentially has limbs. Either way we can see so little right now that it’s hard to tell. I’m not editing the rest of this post because I want it to exist in its original form- but do keep this in mind reading the rest! XP)

1) The design of this worm creature.

Let’s start simple. Let’s start tangible.

For future reference and simplicity, I will be henceforth be referring to this creature as... “Wormy Boi.”

So, let’s see what we’ve got here. I’m definitely not the first person to point out this fella’s pink nature, and the jarringly human-like nose they’ve got. (Compared to other corruptions, which have had distinctly non-humanoid features.) In the photo above, we also have Wormy Boi sporting glowing pink eyes, which then send out a flare of pink light/energy. So, seemingly a powerful entity.

If you watch the short segment before they sit upright, you’ll see that Wormy Boi is super, super big. They’re in the background, but BOY do they loom. The shadows cast upon them especially push that sense of size. They’ve also got a whole bunch of spikes on their back and framing their face.

So, then. What evidence could be made for this being a corrupted!Steven, as opposed to some other run-of-the-mill monster?

Steven Universe Future is a limited series, described as ‘tying up loose ends.” To me, as a viewer, it would make far more sense for the antagonists/conflicts to deal with big concepts that have already been established since there’s such a limited amount of time we have left with this world. Introducing a completely alien species in the last act of the show would feel offbeat from both a writing and a viewing perspective. Corruption- on the other hand- is something we don’t have full answers to yet.

We don’t see any gem, yes- but Steven’s gem is- of course- on his belly. If this theory were to be true, that would translate to the gem being on Wormy Boi’s underside, far out of our sight in this shot, due to how massive they are. As an addition to this, not showing the gem gives an air of mystery to this creature’s true nature- which makes it seem like there’s something surprising to discover here.

A corrupted diamond would surely be MASSIVE. Also, very powerful. The beam of pink light hints at Wormy Boi being quite a powerhouse.

The spikes on Wormy Boi’s back and around their face highly resemble rose thorns. We all know how much the Crewniverse loves their rose symbolism, and design wise, this aspect would make a lot of visual sense for a corrupted Steven. Running off of that:

The face/nose shape and the five horns on this creature’s head give off a very Steven-like silhouette.

The nose, of course. The face has a very Steven-like shape to it, overall- although noticeably more angular and sharp. The mouth is reminiscent of the Watermelon Stevens’ mouths. And as for the horns, there’s five of them positioned equidistant around their face, just as Steven’s hair is always formed from five lil’ bumps at the same positions.

Okay, moving on.

(Read more under the cut!)

2) We do not yet understand the true nature of corruption.

“I guess it’ll take more than a kiss to heal damage from the Diamonds…” -Pearl, Monster Reunion

Corruption is still- bafflingly- a huge mystery. The Gems we’ve watched the CGs bubble since season one have been healed, yes, but there are still many gaps in our understanding of it. With Steven Universe Future’s promise to address some lingering story threads, it would make sense if corruption was on the plate for further discussion. So, what DO we know?

We know it’s something the Diamonds can do. Interestingly, it doesn’t seem to require all four diamonds. Three of them together were able to cause all the damage to Earth. There’s also no statement made that more than one Diamond is required to cause effects like that.

In Legs From Here to Homeworld, Blue and Yellow Diamond weren’t actually aware the corruption was something they were capable of producing. They seemed to assume they obliterated the Gems on Earth. Corruption is then, even a mystery to them. That’s... odd, isn’t it?

Pearl states that it’s “something nearly impossible to describe.” Garnet goes further to say... “It’s sorta like... if MC Bear-Bear didn’t tear the fabric of his arm, but the fabric of his mind.”

"A sound… A song?” There’s a lot of association between corruption and music.

It causes Gems to lose touch with their usual forms, instead warping into a more outwardly "monstrous” version of themselves that appear to be “just a bundle of fight-or-flight reflexes and survival instincts.” As seen by Centipeetle in Monster Buddy and Monster Reunion, it appears as if corrupted Gems try to regenerate with their original forms if unbubbled, but are simply not in a state where they can maintain that.

As seen with Jasper in Earthlings, extreme emotional distress very much seems to speed up corruption’s effects. This is less of a stated fact and more of my read on that episode, but I believe it to be an important tidbit, especially since Garnet states that corruption’s damage is mental rather than physical, at least at its core. This can also be seen in Monster Reunion with how Centipeetle’s partial healing backfires when she remembers the trauma of being corrupted and reacts strongly.

Now, when it comes to healing corruption, Steven tries to heal Centipeetle himself, and does make some nice progress... helping her regain a hold on herself as he treats her with love and compassion and understanding... but it’s ultimately not a healing that can occur in isolation, helping her on his own. She needs more support before she can heal from this corruption to a state where she can truly be herself again.

And that eventually comes in the form of the other Diamonds. So, all four diamonds can help relieve the corruption if they help these Gems all together.

3) How could this theory potentially fit into the story anyways, you nutter?

Well, here’s the part of this post where I make some broad conjectures. I honestly am shooting fish into a barrel here because again- we know barely anything about how corruption actually happened initially, and my thoughts are very jumbled. Please forgive me.

"I don’t really know how the corruption works. It’s like they’re sick. They don’t remember who they used to be.” -Steven, Gem Hunt

So, corruption seems to be a mental ailment of Gemkind, turned manifest. It also seems to have a deep connection to a Gem’s emotions, with Centipeetle growing smaller and slightly calmer upon feeling more secure in Steven’s presence, and corruption speeding up as Jasper grew more and more emotionally overwrought and self-deriding about herself.

When it comes to the Diamonds and how they perhaps caused it originally- without fully realizing- we know that at least Blue and White have abilities focused on causing others to act in certain ways. Blue has sway over one’s emotions, and White has a knack for forcing her thoughts and self upon others. (I’m not sure how Yellow’s ability would play in here.) Mayhaps, mixed with their grief and guilt and anger, their power simply pressed all of that hurt emotion onto all the Gems on Earth in one whole fail swoop...? Tearing their minds in the process of it all?

The question I still have, though- is whether a single diamond could produce effects like this. And whether a diamond could turn that ability on themself.

Could Steven accidentally corrupt himself? Why might that happen?

Well, let’s look at our boy here.

He’s got a wide circle of support at this time in canon, but notably, he’s notorious for bottling up his emotion and not letting others in to help him- instead dropping everything to help them with their problems. Just to name a few examples (a few):

The Test. He feels betrayed and hurt at the Gems for a moment about the way they’re babying him with the rigged test, but instead of admitting the hurt he feels about the scenario, bottles that up to help them feel more like good guardians.

Joy Ride. He opens up to the Cool Kids about deep, incredibly troubling stuff that’s long been on his mind, but he’s never once talked about it with his family.

Mindful Education. The perils of bottling one’s emotions is literally the whole plot of the episode. The kid has a full out sobbing breakdown while he’s plunging to his death. Connie gets through to him a little here, but later episodes show that the resolution we see here is merely the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Steven’s internal issues.

Storm in the Room. Externally, Steven tries so hard to put on a guise of content and positivity, but once alone in Rose’s room feels safe enough to let the full brunt of his emotional trauma come out in an almost explosive manner. Geeze, get this kid some hugs.

Gemcation. Steven actually fails bitterly on putting on his customary smile in this episode, simply because the weight of his problems have become such an impossible burden to him. When the other Gems are trying to help him open up, he isn’t immediately responsive to their efforts.

What’s Your Problem? Amethyst spends the whole episode trying to cheer Steven up and find out how he’s doing, and instead Steven downplays his own feelings on the matter and ends up helping her sort out her own emotional issues.

So to sum: Many an Emotional Issue, a chronic tendency to avoid outwardly addressing said issues in favor of helping everyone else instead... and to avoid accepting other people’s help.

Even if he’s surrounded by all these people who love him, the fact of the matter is that Steven still feels as if he has to face his own inner demons alone.

Now, let’s look at the lil’ teasing synopsis that was given for Steven Universe Future:

“After saving the universe, Steven is still at it, tying up every loose end. But as he runs out of other people’s problems to solve, he’ll finally have to face his own.”

Blatantly sounds like we’re gonna finally get some addressing of Steven’s emotional state, now doesn’t it?

4) A concept on what could, theoretically happen

“Maybe… it IS a guy in a monster costume. I don’t mean literally, silly! What I mean is... there might be a conscious Gem still inside there, somewhere. What if the monster is turning back and forth into its original form? If it is, it might not be as corrupted as we think! There might still be a chance to save it!” -Steven, Gem Hunt

Suppose Steven- by some as-of-yet unknown means- ends up accidentally corrupting himself. His sorry emotional state only further amplifies the effects of this corruption, and makes it really hard to retain control. Wormy Boi as a form could be like... all his inner demons made manifest, a metaphoric mirror into his current mental state. But- as he is half-human- he’s not entirely unaware of what’s happening. Perhaps... as the quote above could be sneaky foreshadowing for... how he’s turning back and forth between this corrupted form and his normal form.

He likely wouldn’t want everyone to see him like this, doesn’t want everyone to visibly know the sheer depth of how much he’s hurting. But just like the corrupted Gems were only able to be helped in community, with the support of the CGs and the Diamonds in preparing the fountain, Steven can’t fix this on his own.

He can no longer face the dark alone.

At some point, everyone has to take a brave step. Reach out. Accept help.

Steven’s helped so many people, and surely he deserves that same love and care in return, too.

And perhaps, when he’s eventually healed from this- and has gotten the opportunity to be open with his family and friends about the hurt he’s facing- he’ll be left with “corruption scars” as well. I think it’s an important thing to address, that no one goes through experiences like these without lingering effects. Stuff stays with you. Healing is not always linear. But life is a continuous journey, and with the support of people who love you surrounding, you too can make a change... can continue to live to the fullest at every moment possible.

I think the above would be a lovely moral for Steven Universe to tackle in its last run of episodes, no matter how they approach it- daft corruption theory or not.

Now, in the end- a reiteration. This is just a wild theory. I’m not trying to be any authoritative voice saying that this is for sure what will happen, because in reality I have no idea what Crewniverse is cooking. However, I do think it’s fun speculation, and I am kinda spooked at how well things fit.

Whatever happens, I’m sure it will make me weep like a baby, though. Hoh boy. Grant me sanity in these coming months as we wait for answers.

#su #steven universe #su future #steven universe future #su theory #corrupted steven theory #my post stuff #long post #the mighty 500 #1K #2K #3K #4K #5K

8K notes · View notes

btswishes · 3 years

Text

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 2 )

Previous / Next

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Continuing my little experiment here with chapter2, a bit more filler for the story. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count: 2,903

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name

Y/L/N- Your Last Name

----------------------------

The suitcase made a slight thumping sound, when you laid it down on the floor next to your desk. Wasting no time books found their new home on the empty shelves, notebooks fell asleep in the dark drawers. Pens, pencils, markers and all your stationary soon followed suit and found their own little space to rest.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” the silence in the room finally got overthrown by the voice of its new owner, asking for some help in the matters unfolding

Yes Miss Y/N

“Would you put a timer for 5min from now please?” still focused onto your stuff, finding them a visible but safe from damage storage. Nothing could destroy as well as time and dust did.

Timer set for 5 minutes from now.

“Thank you.” The only thing left to do now was to get the clothes in the closet and move the tech to the lab. Hopefully Dr. Banner wouldn’t mind waiting a bit more, not like he seemed to but who knows, Hulk lived inside him after all. You didn’t want to take a chance and play with his limits. The closet was hidden inside the wall, stealthy I must say. Toothpaste and toothbrush, essentials and cosmetics. All was done, now.

Ding Ding Ding.

Timer is going off Miss. Shall I turn it off or restart it?

“Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y. You can turn it off. “

Your laptop and small bag were safely nestled under your arm, making your way outside the room. For a moment you thought you got lost, but the orange tint of the sun’s rays soon pulled your attention in the right direction. Around the corner your nose caught the smell of caramel. Your head hesitantly protruded behind the pillar, as you called out to the man holding 2 cups in his hands firmly.

“Oh.” He jumped a bit, reaching out offering one of the mugs “ I hope you like it, we don’t have much selection when it comes to tea here. Coffee addicts you know.” he laughed out

“It is ok. Thank you very much.” Your leg levered and you swung onto the bar chair like it was nothing, taking a sip from the hot drink. You felt it warm you up slowly as it went down, melting away a bit of your anxiety. Once again your sight was captivated by the view. No one knows how much time passed since you got lost in the sunset, but it was nice. You could barely hear the bustling city from the 134th floor. It was only you, the sun and the room. Quiet almost like a safe serene space.

“Beautiful isn’t it.” Bruce shook you out of your little mind palace

“Mm? Ah, yes. Very much so. “ you puffed out some air with your smile, eyes forming little crescent moons “I feel like a cat, my attention keeps drifting to the glass unintentionally.”

“I understand you. I keep doing that myself and I have lived in the compound for quite some time now. “ the conversation was lighthearted, easily drifting over the main reason for your arrival “One would think I would be used to it by now.”

“Mr Stark made this place so calm. Big yet homey.” Your head scanned the area, words intriguing the doctor “ In a way it contrasts the inner state of most of the Avengers.” realized what just came out of your lips, your body stiffened. Oh man, way to ruin it - you thought to yourself “I am so sorry.” The mug clanked under the table, sending a vibration to his palm, as you bowed “I spoke out of place.”

“I think you might be on to something.” Your neck pulled your head up, a few strands of hair falling down next to your soft cheek. Bruce was still looking at the setting sun with a soft smile, his jaw exposing the beard to the light, coloring it a deep fiery yellow hue. There was something nostalgic in his dark eyes. “Most of us here have some sort of troubled past- lets sugar coat it a bit. This whole building, on the levels we use., is like a constant Zen state. It calms us down unintentionally. How do I say this...” He turned towards his coffee, laughing out almost silently.

“Maybe it offers you the peace you couldn’t have on the inside, masking the pain from past trauma. A way to indirectly cope with all that had happened, offering a haven to heal the past.” Bruce was listening to you, taking in your way of thinking and how right you were about something that had always been in front of his eyes ,but he had never noticed it before. Such a young girl, so much pain in her manner. He couldn’t bring himself to ask you about the weight inside your voice. It felt too close for him to do so. He had just met you after all, it is not like he could just straight up ask you about all your deepest and darkest secrets, that you might be hiding underneath your mature façade.

“Well, enough about our depressing past.” He pushed off the table “Lets get you situated in your new place.”Dr. Banner began walking in the direction of the lab, turning towards you from time to time. He was make sure you were close by and not lost somewhere in this maze of halls, corridors and who knows what else Tony could have hidden in these walls, for some unsuspecting person to stumble upon.

“I am sadly not familiar with your work like Tony is. He told me about you literally a few hours before you arrived, so you would have to excuse me for that.” You nodded with a smile, accepting the apology he didn’t even need to speak of

“The lab is pretty big.” He unlocked the door and turned the lights on. It was exactly as he said and nothing like you had expected. The color pattern was the same tints, maybe a bit of blue mixed in as well, a dash of red. The tables and tech inside were state-of-the-art, high-quality and very well kept. Some weren’t even yet released or known to the public. Talking year 3054 up in here.

“This will be your desk, right next to me.”Bruce plopped onto his chair and waved at you “Hi, Hi.”

He gestured for you to get yourself as comfortable as possible, which you almost couldn’t wait to do. Your fingers gently ran over the material getting familiar with it. Just with one look you already knew where everything was going to go, like it knew it’s own home. You had a tech bay, where you could check how systems worked, if they didn’t and building anything. It was amazing, just an arm’s length distance was possibility and creation itself. Excitement boiled inside you, eyes wide. Reaching inside the bag, you pulled out your work computer, your project tablet and made sure they were all connected to the internet and matched the Stark system interface. As soon as you saw the company logo you were all set up.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” the silence danced hand in hand with your voice

Yes Miss. Would you like a run down on the desk functions?

“Yes please.” In a matter of minutes you realized that this wasn’t just some random fancy desk ,but a whole machine of its own. Interactive hologram functions, building station and program 3D design. It had it all. Bruce was shocked how easy you worked with F.R.I.D.A.Y. , naturally taking a lead and informing yourself at 100% capacity about what you will be working with. For a second Tony flashed before his eyes.

“What made you apply here?” he cut your investigation “I don’t mean to be rude but I saw some of your pre-university work.”

“No problem. I was mostly out of the country for a very long time, maybe most of my life. When I came back the Avengers were something I loved watching on the news.” The praise went over Bruce’s head unnoticed “ There was something nostalgic when I looked at you guys. Mr. Stark’s tech, the way everyone fought with ease, I don’t know how to explain it. I craved that in my life, almost like a forgotten world I was striving to immerse myself back into. “ a gentle crook of the neck and a smile eased Bruce from the question

“Well you made it here, so congratulations.” loud joyous clapping followed his words” I think I am talking for all of us, we will love having you around. So-” His face became serious, glasses finding the bridge of his nose onto his face, eyes sharp “Would you like to start with your job here miss intern?” he winked playfully waiting to see your reaction. Like a mirror ,you pulled your hair away from your face, rolled up your sleeves and flashed back the same look of determination. “Introduce me to your train of thought and your projects.”

“I work mainly with the structure and characteristics of vibranium. At first, I was focused on making prosthetics that pack a punch the same way the Iron Man suits worked and Sergeant Barnes’s arm- of course on a smaller scale. But then my mind started drifting towards the process before amputation, which was for a certain percent of people the healing factor. Maybe inside strength as well. ”

“As in incorporating it into medical technology?” this sounded too simple of an idea coming for someone Tony chose, yet Bruce kept listening. He was judging the book by its cover way too soon.

“Not exactly. Vibranium has a metal crystal structure that possesses ‘memory’ the same way other metals remember being indented even after getting fixed or straightened eventually. My theory has a few parts before I reach the main plan. Going on an atomic level, even deeper to its base structure, I change the connections between the atoms. They have the same functions as in keeping the shape, but missing that molding memory.”

“You are saying you can mold the bonds, selecting freely what function to remove?” Bruce pushed back off his chair, letting the idea enter his ear and stay there, feeding the interest on his face.

“I am not saying I can.” he was listening more and more with each passing minute “I am saying I did it. I am in the final stages of my project.” Your hands pulled out a flat disk of vibranium “F.R.I.D.A.Y. would you do a double scan before and after I bend this?”

Affirmatively Miss. Scan done. Shall I offer a hologram?

“Please do.” Right between your two bodies you could now see the basics of the metal “ See how the bonds are thicker? I noticed, metal bonds just have to keep the shape of the crystal structure. Not only did I make vibranium stronger than it originally was, but now if I bend-it.” Your voice strained in pair with your muscles, as you folded and unfolded the sheet. The second scan showed no memory intake not even deformed the shapes “I call this metal healing.”

“That...that is amazing, not even a crease to be noticed! But where are you going with this?” Bruce rubbed his face, still shook from what you just showed him

“It might sound stupid, but this isn’t even my main idea. You see, if we look at matter as one and the same, things start to add up. Everything on a molecular level has no difference. Bonds, and atom-placement dictate what the object will be, look like and how it works- properties if you wish. I looked at vibranium and human flesh as different parts of one thing, which lead me to believe enhancing people could be done without super soldier serums.”

“That is… truly amazing, but won’t the testing period be a sadistic thing. We are not HYDRA thankfully.” As great as this was Bruce had a point here “Human experiments are not a politic the Avengers will ever lean upon. As fellow humans nonetheless.”

“I am not planning to make another Winter Soldier. I already have control over vibranium on levels outside and inside hyperspace.” You pulled out a bottle of metallic looking dust. The top unscrewed easy and you spilled the contents like heavy silvery snow all over the floor. “If I take quarks from the human body and use them to make 1 proton from the atomic nucleus, I can theoretically program it to answer to the human body using the unbroken rule of our system.”

Bruce blinked a few times understanding exactly where you were reaching “All work in favor of the body.” He said out loud, glasses sliding off his skin

“Exactly. If they get programmed correctly the metal will work for the body, under the command of the main system- the nerves and brain. Post that success I would be able to inject them with a liquid medium directly into the bloodstream. As they make their way to all parts of the body, they will get acquainted with the cells. I want to change them so they will be susceptible to hormones as well. Basically I want to make a metal compound that reacts like organic matter. It would be able, upon will, to pile around bones, create fibers, strengthening muscles ecc. Some could even carry other substances with them, or isolate toxic ones. Now their size and ability for diapedesis is still questionable. So far I can move them at a certain extend.” You swung your hand and the dust lifted off the floor cleanly in one swoop

“That is amazing!” Bruce pitched his voice after seeing the floating cloud “Are you using some kind of device ?”

“No, this dust was modeled after me, I am the only guinea pig so no one was harmed in the making. I have to say though, it was quite painful till I got it right.” You laughed out uneasy, scratching your arm

“ I could only imagine, taking your own tissue for this. What else could it do?”

“Well. I know that Mr. Stark isn’t into weapons anymore, so I pitched him the enhancing technique only. The dust’s only function right now sadly is shaping.” Your fingers danced as the vibranium cloud formed Captain America’s shield, before turning into a sword. “As long as I have enough information of structure, function and the way the object works I can make it.” Your footsteps were confidant and strong.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. the window if you please.”

Certainly Miss

The clicking sound of the metal around the glass flung the object open. Your hand reached outside and pointed towards the sky. “My uncle had a deep interest in weapons so naturally I learned as well by listening to him.” The dust wrapped around your hand and formed a Heckler Koch pistols. With the pull of the trigger you shot into the air, making Bruce jump from the sound.

“I am sorry about that, I should have warned you.” You giggled stepping in

“That is a completely functional firearm. His breath normalized as his body took him right up to you, running his hands over the gun “ This is, something I can’t even imagine.” Eyes scanning every inch of it looking like a perfect mold “How does it look so solid? Smooth, no trace of it even being made from any smaller particle. ”

“Oh that, intra-atomic pressure. Kind of like gravity times 100 or more. If I pitched this to Mr.Stark I think the selling point would have been…”your fingers gently pulled the weapon out of Dr.Banner’s hand as the vibranium flew from the outside to the magazine “ It doesn’t run out of ammo since I call it back at anytime AND once in the body I can infest it.”

“It could travel through the blood stream and form clumps in certain organs!” he gasped

“I could have gone a bit more sadistic with this one, but I will stop talking now.” You laughed out sending your project back to its jar, securely tightened up.

“How far is your limit? I mean is there a distance at which you can’t sense the partials, any mental fatigue or physical? You are amazing! This is something out of this world truly, no wonder Tony accepted your application. I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything closely resembling…wow.” He kept praising you each time his mouth opened

“Banner.” Light and confident footsteps accompanied the familiar playboy voice inside the lab

Welcome back Sir

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. medical bay on standby please.”

As you wish Sir

“I would appreciate it if you stepped back from my new intern and helped out a bit. We have injured coming in stat.” Tony waved his hand and Bruce pulled away from you, cleaning the couch on his side “You too miss intern. No slacking off just because it’s your first day. Treat it as orientation.”

“Yes Mr. Stark.” Panic rose up inside you again as you tried to follow what Dr. Banner was doing. Injured? Were the rest of the Avengers on a mission this whole time? It didn’t matter, you were mobilized as well and for a second it felt kind of cool, like you were also an agent fighting crime. The grunts and groans pulled you back to Earth as Captain America’s large frame stepped inside.

46 notes · View notes

ultimate-distaster-material · 3 years

Text

-Saiouma Oneshots- Kindergarten Teacher! Kokichi x Parent! Shuichi

>Quick Disclaimer< In this story, Monaca is nice- Her legs are actually disabled as well. I tried to mention everyone who is in the actual story's POVS. The adults are 22 whereas the kids are 5. Kirigiri and Shuichi are childhood friends too.

This story is very long, it was made to show my appreciation for all of the support. Sorry it took so long for me to update.

!TW!

Family Issues

Mentions Trauma

Mentions Dead Bodies

kIsSinG (Ok I'll stop)

KOKICHI POV

“So, Nagisa. I heard you’re getting a new caretaker?”

I looked at Nagisa, pitying the poor boy. He never had good parents. They would always force the youngling to work, days over days, sometimes hitting him to help him stay awake. That’s his reason for being very smart at a young age.

I would always stay here with him in the afternoon, occupying him so he doesn’t have to go back home.

“Mhm! I heard he’s a boy, I hope he’s nice!”

I smiled at the small boy. Even with all the despair he has been through during his life, he still had a glimpse of hope resting in his heart. I admired him for this, he was very strong for pulling through all the drama, especially as a child.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss going here when I grow up. Will I ever see you again?”

“I mean, I could probably get in contact with your new caretaker, and could visit you once in a while…”

“I don’t wanna leave this place…”

I comforted him as his tears threatened to fall from his eyes, tracing random designs on his back, listening to his troubles. I suddenly heard a knock on the door. I energetically got up from my seat, Nagisa following close behind me, and then opened the door.

There was a man with teal blue hair and a detective uniform standing at the door. He looked kinda sexy-

“Hello, Mr. Detective~ You here for something?”

He stared at me before handing me a few slips of paper. Adoption papers? Wha-

“Who are you?”

Nagisa was a little scared, as he was a detective. The poor boy probably thought that the man was here for something serious.

I hushed Nagisa as I pulled him infront of me, giving him a good view of the man.

“My apologies…I’m Shuichi Saihara. Nice to meet you.”

I nodded at him and decided to introduce Nagisa and myself/

“I’m Kokichi Ouma, and this is Nagisa. Judging by the adoption papers, I’m guessing you’re here for Nagisa?”

He nodded and shook the hand I held out to him. He had such a calming voice…

“Are you mean?”

“I promise I’m no-“

“You smell like coffee.

“Wha-“

“Nagisa, it’s not ok to interrupt people y’know.”

Nagisa muttered a small ‘sorry’ to me and the man before getting his bag. He peered up at me with teary eyes. I could tell he didn’t want to go with a new parent, due to trust issues. I sighed and pat him on the head.

“You better take care of him.”

Shuichi smiled at me, reassuring that everything was going to be fine. I held out my phone with my contacts open.

“Phone number?”

I asked him as he took my phone (and ran off with it) and he handed me his, and we both entered each other’s phone number. Nagisa smiled as I showed him my phone, his eyes gleaming with hope and joy. I couldn’t help but smile back at him. Shuichi even grinned at us placing his hands gently on Nagisa’s shoulder. I waved them goodbye as they waved back, Nagisa ranting to Shuichi about me. I’m glad I was able to make him happy. I walked around the small room, arranging everything back into its normal places and counting all the items to see if they were still there. 10 paint brushes, 2 art easels, 20 pencils, 5 paint palettes, 40 books and 7 whiteboard markers. Looks like I’m running low on markers, I’ll grab some in the morning. I smiled and locked the door behind me. I strolled down the street under the glowing sky, showing colours of orange, yellow, red, and peach. I sat calmly at the bus stop, taking off my painting apron and stuffing it into my bag neatly. I placed earplugs into my ears and started playing my favourite playlist.

Soon the bus arrived, squeaking its brakes as it parked into the bus stop. I sighed and planted my feet onto the ground as boarded the bus. It didn’t take long to get home.

||Time Skip Cuz Lazy||

I jingled my keys as I brought them out of my pocket, slotting them into the lock and opening the doors to the kindergarten. I walked in, turning on the fans by a little, and the lights. I began to write whatever was happening onto the big whiteboard and restocked my pens. I smiled as children and parent sprawled into the room, yet keeping an eye out for Nagisa. If he had any new scars or bruises, or darker eyebags, Shuichi won’t be waking up the next day. I waited about five minutes, everyone was here, but the two people I had been waiting for.

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and I spotted Shuichi giving the small child a piggy-back ride. I smiled as they both grinned back at me, Nagisa climbing off the adults back and running over to me.

“Kokichi! You won’t believe it! He let me use his magnifying glass and we went to the park. He even pushed me on the swing! I love my new dad!”

I grinned wider, glad Shuichi was giving him a good treatment. He even said he loved him.

“That’s great Nagisa! I’m grateful that Shuichi has been treating you right.”

Shuichi lovingly hugged Nagisa.

“I better go, or I’ll be late for work! Bye, have a good day you two! I love both of you!”

The young boy I waved goodbye as the detective briskly walked out of the kindergarten building, waving us goodbye, blushing. Wait, he loved both of us…?

||POV Change||

SHUICHI POV

I walked out the door, blushing crazily. I can’t believe I said that. I’m so embarrassed…

I hopped into the car, driving down to the detective agency. When I had first met Kokichi, I thought he looked a little cute, but I just ignored my thoughts. I’ll just tell him I was talking Nagisa and his non-existent imaginary friend…yeah I’ll just do that.

I arrived at the agency, closing the door gently behind me and taking in a deep breath. The aroma of coffee wafted around the area. No wonder I smelt like coffee…According to Nagisa anyways.

“Good morning Mr. Saihara. You looked like you’ve slept well!”

My partner, detective Kirigiri. I grinned at her, starting to tell her about Nagisa. She nodded at me while I spoke, thankful that I finally had something to cheer me up. I had been so busy with work lately that I was so tired to even show much emotion.

“So, Shuichi. We have a new case to work on.”

“Hm? What’s it about?”

“Just a new murder case, the usual.”

I nodded at her getting my file reports organized and ready. She gave me some evidence, suspect reports, reports of the victim and the time and place of the murder.

“It seemed to be planned too…”

I muttered as she passed over a small picture which showed the room.

“Huh?”

I pointed at the picture, spotting a nearly invisible ‘escape route plan’ peeking out of the screen. You could only see half of it though.

“That’s new…”

“Wait…How did you know this wasn’t there? Weren’t you at the crime scene?”

“It was a photo in the victims camera roll. You were correct, I was there, but it seems like the killer needed this to escape.”

“That makes sense.”

“So, the killer must’ve either been scared they would mess up, has a bad memory or had minimum time to figure this out…”

She agreed with me and pointed to the wall again, pointing back to the photo.

“There seems to be something white in the vents that we never checked.”

She stated bluntly while narrowing her eyes to get a better look.

“You’re right! Why didn’t you check the vents though…?”

“Rats.”

“Wha-“

I shrugged it off and looked back at Kyoko, then the picture again. She smirked at me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You wanna check it out, don’t you.”

“Kinda-“

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

I followed her out of the building, and we entered the car park, halting to a stop right infront of a shining, neon purple motorcycle. It gleamed in the sunlight and Kyoko continued to smirk at me.

“Chickening out?”

“N-No..”

“Good.”

She grabbed a helmet off the dark purple handlebars and gave it to me, claiming to have a spare one in her bag that she could wear. Which she did.

She hopped onto the motorcycle, gesturing for me to do the same. I gulped and lifted my leg over the seat and sat down, trembling.

“Hold on tight!”

I didn’t hesitate to do exactly as she told me. She revved the engine, and we took off down the road, her purple hair flowing viciously in the wind. I was petrified. We were going veryfast. I gulped as I felt the wind blow in my face. I rested my chin on Kirigiri’s shoulder, avoiding her purple hair flowing into my face as we raced around the city. The city lights were blurred, and people looked like smudge marks. I peered down at the road, barely able to adjust to the distorted white line and concrete. I felt a sickening dizziness, and my head just couldn’t keep up with my blurry surroundings. Yet, I felt like I was in heaven. The glorious wind blowing in my face, the soothing noises of the motorcycle engine, and the feel of Kyoko’s warmth. I closed my eyes, loosing touch with everything around me. I was in my own little world. That was, until I sensed the motorcycle slow to a halt and Kyoko’s small weight lift off the motorcycle. But since I was laying on her, she lifted me up too without realizing, and my body went tumbling forward, Kyoko’s doing the same.

“Sorry…”

I sighed and apologized, staring at the ground. She arose from the ground, dusting off her uniform and patting me delicately on my back.

“No worries, Saihara-Kun. Just be careful next time.”

I nodded as we barged into the murder scene, nobody being there.

“Watch out. We cannot predict anything. Expect the unexpected.”

I remembered her wise words and examined the room, Kirigiri assisting me by lifting me up, since I weighed less, and I unscrewed the vents to see a rat. Great. I sneakily snatched the paper and Kyoko lowered me back down to the ground, peering over my shoulder to see if anything useful was written on the small piece of white paper. It read,

Sorry, my dear friend.

“So, the victim was the culprit’s friend….

“Seems so.”

“Wait, why wasn’t it near the victim then?”

“When we arrived, the fan was on, making it completely possible to blow into the vents, in which the paper could slip through, and the rats could’ve possibly taken it.”

I nodded to show my agreement and we inspected the room a little longer. I spotted her typing on her phone a few moments later, sighing.

“Saihara-Kun.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you gonna leave your kid at kindergarten or…”

Shuichi blankly stared down at his wrist, reading the time.

2:12

Nagisa’s kindergarten ended at 2:00. He was over the other side of the city. He would be very late, as they had no car.

“Take my motorcycle. I want to stay a bit longer anyways.”

“Really? Thank you Kirigiri-San!”

I rushed out of the building, grabbing a sleek blue helmet and boarded the motorcycle. The wheels screeched as I raced across the city, my hair spasming in the wind. The motorbike’s wheels whirred as they rolled along the road, forcing the motorbike to drive faster. My hands gripped the handlebars incredibly tight, fearing the vehicle would stir out of control if I didn’t have power over the handlebars.

There it was. The kindergarten. I zoomed towards it, halting to a stop in the parking lot. I rushed inside, panting heavily as Kokichi and Nagisa were staring at me. The small, blue-haired boy ran over, enveloping me in a tight hug. I lovingly hugged back, patting his back in the process.

“Where were you? Parents shouldn’t be late, y’know.”

I gulped and peered up at the kindergarten teacher, mentally scolding myself. I knew I shouldn’t have been late. If it wasn’t for my partner, I would’ve left Nagisa there until I suddenly realized that he wasn’t anywhere nearby.

“Kokichi, don’t blame Dad! He had a really important case today!”

“Alright, just tell me next time.”

I muttered a sorry, and nodded, showing my understanding. The kindergarten teacher walked up to me, swiftly patting Nagisa’s head for a short period of time, then shifted to face me. I gulped, fearing I would get in trouble for not being a ‘good parent’.

“Why’d you call both of us cute.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about-“

“Why.”

I looked to the side, shivering a little and sighing. I soon peered back at him.

“Look..”

My ahoge resembled a deflated balloon. It was deformed, bent at every inch.

“It just slipped out, okay…?”

He looked at me, unamused, rolling his eyes and sighing.

“Totally…”

“Well, Nagisa and I have to go…”

“Alrighty! See you Nagisa!”

“What about me-“

“What about you?”

I rolled my eyes as I watched Kokichi ruffle Nagisa’s hair. He looked down at the boy expectantly.

“Nagisa has wanted to ask you something, but he’s clearly too shy…”

He nudged Nagisa knowingly, as the small boy stuttered out words.

“Well…I was wondering if some of my friends could have a sleepover…I’ve never had one, and…”

There was an awkward silence as my mind scanned over what I had planned next week. Nothing.

“Or not! T-That’s fine t-too!”

He looked sad and embarrassed at the same time, fiddling uneasily with his fingers, making eye contact with the ground.

“No, its fine! I was just trying to remember if I had anything scheduled next week…We can have one!”

Nagisa’s eye lit up, sparkles glimmering in his blue orbs. He shined so brightly as he bounced around the room excitedly. Then I realized something.

“Wait-“

“What?”

Kokichi looked up at me, clearly waiting for an answer.

“How am I gonna get Kyoko’s motorbike back to her-“

“You drove a motorcycle.”

“Yes-“

Kokichi jingled the keys on his short fingers, swaying them from side to side. He stared into my eyes, smiling.

“Want a ride then? I could pack the motorbike in the back of my car and drop it of to ‘whatever her name is’.”

“Kirigiri.”

“Right.”

The three of us strolled out of the kindergarten, after Kokichi had tidied up all the mess and checked up on everything, locking the doors behind us as we exited the building. Hopping into the car, we all drove off down the road, me directing the other adult towards the crime scene. Leaving the car, I unpacked the motorbike as Kokichi and Nagisa followed me in. I shifted to look back at the others.

“Uhm, I don’t think Nagisa should see this…”

“Why?”

I leaned into Kokichi’s ear and whispered to him.

“Dead body.”

He bobbed his head to show his agreement, Nagisa looking back and forth at us, confused. He held an arm infront of Nagisa, restricting him from going further, as I entered the building.

||POV CHANGE||

NAGISA POV

I watched as Dad entered the house, a bit worried. Why couldn’t I go in there? I decided to ask Kokichi.

“Why can’t I go in? What’s even in there?”

“Something you don’t want to see.”

I gave him a look of uncertainty, waiting for Dad to come back. I was a little worried, so I decided to start a conversation.

“I think you like Dad, am I right?”

“He seems pretty nice, probably would be a good friend.”

“No, you like Dad in that way. Not friendship, love.”

His eyes widened as he blushed furiously.

“W-Why would you t-think that, N-Nagisa?”

“So, you do like him.”

“N-No! I don’t!”

I rolled my eyes a little. It was so obvious. The whole time Kokichi and I were waiting for Dad, he was talking about him. Literally the whole time. I remember our conversation, word for word.

||Flashback||

“Alright! Time to go everyone!”

Kokichi opened the doors, the young children flooding out of the kindergarten. He sighed as he looked around after all the young kids were safely returned to their parents.

“Nagisa, where’s Shuichi?”

“He told me he was investigating today, apparently it was really serious!”

“Right…”

Kokichi sat on one of the chairs, relaxing his legs and leaning against the table. I did the same, and looked at him.

“Y’know, Shuichi is kinda hot.”

“Wha-“

“His hair is pretty, don’t you think?”

All I could do is agree. Kokichi peered down at his watch. 2:10. He sighed.

“I’m just going to text him-“

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“He never answers when he’s at work…”

Kokichi fiddled the phone in his hands, clearly annoyed. Probably wanted to see Shuichi. Who knows?

“I know someone who does answer their phone though.”

He peered at me and handed me his phone. I cheerfully took it and tried to memorize their number. Typing it in, I quickly added the number to Kokichi’s contacts and texted the person. I had seen their number when Shuichi and Kokichi exchanged phone numbers.

‘Hello, do you know Shuichi Saihara by any chance? If so, do you know where he is?’

‘Yes, Shuichi is my work partner at the detective agency. We are currently investigating together. Who is this?’

‘This is Nagisa, his adoptive son. I’m texting him on my kindergarten teacher’s phone. I just wanted to tell him that kindergarten ended 12 minutes ago.’

‘Thank you Nagisa. I will have Shuichi know. He sure is forgetful.’

‘Thank you! Can I please know your name?’

‘Kyoko. Kyoko Kirigiri.’

‘Wait, how do you know my number?’

‘I memorized it when I saw Shuichi and my teacher exchange numbers. Sorry if that’s creepy or anything…’

‘It’s fine. I have to go now. Goodbye Nagisa!’

‘Bye!’

I turned off the phone, the glowing screen fading into pitch black darkness. I peered at Kokichi, telling him that Shuichi should be here soon.

||Present Time||

We were still waiting for Shuichi when I spotted Kyoko and himself exit the huge building. Kyoko stared at me, grinning slightly.

“Are you Nagisa?”

I nodded as she walked up to me, ruffling my hair playfully, then glaring at Shuichi. I could see him gulp and look away.

“And you are…?”

“I’m Kokichi, Nagisa’s teacher.”

“Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, smiling at each other joyfully.

||POV CHANGE||

KIRIGIRI POV

I’m a little disappointed in Shuichi if I’m being honest.

Leaving your kid who’s in kindergarten with his teacher?

I mean, me and Shuichi have known each other since we were kids and happened to get into the same agency. I know Shuichi. He is forgetful, but not this forgetful. I mentally facepalmed at his previous actions and shook hands with Kokichi.

Nagisa and Kokichi look like they have a close relationship.

I disconnected our hands, watching as Kokichi signalled for Shuichi to enter the car. The two closed the doors behind them, waiting for Nagisa to say goodbye. The younglings hand reached for the door handle, struggling to open the car door. I went to assist him, just to realise it was locked. Shuichi and Kokichi strained to unlock the doors from the inside.

How did this even happen-

“D-Dad!”

Nagisa panicked as he saw the two people he seemed to be the closest to stuck inside the black and white car. I sighed as I saw the trapped kindergarten teacher flirt with the parent. Shuichi literally looked like his parents were a combination of a tomato and strawberry. I watched them as they continued to flirt together. I mentally facepalmed and refocused on the incident infront of me.

I saw Nagisa’s confused face as he walked up to peer through the window, prying into their business. I gently tapped the window, catching their attention.

“Are you two lovebirds done?”

I yelled from the other side of the window. They both were facing me, furiously blushing. In full honesty, they look like they dyed their faces bright pink.

“I’m going to break the window- “

“NAGISA DON’T- “

Too late. Nagisa had grabbed a rock off the ground and pounded it against the window.

“Really- “

“Sorry I was panicking…”

“It’s fine…”

“I guess we’re driving back with a broken window.”

“I guess they call you a detective for a reason!”

Kokichi laughed at his own joke as Shuichi giggled as well. It was so obvious they liked each other, they were so blind and dense. I could tell they liked each other, yet they were uncertain the other loved them back. I sighed and grabbed my purple helmet, putting the blue one Shuichi used in my sleek black bag.

“I’ll be going now.”

I waved goodbye as I hopped onto the motorbike, smiling as my purple streaks of hair flowed relaxingly behind me as I sped down the road. Out of the corner of my eyes. I could see the Kokichi pull Shuichi into a quick kiss through the car’s windscreen, Nagisa just staring in horror. Poor innocent thing.

-BONUS SCENE-

||TIME SKIP||

||W.O.H SLEEPOVER PLANNING||

||3RD PERSON||

“Hey Nagisa…Hey Jataro…I was thinking, I really want to get away from my parents…Do you know anything I could do?”

Kotoko raised a finger to her chin, in deep thought, looking a little depressed. Jataro looked sad as well.

“I just want to get away from everyone…”

Nagisa peered down, sad from seeing his friends loose hope. Monaca wheeled herself over to join our conversation.

“I just want someone to notice me…”

Masaru sat on the ground soon after, despairful.

“I just want to have a peaceful household…”

Nagisa peered down at the ground, wanting to encourage his friends to be joyful. Sure, he had trauma as well, but there is still happiness. He just began to spit out words of reassurance to his small group of friends.

“Jataro, why would you want to disappear from everyone? We are all here. We want you to be here. What’s that point in leaving everyone if everyone needs you here?”

He peered up at Nagisa, who was staring at him, the boy’s wise words causing a smile to form on his face.

“Monaca, we are your friends We notice you. Stop acting like nobody does, because if you haven’t already guessed, you are our friend. We notice you. Why would I be talking to you if I didn’t know you were here?”

She smiled at the blue haired boy, watching as some of the other kindergarten teachers came over. Komaru, Toko and Nagito stood there, watching their students, along with Kokichi who the whole time had secretly been there, unnoticed.

“Masaru! Kotoko! I think I have a solution to your problems!”

Nagisa shouted as the teachers watched, inspired by the boy’s acts of hope. Nagito especially. Toko had to slap a hand over his mouth so they wouldn’t interrupt the kids. Nagisa thought of the time where he was talking to Kirigiri while saying his goodbyes. She had told him these exact words.

“Shuichi has been so happy since he adopted you, y’know. I’ve been thinking about what my future would be like if I had a child. Say, did you know any that need a better home? I do want more than one though…”

“There is a solution I might have, but I need to check. Also, my Dad agreed on the idea to have a sleepover!”

“Sounds great!”

Everyone cheered in unison as they started planning what they would do, also deciding what snacks to bring. Monaca was spinning in her wheelchair in excitement, Masaru pushing her around in circles while Jataro inspired them to continue. Kotoko and Nagisa were drawing each other with crayons, Kokichi sitting on the other side of the table, spreading conversations.

Soon enough, it was time to go home. They all wished each other goodbye, as Kokichi drove Nagisa back to their house. They parked in the driveway, to see Shuichi waiting for them on their front porch.

“Good afternoon you two! How was your day?”

Kokichi ruffled Nagisa’s hair as he explained his day to Shuichi, also asking if he could tell Kirigiri about what I had found out.

“Ah- Sorry, Kyoko wants to see me. I will tell her the news as well Nagisa.”

“Bye!”

The small boy and Kokichi cheered and waved in unison, watching as Shuichi peered back at them, about to leave.

“Bye! I love both of you. And this time, I mean it.”

#Saiouma #Oumasai #g a y #detective more like defective #h i #danganronpa v3 #ultra despair girls #danganronpa #omg thats so gay wth

12 notes · View notes