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freedomfireflies · 8 months

Text

Off the Shelf*

Summary: The second part to 404*

The one where you hate working with Harry and can’t ever seem to agree.

Except on one thing.

Word Count: 3.9k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“And what seems to be the problem?”

Instantly, you and Harry are at each other's throats.

“I told him two fucking times to check his email for confirmation—”

“She wouldn’t shut up about the goddamn code—”

“—like that’s somehow my fault when he’s never on time—”

“—already in the middle of fucking rewriting the last sequence—”

“—which is ridiculous because I already told him—”

“—can’t do fucking anything when she’s yapping in my ear all goddamn day—”

“Okay, okay, all right,” Mr. Prescott sighs, raising his palms in surrender. “Let’s just take a breath—”

“She’s fucking up our project,” Harry interjects before leaning back. “Sir.”

Mr. Prescott rests his arms on his desk and glances between you. “From what I remember, the two of you agreed to work on finalizing the AI program. Comb through the bugs and whatnot.”

“Yeah, well, that was before he decided it was a waste of his time,” you retort, ignoring Harry’s obvious glare.

“That’s not what I said,” he huffs. “I said that we need to be working on expanding the GUI—”

“Except that wasn’t a part of our job, so—”

“Oh, and what? I can’t try to make the program better?”

“Maybe if you knew how—”

“I got hired for the same fucking job you did—”

“A job you don’t even want to do—”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do it—”

“Oh, bite me, Harold—”

“All right, all right,” Mr. Prescott interjects, running a hand down his cheek. “Listen, the two of you are more than qualified for the position and perfectly capable of executing the sequence you were designing. I understand it can be hard to collaborate, but this is what you agreed on—”

“I don’t mind collaborating as long as he does what I need him to do,” you correct while Harry scoffs and uses his knuckle to shove his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “He just doesn’t like to listen.”

“If what you were saying was worth listening to, maybe I would,” he agrees. “But until then, I’d like to handle my shit and you can handle yours.”

Stuck without much dispute, you bring your attention back to Mr. Prescott, eager for his response.

The poor, older gentleman crosses his arms and studies you both, seemingly unconvinced but perhaps too exhausted to fight it. “That’s fine by me. As long as you’re reporting your progress to your supervisors – and to each other – I don’t see why you can’t work on different aspects of the sequence.”

“Thank you, sir,” you exhale, glancing toward your partner who’s already turning around on his heel. “Uh, we really appreciate it. And we won’t cause any more trouble. We swear.”

“She swears,” Harry calls, already halfway out the door. “I don’t swear anything.”

Biting back a snort, you scurry after him and toss Mr. Prescott one final, “Thank you again!” before the door falls shut.

Harry is rounding the corner when you finally catch up, hands shoved into his dark jean pockets, and shoulders slightly tense. It’s not unusual, you suppose. He’s always tense. Muscles rigid beneath his clothing. Lip perpetually stuck between his teeth as he gnaws on the pink fibers until they tear and bleed. And glasses that are always about halfway down his nose from the bouncing of his knee.

He’s striding through the lab like he’s got somewhere important to be, and it drives you fucking mad because he’s technically done for the day. The only thing the two of you have left is a staff meeting with your supervisor before everybody is allowed to head home, and that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.

But you don’t like when he walks like that. You aren’t sure why, but it’s always irritated you. Like he thinks he’s so goddamn special – so important. Like his presence is so valuable. And even worse, he’s always walking away from you. Like your presence isn’t.

However, instead of going straight to his desk – his favorite hiding spot – he rounds another corner and disappears into the next hall.

You pause, unsure whether or not to follow. He had to have known you were right behind him, so is he leading you somewhere? Or is he simply trying to escape you?

Either option seems likely.

Curiosity outweighs logic, and you continue after him until you manage to find where he’s disappeared to.

He’s hiding in the shadows of the abandoned walkway, lurking near a door you don’t recognize, his eyes now on you.

You skid to a stop, confused and a little cautious of the smirk on his face. “Uh…what? What are you…the hell are you doing?”

“You are so fucking annoying, you know that?” he scoffs, nodding his chin at you. “‘Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry’s being mean to me. Oh, Mr. Prescott, Harry won’t do what I want.’”

Your eyes narrow at the falsetto tone of voice used to mock you. “Fuck you, I’m just trying to get our shit done and over with so we can move on—”

“Clearly,” he hums, but it’s riddled with sarcasm. “No, yeah. You wasting time going through the same data I’ve already been through is a great use of our time—”

“I’m going through it because I’m trying to make it better—”

“I made it. It was already better—”

“God, you are so fucking dumb—”

“Yeah, and you’re a cunt,” he retorts before he’s reaching for the door and swinging it open. “Get in.”

A bit stunned by the sudden and strange command, you blink. “...what?”

“I said, get. In. What, are you deaf and stupid?”

“Harry, it’s the middle of the goddamn day—”

“Get in the fucking closet, Tinkerbell, before I come over there and make you.”

Your eyes roll but you aren’t about to pretend you aren’t intrigued. Despite your revulsion for him, he seems to be in possession of the cheat code to your sex drive. All it takes is a look or a suggestive comment (or a rather rude demand for you to get inside a tiny storage closet) for you to fall victim to his intentions.

And it’s been that way since you met him.

Which only makes it that much more infuriating.

You obey – with a pointed scowl – striding past him and into the small space as he follows suit and pulls the door shut.

A light flickers on overhead, allowing you to see Harry’s amused expression as you huff, “Now what—”

He kisses you. Instantly and without a single moment of pause. His palms quickly press to the wall beside your head, caging you between his arms as he takes your tongue between his lip and sucks.

His glasses are cold against your face. You remember how they used to scratch you when the two of you first started this little arrangement but they don’t as much anymore. You think he might have changed the frames for this very reason, but you aren’t sure.

After all, that would be nice, and Harry isn’t nice.

“Harry—” you pant during a quick gasp for air. “We don’t have time—”

“I’m making time,” he counters, pressing his hips into yours while his mouth moves to your neck.

You want to snort your exasperation, but you’re too far lost in the feel of his body. “I thought you had shit to handle.”

“I do,” he replies smoothly, his hand now curving around your cunt until he can squeeze it tight in his grasp. “This is me handling my shit.”

His touch is unforgiving but incredibly welcome, and you whine softly before quickly reaching for his hair. “I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he says, sucking bruises into the space below your ear. “But there’s something about the way you stomp your little foot and tell on me that gets me all hot and bothered.”

You yank on his curls until he hisses, although he’s still much too smug. “So this has nothing to do with the girl who dropped by earlier? Or the fact that you apparently couldn’t finish?”

His eyebrow raises but he’s biting back a smile. “What girl?”

“Ha. Very funny. Are you gonna fuck me or are you gonna try to be cute?”

“Why can’t I do both?” he retorts, grinning wildly before pressing his lips to yours once more.

It feels familiar, this routine. This dance you’ve so quickly memorized, and it becomes increasingly easier to play along as you scratch your nails against his scalp and tug on the loop of his pants.

His hand slips into your jeans, the tips of his rough fingers smoothing down the front of your panties. A teasing touch, and you jolt in his hold before grabbing onto him harder.

“Harry,” you sigh, lashes fluttering as your head falls back into the wall behind you. “God, just…hurry. Please—”

“No.” It’s an easy response. Cruel, almost. But he’s focused on you. On your body and the way it responds to him. “I’m working right now, Tink. Leave me to it.”

He crouches down, pulling on the fabric around your legs until it pools near your ankles. He seems tantalized by the way your pussy sits so close to his face. The way it looks behind the pale blue cotton with the tiny bow.

He surges forward and presses his mouth to you. Lapping at the material until there’s a rather obvious wet patch – either from you or him, you can’t really be sure – while making your eyes roll back.

“Shit,” you whimper, once again grabbing onto his curls for stability. “God, Harry…we don’t have time for this.”

He smirks against your cunt before dragging his tongue over your covered clit. “D’ya want me to stop?”

Your lips form around the word, “Yes,” but what comes out is a very strained and breathless, “No. Please, no.”

He grins, large palms kneading on the flesh of your thighs to keep them spread before he lands a firm smack to your leg. “Good girl.”

His technique is sinful. Ruthless yet mesmeric, and you look at him with a kind of wonder you can’t explain.

Harry isn’t anything like what you expected. He’s incredibly smart and focused. He cares about his work to a point of obsession. He’s a perfectionist, through and through. He’s diligent and has a great attention for detail.

And yet this man has the most insatiable appetite for sex.

His list of kinks is a mile long. He’s out almost every night at bars, at clubs, at parties. He likes degradation, he likes pain, he likes bondage. He likes to bend you over your desk and spank you until your skin is raw and red. He likes to yank on your hair and drag his teeth down your throat. He likes to go deep – likes to go hard and slow.

You aren’t sure why you assumed he’d be docile and a bit vanilla in bed. Perhaps it was the glasses or the way he always corrected your grammar. Which you know wasn’t exactly a fair assumption, but you didn’t have much else to go on.

Well…until the first time.

“You’re holding your breath,” he murmurs from beneath you, forcing your attention back. “Stop doing that.”

Sucking in a quiet inhale, you oblige. “Sorry.”

You have a rather dangerous habit of taking in large gasps for air when he’s eating you out or making you feel good and then forgetting to release them. Which is all fun and games until you begin to feel a bit lightheaded and nearly pass out. In fact, one time you almost did, and it had scared Harry so bad, he refused to touch you for about a week.

Glancing up to make sure you’ve obeyed, he nods once. “Attagirl.”

Your cheeks warm slightly at the praise – another nasty habit you wish you could break – before he’s diving back in.

Despite the way the seconds are ticking by on your watch, Harry continues to revel in the taste of you, even through your panties. He hums until your legs shake, head bobbing to accompany his mouthing at your pussy.

He enjoys eating you, even like this. He always has and you can’t say you quite understand it. Perhaps it’s the power it gives him. The way you whine and whimper. The way you grab at him and give him everything you have to offer. The way you fucking hate him…yet you still let him in.

“Harry, please,” you nearly groan, tugging on him again. “If you’re gonna fuck me, then fuck me already. We don’t have time.”

He makes a tsking sort of noise before nudging his tongue against the front of your underwear. “God, you’re no fucking fun, you know that? And to think I was actually gonna take my time with you.”

Your expression is playfully unamused, but you can’t deny you’re somewhat curious.

He lands another spank to your leg and stands back up. “But that’s not what you want, huh? You just want me to be quick. Want me to fill you up and send you on your way. Don’t want me to play with you.”

You watch as he flicks his belt open and steps closer to you, a rather salacious look in his eye.

“And wouldn’t that be a shame?” he whispers, long fingers sweeping up the inside of your thigh. “For you to go into that meeting with my cum dripping down your leg? When you can’t do anything about it?”

You feel your breath catch, throat going dry at the way he drags the tip of his nose along your jaw. You want to resist him – you should resist him. And yet…

“Maybe it would be,” you reply coyly. “If you could get it up.”

To accompany your taunt, you reach down and press your palm to his cock, smirking when he sucks in a sharp hiss through gritted teeth.

“Seems you’ve gone soft on me,” you murmur, squeezing once more for good measure before releasing him. “That’s the real shame.”

The hand beside your head smacks against the wall. “S’cute, Tink. Real fucking cute—”

“Is it because of her?” you ask, straightening up until you can ghost your lips along his. Close, but not close enough. “Could she not take your tiny, little dick down her throat?”

You notice the way he swallows. The way the muscles in his arm flex beside you. The way his lashes flutter angrily from behind his glasses.

“Or could you not get yourself off?” You reach for him again. He's already beginning to harden from your touch – your voice – and despite yourself, your ego swells. “Was it when you were fucking your fist in your car this morning? Were you thinking about her? Is that why you couldn’t get hard?”

Something finally snaps, and instantly, you feel his fingers slipping around your throat. Just hard enough to make you grin. “What if I was thinking about you?”

“Mm. I don’t think so. Said it yourself. If you’re thinking about me…you’re always hard.”

He’s amused by this, squeezing your neck before surging forward to kiss you again. “Naughty little Tinkerbell.”

You smile.

With this, he spins you around and tosses you toward the empty and somewhat dusty bookcase in the corner of the closet. His touch is firm and unrelenting. Perhaps even a little cruel. The way he tugs on your hips as though to punish you. The way he shoves you until you’re bent over the shelf, allowing him access to your body like it’s his right.

And you don’t mind. This is the kind of dominance you’ve come to expect from the quiet yet horny man you work with.

Your underwear is yanked to the ground, the sound of a ripping stitch echoing throughout the small space. You frown but you don’t comment.

His palm smooths along your pussy, cupping it somewhat gently before his thumb flicks across your clit. He just wants to see you jump. Make you whine and push back into his touch.

You hear him chuckle. “Easy, princess. Gotta make sure you’re ready first.”

“I’m ready, just go,” you huff, staring down at the dust beneath you.

His finger slides inside your cunt, feeling you out for only a moment before retreating. “I don’t know. Seem a little tense.”

“If I’m with you, I’m tense,” you retort, making him smile. “Go already.”

“Now, now,” he warns, slipping in a second finger. “You wouldn’t rush Picasso, would you?”

You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry—”

“What?” He’s enjoying himself. “I’m the painter, and you are my art.”

“No, you’re fucking irritating, that’s what you are.”

“Oh, come on, I thought girls liked sappy analogies like that.”

“No, they like to get fucked. So, hurry up already.”

He lands another smack to your ass before dipping down to whisper, “As you wish.”

You hear the sound of him pulling himself out before you feel the tip of his cock dragging through your arousal. Collecting every drop while slowly pushing in.

He’s right, you are tense. And the stretch that accompanies his large size is enough to make you wince, yet…you love it.

Despite the slight pain, it feels good. Full in every sense of the word, and you focus on the deep breaths you’re taking as your nails begin to curl into the shelf.

Through clenched teeth, Harry calls, “You okay, Tink?”

“Mhm,” you hum, lashes fluttering shut. “This is easy. In fact, you could go faster, actually.”

He exhales a strained laugh, readjusting his hands on your hips. “Funny.”

“Yeah, I’m hysterical.”

He pushes in a bit further but still slow. He knows your body well enough to know what it can handle. And he understands his size is a touch above average.

Although he never lets you forget it.

“Being so brave,” he coos with a playful air of condescension. “My brave girl, yeah? Taking it like a champ.”

“Bite me, Styles.”

“Yeah? Just tell me where.”

You get ready to respond, but your remark is ripped from your throat when he suddenly drives in to the hilt. Ripping off the band aid and giving you exactly three seconds to adjust before he begins to fuck you.

The push and pull is everything. The pace, the anger, the pain. His hand is against your scalp, keeping you bent and pliable to his intentions. He’s grunting softly, slowing down just to speed back up. He listens to the noises you make, the way you clench around him. And he uses that to decide what he does next.

Your heart is hammering in your chest and your stomach is doing cartwheels. It’s as though this is the first rush of relief you’ve felt in weeks. Your hands can’t do it. Your vibrator can’t do it. Not even the guy you met at the bar could do it.

Nobody can do it like he can.

And you fucking hate it.

He lets go of your hair to reach around and slip his hand up your shirt. Finding your tit and giving it a nice squeeze before slapping his palm along the tender flesh. “Oh, you like that, princess, don’t you?”

You nod faintly, whimpering from the subtle sting, silently requesting he do it again.

So, he does. “S’cute how much you love when I hurt you. Makes me think you might even like me.”

You manage to scoff between unhinged whines. “Shut up, Harry.”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” he continues. “You like me more than you think you do. That’s why you always do what I ask. Like a good girl.”

You sneak a glimpse over your shoulder, studying the crooked angle of his glasses, and the slight smirk on his face.

He’s cute, you think. He’s always been kind of cute, but he’s especially cute when he’s ripping you apart from the inside out.

He meets your eye and travels his fingers down to your clit. “Need more, don’t you?”

But you don’t just need more. You need everything.

He pinches you tight and readjusts his stance to make sure he’s fucking into you at just the right speed. Just the right place to make your back arch and your toes curl.

“Gonna have to cum for me,” he grits, the graveled request woven between your anxious moans. “You wanted quick, so be fucking quick.”

You nod your agreement, the pleasure at the base of your spine building until it becomes your singular focus.

You hadn’t realized you were this worked up. Hadn’t anticipated being so close to release after such a short amount of time but maybe Harry was right about something else. Maybe fighting with him is your aphrodisiac.

The first few sparks explode behind your eyelids, taunting you with more as he begins to groan softly from behind you.

“Fucking shit—” His hips are slapping into your ass, the sound of your arousal being fucked into you by his cock like music to your ears. “There you go, princess. Just like that – keep squeezing me. Yeah…fuck.”

He’s close and you clench around him to get him closer, needing to feel him fill you more than you need air in your lungs.

When he does, it tips the rest of the dominos. One after the other until everything is falling apart. The warmth of his cum inside of you, the pulsing of his cock in your pussy, the scattering of pleasure between your thighs.

And he sounds so beautiful. Rough and exceedingly desperate. The most perfect, delicious sound and it makes your stomach flip in the most excruciating way. You could listen to him for hours. Could get off to his voice alone, the way he grunts and moans for you. The way he says your name through a heated curse and spanks his hand along your ass.

“S’fucking good, Tink,” he exhales, tightening his hold on your waist to keep you upright and steady. “Milk me, baby, come on. Fucking take it.”

You can feel him dripping down your legs. Can feel the heat and the soreness already settling but you thrive off it. Indulge in the way he takes care of you for a moment more before finally pulling out and turning you around.

He checks your face for signs of distress. Brows furrowed and expression scrutinous from behind his glasses. You can tell he’s got another sarcastic comment locked and loaded but before he can fire it, you reach up, and slip the frames from his nose.

Then, you kiss him. Hard and with fervor. It’s oddly passionate – perhaps filled with the lingering frustration from your previous altercation. But you don’t mind. It feels like him.

After a minute or two, you pop off his tongue, return his glasses to nose, and shove him back. “And now we’re gonna be late.”

He smiles to himself, stepping closer once more to run his thumb just beneath your eye. Collecting what you assume are dried tears and runny mascara. “Oops.”

However, before you can pull your jeans back on, Harry is crouching down and grabbing onto the material for you.

He pulls your panties up and secures them around your hips, ignoring the sticky cum beginning to seep out of your pussy.

Confused, your eyes narrow. “Har—"

“I told you,” he says calmly while zipping your jeans. “You’re gonna go into that meeting with me inside you.”

You feel your heart skip.

“But maybe if you’re good,” he whispers before looking up with a devious wink, “…I’ll do something about it.”

Next Part:

~ SnakeBite*

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~ 404*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

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Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics

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inzaynety · 2 months

Text

surprise? ⤫

➢ summary: no one expected yuuta to have a girlfriend

➢ content: yuuta x fem!reader; 2535 words; fluff; yuuta’s ability to pull girls is questioned 😪; sukuna hitting on you too ig

➢ notes: this is a rewrite from my old blog and it’s pretty refreshing to do one ngl, hopefully this reads a little better

Nobara sits leisurely on the lounge room’s couch with her fellow first years, watching as the second years huddle over a puzzle one had dug up from underneath their bed. At first she was staring into nothing thinking about when her next shopping trip would be and how she would drag the other two to carry her bags (they would go anyway, they had no choice when it came to her), but somehow her eyes land on the one upperclassman she doesn’t know all that much about.

Sure, she’s spent time with Toge, Panda, and of course Maki, but she had only known Yuuta for a few weeks after his return to Tokyo Jujutsu High. Nobara likes to watch and observe people, and there was something about him that sort of bugged her.

The reason? No clue.

“Careful. Think too hard and you’ll get hurt,” Megumi comments while Itadori snickers, Nobara glaring at the both of them without missing a beat.

“Shut up. I was wondering if you guys think Okkotsu-senpai’s attractive.” The two boys look at her and then each other in confusion. She realizes that they’re probably not the best people to ask, their obvious and painful pining in the way of everything else, but objectively speaking she would try to gauge Okkotsu’s status. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, quite easy on the eyes, but he was a little awkward.

“Why’re you thinking about that?” Itadori’s tone isn’t condescending–just questioning. He too had some reservations about the upperclassman, considering their first meeting to not be so ideal. His complete 180 in personality did cause a bit of whiplash.

“Not sure, I mean, look at him.” The three direct their eyes to the special grade and he’s sitting in the middle of the others as they argue over the missing pieces that happened to disappear when nearing the end of the puzzle. He isn’t saying anything and only laughing along as his friends are exasperated with each other. His flustered face also seems to be his brand as that’s all Nobara’s been seeing.

Heck, the other day they bumped into each other and he was stuttering out apologies when they barely brushed shoulders. A single paper from her arms fell on the floor from the wind let in by the open window.

“He has no game. I’m betting on that right now.”

“Okay, I bet he does!” Itadori always bet on the opposite.

“You’re gonna lose, loser!”

“Nuh-uh, bigger loser!”

As Nobara and Itadori start their bickering yet again, Fushiguro thinks back to his morning. He could have slept in.

–

The first and second years are near the track continuing their training to finish off the day, but they got distracted and now Toge and Itadori were being swung in a circle by Panda.

“Maki-sannn,” Nobara drawls, leaning on the upperclassman as they sit on the steps watching the others. Maki hums in acknowledgement. “Do you know if Okkotsu-senpai has a girlfriend?” The older girl snorts and doesn’t hide her disbelief at her question.

“Of course not. Have you seen the guy?”

“But I thought Inumaki-senpai said you thought he was–”

“That was a stupid question. He asked a stupid question.”

Nobara leaves it at that and now it has Maki thinking about it.

–

Maki doesn’t find herself walking around the school that often if not for entering and exiting the school with Toge and Panda, or heading towards the track for training. But the latter didn’t need to go as far as the front gates. Honestly, it was a nice day and it would have been a waste to sit around inside even if it were just a few minutes.

Though, she wasn’t expecting to see anyone else.

Gojo would have told them if a representative of the higher ups, or the higher ups themselves, would show up just so he could inform them to say Gojo-sensei’s not here or Sensei said to leave him alone. He found childish pride in the fact that his students could be the ones to stop those old geezers from interfering with his daily life, but it was at their expense so it usually ends with He’s just outside the door or Sensei! Get out from under the table!

But you didn’t look like them. If anything, Maki could deduce you were probably around her age but not before her eyes almost bulged out of her sockets upon registering who exactly it was she was looking at. While she didn’t know who you were, she didn’t mind it at that exact moment. One for a second though.

Your expression was cold and stoic, not unlike their very own Fushiguro, but when your eyes meet hers, it’s replaced with a youthful cheerfulness that Maki swore she needed to cover her eyes from the brightness.

“Hello,” you wave from the entrance. You thought it would have been a little rude to step in and walk around without a clue of where to go, so you opted for standing by while waiting for someone to arrive. In hindsight, maybe a surprise visit wasn’t the best idea.

Your greeting was nice enough, if not a little nervous from the way you looked her up and down. Though, she wouldn’t deny that she gave you another once over herself. Her gaze was intense but it was hard to distinguish it from judging or curiosity. To save the awkwardness and soon to come silence, you introduce yourself and state that you were looking for someone.

“A student? Or Gojo?” You laugh a little at the mention of the older special grade. He was quite a handful for every sorcerer who ever came across him. Maki’s eyes narrow and you’re a bit intimidated.

“I’m looking for–”

“Kugisaki, come back! I need that!” Maki groans at the sound of the rowdy first years and whips her head over to see Nobara running with one of Itadori’s shoes, waving it in the air as she spewed out complaints of her own.

“You lost my limited edition faux fur gloves! I’m not giving this back until you can find it!”

Maki gestures for you to follow her and you oblige while watching the two have their fun. You could tell she wasn’t all that annoyed by them but you assumed it must be to keep up appearances.

“Reminds me of the first years back at my school,” you laugh and that’s when your walking companion starts asking you a few questions.

On the short walk from the front to the building, she was able to get your name and occupation. It turned out that you were attending another school besides the one in Kyoto, which explained why you hadn’t been there for the exchange events, and were in the process of promoting another grade up. You don’t miss how her eyes dart back and forth from in front of her to your face.

Anyone would have been able to say that you were attractive, you were never short of getting compliments when going out, and maybe she’s spent too much time with her teacher. He prided himself in his looks and while you were in the same boat, maybe she was just glad you didn’t flaunt it. It was refreshing and maybe it was alright to sneak a few glances here and there.

When you finally reach the main building she’s forgotten the most important question you got interrupted in answering.

“By the way, who was it you were looking for again–”

“You’re an idiot!”

“I already told you I was sorry!” It was the two again and this time they came barreling from the other entrance from where you and Maki came from. The short haired girl had her arm wrapped around the boy’s throat, rubbing the top of his head vigorously with her fist.

You eye Maki who still didn’t look amused and only then did you notice there were more students in the room and they were staring right at you. Raising a hand you wave at them…and a panda. It seemed they meant to welcome back their classmate but were surprised to see you accompanying her. Turning back to the scene in front of you, it was suddenly silent and you were the center of attention.

“So Maki,” the panda says, “who’s your new friend? Hi, I’m Panda.” Fitting.

Introducing yourself, you receive a monotime hello in response. However, their town doesn’t match their expressions; their attention is definitely not on something, or someone, else. Maki notices this and pinches the bridge of her nose before pointing at everyone.

“Emo’s Megumi, pinky’s Itadori, Nobara, and Toge.” There’s a quiet murmur of emo and pinky from their respective parties. Your eyes land on the most familiar one in the room, giving a kind smile and wave to Inumaki who seems to have kept his attention on you.

“Kombu.” He waves back and makes a motion to jab a finger down the hallway, giving you a message everyone else was unsure of. You nod in response after figuring it.

“You guys know each other?” Itadori speaks up as he just manages to get out of Nobara’s hold.

“Was it Toge you were looking for–” Maki is interrupted when Nobara stalks up to you. Her expression is unreadable but there is an undeniable sparkle in her eyes.

“Hi–”

“You’re very pretty, did you know that?” She says out of the blue and it was so sudden you couldn’t help but feel warm in your face.

“Thank you,” you say and she seemed pleased with the response. Again, probably thankful you were full of yourself like a certain blue-eyed, white-haired man. “ I hope you guys don’t mind if I wait here?” It’s more of a question to make sure you’re not pressuring them. A stranger coming in out of nowhere is strange, but the students don’t seem to be opposed to it from their quick responses.

“No, no!”

“Definitely not!”

“Yeah, you can stay.”

“We still don’t know who she’s waiting for. But yeah”

“Shake.”

Within seconds, you’re swept onto the couch and in between the first duo you saw. They’re asking you just general questions, Panda, Nobara, and Toge, even though he already knows you, listening with their full attention. Even Fushiguro’s paying less and less attention to his phone and subtly looking over at you at periodic intervals.

All is well and good; you feel like you’re making more new friends, but a new question pops up: “Hey, you single?” Everyone stops and heads turn to Itadori who looks just as shocked as they do. He’s already one step ahead though, a hand slapped over his cheek to cover the mouth that had popped out.

You stare confused for a moment before snapping your fingers. “You’re the Sukuna guy!” You inwardly recoil from your choice of words but Itadori doesn’t look at all bothered by them. In fact, he’s giddy that you know who he is even if it’s in a not-so-favorable-way. It is a little concerning though when he places his hand down and there’s a smirk on the mouth on his cheek, mouthing some words you would rather not remember.

“Okay,” Maki stands up and directs her attention right at you, “before I can get interrupted again,” her glare is directed particularly at the first years. Megumi mutters a what did I do under his breath but is shut up by her look, “who’s the person you’re looking for?”

“Oh!” You beam upon remembering the purpose for your visit. “I’m visiting–Yuu!” You jump up from your spot upon seeing a familiar figure walking down the hall. You waste no time in throwing yourself in his arms when he passes the doorway and he laughs, wrapping them around you to bring you into a tighter hug. You stay like that for a bit, matching bright smiles on both of your faces.

“I missed you, angel,” He says fondly and you smile up at him.

“What the hell?” It’s only then you both remember the audience and Yutta freezes, turning his head slowly to catch their faces. Itadori (and Sukuna), Nobara, and Panda have their jaws to the floor while Maki and Megumi are conflicted on whether to feel surprised or not.

Only then does Maki remember Nobara’s question from earlier in the week.

The only one not shocked is Inumaki who was sitting back on the couch with his arms crossed. He nods his head to gesture to his friend to explain. “Tuna mayo.” The others stare at him.

“You knew?” He nods. He did want to poke fun and try not to reveal the truth after hearing around that Yuuta could in no way get a girl. He wanted to laugh and reveal it in a note or something but everyone’s surprise was too good to pass up. It was only a few months ago that his close friend introduced you, but that didn’t mean his initial surprise waned. Sometimes he thinks it’s a joke until Yuuta gets a text from you.

“Mentaiko.”

“Ah,” Yuuta finally speaks up, “she’s my girlfriend?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” He flinches at the voices of Maki and Nobara, but to be fair, everyone else in the room was more or less wanting to know how the hell he managed to get someone like you.

“No offense, Okkotsu-senpai,” Nobara starts, pointing at him, “but she’s gorgeous. How?”

“W-What do you mean how?” He was indeed a little offended by the disbelief he sees and from his side you let out a laugh in amusement at the whole situation. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the most bold or confrontational outside of sorcery settings, he was a bit timid and shy but he always meant well. Even now his hold on you hasn’t left, hands resting on your waist as more comments of confusion dart out from his friends.

You take it upon yourself to hold one of his hands and bring it up to your face, kissing his palm. “Because he’s Yuuta.” It’s pretty cheesy but the way you look at him which has the others mostly putting to rest their questions. Yuuta’s face reddens before he takes a hold of that same hand you grasped him with, pulling you along to his room.

“It was nice meeting you all!” You call back, their presence slowly drowned out by the both of you, all unintentionally as you catch him up on the promotion and whatever else. Yuuta just likes hearing you talk.

The others could do nothing but wave in your direction as you went.

–

Bonus:

After retreating to his room, the rest sat there without uttering a word, mindlessly playing cards as they gathered their thoughts. They’re only brought out of them when footsteps are heard down the other hall and come to a stop in the room.

“What’s going on here?”

“Sensei,” Itadori calls out, “did you know that Okkotsu-senpai has a girlfriend?”

“She was hot.” He slaps his cheek again.

From the look on Gojo’s face, he didn’t. And none of them wasted the opportunity to follow him as he made it a mission to knock down Yuuta’s door to meet you too.

#okkotsu x reader #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fics #jjk scenarios #okkotsu yuuta #fics

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seungbinbin · 1 year

Text

meet ugly - hyung line ver.

not every couple has a fairytale start !!

a/n: first headcanons ! idk if i like this format but i thought i could try <3 lmk what u think ! i was also sleep deprived and delirious writing this but i think it’s a little funny heh

warnings: curse words, very ridiculous writing, mentions of food, gn reader ! (lmk if i missed anything!!)

bang chan

you found out there was a new neighbor on your floor

and you were just so excited to make a new friend

plus you heard the lady from the leasing office saying he was really cute 🫣

so you decided to be nice and bake him some muffins for breakfast <33333

what you didn’t know was that your neighbor stayed up until 4am producing a new song

so when you knocked on his door at 8am, bright and early, interrupting his much needed sleep…yeah, he wasn’t very happy

“what do you want? 😒”

oh 😟

you just hand him the muffins, mumble a quick sorry and RUN

he only realizes how rude he was after he wakes up a second time, hours later, seeing the HOMEMADE muffins sitting on his counter with a little note

“welcome neighbor !!!! :)))”

oh my fucking god 😭 he just HAS to apologize

when he finds you (literally knocks on every door on your floor) he says he’s so very sorry and he’s speaking so fast it makes you giggle

“it’s okay, breathe!”

and he decides right then and there that he’ll make it up to you by taking you out for coffee 😋

lee know

studying at a coffee shop was the best thing ever for you

it made it easier to concentrate on your work, it smelled delicious, and the baristas knew you so they always gave you a little cake pop for free <3

you had been hard at work for hours :( poor baby, midterm season is ROUGH

deciding to take a break to rest your eyes from looking at your screen, and your hands from writing, you took a look around and spotted the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life: lee minho !

his hands were full and he looked very annoyed and you thought "woah that's so much coffee!"

what you didn't know is that he had lost the rock, paper, scissors game for coffee duty <///3

and now he was a little (very) irritated carrying 8 cups of coffee

trying to balance 8 large iced americanos was kind of hard, especially in a crowded coffee shop in the middle of lunch rush

but he had everything under control !

until someone bumped into him while he walked past your table

suddenly there was coffee everywhere; on his shirt, on his face and hair, on your face and hair...and all over your table

thankfully, you had managed to pull your laptop away from the disaster before any coffee got on it

however...your review was all wet and messed up

your 6 page, hand-written review you had been working on for the past 4 hours

"holy shit, i'm so sorry-"

and then you were crying 🧍🏻‍♀️ he didn't know what to do

when you explained everything, he offered to rewrite the review for you 🥹

he took the soggy papers with him, then asked for your number (just to ask what he should write and give you the review, totally not because you were the cutest ever! )

changbin

changbin was having an off-day at the gym

he had been trying to beat his last pr but something felt…off

maybe he pulled a muscle while practicing choreography, or his new pre-workout never kicked in

whatever it was, his mind-muscle connection was off and it was beginning to frustrate him

he was so stiff and crampy and ready to go home after his barely-successful arm day >:(

he was angrily typing on his phone with one hand, complaining about his day to chan and holding a 40 pound dumbbell on the other

definitely not watching where he was going !

he walked right into a bench and hit his shin very hard ! ouchie !

which made him lose his grip on the dumbbell and he dropped it

…right on your foot 🥴

“OW, FUCK!”

“oh NO, ARE YOU HURT!?”

“OF COURSE I AM, YOU ASSHOLE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

please don’t yell at him he didn’t mean to ! he tears up when he sees you start to cry in pain :(

so he apologizes (and keeps doing so as he carries you to his car so he can drive you to the hospital)

when you told him your roommates were out of town and you weren’t from the area, he offered to stay with you :(

and also offered to pay for any medical expenses

oh he just felt so bad 😞

but it’s okay! the doctor said it was a minor fracture that should heal up in no time !

and like…changbin made you laugh the entire time and he’s so kind and nice and pretty and buff…

perhaps you could forgive him for shattering your big toe! but just this once !

hyunjin

you just wanted a nice, peaceful day at the park

the weather was perfect for a picnic and a book and you just had to take the opportunity

a lot of other people had the same idea to visit the local park

hyunjin included! he wanted kkami to get some fresh air and to stretch his legs from being holed up in his art studio all day

everything was going perfectly fine

and then kkami managed to get out of his leash

chaos ensued; everyone could hear his dramatic ass screaming and chasing his little dog 😭

surprise! kkami ended up at your picnic bc he wanted to eat your snacks

“hello, sweet boy!”

he was so friendly, everything was going so well! you even offered him a strawberry

and then he peed on your book

and bit your finger 🧍🏻‍♀️

hyunjin gets there 30 seconds too late and now he has to apologize for kkami and his chihuahua-ness

“oh my fucking god, i’m so sorry, i don’t know why he would do that! are you okay!?”

yes you are…there’s a beautiful man right in front of you holding your hand and checking on you ‼️

there’s still dog pee on your book tho

“there’s a bookstore near by, can i buy you another copy?”

so cute <3 thank u kkami

3K notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 4 months

Text

Teddy Pickers - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: In the rare quiet time in the lives of fugitives, you and Wanda play a game of questions. It's like that old saying: There's always a peaceful period before the storm. Or could it be that this time, the storm has already passed?

Warnings: (+18), soft and almost entirely a smut chapter, making out, dirty talking but they are actually just playful and dorky with each other, more shapeshifting stuff, hints of PTSD and trauma talk, some self-doubt from both, mainly fluff and hurt/comfort | Words: 4.845k

A/N-> So I had two chapters ready but I hated them. I had to rewrite the whole thing because I was unsure where to take this story. I'm all on my supercorp era again and I was taking this to a very angsty line and I don't want that. So I changed and gave them peace and quiet instead. Also, I can't wait to write jealous hormonal mess Wanda in the next chapters! A good reading for you all!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

You woke up to her nightmares.

Still groggy from sleep, you rubbed your eyes and forced your body to react to the figure murmuring softly beside you, her face contorted in discomfort. At some point during the night, Wanda let go of you, snatched almost the entire comforter, and then began to dream.

And apparently, it wasn't a good one. It surprised you a little that you were affected by it, but you made a mental note of Wanda's impressive ability to emit a magical aura even in her sleep. That might explain why her room was set apart from the others in the tower.

Your touch was gentle on her face, and you called her softly until you woke her up. Wanda jumped a little, opening red, frightened irises until she realized she was just having a bad dream. She barely recognized your presence, and already pressed her face into your collarbone, breathing deeply against your skin.

"Are you all right, my love?" You asked after a moment, stroking her hair as her breathing returned to normal.

Wanda sniffled, and your heart broke. Your reaction was to look for her eyes, to reassure her, but she wrapped her arms tightly around you and wouldn't let you move away.

You sighed before adding: "It was just a bad dream, my little witch."

But Wanda sniffles again, this time pressing her face into your chest so that she can speak.

"It wasn't just a dream." She mumbles upset. "I was remembering... Pietro."

A lump forms in your throat. You swallow. "Oh, Wanda... I'm so sorry."

"It's all right." She hits back immediately, without moving a muscle. She continues to hold you as if she feels you'll disappear if she lets go. "It's been a while since I thought about that day. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You certainly shouldn't worry about how I'm going to feel about this." You retort firmly. "He's your brother. You can cry all you want. I'll be here to hold you."

The words make her shift immediately and press her face against your body where you can feel new tears wetting your pajamas. But Wanda doesn't cry for long - she falls asleep again, her limbs locked tightly around you, and even though the position gets a little uncomfortable after a while, you don't have the heart to push her away. Especially since, after a while, her nightmares return and the magical aura is strong enough for the memories of the past to shine through your eyes.

You sigh, adjusting yourself to kiss the top of her head and settling her so that she's completely asleep on your body - which changes a little, growing just enough for Wanda to have all the soft hold she needs. She smiles unconsciously, tightening her embrace before falling back into a deep sleep. With the softness of her expression, you are reassured to know that the nightmares are gone, at least for the moment.

You try to fall asleep, but your ear picks up the soft vibration of your work cell phone in your jacket pocket hanging from the chair in the bedroom. Your body tenses during every ring, until it finally relaxes when the device goes silent.

Work is calling, you know. Just as you know you can't run away forever.

Hours later when you wake again, it’s for rays of sunshine slipping the curtains and chaste kisses on your collarbone. You smile immediately.

"Morning, little witch." Your sleepy voice makes Wanda raise her eyes to you, her lips never leaving your skin. The soft scratch of her nails on your stomach makes your muscles twitch. "You're up to mischief, I see."

Your teasing makes her chuckle hoarsely, her hands climbing further up your pajama top and exposing your torso almost completely.

But instead of starting another trail of kisses, she sat up straight against your hip and waited for you to open your eyes.

"You change in your sleep." She declares as you stare at her, still awake. "Did you know that?"

You nod, and Wanda raises a curious eyebrow. She has a joke on the tip of her tongue about how the hell you knew something if you were asleep when you explain;

"I used to be monitored twenty-four hours a day when I was a child. To prevent any minor detail from slipping through the records and interfering with the research."

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, absorbing your confession for a second. She could count on her fingers the few times you had mentioned some random detail about your life before, and it took her by surprise. Almost everything she knew came from the Avengers' archives and carried technical and military analysis. She heard very little from your mouth.

"You never talk about your past." That's what she manages to answer because it's a fact.

You offer her a small smile, your hands moving to reach her thighs on either side of your hips.

"What would you like to know?"

Wanda sighs, her hands resting on your shoulders. "I'll listen to anything you want to tell me."

Your smile is tender, almost shy. Wanda likes it when she makes you blush, especially since you have the ability to conceal these reactions from her, changing and commanding your body according to your wishes. Even though you don't do it so often because you trust her.

What a thing. One of the world's greatest criminals blindly trusting an Avenger. She could actually feel very cocky about it.

"I have an idea." You then declare, your fingers playing with the edges of her shorts. Wanda stares at you expectantly, but you almost lose your train of thought at how deliciously beautiful she now looks. The slightly tousled hair, and well, the legs around you, and eyes that beg for everything but conversation. "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?"

"A game of questions, of course." You retort good-humoredly, adjusting yourself a little to sit up straight. Wanda lets her hands fall to your lap. "Two truths and a lie. Traumatic childhood edition."

Wanda lets out a giggle, pinching you gently for the derogatory joke. You just smile at her, almost completely distracted by the sound of her laughter and the comforting feeling that moment brings to your chest.

"I've never played that one." She says after a moment. "What are the rules?"

"It's very simple. Each person states three facts, but one of them is false. You have to find out which one. The winner is whoever gets it right the most times, although I've just realized that playing something like that with a telepath isn't very fair." Wanda slaps you in a joking manner at the insinuation that she was going to cheat, getting a chuckle from you.

"I'll start then." She then states, assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment. You bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to kiss her cute face and pay attention to the game. "With respect to the theme you've chosen, I grew up in a two-room apartment in the Sokovian countryside. When I was little, I could play the piano. And... I love to cook."

You hum thoughtfully, loosening your grip so that one of your hands goes to your chin. The whole theatrical expression makes Wanda giggle, her cheeks flushing with the way her stomach feels full of butterflies.

"I say the first one's a lie."

She raises an eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

Your expression changes to one of almost conviction. "Because you grew up in Novi Grad, the Sokovian capital, and not in the countryside. And I have to say, it's very bold of you to assume that I haven't done my homework on you, Wanda Maximoff."

Wanda feels a wave of warmth hit her body and spread with your words. Or perhaps, the way your eyes shine in a way that hides meaning. She allows herself to imagine for a moment your figure in the same clothes you wore when she first met you, frantically going through files at night to learn everything you could learn about her.

It reminds her a little of herself, days after your first encounter, how even though Wanda tried to be as secretive as possible, casually asking about missions in which you faced the Avengers, or reviewing mission files on the pretext that she was studying, Natasha realized what she was doing right away.

Clearing her throat, Wanda looked down, a little embarrassed. "I did the same. With-for you, I mean."

You smiled, looking at her with an almost impressed expression. "Oh, really? I'm flattered."

"Shut up." She giggles shyly in response, but you, despite chuckling too, insist more firmly;

"No, really. I think it’s quite romantic."

Wanda frowns slightly. "What, being obsessed with each other?"

"Yes."

"You have problems." She retorts in a false seriousness that makes you smile before Wanda swallows dryly at the way your gaze is focused intensely in her direction. The tension that rises is almost too much for her to be able to say anything else. Yet, she tries with a husky voice. "You got it right. The game, I say."

You nod, smiling. Your open palms on her thighs go up inside her shorts, and Wanda holds her breath for a second. But they only serve to make a gentle lever and pull Wanda closer by her ass, and she bites her lips at the new position, very aware of the warmth on her cheeks and neck.

"My three facts are as follows, Maximoff." You begin, your dark gaze on her previously bitten lips for a moment before focusing on her eyes again. "I was a laboratory experiment all through my childhood. I really like you." Wanda smiles, scrunching her nose adorably. You get momentarily distracted, gaze falling to her lips again. She catches your eyes, a smirk cracking on her mouth when she leans in, subtly asking you to break the distance. End the game. When you manage to talk again, your voice is barely a whisper; “I’m allergic to peanuts.”

She chuckles, arms interlocking behind your head. Wanda mutters a joke, something about keeping an eye for the food, but you firm your hands on her thighs and bring her closer to press your mouths together. It’s a hot kiss - charged with all of your naughty intentions. She lets out a soft moan when your tongue slides on hers, slow and sensual. But suddenly, Wanda breaks the kiss with flushed cheeks and a curious gaze on her eyes.

“Wait!” She asks breathlessly, to which you stare equally affected but expectant. “Your file did have peanuts listed as allergy.”

Damn, you thought you could win that one. A little grin starts to form on your lips, but Wanda narrows her eyes in your direction.

“Someone really did her homework on me, I see.” You tease, leaning in to go back to kissing her, but she evades your attempt, eyes shining a little dangerously.

“If the food was not the lie, and I know for a fact that you were an experience most of your life… Then the lie-” You wanted to laugh at the hidden panic hidden behind her eyes. Honestly, this woman.

What was she even thinking? That you would let her down in some game while having her on your lap? Hours after telling her that you love her?

It should be a hint enough that you’re smiling, for Wanda to realize there’s a joke there. But somehow, she grows more insecure. Her eyes flash red for a moment before and it’s a clear warning.

You just chuckle. “It’s all about semantics, darling.” You explain because it looks like Wanda might cut your head off if you don’t clarify exactly what lie you told. “I don’t just like you. We’re not in middle school. I love you, remember?”

The tension visually leaves her shoulders, but something else happens. Her cheeks and ears grow hotter and Wanda is once more a flustered mess, feeling pretty much like a shy middle schooler because you’re talking about feelings.

You think she’s beautiful, so you tell her that too. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She giggles coyly, kissing you because that’s all she can do without making a fool of herself. Well, if you keep rubbing her thighs under her shorts like that, she’ll probably make a fool of herself anyway, considering how she gets patheticly overwhelmed whenever you touch her.

For a while, you just made out. Slowly and passionately with wandering hands and panting kisses. It’s just nice to feel each other, to hold each other. It’s also very hot to feel Wanda rubbing herself on your lap until the soft friction is not enough.

She bites your lip when that happens, her hips more impatient and frantic against your thigh. All you can do in return is firm your hands on her waist, helping her get what she wants, what she needs. And Wanda stops kissing you because all she can do is moan in return for the time being, quite aware of the wetness dripping down her shorts.

She starts whining into your mouth when she’s close, and it’s too much for you - How can Wanda expects you not to fuck her properly when she’s doing that? - Your hands flip her over in a heartbeat. She barely has time to protest for the interruption of her previous, and desperate motions, when you’re all over her. Groping your way into her clothes, tearing it apart, and taking more eager sounds from her throat.

And Wanda, she’s such a tease. Dark dilated eyes shining with mischief and begging you to just fuck her. The way she lets you strip her out of her clothes, and how she slightly opens her legs, rubbing her ankles behind your kees, inviting you to just-

“Fuck.” You pant for the image in front of you. Wanda bites her lips, one of her hands finding its way to her soft breasts, fingers teasing the hard nipple like she doesn’t mind the slightest that you could lose your sanity to such a sinful gesture.

But Wanda is getting impatient too. The hot knot on her belly is making her dizzy. You’re making her dizzy.

“Need you so bad, detka.” She meowed, her hips arching into the air, allowing you a clear view of her drenched pussy. You can see how wet she is, smell it, yet, a true confirmation only comes when you use one of your hands to press her back into the bed while your free fingers find her warm entrance. Wanda cries out when you enter her, but she’s so hot and so tight, that you have to pull out before pushing two fingers in again and again, stretching her out while she struggles to breathe. Her thigh muscles twitch when your thumb finds her clit, every drawn circle against the hardened bud rips a new throaty moan out of her.

When she’s close again, impossibly tightly against your fingertips, throbbing, you hum pleasantly, your free hand gripping her waist to take control of her uncoordinated movements. Wanda cries out when you force her into your fingers, reaching deeper now and too good for her to hold back, so the hot knot on her belly explodes without warning and she arches her back, twitching and choking on a moan before going limb on the mattress. You keep fingering her gently, prolonging her orgasm until she complains about the overstimulation with a tug on your wrist.

You pull your fingers out but not kiss her as she would wish - Instead, you lean down and her dizzy expression falters into a gasp when your mouth finds her cunt, tongue licking every drop of cum you just manage to get. Her natural reaction is to back away, she’s sensitive. But you grab her thighs, find your place between her legs, and start to eat her out like you’re starving.

“Oh God…fuck-” Her choked moaning mixing in English and Sokovian is music to your ears. Her eyes close on instic, because it’s too much and somehow not enough - Your tongue is teasing her, playing with her clit but not using the necessary pressure she needs. She just came and you barely started and Wanda is ready for more, painting for more. One of her hands finds your hair, a strong grip that works like a warning. Yet, she says or at least tries to, since it sounds a lot more like a whine than anything else: “Stop teasing.”

To be fair, she could probably ask you anything at any time, especially now. While dripping so sweetly into your tongue, clenching and begging for more. You hum accordingly, ending your tease when sucking on her clit. Wanda screams. Loud enough for other people to hear, that’s for sure, but none of you cares about that. Not now, probably not never.

She can’t hold longer after that, not when you’re doing everything to get another climax out of her, fingers finding her pussy again to help your tongue. It’s so messy and sloppy and nearly desperate. Your own underwear has been bothering you for a while now and Wanda crying out your name is definitely not helping with that.

It’s not a surprise that when she comes, the room shudders a little. Wanda’s not being careful, she’s too gone for that now. Little were the times when she didn’t, couldn’t, hold back herself, her magic. The energy flows to her veins like the heat spreading under her skin when she orgasms and it’s breathtaking and overwhelming and she’s coming so hard that she can’t hold anything back. A wave of warm magic explodes around, her red irises open like her mouth in a silent scream, and it’s beautiful. Wanda is perfect, and she’s all yours.

She only realizes she ripped the sheets when you move back to her and the bed makes a noise that forces her to notice the room. Such a mess she made. Someone will have to pay for bedroom fixing.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you witchy?” You tease fondly about the whole setting, the new crack on the window, the little sparks of her magic that still flow around. Wanda sighs satisfied, her hands finding your face when you’re close enough. When she kisses you, her taste is there and she can only moan at the dirty of that act, how you suck her tongue like you’ve sucked her clit a few minutes ago.

Wanda doesn’t break the kiss to move her hands lower, groping your still-dressed figure and only now realizing how that is actually torturous.

“Hmm, I’ve been so selfish, milyy (darling). You must be needing me as well.” She mutters between one kiss and another, and you’re almost so distracted by her new dominance over you that you barely notice her hands. Barely. You follow her lead, resting your back on the bed so Wanda can hover over your body. Her fingers move under your shirt, scratching the skin and giving her a nice time feeling you twitch. The way she looks at you is also a lot to handle without shaking.

Suddenly, Wanda pants, eyes diverting to your chest. “Oh, hello you two”. She doesn’t mind your shyness, shamelessly groping your boobs under your shirt. “I missed those.”

You chuckle out of breath, pulling your shirt off while Wanda just stares and plays with them. “I can’t believe you just talked to my boobs.”

She squeezes, pulling the tip until it’s hard under her touch. You bite your lips, to keep your sound under control but you can feel a new wave of warm wetness spreading towards your lower belly.

“Well, I’ve missed them. It’s been a while, since, you know, you actually had those two.” She so casually talking about it, it’s not that you mind that, but she’s also touching and squeezing them and you’re way too horny to have a conversation.

With very warm cheeks, you try to anyway; “Hm, they usually stay in the way of the job.” Wanda leans down, forcing her head between your breasts, muttering something like so soft and she’s such a dork that you have to chuckle. “It’s just extra work to find the right clothes and then changing every time I need a new face and matching body.”

Despite her clearly interest in your chest, Wanda is listening as she lets you know with a hum of knowledge. But then her mouth envelops one of them and it’s just too much for you to focus on anything else but the feeling of her tongue. You pant to the ceiling, shaky fingers gripping her hair, telling her to keep going but Wanda is such a teasing brat. There’s a small ‘pop’ sound when her mouth lets go, and a trace of saliva still connects your nipple to her lips before Wanda goes for the other one. You squirm a little under her, blushing intensely because she’s such a tease and apparently wants you to beg for it.

She takes no pity on the ache between your legs; When her mouth leaves your breast again, she has this mischievous sparkle in her eyes that makes you gulp.

“I think I’m a little obsessed with them.” She tells you, giving your tits another squeeze, a little harder this time.

You gasp. “You think?”

“Huh-huh.” She replies, nodding. “You had it on your first night together. Then never again until today. It’s because you miss me sucking them, malysh (baby)?”

You roll your eyes at the words, teasing words evidently. The little cocky smirk that almost makes you go back to being the one in charge. To be completely honest, Wanda was always the one in charge. Even when she allows you to be on top.

“You’re mistaken, Maximoff.” You retort her while giving her a gentle tug on her thighs, to bring her closer because you really need some kind of pressure between your legs. Wanda doesn’t have to be a mind reader to get the hint - Her knee finds your middle as she straddles your thigh, and she doesn't mind hiding her grin at how you let out an affected sigh at that. “I also had them when I first met you.”

She frowns a little, scrunching her nose in a thoughtful way. You are about to clarify when her knee moves away for her hand to take the spot. And well, you can’t think of saying anything, coherent at least, with Wanda finger’s filling you up so nicely. She seems to be enjoying herself as well - Watching attentively at every strangled noise that escapes you with the consistent pace inside you.

But suddenly as if remembering your previous words, she gaps: “Oh my god, you’re right!” She says, somehow her excitement brings her deeper inside of you. All you can give her as a response is a whine. “You were pretending to be one of the gala’s hosts right? The.. damn, i can’t remember his name-”

“W-wanda..” You meowls, the heat is too much. The way she just keeps pumping in and out of you, and talking about something else as if turning you into a whining mess is nothing, actually makes you throb.

Wanda just smiles, ignoring your protest to the conversation and quite satisfied with the growing wetness she can feel on her fingertips. “Oh, I remember it now. The host only had daughters, so you did your part. Also one of the few times I saw you in a dress, baby. And what a view that was.” She leans in, whispering soft praises into your ear while you struggle to breathe. It takes you over the edge quickly, and Wanda is rewarded with the sweetest whimper once the knot in your belly explodes - One of your hands grabs her wrist, to keep her there as if she ever thought of leaving. Your hips jerk a few times as you ride the last waves of your climax and Wanda watches all of it, as breathless as you, truly mesmerized by the scene.

When you can breathe again, there are green irises staring at you with adoration. “Hi.”

“Hi you.” It’s your tender reply, and when Wanda leans in to kiss your lips, she can feel your smile. One of your hands moves to her face, gently caressing her skin. Once the kiss is broken, you talk first. “I love you, Wanda.”

You sound so vulnerable, so true, that she swallows. Her gaze focused on your eyes. It’s almost like there’s more to add, at the same time, as if the confession meant even more than just caring about someone. Wanda remembers the first time you said, how you mentioned that she was the first person you ever said that to, and somehow she understands it that it meant that you trusted her very deeply. She bites her lips, withdrawing her fingers from you. She doesn’t miss the soft sigh that escapes you, but she says nothing to that. Wanda is busy taking your wetness to her mouth and sucking her fingers clean. The image is enough to bring not only a strong color to your cheeks but a dark shine to your eyes.

You are ready to break the distance again when knocks on the door break the bubble you two are in completely.

And Captain Rogers's voice from the outside of the room kind of breaks the mood entirely.

“Hello? I’m… sorry to interrupt. I just need a word. With everyone. Please, huh, join us downstairs?” You and Wanda hide your giggles - The Captain was obviously flustered to call you two, especially judging by the noises Wanda didn’t mind to restrain, probably everybody knew what you two were up to. And it was definitely Natasha’s idea that he was the one who called; the widow was having some fun with her friend's clumsiness.

Wanda cleared her throat, unwillingly taking her attention from you to the door. “We’ll be right out, Steve.”

Once the sound of his footsteps became more distant, Wanda kissed you again. She seemed determined not to move away from you.

-&-

Sergeant Barnes was in Wakanda, undergoing recovery.

When Steve mentioned the country, he looked directly at you, and that was enough for you to know that whatever the king had told him about your adventures there, the captain was on the monarch's side. Not that it mattered all that much.

Consciously or not, while Steve was updating the team, you discreetly scratched the scar you received the last time you were there. If you concentrated, you could remember exactly how painful it was to receive the Wakandian words for thief on your skin.

And seeing the heroes of Earth around you, with inside jokes and personal stories, made you feel very out of place. As if they too could see the scar, even if it was covered by an oversized sweatshirt now.

You swallowed dry and took advantage of the fact that Natasha was finally telling everyone what had kept her busy for the first few weeks on the run, to slip away towards a snack machine.

Wanda followed you with her eyes, aware of all your reactions to the conversations. She just wanted you to feel at ease with the others too, but she knew the opposite feeling well. She was once new to the presence of the Avengers, and they could be rather intimidating. Even the friendliest of them. Maybe it was a superhero thing.

You were deciding between the first and third row when Natasha caught Wanda's eye again. She wanted the witch to be paying attention to the conversation, it seemed important.

The widow took a deep breath. "I never told any of you this, because I thought it was in the past. But... I have a sister. Her name is Yelena Belova and-"

But the news and the shock had to be left for later. A bang from the other side of the common area interrupted Nat's story, and the whole team stood up.

You had just shoved a person hard enough to break the glass of the snack machine. But the attacker's exclamation of pain made you let go immediately.

The masked figure pushed you back harshly, but you laughed in amazement.

"You weren't supposed to make a scene, you idiot." Complained the woman, massaging her sore shoulder due to the impact. She barely had time to regain her balance and half the Avengers were in fighting position, one particular witch making her take a step back, hiding in your protection.

You acted quickly, gesturing to the heroes to stand down, before throwing one of your arms under the smaller one shoulder.

"Relax, everything's fine!" You declared happily. You tugged at the combat mask she was wearing, revealing the unknown woman's face, which caused her to elbow you, which you ignored. "Meet Layla El-Faouly, my business partner."

The curly-haired woman forced a smile and waved. Wanda was the last of the team to drop her attack position.

-&-

A/F/N-> If you haven't watched Moonknight, please do. Layla El-Faouly is simply incredible. I can't give away too many spoilers for those who haven't seen it, but she's also a thief and a really skilled one. It would be a waste to have an international thief reader who didn't know her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fics #wanda maximoff smut #heart shaped series #marvel imagines

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tomriddleslove · 4 months

Text

Pt 2 - The one that you want.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)

Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.

A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.

Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley

Promise - Laufey

NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:

You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.

AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx

Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.

You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)

You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.

“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.

I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.

“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.

“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.

You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.

“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)

The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)

With a sigh, you shake your head.

“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.

“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.

Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.

“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.

“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.

“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.

“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.

The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.

Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.

You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.

“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.

“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.

“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.

“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.

“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.

Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.

“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.

Theodore.

Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)

His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.

“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.

“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.

The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.

Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because

Fuck, you were deprived.

“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.

Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?

“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.

Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?

You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.

His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.

His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.

He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.

“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.

“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.

You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.

Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.

You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.

“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.

“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.

“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.

“….Painfully obvious”

“Both know that's a lie…..”

“Hopeless idiot…”

You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.

The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.

You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.

The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.

“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.

“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.

“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.

It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.

“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.

“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)

“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.

“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.

“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.

“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.

The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.

“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.

Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.

“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.

She turns to you, raising a brow.

“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.

“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).

“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.

You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.

Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.

You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.

“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.

“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.

“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.

Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)

But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.

You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.

“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.

That hadn't really changed.

“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.

He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.

“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.

Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.

"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."

You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.

The silence that follows hangs heavy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.

"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.

Little women.

You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.

You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.

Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.

"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."

You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.

"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."

A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry

“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.

The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.

You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?

How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?

You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.

Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.

It was always like that with you and Theodore.

Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.

He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.

“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.

The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.

You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.

#harry potter #slytherin #tom riddle #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fic #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #slytherin boys fic #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst

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azullumi · 4 months

Text

“it’s a quarter after one, i’m all alone, and i need you now” ; wanderer

summary — how does he react to you calling him in the middle of the night over some silly reason?

pairing — wanderer (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, modern settings, not proof-read (i never proof-read) ; ficlet/scenario

words — 760

note — how do people even write dialogues rhat smoothly like i write a single sentencd of whatever they’re saying and i just think, “oh no they won’t say that” and i have to rewrite it 5 more times

a loud sound of a ring echoes throughout the room, disrupting the peaceful flow of tranquil silence that rests in the corners of the place, and abruptly pulling him out of his sleep. wanderer groans, hand reaching out to grab his phone that sits on the nightstand.

the flash of the screen blinded him for a moment, causing him to squint his eyes until his vision adjusted to the brightness.

1:15. the numbers on the very top of his screen says. displayed along with it was your caller id, your contact saved as a nickname that he gave you.

although he didn’t have to question who was calling him at this time as he knew it was you—you were the only exception to his do not disturb focus of his phone, the only contact whose notifications can go through the strict barriers of the status.

the persistent melody continues to ring for a moment before he answers, “this better be important.” despite the nature of his words, there lingered no hint of malice in his tone but instead, a curious blend of weary patience and unspoken understanding. he didn’t mind you bothering him even if it’s nothing important—your intrusion was always a welcome one.

“hey, were you sleeping?”

“not anymore, obviously. what is it?” the line carried the subtle rustle of movement, the telltale sound of rustled sheets, as wanderer shifted and sat upright from where he was, his head resting against the headboard as he waited for you to answer.

“can you accompany me as i go get water?”

a confused ‘huh?’ comes out from his line. just the single syllable itself wrapped with layers of many words, asking you if you were seriously saying that. if you really called him at this time just so you could have him accompany you with the mundane task of getting water.

“i just watched something scary, okay? it’s not my

fault that the house in the movie looked similar to mine and also do you know what time—don’t laugh!”

“are you genuinely afraid over something as trivial as that?” wanderer says amidst the fading echoes of his laughter, leaving a ghost of what might pass for a smile on his expression. he seems amused over the predicament that you were having; that is just like him, finding entertainment in your suffering.

“whatever, i’m going to go get my water now.” what proceeded was the sound of your footsteps, indicating your journey to the kitchen. “don’t you dare hang up on me.”

“i wasn’t planning to.”

and as if i would. but the unspoken words dissolved on his throat before he could even get himself to say it, leaving him with nothing but silence as he listened to your voice instead, talking about whatever as if a soothing balm that eases the fear which nestles in your nerves.

“i saw this cat earlier this morning and it was so grumpy. it reminded me of you.”

“you think that in every grumpy cat that you see.”

“well, you act like one.”

in that moment, the simple act of conversing between you two becomes a lifeline, bridging the gap between fear and solace. your topics jumped from one point to another, never letting the silence fill in the moment—wanderer never ceases to respond to whatever you say, a testament of how he’s always there for you despite the playful teasing sprinkled throughout.

there was the sound of the door closing before he hears you say: “got my water now.”

“figured.”

silence envelopes both sides of the line, albeit, it only lasted for a short moment before being broken up by your voice.

“thanks for picking up the phone.” i mean, he could have chosen to just ignore the ring and continue to sleep but no, he didn’t. instead, he chose to answer and comply with your silly little request because your ass was too scared to go out of your room in the middle of the night, thinking that someone or something was going to come after and chase you just like that one scene in what you watched. he stayed with you all throughout, letting the comfort of his voice dispel the shadows that threatened to linger—even when he was scaring you and telling you that he can hear something.

“not like i don’t answer every time.” you could call him, ring his phone many times no matter what time it is, and he would pick up the phone every single time; that’s just how he is, for you and only you.

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chereus · 6 months

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Oblivious Boyfriends | D. Winchester

Summary - Dean had been neglecting his boyfriend bedroom duties and you were getting frustrated [set in season 10ish, they’re fully moved into the bunker]

Pairings - SoftDom!Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Dom Dean, daddy kink, if you squint there’s angst before the blinding smut, spanking, choking, hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, hot angry Dean, sexual tension, talk about love and marriage??? Kinda??? It was done tastefully though I promise!!!

Cherry’s notes: Whew! That was spicy—in honor of my new phone I decided I’d post this as a thanks to people who’ve supported me throughout my writing journey <3. I’m still getting used to this writing format that tumblr has so pls be nice!!!

P.S ~ This may have been sorter than intended due to tumblr deleting half of this while I wasn’t looking. Still upset about that. Also sorry for the time delay because of said tumblr issues, had to rewrite most of it + an ending -_-.

Word count: about 1.2k

You were kind of being a bitch today. But in your defense, your boyfriend Dean had been so busy with work that he hardly had time to satisfy your in the bedroom needs. When you’d try and communicate that this was becoming an issue you’d been brushed off every. single. time. So naturally you started to get frustrated and decided to take control into your own hands for the time being.

“Y/n, have you seen my gun?” Dean announced himself as he stumbled into the library. You just continued to sit there and do your research without so much as a morsel of acknowledgment.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Y/n have you seen my gun?” only this time he got a small clench of the jaw and a silent flare of the nostrils. Still with no response he decided to try a third time when you suddenly just got up and left leaving him completely alone in the library.

Wondering what he did he promptly followed you, but once he realized he wasn’t getting far by just following in your footsteps he bravely spoke, “Okay, seriously, is this how we’re acting today?”.

This immediately caught your attention but you showed no signs of making a huge scene so you quickly and calmly stopped while turning around to face him while replying with, “I don’t know Dean, is it?”.

He really didn’t like the passive aggressiveness in your tone. It hadn’t helped that you’d quickly spun around and once again resumed ignoring him. Being ignored was one of his top ten pet peeves and you knew it. That’s exactly why you chose this method to piss him off. Get him all worked up, he’d have to take his frustrations out on you then.

“What the hells’ that supposed to mean?” He countered, following you into the kitchen.

“It means that if you don’t know then it’s not worth talking about.” You said truthfully. Suddenly Dean found himself recalling the days to see if he’d missed a birthday, a dinner, an anniversary, anything that would constitute this type of treatment and he came up empty.

As you noticed Dean sitting there dumbfounded you took it upon yourself to grab one of his beers from the fridge and march back out successfully initiating phase one.

You’d been toying with the idea for quite some time but never had the means or justification until now, you were going to go around the house and dump all of the alcohol.

This was seemingly easy considering after your and deans little spat, he’d decided to give you some space to cool off seeing that you were angry with him. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do what you needed to do. This was phase two.

Phase three was to just sit back and watch the anger seep from deep within Dean Winchesters veins until he couldn’t see anything but red.

Sam had been on a hunting trip for the last couple of days and you were thankful because the things he would’ve heard…

“Y/N! Where is all the beer?!” Dean hollered as you passed him in the kitchen.

“I dumped it.” You simply said. Deans face went slate.

“You-you…dumped it.” He said as both a statement and a question. You could see the vein on the side of his neck start to pop and you knew he was close to blowing a gasket at how he had been treated.

“Yup. I dumped it. Decided that we’re now alcohol free. Have fun with your green juices and detox tea.” You were beginning to walk away when he grabbed you and spun you back around so that your chests were touching and he was holding your wrists on both sides of your head.

“Is there something that needs to be sorted out? Cause’ I’m getting’ real tired of the way things have been going around here.” He seethed. He probably just wanted a nice cold beer after working a long hard case all day but you weren’t about to let that happen. You were horny and determined to do something about it.

You got closer to his face and begun to look into his eyes while simultaneously brushing your lips together with his. Nudging your nose against his you whispered, “if there was a problem you’d know.” And you ripped yourself away from him and swiftly dropped out of the room beginning to feel yourself getting wetter by the instant.

Not even ten seconds later Dean came marching out of the kitchen behind you demanding that you work this out by pushing you against the hallway wall. You responded by grabbing him by his belt loops and smashing his hips against yours. He’d finally gotten the hint.

“Is this what you wanted? Was my pretty baby just horny and desperate for her daddies attention?” He said as he grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. You whimpered at the gruffness of his touch, desperate and craving more.

“I need you to answer me, y/n. You know daddy doesn’t like it when you go silent.” Dean enforced. You let out the tiniest little ‘yes’ lost in your own world of pleasure and fulfillment.

“Louder, y/n.” He commanded putting slightly harder pressure onto the sides of your throat that were sure to bruise later but you didn’t care. The feeling of his body on your body was enough to drive you wild.

“Yes!” You deeply moaned wrapping your hands around his hips and flushing your pelvis’s together. Dean leaned down and planted an earth shattering kiss on your lips, tongue swirling around with your own while he still held the position of holding your neck firmly in place without making you dizzy from the lack of air.

“Up.” Dean forced. Slipping his hand under your thighs and wrapping your legs around his torso. When you were situated your hands found their way to his hair to gently tug at the roots.

Hiking you up by your ass you were looming over him with every adjustment. Your hands made their way to either side of his face while you ferociously kissed him. He started to stumble his way down the hallway, careful not to drop you. You moaned as his grip on your ass got tighter the more aroused he was getting.

The warm smell of cinnamon from your hair, the combined scent your vanilla bourbon perfume and your honey body lotion, it reminded him of home. Although you’d been getting in spats and arguments all day you’d still somehow made him feel loved and cared for by the way you’d responded to his touch.

It was at this very moment he decided that he wanted to marry you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or hell— maybe not even next week, but someday If you’d let him.

Finally stumbling into your shared room dominant Dean was back in action. He gently put you down and then shoved you back onto the bed signifying the fact that he was done playing the game you’d been playing all day.

When you adjusted yourself on the bed he immediately ripped your pants off annoyed at the extra fabric keeping the two of you apart. Dipping down he gently put his right hand to your jaw and repeated what you had to him earlier. Brushing your lips together your noses tenderly touched and he gave you one last affectionate kiss before looking down at your tank top and ripping it in two.

Your eyes widened with desire, you’d never seen Dean like this and it was extremely sexy. The mix of softhearted kissing and rough manhandling was driving you insane. Kissing down your stomach the torn shirt was quickly discarded never to be seen again.

Only in your bralette and underwear you start to feel cold with Dean still fully clothed. Grabbing him by his hair you pull his head up from your panty line. Giving him a single peck on the lips you start to peel off the layers of flannel and cotton until his top half was fully nude.

Reaching down to undo his belt buckle he stops you with a questioning glare. He shoves your hands away and moved away from the bed and to the closet where a medium sized black box was laying on the top shelf. Getting that box down you knew that something freaky was about to happen.

Pulling out four long black ropes he looks back at you with a smirk. You gulp and back away slowly, however he was faster and started tying your left wrist tightly to the headboard. Positioning you in the middle of the bed he ties your right to the other side of the headboard.

Deciding to discard the last two ropes, he resumes your playful foreplay now teasing you at the fact that you can no longer touch him in the way you wanted to.

“M’ gonna fuck you in this pretty little bra. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Been walking around all day getting on my nerves so I’d have no choice but to fuck the aggression out. Well, you should be careful what you wish for.” He says menacingly pulling off your underwear.

Leaving your bare pussy in the cold Dean jumps off the bed and begins to slowly undress. And I mean slowly. You thought you were about to combust when you finally saw Dean unbuckle his pants and slowly drop them.

Getting back on the bed Dean slides his hands up and down your curves on your sides, trailing down to your hip bones and finally your throbbing heat. It really was no surprise that you’d gotten worked up so easy considering you and Dean hadn’t had really any sex in almost four months. Orgasms, yes. Sex, no.

It was killing you not being intimate with Dean like you used to. So when he finally put his cold hands on your warm aching pussy you could’ve cried in relief even though it was only through your panties you could feel his fingertips rubbing up against your clit causing you to softly moan in delight.

Gripping the tightly tied ropes Dean tormented you by pulling off your panties and just sat there. Staring. It would’ve made you insecure had you not known that Dean would’ve loved you no matter what you perceived your vagina to look like.

“Would you let me put a baby in you?” Dean asks out of the blue. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched, “In the future of course. Your still on birth control, right?” He thought out loud. You were speechless so all you could do was nod and let out a small ‘uh-huh’.

Dean could tell you were now really tense after that question so he took his hands and smoothed them over your stomach and said, “Don’t worry. Not until your ready. But until then, I’d like to practice.”

Your muscles were slowly untensing as Dean assured you there would be no baby making until your ready. “If we’re practicing, do you mind going in raw? I’d like to be closer with you.”

Dean was now blushing but tried to hide it through dominance. He spread your knees apart and quickly dove in licking and sucking your clit. Pulling at the ropes, you moaned and groaned until you were so close to cumming that you could cry.

Dean could tell how close you were so he sped up his tongue motions and hooked his arms around the base of your thighs so you couldn’t move anywhere.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned as your first orgasm took over you. Dean wasted no time in sliding his manhood into you with great force.

Putting his hands at your hips he began roughly thrusting into you at an angle that kept hitting your g-spot over an over again. As you were getting louder and louder with your moans Dean reached down in between your legs and rubbed your clit. He was fucking you so hard at this point you were seeing spots.

“Yeah. Your such a good girl. Taking it so good for me. Gonna be doing this to make a baby one day, huh sweetheart. Look at me.” He said as your eyes were starting to droop. Your eyes tiredly opened and you seen Dean look at you like your the queen of the world. His world. With adoration and love.

“Gonna let me fill you up, hmm? Gonna let me take care of you while your carrying our child? Gonna let me go out at three am to fill some ridiculous request of bread and butter pickles from that grocery store half an hour away?” Dean asks with a fond smirk on his face. Like he’d be so excited to be able to do those things for you.

Just hearing how happy it would make Dean to be your caretaker in your time of need makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not just because he’s still fucking the life out of you.

Once you get close enough to the edge Dean starts to get greedy. He wants you to cum and he wants it now. “Give it to me y/n. Now.” He says wrapping his hand around your throat and pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.

Seconds later it felt like fireworks had been let off in your stomach with how hard you were orgasming. At one point you were certain that you were seeing stars.

“Fuck! Dean!” You moaned as you made other noises that you had no idea you could even make. Before you could even come down Dean slipped out of you and was undoing the ropes.

“All fours. Now.” Was the command. Still a little dizzy, you comply wanting to see where this was going.

Upon getting on all fours dean was already behind you thrusting upwards at a new angle. Letting out a deep groan you dropped to your elbows and grabbed the sheets.

“Having that attitude all day really drove me nuts all day, y’know that? Now I get to fuck it out of you and I couldn’t be happier.” He said slapping your ass hard. You yelped and tried to go forward but his hands at the crease of your hip and thigh bone wouldn’t let you.

“Your not going nowhere. Your gonna sit here and let me breed you like a good little slut.” You couldn’t deny hearing those words made the sex ten times hotter. When you leaned your head back to moan deans hand was there to grab you by your hair and continue fucking your pussy until you exploded.

Pulling your hair was the final step in your third and final orgasm. Pulling away slightly at the overstimulation Dean speeds up, chasing his own climax. With one last grunt Dean came spilling into you with force.

“Oh God,” you shuddered, suddenly very cold. Goosebumps lining your skin, you get off the bed leaving Dean to fend for himself.

After you cleaned up you got back in bed with Dean. “Did you really mean what you said? Do you really want kids with me?” You asked as you lifted up the covers where Dean currently resided.

“Well yeah, I’d also like to put a ring on your finger too whenever you’ll let me.” Dean said shyly playing with the edging on the covers.

You quietly smiled and kissed Dean as you settled down. “I love you, and I want to marry you. But kids are out for a while. At least until I’m sure one of us isn’t going to end up dead with the shit we deal with on the daily. I won’t put another generation of kids what we went through. I just won’t.”

Although Dean was disappointed, he understood. His childhood sucked and he’d do anything to make sure that his kid didn’t live the same life.

“But we can still practice though, right?” Dean asked cheekily. You laughed, “yes Dean we can still practice.”

You both chuckled when you heard a voice booming from the kitchen, “Dean, where is all the beer?!” It was Sam.

“You were kidding though about the beer weren’t you?” He asked and you laughed harder.

“No, I wasn’t. I was committed. I really dumped all the alcohol in the house. Sam will understand given his healthy lifestyle.” Dean groaned and sunk into the mattress. You were still cracking up at the whole situation now that you felt better after your release.

#dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #jack kline #team free will #sam winchester #spn crack #the empty #sam and dean #kevin tran #deancas #dean and cas #castiel winchester

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yurinaa-world · 5 months

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hello! can u do reader who likes to rest on characters lap? like whenever reader couldn't sleep but feel tired, they goes to character's lap while they're doing smth and reader sleeps :3 any characters but i prefer jing yuan n blade pls :D (its okay if u don't want to write this, i don't wanna pressure u haha and sorry for my bad english :'d i love ur works btw!!)

Characters: Blade and Jing Yuan x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: laying in their lap while they're doing things

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

Notes: IM SO SORRY I messed this up so hard, I wrote then I looked at the request, and I mentally slapped myself, If you didn't like this I would be fine rewriting it!

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

This guy literally doesn’t do anything all day, just has his eyes closed and just rests (Warning: I love making reader a very little dramatic when it comes to Blade)

Dead silence; he did not say anything to you once you lay on his lap with a smile on your lips. You couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. He’s always been quiet, but right now, you're starting to feel the silence stabbing you from every angle.

"What aren't you going to say?" you asked, opening one of your eyes to stare at him from below. "Want attention that badly?" He gave you an amused look, looking down on you as if you were some kind of little child. "Well, there's no fun if I just lay here," you pouted, looking at the ceiling as well as at him, his fingers going through your hair. He's figured out what you want from him—attention, of course—yet he just does what you want him to do, or you'll complain about it all day.

So instead, he stays silent and plays with your hair, but his hand moves to your face, creasing your lips with his calloused fingers. "You're such a pain," he whispers, leaning down to kiss you and then moving away before saying, "Yes, yes, you kiss someone you find annoying." You rolled your eyes, closed your eyes again, and sighed loudly.

"I know, bladie, you can't keep yours off; no man can!" You laugh, obviously joking.

What a personality you have.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

“How needy, hmm? What a pleasure it was to spend time with you. a pity I have work to do." Jing Yuan teased while you lay in his lap, watching him from above: reading his boring yet important paper, “You offered and I took it; you know it’s unkind to decline someone." You responded by tracing shapes on the thigh you’re lying on.

"If you don’t want me, then I'll" you cut off before you could even finish your sentence. “No need; you’ve already come, so you're going to stay like this." He said before turning the page of his paper, "I was just joking." He said while ruffling through your hair, making you frown a little, that he messed with your hair.

You both lay in silence. You broke first, asking, “When do you think your paperwork is going to be finished?" He chuckled at your comment.

"A couple of hours, it seems."

“Hurry it up, and I’ll give you a gift."

You stated matter of factly crossing your arms in front of your chest, “What kind of gift?” He asked curiously, looking down at you, and you shrugged your shoulders. “It’s a surprise. Do it and find out,” he chuckled at your words.

"Alright, I'll take your word, but this better be a good gift since I'm working so hard for you, hmm, don’t you think?"

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail x you #honkai blade #honkai blade x reader #honkai blade x you #blade x reader #blade x you #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #star rail

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annes-andromeda · 5 months

Text

Wish Rewrite

I have this tendency for rewriting material I either don’t like or think had wasted potential. At the time of writing this, Wish hasn’t come out in theaters but I did pirate it as there was an early screening. I also read the junior novelization and bought the concept art book. Needless to say, I was disappointed by what I read/saw.

I feel like Wish could’ve been better. Granted, the story and characters are not terrible, but they certainly leave much to be desired. This is literally Disney’s 100th anniversary, yet it doesn’t really feel like it. Not only that, but the movie felt incredibly rushed. Yeah I know that most Disney movies try have a run time of 90-100+ minutes, but I think a few more minutes could’ve been added to this film.

So, I decided to indulge myself and outline some changes that I think could’ve made the story slightly better. These ideas are by no means perfect, and in the end, this is all in good fun.

Spoilers ahead btw

The main story of Wish is essentially that Asha wants to get a job as Magnifico’s apprentice so that her grandfather’s wish is granted. But Asha finds out about the King’s true nature, and after questioning him, doesn’t get the job, and Magnifico vows to never grant Sabino or Sakina’s wishes.

Asha makes a wish on a star, and the star comes down, Magnifico tries to hunt down the two of them, he uses an evil spell book to create a staff, Magnifico destroys some wishes, Asha gets help from her friends, they sing a song to defeat Magnifico (I ‘wish’ i was joking), Star gives Asha a magic wand, and all is well.

Oh, and Amaya is… there.

It’s nothing complex, pretty cut and dry. And I don’t have a problem with a simple story! But this feels like it’s… missing something.

Firstly, I’d change the title. Disney already has a boat called Wish, and not every movie needs to be one word like Tangled, Frozen, and Brave (amongst others), so the story could be renamed “Asha and the Wishing Star” or “Asha and the Kingdom of Wishes”. Idk, something that evokes a classic fairytale book feel (or that does confuse people with a boat).

((Side note #1: I honestly enjoy that the story started off with a book, as a nod to classic disney movies, especially Snow White. That was cute))

Secondly, and I know I sound like a broken record at this point…

AMAYA👏🏼SHOULDVE👏🏼BEEN👏🏼A👏🏼VILLAIN👏🏼ALONGSIDE👏🏼HER👏🏼HUSBAND👏🏼

The original plan, according to the concept art book, was to have Magnifico and Amaya to be a villain couple who were partners in crime and owned a black sphinx cat named Charo. However for… reasons, the creators took the ‘safe’ route and made Amaya the good one out of the two.

But the problem is, by erasing Amaya’s evilness, the creators of Wish essentially removed any purpose or personality she may have had and thus, she was left to become a literal ‘supporting’ character. First supporting both Magnifico and Asha, then leaving Magnifico to prop up solely Asha.

Deadass, you can literally remove Amaya from the story and nothing would change. Which is probably why she was exempt from much of the promotional stuff minus the dolls. Because she literally serves no purpose but to be… there.

So, in my version of Wish, Amaya would be a co-conspirator to her husband and yes, I’m adding Charo too. Her personality would be inspired by classic female villains such as the Evil Queen from Snow White, Lady Tremaine from Cinderella, and Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.

Vain, glamorous, cunning, and unabashedly evil, Amaya would be the Morticia to Magnifico’s Gomez, the brains to his brawn. She’s the girlboss, he’s the wife instigator. Magnifico spoils Amaya rotten with countless gifts and praises, whilst Amaya is the more calm and collected evil compared to her husband’s ever-growing temper.

While she starts the story with no magic, Magnifico just can’t leave his wife hanging and shares the power of the evil spell-book with Amaya. And yes, even Charo gets in on the fun, turning from a small house cat, to a massive shape-shifting beast who breaths blue fire similarly to a dragon (shut up i think it’d be cool)

Magnifico and Amaya essentially keep the wishes of Rosas locked in the castle as a form of obedience. By giving the citizens false hope, it makes them more dependent on the royal couple, and the two have more power over everyone.

Anyways, let’s get to the main characters: Asha and Star.

I don’t have much of an issue with Asha’s character, more so her design. I already made a post showing my redesign of her, so that’s out of the way. Tbh tho, I also have an issue with the rest of the costume design of Wish, being a big costume nerd myself. The movie’s supposed to take inspiration from the Mediterranean, primarily places such as Spain and Morocco (and the Amazigh people for Asha), but the fashion feels like generic European medieval fashion.

I feel like the whole storyline of Asha’s interview with Magnifico was pretty pointless, so I would have it that she just starts off as the kings apprentice, whilst also working as Amaya’s scullery maid.

The couple took Asha in when the girl lost her father at the age of 12 (according to the film), and she’s been working for them for five years. Asha works not only to support herself, her family, and her community, but also as a way to distract from the grief of losing her father. Which is no issue, as Amaya always bombards the girl with chores, and Magnifico only teaches Asha the most basic of magic for fear of her growing more powerful than him.

I made Asha work as a scullery maid not only as a reference to princesses such as Snow White and Cinderella starting off their respective stories as maids, but also because scullery maids acted as assistants to the kitchen maids. Dahlia works in the kitchen, Asha and Dahlia are best friends, I figured it made sense.

But anyways, on the day of Sabino’s 100th birthday, Sakina tells Asha to take a break and return home, as she hardly visits anymore due to work. Asha says she’ll try asking the king and queen to get off early, but that she can’t make any promises.

Asha meets with Magnifico and asks for the day off, but the king refuses. However, wanting to keep her loyalty, Magnifico finally shows Asha the wish chamber, and even allows her to witness the wish ceremony that night. But once Asha starts questioning the king on his methods, any goodwill between them begins to fade.

Another thing I’m disappointed in, is that originally Star was going to be a shapeshifting humanoid inspired by the Genie and Peter Pan, and may have even had a romance with Asha. But, the idea was scrapped for the more cutesy, ‘marketable’, version of Star.

In my retelling, I’d choose to do this human shapeshifter version of Star, but I’d name him something else. The star Earendel was mentioned in the concept art book, which is the farthest known star from Earth and not only means ‘morning star’ in Old English, but is also named after the Tolkien character, Eärendil.

I would call this shapeshifter Star Earen, and because Disney loves their animal/cute sidekicks, Earen can have the ‘Kirby’ Star as a companion, just like how Asha has Valentino and Magnifico and Amaya have Charo.

((Side #2: Anybody else notice that Star lowkey looks and sounds like Kirby😶))

Earen and Star journey down to Rosas once they hear Asha’s pleas for guidance. Once Asha tells of Magnifico and Amaya’s lies, Earen reveals that he actually met Magnifico decades ago. The amount of years shocks Asha, as she realizes that the King and Queen might be far older than what they are.

((Side note #3: I didn’t realize this till someone mentioned it, but if Sabino is 100 and he gave Magnifico his wish at 18, then he’s been waiting 82 years for his wish to be granted. Which means it’s likely that Magnifico might be immortal. That, or Disney didn’t think this shit through (most likely)))

Anyways, Earen actually attempted to stop Magnifico and Amaya’s ploy to keep the wishes of Rosas locked away, but he was sealed within the heavens until he and Star heard Asha make her wish.

We can have it that the king and queen spun the story so that Earen was made out to be an evil that once threatened Rosas, but Magnifico banished him and saved everyone, essentially making himself out to be the good guy and manipulating the narrative.

Asha and Earen must now work together to expose the lies of the royal couple, and along the way, the two begin to fall in love. Earen disguises himself as a peasant boy so as to remain inconspicuous, while Asha tries to go about her job as if nothing happened, evading the King and Queen’s suspicions.

Star gives Asha a stick infused with stardust once finding out she is, quite literally, the sorcerers apprentice. It is also so that she may defend herself, as Earen has his powers and a sword (similarly to Peter Pan).

Unlike Magnifico, Earen and Star teach Asha the wonders of magic and the potential she wields, showing that there is no need for her to hold back when her gift can help so many, including those she loves.

The three manage to sneak into the kings study, but only have time to retrieve Sabino’s wish and return it to him. However, Magnifico and Amaya, now strengthened by the powers of dark magic, find Asha and Earen and threaten to destroy all the wishes should Earen not surrender to them.

And as a way to ensure that Asha doesn’t foil their plans, Magnifico destroys both Asha and Sakina’s wishes, despite Asha not being eighteen yet. However, the evil magic allows him to do so. This act weakens the two women, and infuriates Earen.

Earen then willingly complies despite Asha’s opposition, and Sabino takes Asha and Sabina to the seven (well six) teens for aid, who are in hiding after Simon ratted them out and who now serves as a puppet to the king and queen.

Despite loosing her wish, Asha finds the strength to carry on through the memory of her late father, enlisting the help of her friends and Star, who managed to evade the royal couple’s grasp. The team must work together to save Earen, whose power will be drained by Magnifico and Amaya. And if such a feat were to happen, then Earen would die and Rosas would be lost.

The five teens go into the woods to distract one of the royals, with the aid of the forest fauna and Star. Amaya chases the group alongside Charo while Magnifico tortures Earen and begins stealing his power. With the help of Dahlia, Asha sneaks into the castle to confront her former mentor and save Earen before it’s too late.

At first, it seems that the heroes have the upper hand with Magnifico neutralized, but then, Amaya swoops in riding Charo, who now takes the form of a giant dragon. Earen transforms into a dragon himself and battles Charo and Amaya, while Asha continues battling Magnifico. Star even comes to help after the original plan fails.

However, the unholy trio have the upper hand, and Amaya strikes down Earen, giving Magnifico enough time to not only drain Earen’s power, but to trap Star within his staff. With their combined powers, Magnifico and Amaya gather all of the peoples wishes, even stealing the wishes of those not yet of age, which includes the teens.

With all the wishes gathered, the couple and their pet destroy all the wishes, taking their energy for themselves.

Asha falls into despair as she watched her friends, love ones, and community succumb to the grief of loosing their wishes. The king and queen force Asha to apologize to the people, mocking her and making her feel even more guilty.

However, Earen comforts Asha despite his weak state, telling her it’s alright and that she shouldn’t be ashamed of wishing on Star, as he brought the two of them together. The two kiss, the strength of their newfound love and hope shining through the darkness and inspiring the people of Rosas to rise up.

As the sky and stars become alive, Magnifico’s staff is destroyed, releasing Star in the process. All the evil magic he, Amaya, and Charo used is sucked out of them and vanquished, and Earen is restored to full vitality.

Think of this as the transformation scene from Princess and the Frog. Asha and Earen get new outfits, with Asha even gaining a crown and a new wand from Star.

((Side Note #4: The “transformation” in the finale of the film is so stupid. Asha could’ve literally gotten a new dress once she becomes a fairy godmother, but instead, Star just made her sparkly. How magical🙄))

Rosas rejoices, as they realize they don’t need the king to make their wishes come true, and they can pursue them themselves. With Magnífico and Amaya banished from Rosas, Asha and Earen become the new rulers, being names Prince and Princess respectively.

And that’s basically how I would’ve done Wish. It’s not perfect, but it’s just an idea. I’m just disappointed that Disney do something better for their 100th anniversary.

#disney #my writing #disney wish #wish 2023 #king magnifico #queen amaya #magnifico x amaya #princess asha #asha wish #star wish

456 notes · View notes

blublublujk · 5 months

Text

bound 2 (falling in love)

oneshot

word count: 6.5k

genre: fwb to lovers

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary:

You and Yoongi were okay with being friends with benefits... until you weren't.

warnings: i tried to focus on fluff (did you catch it or did i fail), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (they make love to each other), choking and breath play (hello it's yoongi), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, crying (is it really my ff if there's no crying involved), creampie, very cute aftercare and i think that’s all, this is more sweet than anything lol

a.n: believe it or not this wasn't apart of my drafts i wrote this all one night because i couldn't sleep so thank my insomnia for this, it was about time i write about yoongi :D

also i noticed a lot of you are reading it was destiny and love always wins and i wish you guys wouldn't only because i plan to rewrite some of it and continue them at a further time (chaptered ffs are so hard for me rn since i don't have all the time in the world to dedicate myself to them but i promise to be back with those two series) thank you for everyone who takes time to read what i write it really means so much and your comments have been so motivating. thank you so fucking much for 2k notes on good girl, gone bad i havent seen numbers like that ever im so so grateful, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i'll try to be back one or two more times this month and happy late birthday to me hehe <3

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

It happened again.

Another failed date to add to the sad list of people that simply will never workout for you.

The list was growing longer as months passed. When you started this list, it was barely the start of a very hot summer. Probably the hottest it’s been in years, one can only assume the winter will not be any easier.

And you were right. Winter was only beginning and it was brutally cold. The streets were moist from the previous night of harsh rainfall.

What better time to date and settle down than now. When the world gives you rain, settle for the warm arms of a lover.

Unfortunately, you made a grave mistake thinking this would come easy. Ten first dates later and you are still very single and loverless.

It is not easy to go out during a time like now, suffering at the sight of happy couples and their stupid happy lives. Really, it should disgust you. It used to. The whole concept of devoting your entire life to someone. The need to constantly feel the tender touch of another person. The desire to fall in love and do it all over again, you get it now. At least, you think you do.

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” The words fall from your mouth in a quiet rush. The man across you sits in silence before he smiles in his loss.

“Don’t worry, I figured. It seems your mind was elsewhere. I know you don’t want to pursue anything romantically, and that’s fine with me, but is everything okay?”

Is everything okay? Well currently, yeah you’re okay. As for your heart, it’s heavy and strangely, you feel there’s a hole in your chest and it needs to be filled. That would fix things, you think. You have been single for so long that you forgot what it was like to love and cherish someone. Not that you have ever truly loved or cherished anyone, but you’ve gotten close. If a silly relationship you had in your sophomore year of high school counts. Then yes, you’ve totally been in love.

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if it ever felt like I did.” The apology seems bitter in your mouth. Another failed fucking attempt. How difficult can dating be? Have you really been this disconnected with the world around you?

“Don’t stress it! Things happen. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. See you… around?” The man’s understanding response makes you feel worse. Maybe you should consider deleting Tinder and finding love naturally, if that’s still a thing in the contemporary life.

“Yeah, totally!” And like that you’re off to the next. Giving yourself plenty of time to bathe in your disappointment and miserably cry about your failed attempts at finding what you’ve been missing. Who knew dating could be so difficult?

The walk back home is just as cold as the outcome of today’s date. Your date insisted he could drive you home and if not that then pay for a cab, but you didn’t live too far from the restaurant you both met at. Though he insisted, you figured this walk could refresh you after yet another failure. You were starting to regret it as the cold wind started roughly hitting your skin. Preserving the chilly weather, you genuinely couldn’t wait to get home and wrap yourself in a bundle of warm blankets and comfortable clothes.

Cold hands struggle to open your door, you blow on them with warm puffs of breaths, soon making your way in and getting comfortable in your humble apartment.

yoon: you up?

And that, that is what made this harder. The fact that you knew there was someone completely capable of loving and caring for you the way you desired. You have seen it with your own eyes. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, you felt it. Deep down you know something is there and that something beats everything else. Maybe you’re just delusional, but you look for him in everyone else and you hate it. Hate because you will never be anything more than his personal little whore that comes at the sound of his call.

me: yeah

Normally, you aren’t dry over texts, especially not with him so he’ll see right through you. You’re hoping for once, he can ignore it.

He won't.

yoon: you ok?

me: been better

yoon: wanna talk about it?

me: no, i'm ok

yoon: ok, wanna come over?

Yes, because during a time like this all you want is the comfort and warmth of someone else’s touch and Yoongi has never failed at giving that to you. But he is not yours.

And you are not his.

me: not feeling well. sorry.

yoon: sick?

A white lie never hurt anyone.

me: yeah, throat hurts

yoon: im sorry

me: it's not your fault maybe another time.

Though you really shouldn’t say that. There should be no next time. That way you don’t suffer any longer and drag him down with you, considering everything you’ve been feeling and dealing with lately. It’s not fair to Yoongi, but especially yourself.

He doesn’t reply anymore and you can’t even hide your disappointment. You aren’t disappointed at him, okay maybe a little bit at him, but mainly yourself and your recently found complicated feelings.

You and Yoongi started this whole mess a year ago, before you even realized what you truly wanted. It started off with subtle flirting here and there. They say not to mess with coworkers, given that it can complicate things at work and one should never play with their main source of income, but you did it anyway. You are still young and he only made you feel younger, like a teenage girl crushing over her forbidden crush at church. It was silly, but Yoongi made it easy.

The flirting turned to one thing, then another.

“We shouldn’t, not here.” Yoongi had you pinned outside the club you both worked at, leaving trails of wet kisses down your throat.

“Five more minutes.” His words were muffled into your skin as his hands explored your body. Yoongi’s touch was always way too soft for his own good and you fell victim to his deadly warmth.

“If Mr. Kim finds out, he’ll kill us and fire us both.” That was a bit dramatic on your part and you swore you felt the taller smiling against your neck.

Yoongi drops one last kiss on your cheek as his hot breath hits your ear. “Not if I kill him first.”

You gasped, pushing him off you with a quick smack to his chest. “D-Don’t even joke like that.”

Yoongi just laughed.

“Okay, okay baby.” The term of endearment fell from his lips too easily and you melted into the dark night. “See you after work?”

You only nodded, not being able to deny his temporary warmth and sweet presence. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, leaving you just as quick as when he first found you. You were fucked.

From there, it only got worse for your sake. Your heart could only take so much.

Really, you should blame things on him. It was his fault you fell in love with him and his stupidly soft hands. It was all his fault! He left you no choice but to love the feel of his lips against your skin, to easily melt under his soft gaze, and find comfort in his unnecessarily warm bed. Yoongi was perfect. Everything you could ever want.

That’s why it was so fucking hard. Dating was hard enough, but after feeling Yoongi’s intimate touch, you were a complete goner. Though he was far from it, Yoongi touched you like you were his and he would fuck you like a lover would. Kissing and making love to you as if you were the most beautiful woman on Earth. It was all too much.

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

The knock on your door makes you jump from your couch.

Ten minutes longer and you would have fallen asleep exactly where you were lying. In outside clothes and all. You didn’t even bother taking off the outfit you had carefully planned thinking that this lucky outfit would have finally taken you somewhere. It didn’t.

“Coming!” There’s not a single person that should be outside your door, especially at this hour. Your feet make their way to the door regardless and the blood from your face drains when you see the person standing behind the door.

Quickly, you unlock your front door, rushing the taller inside. “Hurry! It’s freezing! What are you doing out here?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are surely frozen, a pink dust decorates his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It almost makes him look cute. You were far more gone than you imagined.

He hustles inside, carrying a fairly large brown bag with him. He brought… groceries?

“Took you long enough.” The taller one makes himself at home, laying his bag on your coffee table.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask again.

He ignores you. “Thought you said you were sick. You don’t look very sick?”

Yoongi looks at you with a questioning look, his eyes wander your outfit and guilt starts eating your insides.

You cross your arms, an attempt to hide yourself in shame, but what’s done is done. “I- I had plans.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He simply says, standing awkwardly in your living area.

If this doesn’t convince you to delete that forsaken app for the sake of your dignity and shameful behavior, you don’t know what will.

“Anyways, w-what brings you here?”

“Brought you some stuff.” His hand waves over to the bag he carried inside.

“Stuff?” You question, a bit dumbfounded, planted still in your place.

“Tea, cough drops, some soup I made earlier this week. Oh and flowers.” Yoongi doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or fazed about the situation. Not that he should be, but he speaks with a puff to his chest, as if he wanted to ensure you understood his every word and action. Like any concerned lover would be. As if he was yours and you were his.

Oh.

This was so so bad. For you and your weak heart. Fuck.

“I-“

He cuts you off before you even get to speak. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s just some plain seaweed soup. Usually helps me when I’m sick. I’m not sure what flowers you like, or if you even like flowers. Do you? Their tulips. I did a bit of research before. My mom likes tulips. I figured you might like them too.”

He did research? Double fuck!

Yoongi was nervously rambling, now he was slightly embarrassed. Pink flushes his cheeks and it wasn’t the weather’s doing this time.

“Yoongi…” You start breathlessly and in disbelief.

“What?” He nearly stutters, his hand is shaking. He’s nervous. Who would have thought?

“Why.” Is all you manage to ask.

“You were sick.” Is all he replies. As if things were really that simple. What next? Would he come rushing to the hospital if you suddenly fell ill? God forbid, but it was a valid question.

What was going on? For a second, you entertain the idea. Maybe he fell in love between the blurry lines of this complicated relationship. Were the shared intimate memories too special for him to forget too? You weren’t sure anymore, but what did this all mean? Maybe he loves you, as much as you love him.

Thoughts keep spinning and you wish there was an easier way to turn off your brain. Not now.

“I know, but why? Why all this? Why for me?” Your vulnerability is showing and it makes you feel weak. Maybe your hands are shaking too.

“I don't understand?” Yoongi searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, he’s tempted to reach out and comfort you. Have you in his hands, but he’s too coward. He doesn’t want you to feel the shiver of his touch right now. His vulnerability peaks through as well.

Why not you? It’s always going to be you.

“I-I’m nothing to you.” There’s a shiver again and then you break.

Yoongi doesn’t care anymore. He’ll consider the consequences later. Right now, none of it matters.

His hands hold your face, ready to wipe the tears that threaten to leak from your precious eyes. He hopes his hands aren't cold anymore from standing outside for so damn long, but he couldn’t stop himself, in his selfishness and all.

His hands shake slightly, trying to stay strong as he lays it all on the table. “Y/N, you’re everything to me.” He whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You lay your own hands on his, you feel so delicate around him when you wrap warm hands around his cold wrists.

“I-I am?” You ask between sniffles. His hands are still pretty cold, but they’ll soon warm up against your soft skin. Nobody knows how desperately you need to be touched until you are and then it’s like little fireworks spark inside your body. It consumes you in the best way possible.

“Of course. I thought I made that obvious.” His eyes are soft, different to how he typically looks at you, but you’ve seen these same eyes before. They are no stranger. It’s similar to the look he gives you when you catch him staring at you while you are deep in work. He pretends to look away as if he wasn’t admiring you from afar and you pretend that you don’t notice his curious eyes. It’s the same look he has after you both end up in heated makeout sessions, behind the rusty club you both work at. And it’s definitely the same look he has while he settles on top of you, whispering sweet words of praise and promise.

Nothing should feel different but it just does, there’s something in the way he looks down at you that lets you know that everything you’ve been searching for has always been right here. Right where you’ve been all along.

The taller leans in and you freeze struggling to keep your eyes on his. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek with a soft touch. You were fragile between his hands and he’s willing to do anything to keep his precious flower safe. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.” You whisper back in a hurry, scared that this would be nothing but a dream. It wasn’t time for you to wake up yet.

His eyes zero-in on your lips and then he’s kissing you. It’s not much different from other times. After all, you guys have shared plenty of kisses, probably more than you should have considering you guys were friends with benefits, at most. But this time, the kiss isn’t just a careless lust-filled doing, no this time the kiss is a promise. The promise to never again allow you to question his feelings and intentions towards you.

If Yoongi has to spend his whole life making this up to you, he simply would because that’s how much you meant to him. He can’t believe he even let this go on for this long. He should have been more clear and careful, but he doesn’t regret a damn thing. Not when he has all the time in the world to repair the time lost. And especially not when his reckless actions led him to this. To you.

Yoongi’s lips are soft and bend with yours with ease. He takes his time, never in a rush. Especially not when he has you in-hand.

The taller doesn’t escalate the kiss. He keeps it sweet and gentle, like he always has been. “I’m so sorry baby.”

Kiss.

“For?”

Kiss.

Yoongi has the whole world in his hands right now as he looks down into the sparkles in your eyes and he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. “For being a fucking idiot.”

Kiss.

“It’s okay.” A kiss is shared again. “I was an idiot too. I was just scared that you wouldn’t want that with me.”

“Want what?” The taller questions, fingers trailing your face, admiring the imperfections and all.

“A relationship, I mean. You seemed content with how our relationship already was. I was afraid of losing that. Of losing you.” You admit, eyes fluttering at his touch.

“Of course, I want that. I want that and more. I-I’m not the best with relationships. I’m only saying this because I want to be open and honest with you. There’s not a second you aren’t on my mind. While at work, you are all I can see. In a crowd of a hundred, my eyes always find yours. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. But I don’t mind. I think if I ever lost that, I would lose my mind. So I’m sorry if I ever made you feel the opposite. There’s so much more I want to say, but I just don’t know how. I want that. I want that so bad. A relationship and whatever more you give me. I might not be the best boyfriend but I’ll do whatever it takes. I- I love you.” Yoongi’s words are heartfelt and he’s so relieved. One because he’s been keeping this in for so long, any longer and he would have exploded, but second because he’s been dying to say those three words. He really does love you and Yoongi doesn’t love many people in life, but if he had to choose, it’s always gonna be you.

The tears that were creeping on your eye-lids fall prettily down your face, but Yoongi comes to your rescue. He’s quick to wipe them off your pretty face, tempted to kiss them away, but he keeps that in for now. “Y-Yoongi… I love you too. So much. I think I always have. You are so easy to love. The way you look at me, care for me, and always show up for me. That says more about you than anything else. I tried dating to get over what I felt for you, as you can probably tell, but nothing worked. It was so easy, Yoongi. So easy to fall in love with you. You’re perfect and I don’t doubt that you’ll be the best even after all this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you. Fuck, I love you.” Yoongi kisses you again and this time he isn’t as gentle. His lips are still soft as ever as they curl around yours. His tongue comes out and you immediately allow access, letting him explore your mouth. The taste is much better now that there isn’t anything you both are holding back. Everything down on the line and you couldn’t be happier. The hole in your heart was never empty, it was just waiting for this exact moment to remind you that you’ve always had it all.

“Yoongi.” In between breaths you call his name and Yoongi feels his knees lock. “Take me to bed.”

Yoongi just nods in a trance with the way your tone drips of arousal. A long strand of hair falls on his face when he picks you up with ease off your feet. He takes you to the place he’s had the honor to visit a hundred times before, but it’s different this time, much different.

In the process of it all, something falls and it causes you both to laugh until you run out of breath.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You laugh into his ear. “You owe me a new lamp. My mother bought me that, you know. House-warming gift.”

“Fuck, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles near a whisper as he grips you harder like he’s afraid he might drop you next and the idea makes you giggle because you know he would never purposely hurt you. “I’ll apologize to your mother directly. Buy you and her a new lamp, whatever it takes.”

“What makes you think you are meeting my mother?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the blush rise on his cheeks.

“Well, I figured we could, you know, if you would like–” Yoongi doesn’t often get shy about many things but he can’t keep calm around you and that kills him softly.

“I’m just teasing you.” You say and he bites his lip. “Of course you’ll meet my mother and my father and my nosy ass family. I hope you like annoying, persistent grandma’s that stuff you full. My grandma’s the worst of her kind, but she’ll love you.”

“I would love to.” Yoongi simply replies, still whispering as if you guys had to keep quiet or else you’d be in deep trouble.

“Why are we still whispering?” You whisper back, roaming fingers through his long, gorgeous hair. He needs to remind you to thank his mother personally for insisting he keep his hair long because it made him look pretty and you could never disagree. Yoongi’s so pretty.

“I-I don’t know.”

You both smile at each other before sharing another kiss. It’s so sweet and if you weren’t already off your feet, you would be floating by now. He’s gentle when letting you drop into the sheets below, he finds space between your legs and you wrap them around his hips. Lips still in contact, never losing the plushy feel.

Everything starts to feel hot. Your hips start to slowly grind against his begging for any sort of friction. But the kissing doesn’t stop.

Not when you start whining against his lips.

Not even when Yoongi starts trailing his fingers down your waist and around your curves. He teases his fingertips against your waistline, soft to the touch.

It’s not until you mewl loudly into his mouth, skillful tongue playing with yours, as you feel him start unbuckling your pants, button-by-button.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze burning fire. “Gonna take care of you now, is that okay?”

You furiously nod, coming up to kiss him once more, both your lips are raw and sensitive, but it gives you more of a reason to fix it with even more kisses.

He drops one quick kiss onto your mouth before he trails down your jaw. Yoongi breathes in the sweet scent on your skin, wishing he could feel you even closer. “Smell so damn good.”

His voice is raspy against your ear and it makes you blush, while you feel his hand finally touch you where you had been aching with need. “Wanna hear you.”

Breathing lightly, you whisper. “Make me.”

And of course, Yoongi makes you regret how fast you said the words because he delves his fingers forward with little resistance. Two fingers stretch you at the same time, gasping at the sudden sensation.

By now, you were molded to fit Yoongi’s fingers. On days where you were really in need, you would take four, all at once. Yoongi was best at reading every expression, every crease and scrunch to your face, especially emotions. He knew exactly how to curve his fingers, the way to build you up, and bring you back down. Yoongi knew it all and he was so lucky too.

He never anticipated it would have gone this far. It was just sex to begin with. But who were you both kidding, it was always much, much more.

Yoongi curves his fingers in the way he’s used to and watches your mouth drop, sweet noises soon leaving your lips. “Feels good?”

There’s no need to ask because he can tell. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know. That and the fact that you are dripping around his fingers but it’s sexier hearing it from you.

“Yeah… f-feels so good.” With his other hand he tugs your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. Remembering the first few times is a bit embarrassing, but Yoongi always made sure to take his time and make you feel comfortable. It was special and memorable in its own way, and Yoongi felt it too.

This is unlike any first time, but it was technically the first time you could officially make love to each other until you fall lovesick and that had to be impossible around someone like Yoongi.

“Hold your legs open for me, flower.” You try to ignore the warm feeling that buzzes in your chest, but you are sure your face says it all. Without another word, you spread your legs open, tucking both hands behind your thighs.

“Flower?” You breathe out with a bit of a struggle as his two fingers continue to pump deep inside you, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot.

“Do you not like it?” Yoongi smiles slightly, biting his bottom lip while he watches you start to tremble, making the prettiest sounds.

“I do. Why the new name?” Voice a bit unsteady but it does the job. Yoongi thinks of all the times he thought you were as pretty as a flower, which really was all the time. Especially, in the way he has you right now. Pretty, pretty as a flower.

“I’ve always wanted to call you that. You’re pretty, sweet, delicate. Just like a flower.” He justifies his reasoning and you melt into puddles.

“Yoongi.” Voice sweet as honey.

“Yes baby.” He replies with ease.

“Make love to me, Yoongi.”

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love. How foolish of him to think so. When he met you, it was a complete three-sixty. Suddenly, Yoongi started to look forward to his shit job. He looked forward to that time between breaks where he could admire you from the back like a pinning loser. Yoongi even started to like the walks he had to take to get to work because he knew that the path would eventually lead to you. He started looking forward to tomorrow's and to the bright future that led ahead. His mom would often complain that he was wasting his life away waiting for it to start, but Yoongi thinks life truly started the day he met you.

It was a bit awkward because you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, intimated by the staff and new environment. You had previously worked in different bars so you assumed it would be no different and it wasn’t, but the intimidation of a new job was there nonetheless. Yoongi was there every step of the way. He had a crush on the new employee and you needed help on fitting in. Either way, your friendship was very platonic until it wasn’t.

Yoongi knows he should have said something along the lines “hey, maybe we shouldn't be doing this anymore. I’m in love with you and I have been since you started working here” but the stupid words never made it out. He felt it would be too much to hear and it would only make him look like a complete loser.

And you felt the same. It was silly really, because everyone around you knew it and there was no reason to fear someone as easy going and non-judgemental as Yoongi, nonetheless it brought you both here. After many failed dating attempts, you were finally happy and in the arms of someone who you truly love and want to be loved by.

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love, now Yoongi believes your precious, sweet love brought him back to life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Clothes now discarded on the floor, heavy breathing filling the room, and Yoongi could get wasted on the smell of your intoxicating perfume. “Breathe flower.”

Yoongi felt you shiver at the sound of his words, throwing your head back as he thrusts you full of cock. He pushes inside you with gentle movements, struggling to keep himself up while feeling the tug of your warm velvet-like walls.

You gasp feeling him hit your cervix in a calm, slow pace. It was breathtaking regardless of the gentle rhythm. “You’re so deep...”

“I know flower, breathe baby, breathe.” He is struggling to keep from coming inside you, overwhelmed by his own emotions as your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure rise in your belly. Without a condom, everything feels so different from other times, feeling every ridge and crease fold inside your drenching heat. You take him so nicely, like you always have. Like you’ve always belonged to him.

You don’t even notice you stopped breathing until you start feeling lightheaded and desperate for fresh air. Breathing just as much as necessary so you don’t faint, you shake your head against his hold, his eyes watch yours, observing with curiosity.

“No?”

“Mm, n-no.” You shake your head again, whimpering when you feel him kiss your cervix with his swollen tip, over and over and over. “Can– can you…”

“Can I what, pretty flower?” Yoongi rolls his hips a bit faster, feeling his orgasm build too quickly. He wishes he could have days with you like this always. Days to love and worship you from head to toe.

“Choke me.” You manage to say. “Don— don’t wanna breathe.”

Yoongi growls deep, increasing his speed even more, desperate to fill the deepest part of your glistening folds. He feels you tense underneath, the sounds coming from your mouth are loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but Yoongi stopped giving a fuck about everything around him.

He places a hand on your throat and squeezes gently, not blocking off your airways completely, but leaving you just enough air to work with. It drives you insane. The more you breathe, his rough thrusts take the air out from your lungs and the process repeats. It feels so good.

“M-more. Harder.” You barely hear your own words, but Yoongi seems to understand because his dick is moving rapidly inside you, nearly splitting you in two. You wrap both hands around his wrist, loving the heavy weight against your chest. It’ll end too soon and it disappoints you in a way, but you have all the time in the world to make this up. “G-Gonna come.”

Yoongi nods, concentrating on the way your face scrunches with pleasure. With love. The way your eyes tell him a story. God, Yoongi’s madly in love. “Come, my precious flower.”

With those final words, you come on his bare slick cock, blossoming in the blissful afterglow. Yoongi doesn’t stop thrusting inside you, but he takes his hand off your throat, kissing your face gently when he sees tears start leaking down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Breathe for me. Slowly.” Yoongi’s words bring you back down and you throw your arms around him, crying against his shoulder. You don’t even know what invoked this strong emotion to sob your eyes out, but Yoongi allows it, caressing the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t judge, he only holds you until you settle down. “It’s okay baby, let it out. Breathe, pretty flower.”

“C-Come inside muh-me, please.” Even after all that, you still beg for him and Yoongi wants to laugh but for your sake and the fact that it’s endearing to him, he delivers accordingly without further questions.

Right as he’s going to paint your walls white, he pushes himself up with one hand, still holding you with the other. “You sure?”

You’re confused about the sudden question, the tears still decorate your face but then you understand. “Birth control. Just come in me Yoongi, fuck me, fu-fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to regain his brutal pace, fucking you with purpose. Not that he doesn’t want kids in the near future, but he sure as hell doesn’t want any right now. He’s glad you are on the same page but maybe one day the conversation would spark and he wouldn’t want the mother of his kids to be anyone else but you. You were perfect for him.

“Gonna come.” That’s the only warning you get, then he’s emptying himself inside your tight walls. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips, his slit leaking puddles, until he’s pumped himself dry. With one last thrust, he groans and carefully pulls out.

He brings you with him, head falling against his chest as he continues to play with your hair, leaving kisses into your bare shoulders. “You okay baby?”

“Perfect. Feel so good.” You mumble into his skin, feeling around his waist. “I’m leaking your come into the sheets though.”

“I’ll take care of it, pretty flower.” You nod sleepily into his chest with a quiet ‘thank you’, feeling completely sated and satisfied, aching with exhaustion. “Sleep baby, I got you.”

With that, you fall deep into the shackles of sleep. Yoongi rubs your back until you completely fall asleep in his arms. He struggles to unwrap himself from your hold, but when he finally succeeds, he tucks you in and kisses your cheek a few times before getting up to clean up after the mess you both created.

He’s light on his feet, bringing a warm towel to your slick folds and wipes as best he can, being gentle so you could continue to enjoy your sleep. Even like this, you look so beautiful and Yoongi is an extremely lucky man.

Yoongi makes sure to also pick up the lamp he dropped from earlier as well. He blows out a breath of relief when he notices that the damage is nothing big and nothing that can’t be fixed. He’ll make sure to fix that as soon as he can.

While he’s out there, Yoongi places the tulips into a vase and fills it with water, placing it near a window where it could grow and blossom beautifully near the sunlight. He even cuts the tips into slants because he had heard somewhere online they last longer that way, making sure to get rid of any dead leaves and petals. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

After he’s done with the light cleaning, he washes his hands and feels the exhaustion hit him tenfold. He’s careful when placing himself back in bed, lifting your arm and placing himself underneath you. The man smiles when he feels you curl yourself around him, sleeping soundlessly.

“I love you.” He whispers and even though you don’t say it back Yoongi feels it with the way you melt into his arms. Yoongi falls asleep easily that night.

…

“Baby.” Yoongi hears someone call him and he ignores it. Sleep calls his name louder and he doesn’t feel like waking up right now so he groans and cuddles deeper into the bedsheets below him, unaware of the life around him.

“Baby wake up.” You keep calling sweetly and it’s tempting but he persists.

“No. Don’t wanna.” Yoongi grumbles like an old man and you can’t help but to laugh. “Just ten more minutes.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were so thankful Yoongi had kept his promise. Your apartment was flawless and you were as clean as you could be. The tulips looked prettier today as the sun shined on the delicate petals. You even had time to warm the seaweed soup he brought from home and you couldn’t wait to get a taste. The smell alone is delicious and it warmed your home up nicely, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was no longer a dream but your reality. You could definitely get used to this.

You drop kisses onto his warm cheeks until his eyes flutter open, almost similar to a cat. “There you are.”

Yoongi pulls you into his arms again with quiet noncoherent grumbles and closes his eyes once more. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s already been ten.” You whisper lightly laughing.

“Oh. Ten more then.” You get comfortable on his chest and cuddle for a bit longer because you can’t say no to his cute sleepy self.

Yoongi starts to sniff the air with curiosity. “Is that the seaweed soup I brought you?”

“Mhm.” You hum. “Better get up soon before it burns.”

That manages to be convincing enough and Yoongi forces himself up, with you in his embrace.

“Wanna wake up like that forever.” He says, voice filled with sleep.

“You can.”

Yoongi snaps his heavy eyes towards you. “Are you–”

“Move in with me, Yoongi.” Yes, you skipped every step to this, but nothing was ever to code between you and Yoongi. One thing you were so sure of and that was spending the rest of your life with him. “Please.”

“I- yes, of course.” Yoongi wraps his arms around you for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “I love you. I love you and I’ll prove it to you every single day.”

“I know, I love you too. I love you.” Those three words come out from your mouths so easily and it’s nice that you no longer have to ever hold back. The man of your dreams is in the palms of your humble home and he’s in love with you. This was better than any dream.

“Let’s eat?” He says after some time of hugging and kisses being interchanged.

You nod, letting him take you there. Your kitchen is filled with the cruel aroma of food and your tummy rumbles as you sit comfortably while you wait for him to serve you a bowl of the warm tasty soup.

“I should be doing that. I’m a terrible host.” Yoongi shakes his head while smiling, the fluff of hair moving with him, then your phone dings. “Hold on, give me a second.”

Your heart drops when you see it is a Tinder notification from a man you promised to get back to. You look over to find Yoongi serving your bowl, making his way to the table. He leans in puckering slightly and you immediately lean into the sweet sudden kiss while he places your meal in front of you. This Yoongi is new because it wasn’t often you could act domestically towards one another, however this was perfect and just what you needed.

“Everything okay baby?” Yoongi asks while caressing your soft cheek and you immediately nod in his palm.

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” You reply in awe. “Thank you Yoongi, for everything.”

For letting me love you and for loving me back.

The older man just smiles and joins you for the meal.

It turns out you didn’t need Tinder after all.

You quickly delete the app off your phone and start to eat with the love of your life, conversation flows while you enjoy each other’s presence and fall deeper in love.

Alike Yoongi, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. You were bound to fall in love, one way or another, but that man was meant to be yours as you were meant to be his.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts x y/n #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts smut

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hisui-dreamer · 9 months

Text

rewrite the stars

Characters: Leona, Azul, Jade, Idia

Synopsis: if the stars say we're not meant to be, then why don't we just rewrite the stars?

Tags: horoscopes, reader is insecure, crack(?), fluff, comfort, not proofread

Word count: 1.4k+

Notes: rewrite the stars got stuck in my head then this idea popped up hehe

Disclaimer: i don't really know a lot about astrology, so most of the things i say are from google searches. in general, take astrology with a grain of salt yeah.

but also my sign and jade's sign are compatible hehehe

Masterlist

it's not easy being confident in love, and sometimes when you get so lost in your fears, you let anyone and anything tell you what you fear to admit, without a care for how truthful those words may be.

truthfully, if you were dead serious and broke up with him, he'd just grumble out a "whatever" and put up the façade that he doesn't care

but he'd actually be so mad at himself for pushing you away and how nothing in his life could ever go smoothly

but your eyes are swollen and tears are threatening to spill as you whisper those words

he silently approaches you, and instinctively reaches to brush your tears away, but his warm, calloused hand only makes you cry harder at how much you love the man before your eyes

he pulls you into his arms and holds you close as you sob into his chest

he doesn't say anything and waits for you to elaborate, there's a part of him that's afraid if he asked you why you wanted to break up with him, he couldn't bear how his own self-hatred

once you've calmed down, you start explaining how you two are incompatible in astrology, that he's a leo so it's easy for miscommunication to happen and other issues that have plagued you since you read about them

he's heard all this make believe astrology personality stuff before, but never before has he been glad of how ridiculous the idea is

you hear leona let out a big sigh, and the tension in his shoulders immediately lessens

pulls away from you to stare deep into your eyes, his face completely serious and solemn

"Herbivore, are you happy with me?" he asks. At you confused face, he repeats the question, his expression unchanging. When you nod firmly, he smiles slightly and asks again. "Then what else matters? As if I would let the souls of the past kings or some random star talk decide who I'm gonna love," he scowls at the idea. He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. "You're stuck with me now, I'm not lettin' ya go that easily," he whispers.

He pulls you with him as he falls back onto the mattress, cradling you in his arms. "Sleep. You're not a baby anymore so don't go crying yourself to sleep," he teases, but he gently kisses the remainder of your tears away.

azul.exe has stopped functioning

blubbering like a fish out of water (wait...) he's lost and hurt and confused and panicking all at the same time

"w-w-what have i done to upset you angelfish????"

the tweels walk into azuls office just to see the two of you crying and confused, azul trying to ask you why and he's sad and crying, you're stumbling over your words and sniffing and crying

ok after a glass of warm water (thank you jade) the two of you calm down to actually have a proper conversation, though azul is still very obviously tense

you explain that he's a Pisces and that means you two not compatible with how sensitive he is and he's a water sign and so on

azul is very confused about how stars can determine people's personalities, but he does fit the description of a Pisces, and if his beloved Angelfish is stressed over astrology, then it must be a reliable tell (azul no)

he asks for you to give him some time, to actually understand your reasonings and of course, to give him a chance and prove to you how willing he is to work out a relationship with you

the next day, azul visits you with very deep dark eye circles, but the glint in his eyes shows full determination and confidence

azul businessman mode on!

sits you down and pulls up a slideshow

azul ashengrotto is now an astrology expert!

he's determined to show you that you two have maximum compatibility and whatever issues you have? he'll always work them out with you

"Darling, you mentioned our Sun signs yesterday, but I think it's crucial to also discuss our rising, moon, and star signs." He declares as he points to a star chart. "Now, following the calculations of our birth dates and locations..."

An hour later, you sit completely convinced that astrology all but supports your relationship with Azul, and you can't help smile and jump into his arms. Azul, sleep deprived and running on anxiety, somehow manages to not fall over, but soon leans his weight on you. "See? We're perfectly compatible with each other," he murmurs against your ear. His arms wrap around you, squeezing you gently, "so please don't leave me, I wouldn't know what to do without you..."

eyes wide slowly blinking like "... I beg your pardon?"

honestly jade doesn't look that surprised/hurt

but really he's suppressing the turmoil of emotions inside him

ever the logical thinker, he'd ask a calm "May I ask why, my dear?"

and you surprise him again with flowing tears and a trembling voice

though he's listening very patiently as he's diligently wiping away your tears with his handkerchief, soft careful movements to avoid causing discomfort

asks questions when he doesn't understand what in astrology is going on, genuinely making an effort to understand this field of academics

in a sense, he's distracting you from being upset with academic discussion

okay, he's a Scorpio, which makes him good at manipulating people??? and he's very bold??

now while he finds all this very interesting and slightly accurate, it still feels pretty whimsical that the time you're born in determines your personality

particularly as he's so different to Floyd! and they were born at the same time!

whichever the case, the more pressing issue is his dearest lover sniffing and whining that you could never be happy together with how incompatible you are

he pulls you into his chest for a bit, rubbing soothing circles into your back and leaving gentle kisses you until your sniffing quiets down

"Dearest, won't you look at me?" he murmurs against your ear. You look up to see the most tender expression you had ever seen on him, his mismatched eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"While it is indeed extremely unfortunate that our star signs are incompatible, I don't believe there's a single person out there who could love me better than you do," he says as he kisses your hand. "I promise that your happiness will always be my utmost priority, so won't you continue to love this silly eel?"

"Now, while I will always find you enchantingly beautiful, I do believe a smile shines the brightest on my lovely pearl," he smiles while brushing the remaining wetness away from your eyes.

simply put, idia panics immediately

every day he thinks the fates have been far too kind to him for you to even reciprocate his feelings

he's always mentally preparing himself if you want to break up or you need to leave him

so he puts up a brave face when you say you can't be together

but wait... you actually look really upset and on the verge of tears???

"Hold up, why are you the one crying?"

please don't tell him those are tears of joy i think he'd die on the spot

through sobs and sniffs, you tell him that you were curious about your compatibility based on astrology

and okay...? he's a fire sign??? explains the hair

okay so you're telling him, you're breaking up with him solely because you think this thing might be right and not because you hate him, right?

brb gotta blow up some stars

starts mumbling about some plans to build space missiles and blow up some stars that make up his sign or something

he can't be an asparagus(??? idia no it's sagittarius doesn't matter) if the constellation no longer exists, right?

you stop him (thank god) by cupping both of his cheeks to make him stare straight at you

he's flushing up instantly and every fiber of his being yearned to turn away but your teary gaze makes him stop squirming

"You know," he begins, his voice earnest and steady, "everyday, I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life. If you're unworthy of me, then I'm unworthy of you."

He lets out a chuckle, that rumble echoing right into your ear. "I suppose I can put those star destroyer blueprints on hold, at least for the time being. But if the stars ever mess with us again, it's game over for them."

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland leona #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland jade #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland azul #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland idia

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

My first choice (part 1/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eye prince to fall in love with.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 5500

warnings: friends to lovers, slow burn (with very obvious mutual pining), angst, Aegon is a sad boy (but ends up being a pretty good wingman!)

author's note: this is inspired by “Little women” and Amy March in particular. I took the liberty to rewrite some plot lines because to me Aemond is nothing like Laurie (Aegon is ;) and I hate love triangles so we are not having any of that sorry. it's a bit of a roller coaster so I divided it into 2 parts in hopes that it will be easier to read: the first part explains Aemond's feelings, the second one is about hers. ✨ part 2

part 1. How could you be so blind

Aegon knows he's supposed to be relieved — he never wanted the crown and now that Rhaenyra is the Queen and a feast is arranged in her honor, he should be celebrating. And he may have been hitting the wine way too hard for the past couple of hours, but he can’t pretend to be happy, and he gave up trying to force a smile. It’s ridiculous that he is upset over this, and yet he can’t help but feel horribly useless. The prince drinks one cup after another until the room starts spinning and he can’t even sit straight — and then he suddenly finds himself propped against the wall, sliding under the table instead of sitting at it. Aegon catches a few judgemental glances but at this point, he couldn’t care less. There is only one person whose judgment he is afraid of — and it’s not long before he’s greeted with a displeased remark:

“When I asked you not to swoop too low, I couldn’t imagine you would literally lay on the floor.”

He looks up — and here you are, staring down at him, not even trying to cover up your disappointment. At any other time, Aegon would’ve at least tried to sober up, but today he’s disappointed in himself, too, so he doesn’t make an effort. Instead, he reaches out an arm to you with a lax smile:

“Would you like to join me?”

“I didn’t get the invitation to this pity party so I will pass,” your tone suggests you are not in the mood for jesting. “Now that you’ve succeeded in making a fool out of yourself, would you mind getting upright?”

“I think I like it here,” he retorts, shamelessly staring at the legs of the maids passing by.

“You like wallowing in misery for all to see?” you huff. “Aegon, get up.”

He fakes a whine:

“My legs gave out, I’m afraid!”

“You would need to drink all the wine in the castle for that to happen, and I doubt you managed to do that,” you roll your eyes, taking a step toward him — but pause upon hearing a voice behind your back:

“You underestimate my brother.”

Aemond has a habit of sneaking up on people which often startles you yet right now you are too angry at Aegon to be bothered. You throw Aemond a glare over your shoulder but your eyes soften when you see the apologetic look on his face. It’s not the first time that the two of you find yourself in this situation — throughout the years you learned to work as a team: you bring Aegon back to his senses while Aemond helps to physically bring him to the nearest flat surface. You have never asked him for help — and yet he’s always there.

Aemond is about to lean down to help his brother up — you stop the one-eye prince with your hand, your palm inches away from his chest. Anyone else would’ve thought twice before standing in his way but you don’t hesitate.

“He is perfectly capable to get up on his own,” you reject Aemond’s attempt, your eyes fixed on Aegon. “He can hold onto the wall shall he feel unable to stay on his two feet.”

There is something in your gaze that makes Aegon uncomfortable, piercing him to the bone. You are never downright mean or rude but with just a few words you can easily unmask his feigned recklessness. The prince stands up, tottering and feeling a little light-headed.

“Are you happy, now when I'm in the standing position?”

“If you cared about anyone else's feelings but your own, you wouldn't be in this position,” you scold him while Aemond takes his brother under the arm to guide him out. Aegon tries to grab another cup of wine but you slap his hand.

“Do you ever get ashamed of yourself?” you hiss at him.

“Let me think... No, why would I?” he sounds sarcastic.

“You should be,” you whisper scream at him. “You can find nothing to do but dawdle and make a mockery of yourself!”

Aemond feels his brother shuddering at your words, and he tightens his hold on Aegon.

“Well, what else am I to do,” his voice is bitter. “Since I am not an heir and serve no purpose to the realm nor do I have any taste for duty.”

You slow your pace, and a sigh leaves your mouth.

“I feel sorry for you, Aegon, I do. I only wish you'd bear it better,” you reach out to stroke his arm but the prince bristles.

“You don't have to feel sorry for me. Your duty is to marry, and we will see how that goes,” he mutters before he can stop himself — and regrets it the very next second when you swiftly turn to him.

“At least I would be respected if I couldn't be loved,” your tone hushed but sharp.

Aegon stops dead in his tracks, his wide eyes meeting yours. You moved away from the crowd into the hall, and it becomes silent. And then his lower lip quivers.

“But I thought that you loved me,” Aegon whimpers, his assumed nonchalance instantly gone.

“Oh, Aegon, how much did you have to drink?” you come to his side, lending him a shoulder to cry on. While he’s aggressively sniffling, you look at Aemond and quietly mouth “How many cups?”

“Way more than usual,” he gives you a wan smile, and you groan at his answer, taking Aegon by the arm.

“Alright, you can lean on me. But don’t get handsy or I will push you down the stairs,” your remark earns a weak laugh from the older prince, and the three of you head toward his chambers.

Aegon doesn’t talk much but his mood softens and you exchange a few jokes before finally reaching his room.

“I can take it from here,” Aemond suggests but his brother eagerly protests.

“No, I want to be tucked into bed! And definitely not by you,” he sticks out his tongue, and you chuckle at his whim.

“Aemond, I can handle him.”

The one-eyed prince shoots you a knowing glance and holds the door open for you and Aegon to walk in. You slowly move to his bed, making sure he doesn’t stumble on his way — and then, with a sudden boost of energy, the prince flops down on the fluffy blankets, letting out a satisfied moan. You hold back a giggle and wait for him to crawl under the covers.

“Should I call for the maid to help you undress?”

“No, I am way too comfortable like this,” he pulls the blanket up to his chin, and you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I am sorry for the way I behaved,” he reveals, frowning. “I did not mean to, truly.”

“Aegon, you know I’m not the one you should apologize to,” you take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it with childish eagerness. “You left Helaena all alone. And you promised me you would make an effort.”

“I know, I know,” he yawns. “I was doing better until today, I swear, you should ask her,” his speech becomes incoherent as he is already too drowsy to talk, his cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat of the blankets. As you stand up to leave, Aegon mumbles:

“I fetched you a book... the one you were looking for,” he sloppily points to his table by the window before dozing off.

There is only one book so it’s easy to find — and when you do, you can barely contain a sound of surprise: it's the complete history of Westeros, heavy and hardcover, decorated with gilding. You glance at Aegon but he looks fast asleep so you cautiously get out of his chambers.

If you were to turn around, you would’ve noticed that he kept an eye on you with a grin on his face.

When you walk out, you see Aemond still standing there, his gaze landing on the book and then immediately on you. It takes you a minute to figure it out and then you smile at him:

“Even though I appreciate the gesture, it is hard to imagine Aegon in the library.”

“He asked me to help him find the book you wanted. I did,” the prince explains as if it isn’t that big of a deal. But to you, it is — although you think he only did it out of politeness.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you enthusiastically turn your attention to the book, flipping through the pages in awe. He watches you, feeling the warmth in his chest at the sight of your joy.

“You know that you bring out the best in him?” Aemond says in a low voice, and your heart skips a beat at his comment. You are thankful for the dim lighting that makes your heated cheeks less obvious.

“You overestimate my influence,” you say, then dither before admitting, “I’m afraid I was too hard on him today.”

“Someone has to do it,” Aemond objects, and there’s something in his tone — sincere and soft, that makes you look at him again. At this moment, away from the prying eyes and the pressure of everyone’s expectations, you can see the side of him that people rarely get acquainted with.

“I think you are doing a pretty good job, too,” you tell the prince, finding his presence ever so calming. You could never understand why would anyone call Aemond intimidating when he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you two met. Whenever you have a chance to be alone with him, his company always brings you comfort, and that feeling is so rare, you want to chase it.

But then you remind yourself of the harsh reality, and your smile falters.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” you look down at the book. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“You need to elaborate on that,” Aemond says uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve heard that you were courting lady Baratheon,” you explain casually, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitates before answering.

“Well, I only plan to,” the prince clarifies. “If she accepts my advances.”

“It would be silly of her not to,” you blurt out and, while you can’t see it, Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

“She may have her reasons —”

“I can’t come up with a single one,” you tell him with so much confidence, Aemond’s heart flutters at your words but you continue without a second thought. “You are intelligent, good-hearted, handsome — and a really skilled swordsman. Not to mention you have the biggest dragon in the realm, which does sound like a reasonable perk.”

The prince is glad that you’re too preoccupied with the book to see his stunned expression. It’s not just the fact that you compliment him so easily — but also the way you do it. When other people try to, they usually start with Vhagar as if the old grumpy creature is the main good thing about Aemond. But you only bring up the dragon at the very end and in passing, instead keeping the focus on the prince. He is silent for a moment, letting your words sink into his memory.

And then Aemond persuades himself that you only said it out of politeness.

You notice his lack of response — and you are about to question it when a maid comes to you in haste:

“Lady Y/N, your presence is needed. Your father is looking for you.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” the prince encourages you with a grin. “If he finds Aegon, he might hug him to death.”

You playfully elbow him and turn to follow the maid but then stop to say:

“Please make sure your brother stays in bed.”

“Will do,” Aemond looks at you walking away, clutching the book to your chest as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

To this day, it is truly a mystery to him how Aegon managed to befriend someone like you. You met the Targaryen brothers when your family was invited to one of the royal feasts. You were ten and three, the middle one of three sisters. Your oldest — Elaesa — has been the center of attention, beautiful and graceful, but while everyone’s eyes were on her, you looked a little bit disoriented. It was the first feast that you’ve attended, and maybe you got too agitated or overwhelmed — or both — but soon you ended up lost in the castle, and somehow ripped the hem of your dress in the process.

Aemond was the one to find you. The prince has never been keen on taking part in celebrations, often sneaking away from all the noise. That’s when he saw you — fussing with the dress, your sobs echoing through the hall.

“Are you hurt?” he rushed to your side, and you looked up at him with blubbered eyes.

“Why do you have so many halls? You should hand out maps so people can find their way back,” despite being clearly upset, you sounded unusually serious, and Aemond fought back a smile.

“I can help you find your parents without a map,” he suggested, and for a second it seemed to lighten your mood but then your pout worsened.

“I cannot go back,” you gestured at the dress. “I am in such trouble!” you whined, the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

Truth be told, Aemond didn’t have much experience with ladies back then nor did he know a thing about dresses but your distress seemed so genuine he couldn’t leave you be.

“It is not that bad,” he pointed at the ripped material. “I can ask our seamstress to take a look.”

You studied his face for a second, then glanced back at the dress — surprisingly, that was all it took for you to stop crying, and no other coaxing was needed. You wiped your nose and fixed your hairdo, smoothing the damaged hem the best you could.

“I'd appreciate it if you help me find my way back,” you said, your face seemingly more relaxed.

Getting you to talk was pretty easy, and Aemond shortly discovered how open-minded and outspoken you were, using your quick thinking to compensate for your timid personality. When you returned to the hall of the Iron Throne, he was reluctant to let you go but promised to come back with the seamstress. The task only took him about ten minutes, but when he did reappear, you were not alone — Aegon was standing next to you, making you laugh so hard, it looked like you forgot about the dress already. Aemond didn’t mean to interrupt as he suddenly felt very out of place, uninvited in his own home, so he abandoned the idea of helping you and just left.

At first, he thought you fell for Aegon’s flirtatious charms but soon learned that, as much as you did like his brother’s humor, his charms had no effect on you. On the contrary, you often chided him for hitting on young girls and openly condemned his affection for wine. Your honesty set you apart from all the ladies Aegon was surrounded with — and that was the reason he came to enjoy your company as much as he did. Despite the three years age gap, you were the one who told him the truth, no matter how ugly it might’ve been, but you did so without prejudice or any ill intentions. You would usually follow your critique with advice or a solution of some sort to keep the prince away from unnecessary trouble. That is why you were on friendly terms with Helaena, too, and your influence was also welcomed by Alicent, the then Queen. She liked that you were straightforward with your remarks and often said that you were wise beyond your years. Although, as much as Aemond agreed with it, he suspected there was a reason you had to grow up early.

It happened the same year you met — your older sister, with all her grace and beauty, ran away from home to elope with some unworthy beggar. Your mother was inconsolable for at least a week, saying that Elaesa brought shame upon her family. Your father, the kind man that he is, forgave his daughter fairly quickly and tried his best to restore peace. And yet, you came to realize that Elaesa's vagary did cast a shadow over your House. Your youngest sister, Alyna, was a fragile little thing, frequently sick and tacit — which left you to be the one representing your family in the eyes of society.

Within a few years, there wasn't a thing you weren't good at: lords lined up to have a dance with you, ladies admired how well-spoken you were and shared a laugh at your florid sarcasm, and you learned to embroider, to ride a horse, to walk exquisitely dressed and with impeccable posture. But while for everyone else it was a reason to compliment you, Aemond saw the underlying cause of your diligence — the corrosive desire to prove one's worth which was something he learned to live with as well. And which led him to think he understood you better than anyone.

More often than not he found himself watching you as if he had the need to make sure you weren't in harm's way. Helping you with Aegon was a part of that routine but it also gave him a chance to be alone with you. You talked about everything and nothing in particular, and he would catch glimpses of you — the real you, shy and emotional at times, but still understanding and perceptive. He cherished every opportunity to steal you away from the never-ending chattering, from lords ogling at you, from Jason Lannister whose interest in your company should've been concerning. Aemond has gotten so used to observing you, so enthralled with your covert conversations, he didn't realize that a particular feeling was creeping up on him. But there was one person who turned out to be more observant than Aemond has been. Aegon was the mere reason why his brother ended up at your door a few days later. Aemond’s been to your place a couple of times and he promptly memorized the way to the farthest room of the house — the one you used to paint in. It was the only thing you truly allowed yourself to enjoy, an unexpected talent of yours which you soon perfected, too, except it wasn't meant for the others to marvel at but plainly for you to keep your head occupied, to have some quiet time.

He walks in when you are already painting the finishing touches. When you turn to greet him, you stop mid-sentence, seeing that it’s Aemond instead of his brother who you were waiting for.

“He overslept,” the younger prince shrugs. “It isn't a bothersome task to come pick up the portrait of my nephews.”

You point in the direction of the painting with the brush in your hand. Aemond admires your work — as he always does — while you try to shake off your confusion. There is another reason you did not expect to see Aemond today. You tarry with voicing your concern but eventually glance at him with empathy:

“I was sorry to hear about lady Baratheon’s decision.”

“I was not,” he’s quick to retort.

“I cannot imagine agreeing to marry a Stark,” you say, dipping a brush in a jar of water.

“Is it the cold weather?” Aemond grins knowingly.

“Yes! Gods, just thinking about it makes me feel uneasy. All the layers you have to wear to keep yourself warm, barely being able to move, getting no sunlight...,” you ramble, making sure to wet all the brushes before lining them up on the table.

“Some say they've got quite a beautiful scenery,” Aemond tries to object although he knows his argument doesn't stand a chance.

“I wouldn't be able to enjoy that,” you huff. “How am I to capture the beauty if my paint freezes?”

He only hums in agreement, watching you busy yourself with your supplies. You go through the brushes, delicately cleaning the bristles with a cloth. Your fingers carefully take one brush after the other, and Aemond silently admires your love for neatness and order.

“You are staring,” you say without turning to him.

“Where do you want me to look at?”

“Aemond, you are in a room full of art!” you chuckle lightly. “Surely, enough options to land your eye on.”

The prince lets his gaze go around the place, and it takes him about a minute to quickly examine all the paintings. And then he inevitably looks at you again. Aemond thinks he likes this view the most.

“When do you begin your next great work of art?” he asks, hoping to distract you.

You halt movement, then force out glumly:

“Never.”

“What do you mean?” he’s taken by surprise.

“I’ve come to realize that I’d never be a genius,” you reluctantly explain. “So I’m giving up all my foolish artistic hopes.”

“Y/N, you cannot be serious. You have so much talent and — ”

“Talent isn’t genius!” you throw up your hands in defeat, and he can sense your frustration from a distance. “I may be talented in other things, but when it comes to painting, I want to be great or nothing. And I am only of middling talent,” you scoop up the brushes, give them a quick look and place in another jar to dry.

Aemond wants to argue, he really does — but he also knows better than to try and persuade you when you are like this: firmly standing your ground, exuding nothing but stubbornness. In any other situation, he would’ve found it endearing but it’s upsetting to see you downplaying your brilliance.

“Hm, may I at least ask your last portrait to be of me?”

You instantly turn to him, taken aback. Throughout the years you’ve known him, he clearly expressed that he did not like being painted, and you only could make a quick sketch or two, at best, when he wasn't paying attention.

“Alright,” the long-awaited opportunity makes you smile. “Next time I come for breakfast, I will drag you into the garden to pose for me,” you give him a pointed look, and Aemond humbly nods.

Your smile grows wider but you try to tone it down, afraid to spook him, and focus on wiping the nearest table.

“What are you going to do with your life in the meantime?” he changes the subject.

“Polish up my other skills and become an ornament to society,” you sigh, putting the cloth away.

There’s a brief pause before he says, his voice a bit strained:

“Here is where Jason Lannister comes in, I suppose?”

You say yes but the answer comes a little bit too fast, and Aemond notices that the topic makes you uncomfortable.

“But you are yet to be betrothed to him,” he clarifies, gaze fixed on you.

“I will be if he proposes,” your eyes meet his, and you are sure that there’s a shadow of disapproval on his face that only spurs your stubbornness. You fully turn to the prince to say: “I always knew I had to marry well, I do not feel ashamed of that.”

But Aemond isn’t looking for a fight — he swiftly corrects himself:

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. As long as...” — he can barely bring himself to say it — “As long as you love him.”

For the reason unknown to Aemond, his statement brings a bleak smile to your face.

“I believe we can have some power over who we love,” you object, lowering your gaze for a second as you start absentmindedly twisting the ring on your finger.

“I think the poets would disagree,” he chuckles, trying to defuse the unexpected tension.

But when you look up at him, your glare is as obdurate as ever.

“Well, I am not a poet, I am just a woman,” you rebut crisply. “And as a woman, I have no illusions about my prospects which do not include me earning a living to support my family. And my parent’s fortune has its limits as I've come to learn. Hence why, if I want to have children — I do — and be able to provide them with everything they wish for, I must rely on my husband,” that last word is pronounced with disappointment. “So don't stand here and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me.”

Had he not known you, Aemond would’ve been very impressed — with how blunt and witty you are, you are very good at delivering speeches. But as he’s standing in front of you, watching your face, he senses that your determination is akin to despair. Aemond thinks he might take a chance at arguing with you, after all — but you’re both startled by a knock on the door:

“Lady Y/N, Ser Lannister just arrived.”

You look baffled for a second, your confidence crumbling.

“Why would he — I, I didn’t expect him today,” you mumble, almost ashamed of his arrival.

Yet you pull yourself together faster than Aemond can come up with a reason for you to stay. You remove your apron and quickly examine your dress, then move to put on a cape.

“Did I miss any paint stains?” you ask Aemond in a haste.

“No,” he looks over the flowing material of your neat dress, your hair knotted up high — and then: “...Wait!”

You stop abruptly while he grabs a clean cloth.

“There is something on your cheek,” he says as you both step toward each other — and in the next second you’re suddenly standing too close.

You turn to him and shyly shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. Aemond is frozen for a moment but then carefully wipes away a slight smudge of green from under your cheekbone. His hand unwillingly lingers as he examines the delicate features of your face. You open your eyes, looking at the prince questingly. His facial expression is unreadable but it makes you wish you didn’t have to go.

You brush away that silly thought and stand back, fixing your cape.

“How do I look? Do I look alright?”

“You look beautiful,” Aemond says with no hesitation, taking you in — with your cheeks a bit flushed, lip parted and eyes shining. “You are beautiful.”

You seem bewildered at his words but then a smile grows on your face — and in a blink of an eye, you’re gone. The prince is left standing there, staring at the spot where you were just now. The room suddenly feels so empty without you — and so does his heart.

The realization strikes Aemond like lightning: he wants to be the one you come to, at all times. The one holding your hand, watching you paint, or read, or dance — watching you do whatever your heart desires. Because his only desire is to be with you. That thought puts down roots deep into his chest, and he doesn’t know how to pluck it out.

Nor does he want to. It’s all he can think about for the duration of the week, until you come to the castle — with canvas and supplies, not hiding your excitement. He almost forgot about his promise but follows you into the garden without objection. You sense a slight change in Aemond’s behavior, him being more quiet than usual, but decide not to push the prince so he won’t reconsider.

“I will start with a sketch and then we will go from there. Alright?”

He just hums in response while looking at you but you are unaware of the meaning behind his gaze.

“Take any pose you like, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,” you suggest with a half-smile, knowing full well he will probably remain standing.

And he does, arms clasped behind his back, his eye never leaving your face. You immerse in the process too quickly to be bothered, the piece of charcoal in your hand sliding over the paper, leaving lines and shadows. Drawing Aemond is an effortless task, and you can only enjoy how easy it is to sketch the sharp contours of his face and his lean body. The simplicity can also be explained by the fact that you've already memorized all the details by heart: the curves of his cheekbones and his lips, the flow of his silver hair, the shape and cut of his eye.

When you are finally satisfied, you can’t tell if it’s been an hour or three, and the prince, as it seems, hasn’t moved a muscle. At this point, Aemond’s demeanor does worry you yet you blame it on his nervousness.

“Want to take a look?” you hand him a few sketches. “Mind you, I’m not finished so please don’t judge too harshly —”

“I could never,” his hand brushes yours when he takes the drawings.

Aemond has seen your works before but it's a whole new experience when he's the one being portrayed. He almost doesn't recognize himself — you didn't miss a single feature of his yet somehow this version of him looks too beautiful to be real. He's at a loss for words until he spots that there's another drawing hidden underneath. It's a sketch of him sitting, both arms on the table, his face looks like he's deep in his thoughts.

“When did you do this one?”

“After the coronation,” the memory makes you smile. “Made my poor father lug around with charcoal in his pockets while he was trying to keep up the conversation with Ser Lannister.”

It was the day you got introduced to Jason. You were supposed to be by his side, with your charming smile and polite talks, yet you spend your time drawing Aemond. He can imagine your gaze focused on the piece of paper, the way you must've been looking at him to capture every detail and movement — all of that without him asking to, without him even noticing. There's so much care in that act, he is unexpectedly moved by it.

The words leave his mouth before he can think them over:

“Don't marry him.”

His request makes your hands tremble, and you drop the piece of charcoal, slowly looking up at Aemond, the smile disappearing from your face. He did not mean that, you must've misunderstood.

“...What?”

Aemond turns to you, looking you straight in the eyes:

“Don't marry him,” he repeats, helplessly and desperately.

“Why?” you ask in disbelief, suddenly having trouble breathing. The only reason you can think of sounds delusional, close to impossible. You wait for him to come up with some clever explanation — instead, he comes closer to you, his gaze so warm it makes your cheeks burn.

“You know why,” Aemond says and his hand gently lands on yours. You look down at it, perplexed, your mouth opening and closing, heart rate speeding up.

He keeps his eye on your face as he waits for your reply. You are not repulsed nor angry — which is supposed to be a good sign — but the reaction he gets is actually worse than that. Because when you finally glance at him, you look hurt.

“No,” you yank away your hand as if his touch stung. “No, Aemond, you are being mean, stop it,” you take a step back, your eyes glossy and lips tight. The look you give causes him physical pain — while you are trying your best to fight back the tears.

His intelligence clearly fails him because Aemond has no clue what’s going on. He feels like there is a deeper meaning to your words but he does not get it.

“Why am I being mean?” he asks incredulously as you slowly continue putting more distance between you two.

You don’t even realize you are doing it — it’s almost an urge to not be in his presence, for the first time ever. The weight of his words feels suffocating and merciless. How easy it is for him to toy with your emotions, you think, and that cruelty of his — as you see it — wounds you so deeply, he might as well put a torch to your heart.

“I have felt like everyone’s second choice my entire life,” you bemoan, not being able to keep your agony bottled up any longer. “In everything, no matter how hard I’ve worked to be better. I thought you out of all people would understand that,” you sound raspy, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“So I will not be the person you settle for just because your first marriage proposal was turned down,” only when your voice shudders, Aemond finally understands how wrongfully you interpreted his intentions.

But you are out of his reach already — at least ten feet away from him, and the distance separates you like a giant chasm.

“No, I won’t. I can’t,” you are hurting so much, your feelings spill out like blood from a wound. “I can’t do it. Not when I have spent years loving you.”

His breathing hitches as your confession pierces through his chest — and he is left speechless, deafened by it. The moment slips through his fingers with unforgiving pace: you were standing so close only a minute ago — and now you are turning your back to him, rushing away. The last thing he sees is how broken you look, your shoulders slumped and eyes brimming with tears.

Aemond stands, shocked and paralyzed until it’s too late — the garden is silent with your absence and the only evidence of you being there is your supplies scattered on the ground. Your words are ringing in his head, his heart heavy with a dreadful feeling.

He was afraid he would never have you — but he actually could have.

If only he wasn't so blind.

➡ Part 2

yes, this is me blabbing again: I’ve watched this movie an embarrassing amount of times, and I’ve wanted to write a fic based on it for a few months. I did rephrase a couple of quotes but still tried my best to do the story justice. my apologies for the angst — just so you know, it was painful to write. also, will I ever stop using friends to lovers trope? only time will tell! (I probably won't, though) I know there is a very heartwarming fic by aemonds-war-crime that was also based on “Little women” and it's only fair that I link it as well!

tagging @greenowlfactif because you asked 💙 comments and opinions are VERY welcomed! 🥺 🎨 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

#aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #<<< PLS don’t be mad! I know Aegon isn’t the main character but he has a meaningful role #so I thought maybe I should add his tag too... (PLS DON’T BE MAD)#on a completely unrelated note I decided to start with dialogue(s) and then bring the backstory #I think it’s more engaging??? but we’ll see how that goes #also it was a conscious decision to start with Aemond’s side of the story — just so it comes as a surprise when she says ‘hey I loved you f #(I mean it obviously won’t be surprising if you saw the movie...)#ALSO I really hope you guys will want the second part (’cause I already wrote it lmao)#my stuff #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond one eye x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst

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