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take-taker-taken · 4 months

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hey there, "first time asker" is back! i'm so glad i that i was able to inspire something last time:).

i recently had another idea: so it would be shawn x taker again (i'm sorry i just love these two so much). this time a little more explicit? so taker is usually very dominant and a big fan of tying shawn up. this time tho, shawn wants to tie him up for a change and taker agrees. but we all know that shawn is the biggest tease known to man(kind sorry i couldn't resist). taker then loses his patience. but we all know that he is somewhat of a supernatural being, so he manages to undo the restraints without shawn noticing. now its time for taker to reverse the roles and have his way with shawn.

again any era you want and if you want to add or remove something go ahead. hope your cold is gone by now :)

Hellooooo, second time asker! Here is your fic - sorry that it took me so long and I hope it hits the spot! Feel free to picture whichever era you most prefer!

Give & Take - Interrupted

Shawn pounces on Taker right after he walks in the door, wrapping his arms around the bigger man’s waist and stretching up for a kiss that very quickly becomes heated.

“Someone’s keen,” he comments when Shawn finally lets him up for air.

“Well, if you will insist on sending me suggestive texts in the middle of the afternoon…” Shawn says with a smile.

“Suggestive? It was a few little pictures, that’s all.” Despite his flippant reply, Taker’s hands slide down to cup Shawn’s pert ass.

“They’re called emojis,” Shawn says, planting a lazy kiss on his lover’s neck. “And it was that special one that you use - as you well know.”

Unseen by the blonde who’s still nuzzling at his throat, Taker smiles. “Yeah, OK - you got me. I’m a bad man.”

Shawn leans back so that he can look Taker in the eye. “Nah. You’re actually very good. But… I don’t suppose…” He trails off and worries at his bottom lip with his teeth.

Even though it’s obvious that Shawn is plotting, the big man takes the bait as he gently lifts his thumb to the blonde’s mouth and frees the lip before it gets hurt. “Don’t suppose that what?” He prompts.

“I was thinking… maybe we could change things up tonight?” He does his best puppy dog eyes when he adds, “And I could be the one to tie you up?”

Taker looks at Shawn for a long minute as though searching for any trace of an attempt at ribbing but all he sees is wide, honest blue eyes. And so he nods.

“Sure, why not?” His cold heart melts a little at the excited smile that appears on Shawn’s face and he can’t help adding, “But I’m not calling you ‘sir’.”

“No. No, that would be weird,” Shawn agrees quickly and then settles into Taker’s arms again happily and makes a soft, contented little sound when Taker leans down and kisses the top of his head.

“Uhh, put your hands up over your head,” Shawn says, eyeing the railings of the headboard and toying with handfuls of rope. Having already had each of his feet bound to the bottom of the bed Taker silently complies, holding loosely on to the rails and Shawn has to take a minute to just drink him in. Sure, he sees his partner naked all the time, but rarely on display like this. Taker is a big guy and the position he’s in right now shows all the definition in his huge arms. Shawn wants to lay down on him with that broad chest as a pillow and sink his teeth into those pecs… and then he realises that he can. Still wearing his jeans, he drapes the length of rope around his neck and crawls on to the bed, straddling Taker’s hips. He leans forward and begins to wind the rope around the bigger man’s wrists - his work isn’t as neat as Taker’s but he’s sure it’ll be just as effective. He wraps and knots it around the railings as best he can and then places his hands on Taker’s chest, splaying his fingers out across the pecs.

“Does it feel OK? Not too tight?” He asks the same thing that Taker always says when their roles are reversed.

The big man raises a dark eyebrow. “It’s fine,” he says. “But then, it’s not like I have regular circulation.”

Shawn gives a small shrug in capitulation and then digs his fingers into Taker’s flesh slightly and wriggles backwards. His gaze leaves the green eyes and roves across the broad chest below him and then he does it - he dips his head and mouths at the big man’s left pec just above the nipple before gently biting down.

Taker lets out a breathy moan the sort of which he’s never heard him make before and Shawn looks up in surprise.

“You like that?” He tries to keep his tone in check and sound more confident than questioning.

“Yeah,” Taker replies, his voice sounding a little strained. “I like it just fine.”

Shawn understands his stoic lover well enough to know that liking something ‘just fine’ actually translates as, ‘give me more of that right now’. He briefly considers making Taker ask him to do it again but decides against it as while that’s exactly the kind of thing the big man would do to him, he has a feeling it would just send his partner retreating into his shell. So instead, he dips back down and bites again - harder this time, to the point of leaving teethmarks. He’s rewarded with another moan and so he begins to devour Taker’s chest like a starving man, licking and biting his way across it.

By the time he sits back up Taker’s eyes are closed, he’s breathing rapidly and his skin is pink and covered with marks. Also, his dick is as hard as a rock, which Shawn notices when his ass bumps against it and he smirks a little.

“Guess you really liked it, huh?”

Taker’s eyes snap open and Shawn startles as he notices that the other man’s pupils are blown so wide, his eyes look nearly black.

“Enough teasing now.” Taker flexes his arms and stares hungrily at the blonde wriggling on his lap. “You got it like that, so now you can take care of it.”

“All in good time,” Shawn replies, with a cheeky wink as he shuffles backwards. He wriggles his jeans and boxers off and then lays down on his stomach between Taker’s legs in order to be properly on a level with ‘it’. He rests his chin on his hands as he takes some time to admire the delectable treat in front of him, while his partner stares impatiently down the line of his body, glaring at the smug blonde.

Shawn reaches out and wraps his hand around the base, guiding the column towards him before sticking his tongue out and licking steadily from root to tip. He presses his tongue hard against the flesh, feeling it track over the thick vein while at the same time feeling Taker’s thighs tense beneath his hand. He’s sure that he hears a creak from the head of the bed.

In a bid to quell any sense of mutiny from above, he takes the spongy head into his mouth and sucks hard which automatically causes the bigger man to thrust upwards, chasing the pressure. Shawn merely moves with him and continues to tease, curling his tongue around to tickle at the frenulum as a muffled growl is heard from above.

“I told you enough teasing,” Taker’s words come from between gritted teeth. “Take it down your throat.”

“I told you all in good time,” Shawn counters, emboldened by the safety of distance. “I wanna play a little first, and then I’ll slide right down on it.”

“I’ll remember this,” Taker grumbles, flexing his fingers.

Shawn dips his head to hide a smile. “I’m counting on that,” he answers and then noses at Taker’s balls before licking and nipping at the sac while he reaches up with his right hand to slowly jack the now weeping erection. This earns a few sharp intakes of breath as his victim struggles to adjust to the new sensation.

“C’mon, baby…” Taker’s voice is soft now, cajoling. “You know you want to take me all the way…”

Shawn’s head pops back up in almost comic fashion but the smirk on his face is predatory. His expression matches his actions as he crawls slowly back up Taker’s body, making sure to let his muscled abs drag against the bigger man’s dick on the way.

Taker closes his eyes against the insanely erotic sight of his lover advancing upon him and presses his lips together to prevent any kind of sound escaping. He knows that he shouldn’t do what he’s currently considering… That is, using his powers in the bedroom, right now… it wouldn’t be in the spirit. On the other hand, Shawn has now reached his chest and has begun to bite and suck on his left nipple while simultaneously pinching his right. Unnggh.

Decision made.

It takes Shawn nearly a full minute to realise that something is… not wrong, exactly - just different. He’s laying atop the big man having transferred his attentions from nipples to neck and he’s happily nuzzling away there when the familiar, huge arms wrap around him and a kiss is pressed to the side of his head. The big hands slide down his back and then cup his ass and squeeze before-

Hang on a second!

He scrambles to an upright position, to find Taker’s hands very much no longer tied and a quick glance behind him confirms that while his legs are still spread, his ankles are also free. Taker at least has the good grace to look a bit sheepish and he shrugs awkwardly.

“I got impatient?” He offers as Shawn folds his arms and pouts down at him. “The worst torture was not being able to touch you…”

Shawn can’t get mad - he’s still feeling a little high from the dose of power that he was given and so he leans down and kisses Taker gently.

“Well, now you can touch all you want.”

Taker raises a hand to hold the back of Shawn’s head as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into the blonde’s mouth as the smaller man whimpers his submission. As soon as he breaks the kiss, he rolls them in one movement so that their positions are reversed and he stares down into bright blue eyes that seem to be begging him to take charge. He pins the slim wrists to the bed and when he feels Shawn push against the hold he tightens his grip and watches with satisfaction as he shudders.

“Wh.. what are you gonna do with me?” Shawn asks, a tremor in his voice that even if it’s only done for effect, goes straight to Taker’s dick.

Taker doesn’t answer at first - just uses his grip on each wrist to push Shawn’s arms out wide and then dares him with a Look to move as he lets go and untangles the rope from the headboard’s rails. He quickly and efficiently completes the ties and then asks Shawn to confirm that nothing is too tight. Comfort established, Taker drifts the tips of his fingers down the blonde’s arms, watching them tense as he reaches that ticklish spot on each armpit before finally replying.

“I’m going to make you beg, boy toy.”

Shawn can’t prevent the low whine that’s a combination of lust and trepidation. Taker smirks at the noise, leans down and proceeds to visit upon Shawn exactly what was done to him. He flicks his tongue over the heaving chest and then sinks his teeth slowly into one perfect pec. He takes time to appreciate how the flesh feels under his bite, increasing the pressure until he’s sure that imprints will be left behind. Shawn’s head thrashes from side to side as the torrent of pain-pleasure is inflicted upon him.

He teases the blonde’s nipples, the very tip of his tongue dancing insistently over the hard little peaks and then turns his attention to Shawn’s neck. He takes a good handful of his lover’s hair and uses it to hold his head back as he kisses and bites his throat. Shawn mewls quietly as he’s devoured, straining at the ropes just to feel the restraint more fully.

“Please,” He gasps out when Taker finally kneels back up, watching him writhe impatiently.

“Please, what?”

Shawn’s dick twitches at the prompt and he swallows before replying, “Please, sir…”

Taker smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Please, sir… what?”

Shawn bunches his hands into fists, knowing that it will make his biceps flex a little. “I want… Can I come, sir?”

Taker laughs quietly and merely shakes his head ‘no’, before shifting forwards and offering his dick up to Shawn’s lips. “Open up, boy toy; let’s put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Shawn’s eyes close as he takes his lover’s erection into his mouth and caresses the underside with his tongue. Taker thrusts gently, letting out a quiet grunt of his own as Shawn’s teeth softly scrape over his flesh. “Look at me,” he commands and his heart swells just a little when the blue eyes flutter open and meet his own. Taker holds on to the top rail of the headboard and slowly fucks Shawn’s mouth for a while - never pushing too far, just enjoying as much as the position allows.

Eventually he withdraws and stands up, making his way to the foot of the bed, trailing his fingertips along Shawn’s torso and down his leg as he goes. He stands and contemplates the gorgeous creature on the bed, all mussed-up hair and whimpers.

“That looks uncomfortable,” Taker says, with a nod towards Shawn’s straining dick. As if performing on cue, a bead of pre-come leaks out of the dark red slit and dribbles down over the head. “Want me to do something with it?”

Shawn nods rapidly. “Yes, sir - please. God, yes!”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Taker drops forward, catching himself on his hands and then leans over to lick up the drip running down the side of Shawn’s dick. The blonde shouts in surprise and Taker has to clamp his hands down on the smaller man’s legs to prevent him from moving too much. Far from backing off at the extreme reaction, Taker instead captures the weeping head in his mouth and swirls his long tongue around it a couple of times before sucking hard, drawing back off it with a pop.

Shawn’s hips thrust up pathetically despite Taker’s hold and he looks confused that all the bigger man has done is make matters worse. “Wha..?”

“Said I’d do something with it. Not get rid of it.” Shawn looks bereft which just makes Taker smile. “Didn’t I say that I’d remember what you did to me just now?” Somewhat defeated, Shawn nods as he grasps the bars of the headboard. He looks so pitiful that Taker decides to progress things and crosses to the bedside cabinet to retrieve the lube. He very deliberately holds Shawn’s gaze as he squeezes some out on to his hand to warm and then steps up close, tapping the nearest thigh as a signal to bend his knees.

He gently pushes a well-lubed finger into Shawn, working it in and out while the blonde lets out the most adorable breathy little moans.

“Like this part, don’t you?”

“L - like all of it, si-ahh!” Shawn’s response is cut off to a gasp as Taker chooses that moment to add a second finger. “God, that feels so good…” He writhes and pulls against the ropes as Taker seeks out that little bundle of nerves and presses insistently. The pleasurable burn as he’s carefully stretched is all-consuming and he begins to feel as though he’ll come from Taker’s fingers alone.

“You look good all spread out like that,” Taker comments. He twists his hand around and gently scissors his fingers inside Shawn’s grasping heat and the smaller man mewls.

“Please… Fuck me sir, please!”

“You sure you’re ready?”

Shawn nods rapidly in response. “Please!” He says again, thrusting his hips up.

Taker has half a mind to make him wait, but truth be told he’s more than ready himself and so he withdraws his fingers and then slathers more lube on to his dick. As a final tease he bites his way along one of Shawn’s thighs and then kneels on the bed, hooking his hands behind the blonde’s knees. He lines up and then pushes slowly in, gritting his teeth against the squeeze and intense heat until he bottoms out. He takes a few moments to adjust and then draws back, the beginning of a torturously slow fuck.

Shawn stares up at the man above him, relishing the feeling of being completely owned as he’s held in position. Sure, the idea of topping had been fun but nothing can beat this, he’s sure of it.

“Faster…” The words slip out unbidden and result in Taker ceasing to move altogether.

“You giving orders now?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and serious expression.

“N - no, sir. I just… so good…” Shawn bites his bottom lip and does his best to look contrite.

“That’s what I thought,” Taker says and starts to move again. He moves his left hand from behind Shawn’s knee and places it loosely about the smaller man’s throat. “Your job is to lay there and take it. What are you?”

The question takes Shawn by surprise and at first he’s not sure what Taker’s looking for so he blinks, swallows and hopes for the best before replying,

“I’m your boy toy, sir.”

A mildly satisfied smirk turns up the corner of Taker’s mouth and he rewards Shawn with a few rapid thrusts to stab against his prostate before returning to the previous slow pace.

“What else?”

Shawn swallows again, his stomach flip-flopping before he closes his eyes with faux-shame and quietly answers, “A slut, sir.”

Taker gives Shawn’s throat a gentle squeeze. “Whose slut?”

Shawn’s eyes fly open, expression mildly panicked as though he’s desperate not to be misunderstood. “Yours - your slut.”

“Damn right,” Taker mutters and again rewards the admission with more rapid thrusts. “What else?”

Shawn lets out a small whimper as the pace backs off again and then looks Taker right in the eyes as with more intensity he says, “Your whore, sir.”

This time the increased speed is maintained and Taker shifts his hand from the slim throat to Shawn’s chest, plucking hard at his nipples.

“One of these days I’m gonna label you up with those names,” he says darkly. “Get a Sharpie out and spend a while marking ‘em out on you.” Shawn’s chest heaves and Taker knows he’s imagining that act taking place and so he goes on. “We’ll go out for dinner, real civilised, but you and me will both know that under your shirt you’re branded with all those dirty names that you love.”

“Fuck… please, sir. Please let me come?”

“You’ll wait ‘til you’re told, boy toy.” Taker puts his hand back behind Shawn’s knee, using it to anchor him in place for more vigorous treatment. He’s close himself but there’s no way he’s going to admit that so soon.

Beneath him Shawn looks down the line of his body at his dripping cock, the head weeping and red and wonders whether he’s capable of obeying.

Returning vaguely to the evening’s apparent theme Taker adds, “Bet you’d let me fuck you in front of the whole locker room, huh? You’d let everyone know that you’re all mine, to do whatever I want with, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes! God, yes, sir - want everyone to know - know that I’m yours!”

“Good boy.” Taker slows the pace but gives several deep thrusts, aiming them to hit Shawn’s prostate and grunts with satisfaction when his moans of pleasure become shouts. “Might even put a collar on you - nice one with a pretty tag that tells everyone who you belong to.”

Shawn squeezes his eyes shut, a thought fleeting through his brain about whether Taker might let him choose the colour. “Please, sir… please… I don’t know if I can… fuck, please!”

Without missing a beat Taker grabs the lube and gets a dose on to his hand before grasping Shawn’s cock and sliding it up and down. Shawn sobs and clings to the bed rail for dear life as he cries out desperately and Taker can’t help but feel some pity.

“Go ahead, boy toy - come for me.”

With a shout of relief Shawn lets go, his release shooting out in an arc as Taker milks him expertly even when the fluttering of his channel triggers the bigger man’s climax, making his hips stutter and shove hard against the blonde. The two of them are falling together in a bubble of perfect pleasure and as they eventually come down from the peak a silence settles over the room. Breaths slowly return to normal and having slipped out of Shawn, Taker crawls up over him once more and undoes the ties. As soon as his arms are free Shawn wraps them around the broad back and plants a kiss on to Taker’s shoulder.

“Can I choose the colour?”

Taker lifts his head in order to look down at smiling blonde. “Huh?”

“The collar. Can I choose the colour?”

Taker huffs out a laugh and kisses the tip of Shawn’s nose. “Nope - it’ll be black leather. But I’ll let you choose the tag, OK?”

Shawn lets out an honest to goodness giggle and nods happily. “Deal.”

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #wwe #wwf #shawn michaels #hbtaker #taker smut #Shawn Michaels smut #hbtaker smut #fanfic #anon asks #dom!taker #sub!shawn #TTT Tumblr Asks

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esha-isboogara · 2 years

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clouds !!WIP!!!

i have like a million moon knight drafts in my notes i am in love with my boys what can i say. this is one of my fave so it’ll be posted first 🫶🏼

steven can’t help running his mouth as he walks side by side with the new girl on lunch break

“what do those clouds remind you of? they make me think of little fluffy bunnies”.

she looked up thoughtfully. “i’m not sure…they look a lot more like flowers to me”.

steven was taken aback. he was shocked he even got an answer in the first place especially from the gorgeous stranger sat infront of him. he tended to just speak out loud, not in search of any sort of answer.

“hmm…flowers are an interesting choice. very unique i must say”. his eyes lit up. “actually a fun fact about flowers. the largest flower in the world can be up to ten feet tall and three feet wide, and it can weigh up to 24 pounds! It is called the titan arum and it has a distinctive smell of rotting flesh, hence why it is also known as the "corpse flower”. i read that in a book maybe two days ago? pretty interesting huh? it’s amazing how much some old paper can teach you”.

she smiled, nodded and took another bite of her food. “you sure have a lot to say steven grant”.

he felt his heart drop to his stomach at this comment. he felt kind of stupid for thinking for a moment, someone would care about he had to say. “oh my, i’m terribly sorry. silence makes me uncomfortable-well i guess it’s not totally silence since we’re outside. but none the less..”

“steven,honey, relax. it’s not a bad thing. i like hearing what you have to say. every time i’m around you i learn something new”. you always liked steve’s. he was the only one

#moon knight #moon knight fic #my sweet steven #steven grant my beloved #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant fluff #moon knight fluff #marvel writing #marvel x reader #marvel fluff #moon knight x reader #esha writes

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lgckian · 2 years

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* 𝙵𝚄𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝚂 ! 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾.

FUTURE DREAMS SEASON 05, A SOLO— 𝚃𝙻𝙳𝚁 / KIAN IS INTERVIEWED ABOUT THE COMPETITION SO FAR + THE SURPRISE !!

* 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴, 𝚆𝙷𝙸𝙲𝙷 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙾 ??

kian doesn’t even spare a millisecond to think. instead, he beams a smile and backs up his response with confidence. “ honestly, i’m really happy that i ended up with ‘ boss ’ because it’s a little more challenging for me, ” he begins; licking over his lips. “ a song like ‘ rock with you ’ would be easier for me given that the concept, the sound, and the styling, are all more fresh and alternative. that, and well, i really love that song, too !! ” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “ however, ‘ boss ’ is darker in a lot of ways, and it’s really helped me learn to be adaptable — to show a different side of myself and learn how to perform new concepts that are out of my comfort zone !! ” for a moment, kian pauses and wonders if his answers are a bit too polished; curious if he should maybe loosen up some more. “ if i could’ve, though, i feel like an even bigger challenge for me would be performing ‘ bungee, ’ but i don’t know. do you think i’m cute enough to pull it off ?? ” he jests, a toothy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth large enough to reveal his dimples. to add even more adorability to it, he brings his right index finger up to poke at the indentation on his right cheek, then winks.

* 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙿 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚂, 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 ?? 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙰 𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙿 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙸𝙼𝚁𝙿𝙾𝚅𝙴 ??

it’s clear to him that his answer to this question could easily be misconstrued. that, or edited in a manner that makes it seem more pointed and harsh than it is, but despite him being an impulsive speaker, kian collects his thoughts for a moment — worried that he’ll trip over his words and say the wrong thing. he is known for often putting his foot in his mouth. “ for the time were were given to practice, i think everyone did a great job !! ” he begins, pursing his lips together. “ as a leader, i understand how hard it is to get everything organized, and to keep everyone on track, and to make sure everyone’s feeling heard, and good, and all that, so i admire all the leaders for their hard work. it’s definitely not easy; i’m learning that !! ” it’s all honest, and he continues his candor with the not-so-great critique he’d give. “ if i were to choose a group that needs to improve s’more, i might say the ‘ rock with you ’ boys, but it’s just because i really love that song, and in my opinion, if you’re covering someone else’s work, you need to perform it at the same level as them or better than they do, and i don’t think that that group is there yet, but they’re close !! they’ll get there !! ”

* 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙴 ??

this is another query that he feels could be misshapen to fit the narrative the editors and production team have in mind, but he chooses to remain optimistic. putting bad energy into the air with overly negative thinking doesn’t seem necessary, or useful, or conducive to the already tense, competitive environment. “ my first thought was being worried about my group-mates. as their leader, i wanted to know how they were taking the news, first and foremost... ” kian sighs, then shrugs. “ i loved being able to work with them, and it makes me sad that all of our hard work won’t see a large-scale stage like we once thought it would, but the thought of performing a really cool, super gigantic ensemble number with all of the participants is thrilling, especially knowing it’ll be at such an awesome event !! ” a newfound exuberance races through his limbs like lightning, his eyes wide at the thought of the lgc family concert.

“ it’s exciting enough to make me realize that i need to focus more on learning the new song instead of being so upset about the past, and even though we won’t be in a small and specific unit anymore, i’ll still have jiahn, indy, and cameron by my side for ‘ jikjin, ’ and that’s what matters most to me !! ”

#【 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 】 ✦ solo.#【 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 】 ✦ wc / 655.#【 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 】 ✦ future dreams.#lgc:futuredreams

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bajisbabe · 3 years

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# IT’S JUST A CIGARETTE

you need a cigarette but he won’t let you have one | Aki x Reader

warnings: smoking, kissing, Aki and the reader enemies if you squint, but the reader is eager to gain his recognition too, the reader is a lil’ naive, lil’ bit of a brat, lil’ bit of a crybaby, and sucks at smoking.

synopsis: Takes place during the mission in Chapter 15. Aki is your partner on said mission. While the others are away, patrolling the halls, you find that you need something to ease the stress, so you take one of his cigarettes. And he doesn’t like that.

song: none.

photo cred (left to right): 1 2 3

You and Aki have been paired up on a mission. Forced to chase down a devil that won’t stop running. And now, it has led you to a floor in which you’re trapped in some kind of labyrinth. And try as you might, you can’t seem to find an exit.

To make matters worse, you and Aki decided to stay behind while the rest of your unit patrolled the halls. Gradually, it began to feel like hours had passed and none of them had returned. Had you known it would take this long, you would’ve gone with them.

Of course, this situation is weighing heavy on your shoulders. It has been hours—or at least that’s what you think. You can’t be sure now that the clock has stopped. Aki has left the room momentarily to check the hallway, and you notice that he’s left his pack of cigarettes on the table.

So you casually stroll up to the pack and decide to take one, feeling no guilt as you doubt he’ll miss a single cigarette. You bring the cigarette to your lips, peering around to see if you can find what you need to light it. Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t left his lighter behind. And before you can find a lighter, Aki comes rushing in through the door.

And he is quick to ruin your attempt at finding some kind of relief.

“No.” He says, snatching the stick from your fingers and tossing it to the ground. He stomps on the tobacco with his foot, grinding it into pieces and staining the carpet below. “M’not letting you smoke that. It’ll rot your bones—”

“But you smoke it!” You whine, throwing your arms out in exasperation. You were stressed and needed something to take the edge off. Surely, a smoke wouldn’t hurt; even if it was your first. “You smoke all the time, and I—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off coldly, glaring at you from out of the corner of his eye. “If I say you’re not smoking, then you’re not smoking.”

You sit in silence for a moment, pouting some as you glance up at him from under your lashes. He has his back turned, looking out int the hallway to see if he can find your co-workers. You decide to take your chance then, reaching out for the pack of cigarettes and taking another.

Just as you’re about to put it between your lips, he grabs you by the wrist. His grip unyielding as he yanks you closer, “I said, you’re not smoking.” He grits out through bared teeth. “Why won’t you listen to me—?”

“You’re not my dad,” you say childishly. And before you can pull away, his grasp on you tightens to an extent that has your knees buckling. You crumple, hissing in pain as he works the stick from your fingers yet again.

“Don’t argue with me, stupid.” He spat, eyes blank as he took the cigarette from you. He pulls it to his lips, tugging a lighter out of his pocket and lighting the cigarette. He shows no remorse or guilt as you sit there, on the floor, rubbing your wrist as though the pain will go away.

He catches your eye for a brief second, causing you to look away. You despise him. You don’t want anything to do with him. He’s selfish, he’s crude, he’s mean, and he just overall doesn’t treat you very well.

You hate him.

But you have no other option as all the devil hunters have been paired up or assigned to someone else. You and him are a team now, you just wish you weren’t.

“M’supposed to be your partner,” you grumble under your breath. You don’t intend to cry, but you feel a lump forming in your throat and the backs of your eyes are burning. “Yet, you don’t even treat me like an equal.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette, parting his lips to let the smoke swirl and curl in the air before his eyes. And you’re envious. Tobacco must serve him well if he has a habit of smoking. It must make him feel good or something. You want to feel good too.

“I’ll treat you like an equal when you start acting like one,” he says, quietly and calmly. He always seems so nonchalant about things, never feeling strongly about anything unless it concerns his past or the Gun Devil specifically.

Your nose burns as the room begins to fill with lingering smoke and the scent of tobacco. You try not to make a disgusted expression; trying not to prove his point that you don’t need a cigarette. But you can’t help it as a frown appears on your lips.

He notices immediately, an eyebrow raising and a subtle tug of his lips. But it disappears before you can see it. He approaches you, steady and fast. His waist bent as he sank to your level, “Wanna smoke that bad, huh?”

The smell is enough to make you seriously regret your decision. You try to shake your head, or voice that you’ve changed your mind. But he is already grabbing you by the arm and tugging you to your feet.

“Don’t act shy now,” he says, the cigarette wiggling between his lips. One hand clutches your shoulder, the other working the lit cigarette out of his mouth. You pull back but he doesn’t let go, his fingers holding the cigarette and pressing it to your lips.

You jolt, attempting to push him away. He doesn’t budge, pressing harder until you relent. And you have a split second to note that the tip is damp with what you suspect is his saliva.

“Breathe in,” he says.

You turn away, trying to escape the sudden burning of your lungs. He shows no mercy, clutching your shoulder harder and practically shoving the cigarette into your mouth.

“Breathe in,” he repeats. “Do it now. Show me that you’re my equal.”

His equal. So, that’s what this is about. Your lungs burn as you inhale, taking too quick of a breath and doubling over as he removes the cigarette from your mouth. You cough and gag, spitting up as you try to rid of the taste it left behind.

He again shows no remorse or guilt. He simply takes another drag from the cigarette, seemingly uncaring that the same cigarette was just in your mouth. He taps the end of it against the table, letting the ash fall as he watches you cough and sputter.

“You wanna be treated like my equal, right?” He said, eyeing you from the side. He watches your eyes become glossy and wide as you finally catch your breath. Cruel and inconsiderate and he pushes on with the one-sided conversation. “Then take another drag, and don’t cough it all out this time.”

He holds his hand out, the cigarette balanced between his long fingers. His expression is blank as he waits patiently for you to make a move. You can feel your eyes burning just at the thought of having to take another drag. You don’t even want to entertain his cruelty, but you desperately want him to treat you fairly.

… should you…?

You gulp thickly, throat itchy as you slowly reach out. But before you can touch it, he pulls the cigarette away.

“Uh uh,” he says quietly, no emotion present in his voice. “...C’mere.”

You blink back tears of discomfort, still trying your damnedest not to choke over the remnants of smoke left behind from the first drag. You bite your lip, hesitating. But eventually you come to him. And he beckons you closer and closer until you two are only a breath away.

“Here,” he mumbles. “Do as I say, okay?”

You nod, your eyes on him the whole time. And he feels a strange shudder run down his spine. Something about the way you’re looking at him and how obedient you’re being. He likes it.

“Open your mouth”—you part your lips for him, and he gently places the cigarette on the curve of your lower lip—“Now breathe in. Slowly.”

He watches you take another drag, your chest trembling as you fight back the urge to cough. And you succeed in taking in the smoke. A small smile tugs at his lips as he instructs you again. “Hold it…” his eyes rack over your face, focused intently at every little twitch and jerk. “Now let it all out.”

You rush the exhale, coughing and sputtering again but not as much as before. You don’t notice the hint of admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. There’s something he likes about you—something he never noticed before.

He could’ve sworn he disliked you before. He always thought of you as lazy, ignorant, and overly passive. But something had changed in the last couple of seconds. He liked you.

“Have I”—the rasp of your voice draws his attention—“Have I proved myself yet?” Your eyes are watering, one squeezed shut as you gasp and swallow. Smoking clearly wasn’t for you. But you were desperate to please.

Maybe that’s what he liked. How you seeked recognition. Or maybe, how you fought so hard to prove yourself to him when he was no one special. You must respect him then, if you serve to please.

The corner of his lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t, not with you looking at him. So close, mere inches away from your lips brushing his. And you seemed unbothered by the lack of space between you two. He would take advantage of your naviety to social cues later, but now he had something else in mind.

“No,” he said.

“No?” You repeated, having to clear your throat after hearing how ghastly you sounded. “Whaddya mean ‘no?’”

“I mean, no.” He said, shrugging as he walked past you. Only one or two steps away before he turned to you, having to bite back a cruel grin. He liked toying with you like this. It was nice, and it took the stress of the situation away.

Maybe, he would do this more often. You could have his cigarettes in turn, and he could play with you instead. He wouldn’t need the sticks if he had you.

“One more.” He said quietly. “One more drag and I’ll consider you my equal.”

You stood in silence for a moment, unsure of whether or not to believe him. What little you knew of Aki hadn’t brought you to believe that he was a bad guy. He didn’t seem like the type to toy with others, not that you knew of. But you didn’t know much it seems. Foolishly agreeing with a curt nod of the head, “Okay.”

You tried to snatch the cigarette from his hand, far too confident in your ability to do as he asked. But like before, he dodged you. Eyes narrowing as he gestured you to come closer. His fingers curl as you follow his lead.

“This one’ll be different.” He said.

“What?” You muttered. “Well, that’s not fair. Why should this one be different if the other two were—”

“You wanna be my equal or not?”

That shut you up. With a huff, you glanced over at him, waiting for further instruction. His heart stuttered at the sight of your obedience. You were listening to him and without fuss. He found it intriguing.

“C’mere.” He said.

You wanted to argue, to say that you couldn’t get any closer considering you were already as close as could be. But you didn’t bother, knowing he would likely just shut you down and cut you off again.

You pressed closer, your bodies brushing against each other. And for a split second, you thought about how bad of an idea this was. The devil could show up at any moment and you would be unprepared if you kept messing around with Aki. Or even worse, Denji and the others could walk in and you’d never hear the end of it. But you found yourself justifying the action with the simple thought that you could win Aki over like this.

You and him would be a team for real this time. And he would treat you as an equal and you could work so well together. Wouldn’t that make all this worth it?

You decided that you were going to go through with it, no matter what he asked of you. But you hadn’t been expecting it honestly—what he said next.

“I’m gonna take a drag, and then feed it to you, okay?”

You froze, eyes blown wide and brows furrowing. What was this, some kind of joke? You choked, and not on the smoke this time. “Very funny,” you spat. Your defenses coming up quick, you didn’t even think twice before saying it. “I’m not doing that—”

“Don’t you wanna be my equal?”

You stammer and stutter, unsure of what to say as he takes a drag from the cigarette, closing the space between you both quickly. You put your hands up as though to push him away. But you freeze again, body stiff as he grabs you by the jaw. He tilts your chin, working his tongue into your mouth with ease.

And you find yourself clutching onto his arms, as he tugs you closer. The smoke swirling out of the spaces where your lips don’t quite meet. Your lungs burn and your eyes itch, but you don’t pull away. Whether because of your eagerness to please or because of how good his tongue feels against your own, you don’t know.

But when he pulls away, your head is hazy and it’s hard to breathe.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, his large hand placed on the space just below the base of your neck. “Come on. Breathe.”

And you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You can feel the blood rush to your head, your face heating up. Why had you done that, why had you followed him so mindlessly?

What were you thinking? What if he told someone, or if someone found out? Would you be fired? He’s your mission partner, you can’t just—

“So? Now that you’re my equal,” He says suddenly, causing you to flinch. He raises a brow before continuing without much care. “Did that ease your stress or do you need another smoke?”

#chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #chainsaw man imagines #aki drabble #csm x reader #csm drabble #csm x you #cw smoking #cw kissing #csm x y/n #csm headcanons #chainsaw man headcannons #aki headcanons

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

#Jangosoka #time travel #Jango Fett #Ahsoka Tano #slavery tw #drugs tw #Phoenix Posts #I wrote this on a whim a few days ago but didn't get it edited until today #anyway have a nonsense

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angelkurenai · 3 years

Text

Oh baby dear - Chris Evans x Reader

Title: Oh baby dear

Pairing: Chris Evans x Surrogate!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: After a trip that gives the chance to Chris to take a long-overdue break from his job, he comes back home with his mind made up to change his life. And even if it weren’t for the trip itself or meeting you, even though he had no idea if he’d ever see you again, he was determined to not wait any longer. Feeling ready to become a father he starts looking for a surrogate mother, only to end up finding you of all people.

“Son of a guy. You meant it.” brown eyes were wide, and for the first couple seconds no other sound could be heard in the room. It almost felt like the words could echo in the room.

“You're really doing this.” the man's voice was filled with just as much shock as was painted all over his face. At least the woman behind him was more calm, sipping on her drink with an ease that would have been troubling, especially in such a case, if it wasn't known that she had long ago heard the news.

“I wouldn't have brought it up in the first place if I wasn't seriously considering it.” the other man in the room couldn't take his eyes off his friend, trying to gauge his reaction the second it came through. It was bound to be the most honest one, no second thoughts, and he only needed his friends' honest thoughts. Not that, and he was sure of it, the other man would intentionally tell him anything but the truth.

“You- wow.” the shocked expression was still there but there was no mistaking the smile that was slowly but surely appearing on his face “Seems like Evans is finally joining the club, who'd have thought? That's what I call one heck of a year, quickly Scarlett note the date down! It's going to go down in the history books, I tell you. Oh you're in for one hell of a ride, buddy! Wait you knew about this, didn't you?” he turned to the woman but shook his head soon enough “Never mind. You're gonna have to look for a godmother but I do get to be the godfather, right? I really need to start making preparations, nine months are not even remotely enough. I gotta-”

“Take a deep breath and calm down, Robert. That's what you gotta do. Otherwise this kid won't get to meet its one-of-a-kind godfather. And we would never want that to happen, would we?” the woman interrupted his rambling, a teasing smile on her own lips as she noticed Chris himself chuckle.

“Oh goodness forbid that could ever happen.” Chris laughed some more, his chest feeling lighter than it had in the past couple days “And besides that, there has not been a surrogate found just yet. Papers got approved only a day ago, it will take more time than that.”

“You say that as if the second every woman finds out you're on that kind of market, won't volunteer to have your baby. Heck, I know most of them would gladly volunteer to do it the old-fashioned way! You'll see, you will be getting news very soon.” Robert brushed his friend off and got up from his seat, making his way to the mini bar to grab a drink for himself “Which means, I really gotta start preparing everything because a) this is Evans' kid and b) I'm the godfather and it'll get only the best!”

Scarlett couldn't help but laugh, while Chris shook his head with a chuckle, before she added “As you can see, he is going to be more trouble than the kid.” she ignored the look that was shot at her from Robert and kept going “But, speaking of it, I never asked: Did you never really consider adoption?”

“For most of the time that's what I had in mind, yes, but-” he sighed, easing back in his seat “I asked about it and my chances were sadly very low, given my job and everything, not to mention how lengthy of a process it all was. Sebastian was actually the one to suggest it and you know I haven't been able to stop thinking about it ever since. Granted, it is just as hard to find a surrogate who is also willing to be the biological mother but I feel like I have more to hope for this way.”

“You have every reason to be hopeful, I'm sure this will work out just fine. Besides-” she offered her friend a warm smile “There is no other man that I can think of that could be a better father than you. This child will be very lucky.”

“...The part of Robert being the godfather excluded?” Chris added with a smirk, eyeing his friend who narrowed his eyes at him, before both Chris and Scarlett burst into laughter.

“Life isn't perfect, what can you do?” she grinned as she took a sip of her drink.

“I'll try to be the better man, as always, and not comment on any spiteful comments against me. You're just jealous I am going to be the world's best godfather. Anyway, that wasn't what I was going to comment on.” he plopped back on his seat and gave the blue-eyed man a sly smile “Sebastian you say but I'm wondering: was it him or that summer trip to Italy that really prompted you to become a dad? Maybe a certain someone you met there? What was her name...”

“Don't-” it was all he had time to get out, his eyes wide and voice very warning; but there was never any stopping the man when he wanted to speak his mind.

“Ah yes.” Robert grinned widely “(Y/n).”

“What- Who?” Scarlett frowned, tilting her head to the side “How come I haven't heard of her before? I thought you told me everything about Italy.”

“She's nobod-”

“Probably the love of his life. Something like his soulmate. One he talks about a lot in his sleep, hence why I should hold more parties and have you guys over. The info I get is golden. Anyway, think of it as the star-crossed lovers but one where he isn't the Lana Del Rey young and beautiful, you know? Heard she's something like a med or psych graduate or something. So come to think of it all, Italy, soulmates and age difference, this is like another version of Call me by your-”

“And that's it for you. Enough words spoken for one day.” Scarlett said, not hesitating a second to place a hand over the man's mouth who admittedly didn't give up even if his words were only an incoherent mumble after that.

Chris' eyes were wide and there was no mistaking the way he wanted to not talk about it, as if there was some unparalleled sadness that came with the mention of your name, a deep ache and at the same time yearning perhaps because he missed you, just like there was no mistaking the tint of pink that was on his cheeks.

“That's-” he cleared his throat, avoiding looking at his friends in the eyes because he knew how easy it would be to tell that even so many months later the feelings were fresh as much as the day he had to leave, the day he left a part of himself on the airport with you – a part he knew real well he wouldn't get back again, certainly not from any other woman he got to meet. That missing part of him, even if the rest held all the beautiful memories dearly to itself and felt truly blessed, he knew was obvious. It was all on his face that he was missing something, even if he'd gotten so much. And he knew she would see it, it all became so obvious when he thought of you.

He shook his head when he realized he had taken longer than needed to reply “It was way too long ago, I can hardly remember it now. Hell, as if barely anything happened to begin with. She was just-” a lump in his throat, too painful “I made a good friend, a really good friend yes, who helped me see my life in a different way. Helped me make my choice and see the things that really matter. Couldn't keep in contact and yes that's a bit sad but- That's all there is to it, nothing more nothing less.”

Scarlett regarded him for a couple seconds, even as he tried to keep himself busy with getting another drink, before she finally spoke “If you say so.” she nodded her head “At least we now know who we owe this to and who to thank for our family growing, don't we?”

“Then-” Robert's smile was softer, yet also sad, as he raised his glass a bit “Let's drink to that, if not your baby just yet. To (Y/n)?”

“To (Y/n).” Scarlett nodded her head “For helping you make the best decision of your life, wherever she may be now.”

Chris hesitated, the unspoken truth of you not only being the one to help him make the decision but also be part of that decision, part of the family he wanted to build, was ready to break free from his lips but he held it back “Wherever she may be.” he said in a low hoarse voice, raising his glass as well “To (Y/n).”

He had not allowed himself to say your name in a long time and thinking back to it, the effect had been evident not only in his chest, in his heartbeat, but also in his lips, how painfully strange it felt when all he had been doing was think about it for months to no end, down to his throat that closed up with emotion. And he had allowed himself to say it not only so that he would make sure his friends would drop the subject but also because it had been a long time, he felt the need to and he knew that he wouldn't get the chance to do so, not anytime soon for sure.

And yet, only seconds ago, the name had left his lips for the second time in barely a couple days.

His brain could barely keep up with the fact, all the information he had to currently process seemed to make things even harder. Saying your name this time certainly had the same effect, his throat closed up and his heart leaped to his throat, but it felt like it was for an entirely different reason. He blinked several times, trying to make sure that what he was seeing was also true, to make sure that it wasn't wishful thinking and that him holding his breath had not reduced the levels of oxygen to a point where he couldn't even see straight. Truth be told, he felt pretty lightheaded.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n).” he repeated your name for the third time, the third time in only a couple days his mind nearly screamed at him, but it didn't feel the same this time.

“Yes, I would say she seems like one of the most, if not the most, suitable candidate for you case.” the woman behind the desk gave him a warm smile but his brain was still currently stuck on the word 'candidate'.

“I'm sorry. There seems to be some misunderstanding here and I- I don't know whose part it is on, but-” he licked his lips, trying to swallow over the lump in his throat “When you say- What you're trying to say- I'm sorry.” he shook his head and let a couple seconds to pass in silence; he knew she wouldn't ask before him.

Taking a deep breath he decided to speak, even if his voice was hoarse he hoped she could make out the words “Candidate for what?”

The woman frowned a bit but it was gone faster than it could register, as she spoke in a calm voice “Your case. To be not only the surrogate you are looking for. See, her current, and according to her permanent from now on, residence is in New York City and very close to the residence you have listed as your permanent one. It is important, you understand, if we take into consideration that she will be the biological mother of the child. You might want the child to be able to stay in touch with her, and vice versa, so the close proximity does help. Of course that is always up to you, but in most cases we've seen it hap-”

“When did she sign up for this?” he asked, barely able to keep himself to wait for her to finish her sentence.

“Pardon?” she blinked and only then he realized how he might have sounded.

“You're right. I apologize, that came out as wrong.” he cleared his throat again “What I mean is... does she know who I am? That she- she's signing up to be a surrogate for my child.”

“Every surrogate must be informed, of course, of you as you are informed of her. She too must know whose child she will carry, don't you think it's fitting? But if you are uhm-” she hesitated “Concerned about other children, then, you need not worry. It's not my place to say this but it seems like-” she smiled a bit, almost knowingly “That you have already chosen, so I believe it wouldn't really be against any rule to say this. Consider it an extra bit of information.”

'Seems like you have already chosen.' would be a vast understatement. It was like every cell in his body was screaming 'Yes', chanting it over and over again that he was seriously worried he might have projected it somehow. He could barely control the words that came out of his lips anyway. If anything, the second he had come across the file with your name he had been glued to it, his eyes and all of his attention orbiting around the single file as if he was Earth and you were his Sun. Not far from the truth either.

But it also must have shown- No scratch that. He was sure it had shown because he had done no effort to hide it, too stunned and happy and eager and giddy and blessed and so many other things, to try to hide it. And she had clearly noticed.

“So, no, she has not mothered another child. As a matter of fact, Miss (Y/l/n) is doing this for the first time.” the woman leaned back in her chair “She came to us with the belief that there was too much sadness out there and, amongst other things, she decided to do this little one thing to help someone out. To make someone happy. I believe she didn't really have any further expectations out of this, no further plans, other than wanting to do some good. We only informed her of your case and she said she'd like to help, nothing else.” she shrugged softly “For any further reasons behind her choice you could ask her, I suppose. If you do think she could be the right choice to be the mother of your child, then-”

“She is.” he said, maybe a little too fast, but he didn't care. He didn't find a single part of him that cared for how eager he looked at the prospect of you being the mother of his child. Granted, it wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it but it was so much more than he ever thought he'd get, of what he thought he deserved, when he had told you goodbye that summer.

He cleared his throat again, trying to straighten his back and look as formal as he should in the suit he was wearing. He offered her a small smile “She is the right one. I think I've decided. I-” he paused, glancing at the pile of files and therefore other candidates which he had absolutely not even taken a glimpse at and he hoped she wouldn't comment on it “I've thought things through, yes.” because no man could make such a decision so hastily, he knew, and yet he looked like he just had “I'm glad for all the candidates it means a lot but uhm Miss (Y/l/n) seems to be indeed the right one. I think she will do just fine yes.”

“Wonderful.” she smiled more, nodding her head “If it means anything, she seemed happy when she was presented with your case.” oh if only she knew just how much it really meant to him, ask his wildly-beating heart and everyone would know just how much “Now, you understand that while you seem pretty sure and confident with your choice, you will have to give it some more time, more than anything to get in touch with the surrogate herself and discuss through any specific terms you might have. We will be the ones to set a meeting. Of course there are legal issues that need to be taken care of, but you're a lawyer yourself so you probably know that better than anybody else already.”

“Y-yes uh of course, yes, legal terms. Mr Wilson will represent me on the matter of course. But you said-” he folded his hands over his lap and threaded his fingers and it was either that or let his nerves show “Meeting her? Will I get to meet her in person soon or...?”

“That, Mr Evans, is completely up to you, how ready and sure you are, how much time you need and how fast you want things to progress.” she said as if she'd had this conversation many times over and she probably had “It could be within a week, a month, or, if you have no doubts, within three days the soonest possible. So, do you need time to think over-”

“The soonest possible. I'd like-” he nodded his head, straightening his suit's jacket “I think it would be best if I could meet with her the soonest possible. She's just what I was looking for.”

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neonlights92 · 3 years

Text

Night Changes: PART ONE

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone. Single. Solo.

And that’s just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life. Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

A/N: my attempt at a college kookie story? enjooooy

Perhaps it is the universe telling him to stop drinking.

Jeon Jungkook really needs to start listening to the universe, and stop listening to - well to put it bluntly - his penis.

When he wakes up in another stranger’s bed, with a splitting headache, and lipstick marks scattered across his chest, he reckons he should start making better life choices.

The young woman sharing his bed - a girl from the party last night, with legs that go on for miles - rolls over and blinks her eyes open sleepily. She smiles at him.

“Hi Jungkook.”

He racks his brain for her name. Jisoo… Jennie… Lisa… Rose?

He feels bad - he really really does - but what can he do? He was seven tequilas in, when Taehyung convinced him that taking her home would be a good idea.

“Hi…. You.” He finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly.

She blinks again, this time a little more furious. Her eyes narrow after a moment.

“You don’t remember my name, do you?” She purses her stained lips, and Jungkook really does feel awful.

Or maybe that’s just the hangover.

“I uh - maybe. It’s.. Last night’s a little bit grainy for me, to be honest.”

She seems unimpressed, arching a well-groomed brow, “You’re in most of my classes at college, Jeon Jungkook.”

And really that’s when he feels like a complete asshole.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” He tries to place her - he tries so fucking hard - but he knows he doesn’t recognise her, and a worm of guilt starts niggling in the pit of his stomach.

She rolls her eyes and sits up, pressing a hand against her forehead and clicking her tongue, “Whatever. Just get out. Jerk.”

Jungkook feels bad. Seriously, he does.

But he can’t help but share her sentiment.

He scrambles out of bed, fishing around her bedroom floor for the jeans he so carelessly threw off, and the white shirt he’s sure is stained with something he’ll never be able to get rid of. He stumbles into the clothing and turns back towards the nameless woman glaring at him from underneath the covers.

“Do you hate me?”

She rolls her eyes, “Get out of my house, asshole.” He winces. He knows he deserves that.

“See you soon?” She shakes her head, and tugs a hand through her unruly hair, “Hopefully not.” Jungkook bolts out of there like his life depends on it but just as he pulls the front door open, somebody else blocks his way. And suddenly everything in the world shifts, and he feels as though his heart has just split open right down the middle.

Because standing in front of him, holding two bags of groceries, is an absolute angel.

Jungkook thinks - no he’s certain - she’s the most beautiful woman he’s seen in his entire life, and now he understands the songs, and the sonnets and the plays. This is what love at first sight is.

It has to be.

“Oh.” She laughs a little, “Hi.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Hi.”

“You must be Y/N’s guest.”

Y/N. So that’s her name.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Her cheeks flush brightly, “I’m Soomi, Y/N’s roommate.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N’s roommate. I’m Jungkook.”

When she giggles, Jungkook feels like he’s ascended into another plane of existence.

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.” Her eyes lower to his haphazardly buttoned shirt, “Under the circumstances.” Jungkook feels stupid and wonderful all at the same time, and just as he’s about to do something crazy - like ask for her number, or ask her to marry him, even - somebody clears their throat from behind him.

In a moment, Jungkook remembers exactly where he is. His heart drops.

Shit.

Y/N.

“I see you’ve met the asshole I slept with last night,” Y/N raises a brow and clicks her tongue, “You were just on your way out, Jungkook, weren’t you?”

“I… Uh… Yeah. On my way out.” Jungkook knows he has no right to feel dejected - after all he was the one who couldn’t remember Y/N’s name in the first place. But he’s sure Soomi might very well be the love of his life, and he can’t possibly just walk out like this, can he? But when he turns to face Soomi he notices she’s already stepped out of the way for him… And there’s really nothing more he can do.

“Well uh… It was nice to meet you Soomi,” He moves into the hallway and turns to give Y/N a half smile, “See you in class.”

“Like I said.” Y/N pulls a face, “Hopefully not.”

Soomi giggles again and he feels like he’s been shot straight through the heart, “Bye Jungkook!”

The door slams shut in his face, and the moment Jungkook is alone he notices how quickly his heart is racing. Oh god.

He’s in love.

He has to be.

“Jungkook. You’re being ridiculous.” Jungkook’s roommate Namjoon rolls his dark eyes, “She is not the “love of your life.” Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jin.” Jungkook feels like his heart is about to burst. It’s been less than three hours since he met Soomi and all he can think about is the curve of her smile.

“No. I’m serious, Namjoon. C’mon, when have you ever known me to feel this way about a girl?”

Namjoon sets his mug of coffee to one side and clicks his tongue, “Never. I’ve never known you to feel this way about a girl. Which only further proves my point - you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re just made of ice,” He comments bitterly, “I’m serious Namjoon. I’m in love.”

“Listen Jungkook you know I usually love to disagree with Namjoon,” This comes from Jungkook’s other roommate Taehyung who is slung across the couch lazily, “But I’ve got to say… This time he’s got a point. You sound like a crazy person.”

“If you saw her you’d know exactly what I mean.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes so hard Jungkook is surprised he doesn’t lose one to the back of his skull.

“It’s a girl Jungkook. A girl you met for all of twenty seconds.” “She was an angel.”

Taehyung giggles, “You’ve really got it bad huh?” “My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I left her.” Jungkook feels himself deflate slightly, “I need to see her again.” “And how are you going to do that?” Taehyung raises a dark brow, “Surely you don’t have any classes with her, or you would’ve seen her by now.”

“No but… I have classes with Y/N.” Jungkook knows it’s a dumb suggestion.

But he can’t help it. He needs to see Soomi again.

“Y/N as in the girl who you slept with and who’s name you couldn’t remember?” Namjoon scoffs, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to think she’d help you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“No… Maybe not out of the goodness of her heart.” Jungkook agrees, carding a hand through his cherry red locks, “But I can figure out something she wants. Y’know… Mutually beneficial.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your penis,” Taehyung pulls a face.

“Have you not been listening for the past hour Taehyung? I am in love with Soomi - I’m not about to sleep with her roommate...Again. I’m a one woman man.”

Namjoon pushes himself to his feet, “Your only hope is that she’s in love with somebody else. Somebody you could potentially help her seduce.”

Jungkook stands too, “That’s brilliant.” “What about Hoseok?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side, “Everybody’s in love with Hoseok.”

“Do not drag Hoseok into this Jungkook.” Namjoon gives his friend a pointed look, “I’m serious. He’s still heartbroken over Alexa.”

“Alexis,” Taehyung corrects, “Why can’t you ever bother to get the names of our girlfriends right?”

As Namjoon and Taehyung argue over Namjoon’s inability to remember names correctly, Jungkook starts thinking of all the ways he can convince Y/N to help him with Soomi.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Or so he hopes.

Monday morning rolls around and Jungkook spends practically every minute from the moment he leaves his dorm scouring the campus for Y/N. She isn’t in his first class of the day - or even the second. By his third class of the day he starts to wonder if maybe she’d confused him with someone else.

Maybe there’s another Jeon Jungkook on campus who sleeps with attractive women and forgets their name in the morning. Somebody else is stealing his game.

But then - like a vision from heaven - she walks into his political science class as if she isn’t the key to all his happiness. Her eyes flit across the lecture room and when they land on Jungkook she glares. He wants to sink back against himself but he refuses - instead he smiles widely and gestures for her to sit in the empty seat beside him.

She shakes her head as if he’s crazy (and to be honest, he might be) and instead moves towards the very back, sliding into a seat all on her own.

Jungkook grunts. He can’t really blame her.

Still. Does she really have to make things so difficult?

He grabs his books and shuffles over to where Y/N is sat, engrossed by something on her phone. When he looks closer he realises it's one of those pimple popping compilations on Youtube.

Gross.

Jungkook clears his throat and when she looks up her expression morphs from surprise into annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my new friend,” He grins wider, “Y/N.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, “What do you want?”

“To make amends,” Jungkook answers immediately, “I kind of feel like an asshole.” “You should.” She gives him another look of annoyance, “But I’m also not stupid. You’ve got the hots for Soomi, haven’t you?”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. Is he that obvious?

“Everyone has the hots for Soomi,” Y/N waves her hand noncommittally and gives him a once over, “Though not everyone has slept with her roommate.”

Jungkook winces. It’s clear Y/N despises him.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“For forgetting my name or for giving me the worst head of my life?” The insult sears him. Jungkook may be a little bit of a lady’s man but he’s always been determined to please his lovers. He wishes he could remember any part of their tryst (to prove her wrong, more than anything) but once again he draws a blank.

“I can make it up to you.” She raises a brow, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with her - before Y/N’s attention is stolen by the figure that has just walked through the double doors of their lecture room. Jungkook follows her gaze and smirks when he realises who she’s staring at.

“So you have the hots for Park Jimin then?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up to meet his and she seems flustered, “What?”

“You just looked at him like he rearranged the stars to spell your name,” Jungkook’s smirk widens, “You like him.”

Y/N looks ready to smack him across the face.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” When her eyebrows dip into a scowl, Jungkook knows he’s won this battle. He leans towards her, conspiratorially.

“I know Jimin well.”

That’s kind of a bold statement (and kind of a lie.) Jungkook knows of Jimin. He’s on the same dance team as Taehyung and Hoseok - two of Jungkook’s closest friends. That’s enough of an in, isn’t it?

“No you don’t.” She mutters with a roll of her eyes, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“No seriously. He’s best friends with Kim Taehyung,” Again a slight overstatement, but Jungkook doesn’t correct himself, “And Taehyung is like my brother. We grew up together.”

“So what? You help me out with Jimin and I have to do the same for Soomi?” She scoffs, “Soomi and I are best friends. I don’t want to lie to her.” “It wouldn’t be lying.” Jungkook’s voice pinches a little, “It’s just helping fate along.” “Fate?” Y/N’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, “Oh my god. You really do have the hots for her.” “If cupid himself descended to earth and shot me in the ass with an arrow, I’d feel exactly the same for her. Seriously.”

Y/N seems to contemplate the suggestion. Her eyes move to meet the back of Jimin’s head - where he’s sat in the front row - and she sighs heavily. Jungkook tries to read her face.

Is she softening up to the idea?

“Let’s say I agreed to help you.” Her voice is flat, “How can I be sure Soomi won’t just be another notch on your bedpost?”

Jungkook feels his chest constrict, “I resent that. Just because I have more experience than others doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I don’t pursue women with the intentions of fucking them over.”

He won’t admit it but that assumption kind of pisses him off.

When Y/N is quiet a moment longer, Jungkook sighs and tugs a hand through his hair.

“If I do fuck her over…. Which I won’t. I give you full permission to start a rumour that my penis is the size of a cocktail sausage. I won’t even deny it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and Jungkook notices (but doesn’t comment on) a red flush to her neck.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll help you out with Soomi, if you help me out with Jimin.”

Jungkook has to force himself not to punch the air in triumph. Instead he grins - nice and wide - and nudges Y/N playfully, “I think this is the start of a very beautiful friendship.”

She groans.

“I’m already regretting this.”

Jungkook sends Y/N a text message the next morning, bright and early. He doesn’t expect a response from her - he assumes she’s more of a night owl than an early bird - but then his phone pings in response and he has to say he’s a little surprised.

Jungkook: good mornin’ y/n… this is cupid calling

Y/N: y’know.. I knew giving you my number was a bad idea

Jungkook: oh c’mon don’t be like that, now that we’re friends you should definitely start warming up to me

Her reply takes a little longer but Jungkook isn’t worried. Despite what she feels towards him, Y/N thinks her only way to Jimin’s heart is through Jungkook. So she’ll just have to put up with it.

Y/N: I just puked in my mouth at the thought of warming up anywhere close to you. Gross

Jungkook smiles at her response.

Jungkook: I think you like me more than you're willing to admit. Anyway we need to get on with our…. Agreement. Want to come round this evening to discuss arrangements? I’ll even throw in some pizza and beer.

Y/N: I only like hawaiian.

Jungkook: Disgusting. You and Namjoon will get on fantastically then. Alright hawaiian it is.

He sends her his address and when she replies with the puking emoji he laughs despite himself.

Maybe she’s not all that bad.

“Pineapple on pizza is a cardinal sin.” Y/N glares at Jungkook as she tucks into her third slice, “Why are you hating?”

“I just - I don’t get it.”

Y/N had arrived at his apartment earlier that evening with a six pack of beer in what Jungkook had assumed was a begrudging olive branch. The two of them had spent the last hour discussing the delicate intricacies of mario kart, and Jungkook had found himself enjoying her company more and more.

He hated to admit it but she was kind of cool.

Only kind of, though.

“You don’t get it because your taste buds are subpar,” She moves her mouth into a small smile and Jungkook almost gasps at the gesture, “Hawaiian is the only acceptable way to eat pizza. Period.”

“Y’know you look much cuter when you smile,” He quips, watching as she chokes on the last piece of crust, “You should do it more often.” Her eyes narrow into a glare, “I smile at people who bother to remember my name.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that. I’m helping you out with Jimin aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs - and Jungkook is surprised at the warmth in her tone, “At a price. Or are you forgetting I’m setting you up with Soomi?”

“Which reminds me,” He scoots closer towards her, pushing the pizza box out of the way, “What’s our plan of action?” Y/N seems to pause for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously across his face as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. Jungkook doesn’t comment on her sudden shift in behaviour, but he notices it.

Man. Girls are weird.

“I thought maybe… You could come over one night, to watch a movie or whatever. And you could ask Taehyung and Jimin to join, too.”

Jungkook nods emphatically, “That’s a good plan. Something intimate to really plant those seeds of love.”

Y/N laughs again and he notices the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she does so. Weird. Why hasn’t he seen those before? Admittedly… It’s kind of adorable.

“Plant those seeds of love,” She pulls a face, “You really are a wordsmith, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Is it any wonder when my major is English lit?”

“Me too,” She cocks her head to one side, hair falling out from behind her ears, “Makes sense why you’re in most of my classes.”

Jungkook feels kind of (very) guilty as memories of their morning together are brought back.

“I really do feel like shit for not remembering you.” He rubs the back of his neck in that universal boy sign for awkwardness, and clicks his tongue, “I wish I had.”

She shrugs, her eyes darkening a moment as she looks away, “It’s alright. I’m kind of used to it to be honest. Always been more of a... Background kind of person.”

Jungkook clucks, like a mother hen disappointed at her chicks, “Hey don’t say that about yourself.”

When Y/N moves her eyes to meet with his own again, Jungkook notices she doesn’t seem angry or bitter. Just resigned.

“But it’s true,” She licks her bottom lip and smiles almost sadly, “Soomi’s always been the centre of attention everywhere we go. And I’ve known her… Forever, really. So it makes sense. Someone always has to take the back seat. I don’t mind it. Suits me just fine.”

Now Jungkook really feels like an asshole. When she was prickly, it was easy to shove everything under the carpet, and pretend that not knowing her name wasn’t sort of horrible.

But now she was being nice, it made everything a hundred times worse.

“I’m sorry Y/N. Really.”

She meets his gaze again and smiles - this time a little lighter, “Don’t worry about it. Now you know who I am… And you’ll never forget it. Not least because I’m the love of your life’s best friend.”

Jungkook feels kind of awful right now, but he knows that apologising again will probably only annoy her. He tucks his guilt somewhere into the back of his mind and smiles widely, trying to ease the mood.

“Right. And I’m the person who is going to help you snag the man of your dreams!”

She laughs at that, taking a final chug of her beer before setting the empty bottle to one side.

“Park Jimin here I come!”

“You’ve got a one way ticket to Bonetown and Jimin is flying first class!”

She laughs louder, this time snorting, “That makes no sense, but I’ll take it.”

They spend the rest of the evening hanging out in a way that feels strangely familiar, and it’s only when Y/N’s head begins to lull to one side that Jungkook realises it’s past three am. And as he orders her an uber home, and insists she takes the final slice of pizza for the journey home, Jungkook realises that Y/N is more than just kind of cute.

She’s kind of great.

Later on that week, as Jungkook fills Namjoon and Taehyung in on his progress with Y/N, the former seems less than impressed.

“This is only going to end badly.” Namjoon shakes his head, “Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy? Shit like this only ends in tears.”

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer and rolls his eyes, “Have you ever tried to be positive a single day in your life Namjoon? Y/N agreed to help me. It’s progress.”

“But you dragged me into it,” Taehyung seems unimpressed, “And I told you me and Jimin aren’t even that close.”

“Okay so I might have embellished slightly….”

“Slightly? You called us the best of friends,” Taehyung groans at his friend’s stupidity, “I’m not sure Jimin even knows what major I’m taking.”

“This is the most Jungkook problem of all time,” Namjoon guffaws at the situation, “How the hell are you going to sort this out.” “Tae - I just need you to convince Jimin to come on one date.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “I don’t know him that well, Kook. What exactly am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know but you once convinced your mom those nudes of you that got leaked senior year of high school were actually for an art project,” Jungkook pleads with his friend, “I know you can do this.” Taehyung laughs at the memory and pulls a face, “If he says no though, there’s not much else I can do.” “Fine. But at least try.”

Jungkook knows that the universe is working in his favour. It has to be. The moment he laid eyes on Soomi he knew he’d never be happy again without her.

“Alright Kook I’ll try. But I’m not making any promises.” Jungkook grins, “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” He leans further back into the couch and grabs a slice of the pizza Namjoon ordered, surreptitiously picking off the pineapple, “Now what are you going to do about Y/N?” Jungkook raises a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well you described her as a she-demon,” Namjoon snorts, choking on some of his beer, “How exactly is that going to seduce Jimin?” “Remember everyone loves him,” Taehyung tacks on - less than helpfully - his smirk growing, “She’s going to have to get in line.” “Everyone does not love Jimin.”

Taehyung scoffs, “You’re kidding right? I once watched him turn down three girls in one night.”

“Yeah. This girl from my psych class says he’s still heart broken from his ex,” Namjoon seems to be enjoying Jungkook’s predicament a little too much, “Says he won’t even give anyone a chance.”

Jungkook refuses to let his friends’ pessimism get in the way of his elation. He’s one step closer to Soomi, and if Jimin thinks he can be the one to stand in his way he’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it work.” He answers with more confidence than he necessarily feels, “Besides, Y/N’s not that bad. In certain lights she might even be considered kind of… Cute. She’s just a little...brash.”

“Could her brashness towards you be due to the fact you forgot her name after an evening of vigorous love making?” Taehyung gives his friend a knowing look, “I mean that would probably even hurt you Jungkook. And you’re the master of not giving a fuck.”

“I apologised.” He says it like that should fix everything, but in the depths of his heart Jungkook knows forgetting her name was kind of (really) shitty, “Besides. If I really do set her up with Jimin and this all works out perfectly she’ll have a lot to thank me for. Might even forgive me.”

Taehyung laughs and Namjoon pulls a face.

“We live in hope.” “That we do Joon.” Jungkook grins, “That we do.”

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #imagine #jungkookxreader #smut #angst #fuckboy!jungkook #college!jungkook #e2l

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thighs-of-betrayal-blog · 3 years

Note

Hey! Love your writing!

Can I request Hydra or Flagsmashers or bounty hunters or just any bad guys really and they are going to take or kill the reader and Bucky tells them “take me instead”...Do what you want from there haha

The Most Important Thing

A/N: Protective Bucky is everything. That's all I have to say. But, thank you so much for the kind words and request! I hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader

Warnings: angst/fluff, violence, weapons, cursing

From the beginning, you knew the mission was going to go south. Not only was there not a lot of intel available to gather beforehand, but it’s Hydra you were going up against. Hydra was not known to be easily taken down.

“Y/N, what’s your status?” Steve asks, voice coming through your earpiece.

“I’m in the west corridor. Heading towards the panel room now,” you reply. Following orders, you head towards the room to turn off the electricity. The plan was to get in and save the hostages. With the electricity turned off, it’ll be easier to get to them.

“I’m on my way towards you, doll,” Bucky says. You shake your head and chuckle, choosing not to answer. It wasn’t a surprise that Bucky was close behind you. He was like this on every mission you went on, overly protective.

Inside the room, you immediately spot the breaker box and run up towards it.

“I’m at the box,” you announce. “And…” You flip the switch, causing the entire building to go dark. “Bingo.”

“Great work, kid,” Tony says. You hated being called “kid” and Tony knew it; he only called you it to annoy you. Rolling your eyes, you navigate through the now dark room, on your way to help with retrieving the hostages.

Bumping into a body, you are about to scream, before a hand clamps down on your mouth.

“Shh, doll, it’s just me,” Bucky says.

After he removes his hand, you punch him in the arm.

“Ow, what is that for?” he asks.

“For scaring the shit out of me,” you say seriously. “I thought you were Hydra.”

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t think that one through.”

“Ya think?”

Grabbing his hand, you pull him out of the room.

“Alright, guys. Finish up your lovers’ quarrel and get your asses up here,” Tony says.

“We’re on our way,” you reply.

As the both of you head down the hallway and turn the corner, you’re stopped by four Hydra soldiers.

“Drop your weapons and put your hands up!” they yell.

Bucky grabs your arm and pulls you behind him, using his body to protect yours.

“I said drop your weapons!” the one soldier yells again.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky says. He turns to you and motions for you to lower your gun to the floor, as he does the same with his. You both raise your hands in surrender.

Two of the soldiers grab Bucky, yanking him down the hall, while the remaining two grab you. Your earpiece is pulled out of your ear, cutting off all communication with the others.

Bucky looks back at you, panic in his eyes. “I love you,” he mouths to you.

“I love you too,” you mouth back.

Bucky turns his head back around and while walking you stare at his metal arm, watching the one soldier hold it back in captivity, ensuring it can’t be used.

---

The soldiers lead you to a secluded room, where you’re both chained up against the wall. Another soldier walks into the room and introduces himself as Leon. “What a pleasant surprise this is,” he says.

Leon walks up to Bucky, running his fingers down his metal arm. “The Winter Soldier,” he mutters. He looks over at you. “And, what do we have here?”

Stepping in front of you, he looks you over.

“Leave them out of this,” Bucky says.

“Oh?” Leon says. “The Winter Soldier cares about someone? How interesting.”

“He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore,” you spit out.

Bucky pulls against the restraints. “You leave them the fuck alone!” he yells.

Leon releases your chains before instantly putting handcuffs over your wrists. “I don’t think I will,” he says, as he pulls you towards the door.

“No!” Bucky yells. “Take me! Take me instead!” He struggles to get his hands out of the chains. “It’s me you want anyway! I’ll do anything you want! Just please, let them go.”

Tears build up in your eyes. “Buck…”

Bucky looks at you, eyes wide. “Y/N, I won’t let them take you.” He yanks against the chains again, causing him to jolt forward before falling backwards against the wall. “You’re not going to take them! Take me!”

Leon kicks the door open, dragging you with him. “I’d say I’m sorry, but that would be…”

A blast knocks into Leon, shooting him onto the floor.

“A lie? Is that what you were going to say? How mediocre,” Tony says, as he shoots another blast into him.

Arms wrap around you and you turn to see Wanda. She steadies you before bending down to break the handcuffs off your wrists.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Better now that you’re here,” you reply. You stand up and brush your hands on your pants. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Y/N. You know I’ve always got your back.” Wanda looks behind you and nods. “Looks like my cue to leave.”

Turning around, you see Bucky walking towards you.

“Talk later?” you ask Wanda.

She grabs your hands. “Of course.”

While watching her walk away, you feel a pair of arms slip around your waist. Bucky lays his head in the crook of your neck and sighs.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, doll.”

You turn around and fall into his chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“Please,” you say. “Don’t you ever sacrifice yourself for me. You’ve been through enough.”

Bucky tilts your head up. “I’d do anything to keep you safe. Even if that means being a weapon for Hydra again.” He leans in, face inches away from yours. “Making sure you’re healthy and happy is the most important thing to me. You are and always will be, my number one priority.”

“You will never be a weapon ever again. I won’t allow it.” You close the gap between the two of you and kiss him. “We’ll keep each other safe.”

Smiling, Bucky leans in again to give you a quick kiss before grabbing your hand.

“C’mon, let’s get to the quinjet and help with those hostages. Then afterwards, when we get back, maybe we can have a movie night? With pizza?”

“That sounds perfect. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say, smiling back at him.

“It’s like I’m watching a soap opera,” Tony says, watching you and Bucky from a few feet away.

Wanda slaps his back.

“Ow,” he says.

Wanda shakes her head. “Let’s go, old man.”

All of you make your way to the quinjet, where you sit with Bucky in the back, head resting on his shoulder the whole ride home.

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gamergirl929 · 3 years

Text

They Hate Each Other (No They Don't, Not Really) (Alex Morgan x Reader)

All would agree, your arch nemesis showing up absolutely anywhere you were would ruin your day, but that’s EXACTLY what happens to one veteran USWNT player, Alex Morgan, when she runs into her arch nemesis at the USWNT camp.

Alex Morgan’s eyes widen, pure rage running through her when you strut towards her, bag in hand.

“You shouldn’t look at your soon to be teammate like that Morgan, frowning gives you wrinkles.” You wink, the forward’s lip curling in a snarl.

“What’s she doing-

“I DON’T KNOW.” Alex yells, nearly making Kelley jump out of her skin.

Alex was absolutely livid, seeing you at the USWNT camp had been a surprise, and not a wonderful one.

The second Alex spotted Vlatko Andonovski she advances angrily on the man, who’s looking at her as if he expected this reaction.

“Alex-

“What the hell!? We’re you going to tell me? To tell US?!” She yells, louder than intended, but you’d riled her up in way no one had before.

“I didn’t know you were the coach this year Morgan, if I did, I would’ve stayed home.” You snark, your smirk making Alex growl.

“Shut UP!” She yells and you laugh.

“We should room together Morgan, I think we’d make GREAT roommates.”

Alex growls, mumbling under her breath.

“It’ll be easier to smother you in your sleep then.”

You smirk cockily.

“Kinky.”

Alex snarls angrily.

“Listen.” Vlatko holds a hand up, glancing your way before turning back to Alex.

“Y/N is one of the best players in the world, having her at our camp, and possibly on the team brings our team up to the next level. I saw a chance, and I took it.”

Alex shakes her head.

“But-

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry Alex.” He pats her on her shoulder before turning away and walking off.

Alex meanwhile is standing stock still, her mouth agape.

Her biggest rival had just joined the USWNT camp, and would PROBABLY join the USWNT.

She growls.

“Fuck.”

***

If you were being honest, you absolutely hated Alex Patricia Morgan, the woman knew how to push your buttons and she did so whenever she could.

You’d met during college, of course, on rival teams, ultimately where your rivalry began, a rivalry that seeped into your NWNT career, and when Alex came overseas, donning the Tottenham Hotspur’s jersey, you were there, wearing a red and white Arsenal’s jersey.

Needless to say, when the two teams squared up, your rivalry continued.

Alex hated you just as much as you hated her, making the competition between the two of you even more fierce.

It surprised literally EVERYONE that the two of you hadn’t killed one another yet.

At this current moment in time though, you were currently literal moments from killing one another.

“I didn’t mean to step on your cleats Morgan, just go to the store when practice is over and buy another pair.” You snort.

Alex lets out a feral growl.

“You are SO fucking infuriating!”

You blow the woman a kiss, which only infuriates her more, the woman stomping her foot before she trudges off.

“Fuck off!” She yells over her shoulder and you scoff.

“You too!”

***

Vlatko rubs the back of his neck watching as you and Alex hurl insults at one another. He’d known about your rivalry, but he wasn’t aware that it went to the extent of actual hatred.

Alex was absolutely fuming as you walked past her, moments after sinking a goal in her team’s net.

“Don’t look so mad Morgan, we both know I’m better than you could ever dream of being.”

Alex stomps passed you, the woman’s shoulder slamming into yours.

You flip around, eyes full of absolute fire.

“Body check me again Morgan, I fucking dare you.” You growl in her face, so much so that your nose brushes hers.

Alex pushes you backwards.

“Nobody tells me what to do on MY FIELD.”

You snicker.

“Your field?” You throw your head back, barking out a laugh, though when you stop laughing you lean towards her, smirking.

“Let’s see how much longer this field is yours, you numpty.”

Alex growls as you walk towards the nearby benches with a confident strut.

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”

***

“I don’t get why you hate Y/N so much ANYWAY, she seems nice...”

The second the words leave Emily’s mouth she feels as if she’s about to burst into flames from the absolute fiery glare she’s getting from Alex.

Kelley immediately slips in between Alex and Emily, her hands held up in surrender.

“Jan, please don’t kill Emily, who else will carry on the Frat Daddy legacy!?” The defender asks, pleading for her child’s life.

Alex snarls, stomping away from the two of them, all the while mumbling angrily under her breath.

“Y/N NICE?! How could ANYONE put her and NICE in the same fucking sentence???” She snarls, deciding that some time on the field would clear her mind.

***

Though what Alex DOESN’T expect when she gets to the field is to find you there, the field between you and the goal littered with soccer balls.

Alex ducks down when you turn her way, an aggravated snarl leaving you.

“BLOODY HELL!” You yell, Alex’s eyes widening at the thickness of your accent.

She peeks out from her hiding place, watching as you drop down onto the pitch, sitting in a cross-legged position.

Alex frowns when she sees your face is buried in your hands.

“Fuck that shite.” You sigh as you move to your feet, wiping the sweat from your brow with your bare arm.

Alex isn’t sure what possess her to stay for so long, but nearly an hour later you’re still on field, sinking ball after ball in different angles, it’s when you miss one that you angrily snarl.

“Nothing but a right, cock-up!”

Alex shakes her head, her brows furrowed.

Why were you so hard on yourself after you’d done so well within an hours time?

Alex’s eyes widen when she sees you glance her way your brows furrowed.

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You shout, standing stock still.

When no one replies, you give your head a rapid shake, unaware that Alex is currently sprinting away from the scene.

“Must’ve imagined it.”

***

Alex had seen how hard you were on yourself that day, but that in no way quelled her anger entirely considering you were at each other's throats after the fact.

“You did that on fucking PURPOSE!” Alex growls as she’s helped to the bench, her leg injured from an accidental cleating by yours truly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you jog over to the bench.

“I didn’t!” You growl as you drop to your knees in front of her, the forward’s eyes wide and brows furrowed when you gently slip her cleat off her foot, along with her sock, now noticing the hints of blood dotting the fabric.

“Shite.” You mumble, swiping the nearby first aid kit from the team’s doctor.

“Yeah, I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t make you purposely bleed.”

Alex watches in something akin to disbelief when you begin to clean her injury with a delicacy that she hadn’t seen from you in, well, ever.

Your touch sent a jolt from her leg through her entire body, a warmth spreading throughout her from a delicate brush of your fingertips.

Moments after you finished dressing her wound, you glance up at her.

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less.”

You move to your feet, sending the woman a glare before you head back on field.

“Don’t use your leg as an excuse for the shite way you’re playing, you know it’s just because I’m better than you.” You smirk cockily.

Alex’s eyes narrow.

“Better my ass.”

***

The first person who finds out about you making the USWNT, well, besides yourself, is Alex Morgan, considering you actively sought her out, a cocky smirk on your face.

Alex sighs in annoyance.

“I know you made the fucking team, go away.”

You grin grabbing an apple from the table in front of you and take a bite, the apple crunching loudly.

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be actually. Isn’t this where the USWNT members sit?” You grin, earning an eye roll from the forward.

“Yes, but your seat is over there.” She nods towards the trash and you laugh, sucking a piece of apple down your windpipe, garnering no help from the woman beside you.

“Blimey, let one of the ONLY reasons you’ll be winning any and all major tournaments this year die, real dull mate.”

Alex growls.

“I’m not, ‘dull mate.’” She says, doing her best to mock you and your accent.

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my god, that was rank awful. That actually hurt to hear. My nan is rolling over in her grave right now.”

Alex blows a raspberry at you.

“Real mature love, real mature.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” She growls.

“I’m busy bothering you right now.”

Alex snarls, jumping to her feet and storming off.

“See you later teammate!” You yell, waving over exaggeratedly at her as she marches off.

***

Where your feelings for Alex, at least off the field, were based more off of annoying her until the point of insanity, your feelings for her on the field was a competitive hate, something Alex mirrored, but her hate for you off field?

Well, it was complete unbridled hate.

“Seriously, if you’re going to play like that, then stay off the field, England needs you more than we do.” Alex shakes her head and you smirk.

“You over shot it! Not me!” You shake your head in disbelief.

Alex lets out a mock laugh.

“Maybe you should’ve actually ran faster.”

You throw your head back with a groan.

“If I was in your position, we would’ve scored.”

Alex stomps her foot, the look in her eyes something you’d seen before, but never to this extent.

“You’re not made for the USWNT and you’re NOT made for soccer at a national level, you sucked in college, and you still fucking suck now.”

The field goes silent, everyone turning to look at Alex, their eyes wide.

Meanwhile, Alex’s blue orbs are locked on your face, a face that holds literally no hints of the cockiness it TYPICALLY holds, instead, it holds what she reads, as a hint of sadness.

You clear your throat, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you nod.

“Th-Thanks.”

Alex reaches out to you as you turn your back on her, the woman frowning as you make your way towards the bench, grabbing your things hastily before you head towards the bus.

Alex’s head hangs in shame, the looks of her teammates burning holes in her back.

“Alex-” Megan starts, only to be cut off by the forward moments later.

“I KNOW! OKAY!?” She yells, sending the rest of the USNWT a look.

Her shoulders hunch.

“I know.”

***

The second she steps on the bus you turn away, unwilling to look at the woman as she walks past, though, unfortunately for you, she doesn’t walk past, she instead sits right beside you.

“Are you lost?” You ask, voice rough.

Alex shakes her head.

“No, I’m not.”

You move to your feet.

“Well, if you’re not lost, then I’ll get lost.” You say, frowning when Alex doesn’t move so you can get out of your seat.

“Move Morgan.” You growl angrily.

She shakes her head.

“No can do, Y/L/N.” She shrugs and you growl, about to climb over the seat, but the look on Alex’s face stops you, causing you to flop back down into your seat in annoyance.

“Why are you holding me against my will Morgan?” You huff.

She sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry, I took it too far.”

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowing as you lean back, away from the woman.

“There’s no WAY that you’re Alex Morgan, she never apologizes, especially not to ME.” You bark out a laugh and she shakes her head.

“As much as it PAINS me to do so, I shouldn’t have said what I said on field, you do deserve to be on the team, and you don’t suck... That much.” She shrugs, and you can’t help but smile.

You begin chuckling, the woman looking at you in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Yeah, you still suck.”

Alex growls.

“Fuck you Y/N.”

You grin.

“Right back at you love, right back at you.”

***

The lineup for the first match against Portugal was rather surprising, you weren’t expecting to start, not when players like Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press were on the team, but you were named to the starting lineup.

You wouldn’t show your surprise to the team, but you’d been sure to ask Vlatko multiple times if the lineup was correct, and he of course, told you repeatedly it was.

You did your best to not look nervous when standing in the tunnel, a number of Portugal’s players were glancing your way worriedly, everyone knew who you were, and everyone knew what you could do.

The crowd cheered as the USWNT and Portugal made their way onto the field, everyone excited to see the new editions to the USWNT and what they had to offer.

You completely blank out the National Anthem, standing stock still your eyes darting around the sold-out crowd.

It isn’t until you’re taking your place on field that you snap back out of it, your eyes unconsciously darting to the woman with a big 13 on her back.

You smirk.

“Show time.”

***

You can feel it, the moment you’re about to make your first goal with the USWNT, your entire body shaking with excitement.

Alex can’t help but smile when you expertly slip the ball passed the Portugal player who’s on you and fire it in on goal, the ball with a bit of a spin on it.

You still, the ball looking like an overshot, but thanks to the spin on it, gravity pulls it downwards, passed the goalkeeper’s fingertips and into the back of the net.

You throw a fist in the air with a massive grin, a grin Alex mirrors when she walks over to you, patting your back, her reaction tame considering Tobin was currently hanging off your back, along with Kelley and Emily.

Alex shrugs.

“Lucky shot.”

You snort.

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Alex snorts even louder.

“I mean, I DID assist.”

You roll your eyes.

“Didn’t need your assistance.” You smirk, the forward’s eyes narrowing as she sends you a glare, receiving only a wink in return.

Alex growls.

“Still so infuriating.”

***

By the end of the first half the score is 2-0, and by the end of the game, it’s 4-0, one of those goals being yours, and another belonging to Alex Morgan.

It’s when you’re heading to the bus that you turn to Alex with a smirk.

“Had to copy me, huh Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“Copy? You got a goal before me, big deal.”

Tobin shakes her head as she takes a seat beside Christen on the bus.

“Do they argue about everything?” She asks and Christen giggles, watching as you and Alex bicker, though instead of sitting far away from one another, Alex sits right behind you.

“I mean, I guess that’s how they say they’re into each other.”

An incredibly loud laugh makes Christen jump, the woman turning to her bus buddy who is looking at her in shock.

“They literally want each other dead.”

Christen rolls her eyes.

“No, they don’t, they like each other.”

Ali turns around in her seat towards Christen and Tobin.

“I mean, it’s obvious.”

Ashlyn scoffs.

“Obvious that Y/N would poison Alex’s food if she could.”

Kelley, who comes in from out of nowhere snorts.

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve hated each other since college, Jan talks about it all the time.”

Christen and Ali share a glance, the two shaking their heads.

“They’re totally into each other.”

“Oh, I know.”

***

“Wait, there HAS to be a mistake...” You say as Vlatko turns to you, Alex’s eyes wide and filled with absolute horror.

“No, the two of you are rooming together. It seems.” He shrugs, knowing full well that it was he who decided the two of you would room together, and it wouldn’t be a onetime deal either.

The two of you glance at one another, eyes narrowed.

“I get the shower first.” Alex mumbles and you smirk, swiping the key from Vlatko before sprinting to the elevators.

“The FUCK you do!” You yell, Alex sprinting after you.

“Y/N YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Everyone watches as Alex chases after you, their eyes wide.

Tobin turns towards Christen.

“You call THAT being into each other?”

Christen turns towards Ali, the two yet again, shaking their heads.

“Oblivious.”

***

“DON’T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!” Alex yells, smacking the bathroom door and you growl.

The door swings open moments later and you walk out, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers.

“Morgan, we’re in a hotel, that’s impossible.”

Alex watches as you head to your suitcase, riffling through its contents.

She can’t help but stare, the wide expanse of flesh and muscle usually hidden beneath your uniform now on display for her to see.

You turn around, holding a wad of clothes, your brows furrowed.

Alex jumps when you reach out, poking her in the forehead with your index finger.

“Hey!” She growls, slapping at your hand.

“I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”

Alex’s eyes rake down your front, stopping on your very prominent abdominal muscles.

You turn away and step in the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind you.

Alex stands there for a moment before she glances around.

“Yeah.”

***

Alex had TRIED to tell herself that she was in NO way ogling you like a horny frat boy, but when you walked out wearing basically the same thing to sleep in, she knew she was, for a fact, ogling you like a horny frat boy.

She’d made a quick retreat to the bathroom moments after, but she couldn’t avoid you forever.

You meanwhile were completely sprawled out in bed, Nintendo Switch in hand. You briefly wondered if Alex had drowned, but when the bathroom door swung open you sighed.

“I thought you might’ve drowned, I was going to see if you wanted to smash.”

Alex stops mid-stride, dropping her clothes on the floor.

“WHAT!?”

Your brows furrow as you hold your Nintendo Switch up.

“Smash...?”

Alex clears her throat, her cheeks blood red.

“O-O-Oh...”

You snort.

“Christ Morgan.” You shake your head and she rolls her eyes, stomping to her bed.

“What?”

You shrug.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, at least now I know you want in my trousers.” You smirk and she snarls, a pillow flying from her bed and smacking you right in the face.

“Fuck you.”

“SEE!” You grin, throwing the pillow back on her bed.

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

You shake your head.

“Get over here and we’ll smash.” You hold a controller out to her and her eyes narrow.

“Sure, you’re okay with losing?” She asks cockily and you grin.

“Are you?”

Alex scoffs.

“I’d never lose to you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

***

“Why do you look so tired?” Kelley asks Alex the following day and the forward yawns.

“Y/N and I were Smashing.”

Kelley’s brown orbs widen, as do Alex’s the forward punching her friend in the arm.

“Super Smash Brothers you bitch.”

Kelley hums.

“I mean I could see you and Y/N hate fucking each other.” She shrugs and Alex’s cheeks flush bright red.

Alex punches Kelley in the shoulder, the defender groaning.

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

Alex turns her attention towards her breakfast and away from the pouting defender beside her.

Though you were absolutely irritating and Alex thought about killing you a total of 48 times last night, she enjoyed spending time with you.

You yawn as you make your way towards the table, sitting across from Alex.

“You have to get used to losing if we keep smashing every night.”

Suddenly a plate falls to the table, hard, the sound making everyone jump.

Tobin is standing beside you, her eyes wide, Ashlyn meanwhile is smirking as she sits down beside you.

“Who’s smashing?” Megan asks and you roll your eyes.

“Smash Bros.” You shake your head and Megan rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Boring, there’s only one Smash that’s actually interesting.”

Tobin gasps dramatically, her hand on her heart.

“I beg to DIFFER.”

You shake your head, watching with amusement as the two bicker, leading to Ashlyn chiming in.

You glance at Alex.

“You just HAD to tell everyone we Smashed.”

Alex rolls her eyes.

“Of course, I did, because I won.”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you sip your orange juice.

“Like one time, Morgan.”

Alex growls.

“WELL, WE’LL SMASH AGAIN TONIGHT!” She yells, every single one of her teammates turning her way.

Alex clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Are we talking about the SAME Smashing?” You smirk and Alex sends you a glare.

“SHUT UP.”

***

Alex rubs her temples angrily.

Playing in the rain had always been a hassle, but playing in the rain against SWEDEN was a nightmare.

Sweden was the USWNT’s rival and the fact that the USWNT were currently down by 2 of COURSE, didn’t sit well with Alex Morgan.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half and Alex sighs in relief, she needed a break, not only for her tired legs, but to quell the irritation inside of her.

Someone bumps into her and she snarls.

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going.” She turns towards, who she now realizes is you, you who looks as equally pissed as she does.

“Listen Morgan, I’m seriously not in the fucking mood, I’m just as mad as you are, so don’t start your shit with me.” You snap, your USWNT teammates stopping to stare at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Fuck you.” She snarls turning to walk away and you sneer.

“Yeah? We’ll fuck you too!” You yell before you follow after her and into the locker room.

“Why are you following me!?” She yells and you scoff.

“WE SHARE A LOCKER ROOM.” You deadpan, flopping down on the nearby bench.

“Well, you can still sit away from me.” Alex gripes and you shake your head.

“I’m not moving Morgan.”

Alex, being purposely annoying sits down behind you, rather closely in fact.

“Well, I’m not either.” She mumbles and you snort.

“Mature Morgan, REALLLL mature.”

***

By the time the game ended the USWNT had a comeback, winning the game 3-2, much to Alex’s elation, as well as your own.

That elation didn’t erase the fact that the two of you had argued during the match, the two of you cold, wet and incredibly angry.

Alex is pulled out of her trance when the bathroom’s door in your and her hotel room swings open, a rush of steam flowing out as you leave the room.

Alex glances away from you, not only because you’re, yet again, barely dressed, but also because she’s ashamed of her behavior earlier that day.

You flop onto your bed without even looking at her, choosing to fall face down against its plush surface.

You remain silent, the air within the room incredibly heavy.

The silence is broken by Alex’s soft whisper.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”

You remain silent as you roll over, your hand slipping into your suitcase.

You search blindly until you find what you’re looking for, holding the Nintendo Switch out to Alex.

“Smash?” You ask and Alex smiles.

“Smash.”

Alex flops on the bed beside you, taking the controller she’d used a few nights prior.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m sorry too.”

Alex’s brows arch, the woman unable to bite back a smile, something that makes you send her a glare.

“Enough of this shite, ready to lose Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.

“I should be asking you that.”

***

You grimace as the body beside you shifts, a pair of arms wrapping tightly around you from behind.

“I’m not the little spoon.” You growl, attempting to wiggle free from the hold you’re in.

“Get over it.”

Your eyes flash open, as do Alex’s the two of you abruptly sitting up when you realize you’d in fact fallen asleep together the night before.

You turn to face her, the two of you looking at one another in absolute horror.

“I was just-

Alex leaps out of bed, the woman making a beeline towards the bathroom the two of you share.

You nod, your cheeks flushed.

“Ye-Yeah.”

You clear your throat, turning away from the bathroom to instead look at the alarm clock beside you.

3:13 AM

You grumble, annoyed at the fact that you’d woken up so early.

If you were honest with yourself, you were also annoyed that Alex wasn’t currently beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood for honesty at the moment.

You flop backwards, rolling towards the center of the bed where it just so happens Alex had been laying moments later, the smell of the woman’s perfume left behind on the sheets.

You attempt to resist temptation, but find yourself failing when you bury your nose into the sweet-smelling fabric, the smell clouding your senses.

The bathroom door creaks open sometime after, the sweet-smelling fabric lulling you to the cusp of sleep, as you fight your eyelids you watch as Alex tiptoes to her bed, the woman glancing over her shoulder at your ‘sleeping’ form with a smile before she makes her way to her own bed.

She falls down onto the cold sheets with a frown, thoughts of what the following day would bring running through her head.

***

Much to everyone’s surprise at practice the following day, neither you nor Alex had been at one another’s throats, in fact, you’d been ignoring each other as if the other had contracted the Black Death.

Even when you slip a ball passed Alex and into goal, you don’t gloat, instead choosing to just jog away as if you hadn’t scored.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Kelley asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares inquisitively at Alex.

“What?” Alex asks dumbly.

Kelley scoffs.

“THAT, Y/N didn’t even gloat! She didn’t rub in your face that she scored passed you!” Kelley points at you and Alex shrugs.

“Beats me.”

Kelley’s eyes narrow even further as Alex walks away, the defender’s eyes burning holes in her back.

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT’S GOING ON JAN!” She yells across field, drawing the attention of each and every one of her teammates, including you.

You clear your throat, your cheeks flushing when you realize Alex’s blue orbs are on you.

The two of you abruptly turn away from one another, thoughts of the events that transpired that morning running through your heads.

You clear your throat as you rub the back of your neck, your cheeks flushing further when you think about Alex’s arms around you, and how much you’d liked it.

***

That night was even worse considering the two of you were still rooming together.

Alex refused to look in your direction and you refused to look in hers, making the situation even more awkward.

“Look.” Alex started, causing you to turn her way, when your eyes locked, she fell silent.

“This was easier when you weren’t looking at me.”

Your eyes widen momentarily before you turn away.

“Alright Morgan, go ahead.”

Alex huffs.

“I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to, ummm...”

You chance a glance her way, smirking when you see how flushed her cheeks are.

“What?” Alex asks when she sees the smirk on your face and you shrug.

“Nothing.”

You fish your Nintendo Switch out of your bag and nod towards your bed.

“Let’s go Morgan, or are you too shy to Smash now?” You ask, a brow arched and Alex scoffs.

“Not a chance.”

***

It’s an hour into playing that it happens, though neither you, or Alex realized it was happening until your shoulders brush.

You both stiffen, your eyes widening, though neither of you dare look at the other.

Something else neither of you do though is scoot away from one another, your shoulders still brushing.

You clear your throat, your body untensing as you settle back against the pillow behind you, the feel of Alex’s blue orbs boring into you making goosebumps sprout on your flesh.

“Come on Morgan, head in the game.”

You miss the tiny smile that adorns Alex’s face as she focuses on the screen before you, though what you don’t miss is the brush of her leg against yours.

The inevitable of course happens when you feel Alex’s head rest on your shoulder, the woman fighting her fluttering eyelids.

You glance at the nearly unconscious woman on your shoulder and snort.

“Lay down Morgan.” You smile, the forward grumbling.

“But I don’t want to get up...”

You roll your eyes, taking her controller and laying your Switch on the table between your beds.

You wiggle until your head hits the pillow behind you, which results in Alex’s head falling onto your chest, the forward’s eyes widening.

You remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move, when she cuddles into your side, your cheeks flush, that flush spreading to the tips of your ears.

“Is this, okay?” Alex asks in a hushed whisper and you smile.

“It is.”

***

The two of you sharing a bed becomes a regular thing, so much so that Alex’s bed remains untouched 95% of the time, usually housing your luggage instead of Alex like it should be.

The rivalry you had on the field soon disappeared, something that came as a shock to literally everyone, even Vlatko.

You knew what you felt for Alex wasn’t friendship, it went well beyond that, your hatred for her turned into something you never ever expect, and that was love.

You loved Alex Morgan and there was no going back.

***

You were pissed, absolutely pissed, and how could you not be when no fouls were being called against Canada?

Fouls that were currently being directed at #13, Alex Morgan.

You snarl when yet again, Alex is taken down in the box, but YET AGAIN, the foul isn’t called.

“COME ON!” You yell, stomping towards the downed forward whose hand you take before you pull her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly as you scan the forward who nods.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles and you nod.

“She better call the fouls or I swear-

The whistle blows and you growl.

“Nothing but a right bitch that one.” You mumble before jogging away, missing the snort that Alex lets out, the forward shaking her head.

Her cheeks flush from more than exertion when she realizes your anger that’s directed at the ref is because the fouls have been directed solely on her, considering she was the only one being fouled.

And that was about to happen yet again, but this time, Alex wasn’t going to get up.

***

The look on your face was one of pure horror when Alex went down with a cry, the Canadian player’s cleats digging into her skin, soaking her socked ankle with blood.

The whistle blows loudly, the ref finally carding the player who’d fouled Alex with a red card, but that wasn’t good enough for you, not when Alex was currently bleeding.

Alex watches from her place on the ground as you advance on the player in red, landing a right hook that would make any boxer jealous, the woman falling to the ground with a thud.

Time literally stands still, your knuckles throbbing in pain as the player cups her cheek, her eyes wide as she stares up at you in shock.

“OFF THE FIELD! NOW!” The ref yells, the woman producing a red card immediately and holding it high above her head.

“Bugger off, wanker.” You mumble as you make your way towards Alex, who’s currently surrounded by the medical team.

“What the hell did you do that for!?” She growls at you and you frown.

“I-

You glance around, watching as the Canadian player, you were so angry you didn’t know her name, is aided off field, the woman still clasping her cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue.

Deep down, you knew why your reaction had been so visceral, but you couldn’t tell Alex that could you?

So instead, you decided to do the only thing you could do, and that was turn on your heels and sprint towards the nearest exit.

***

Alex frowns as you sprint towards the exit, leaving her and the team behind.

The medical team hoists her to her feet, the woman limping off field, the fans clapping in respect for the USWNT player as the final whistle blows.

The second Alex gets off field though she pulls away from the medical team, choosing instead to limp after you, the forward hoping she wasn’t too late and was able to catch you.

Alex limped down the tunnel and rushed towards the nearest exit, hoping it was the exit you’d went through in your haste to put distance between the two of you.

She rounds the corner, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees you marching down the sidewalk, away from her.

“Y/N!” She yells, causing you to stop in your tracks.

The dark clouds overhead that had been teasing rain all day had finally opened the proverbial floodgates, the soft sprinkles becoming somewhat of a downpour in literal moments.

Slowly, you turn around to face the forward who’s advancing on you, the woman limping as quickly as she can, closing the distance between the two of you.

You swallow hard, unable to look the woman in the eye as she tries catching your gaze,

“Y/N?! What was that!?” She yells, pointing back at the field and you shake your head.

“What was that!?” She yells again and you swallow hard.

“She was on your ass the entire game Al, and no one was calling the fouls! I had to do something!” You yell over the heavily pouring rain, the nickname slipping unknowingly off your tongue.

“That’s not your job, Y/N.” She frowns and you scoff.

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her hurt you? Watch her make you bleed!?” You cry, the feel of frustrated tears welling up in your eyes.

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“Because I love you!”

Alex stiffens, as do you, your eyes widening in horror when you realize what you’d just said.

Your mouth opens and closes, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue as you take a step back from the injured USWNT forward.

Alex reaches out for you, her fingertips brushing the back of your hand.

“Y/N...” She whispers, taking a step towards you.

You’re about to take a step back when she grabs your wrist, effectively holding you in place, you weren’t about to jerk away, fearful that you may hurt her.

You swallow hard when she steps even closer, the distance between you closing as her chest brushes your own.

“Say it again.”

You shake your head as you turn away, though when Alex’s fingers intertwine with yours, you turn back towards her, the woman’s blue orbs focused on your hand in hers.

“Say it again...”

You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat.

“Alex-

“Please Y/N.” She whispers as she tucks a strand of hair, that had been stuck to your face, behind your ear.

You blink rapidly, Alex’s fingers tracing your jawline before she cups your cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find your voice.

“I-I...” You stammer, your eyes shutting as you swallow.

“I love you, Alex, and I think I always have I just-

You stiffen, your eyes wide and hands hovering in the air as Alex’s lips meet yours in a tentative, first kiss.

Just as your eyes flutter shut the team rounds the corner, their eyes widening before they turn Christen and Ali, the two smirking as they bump their shoulders together.

“We told you.”

Meanwhile your hands find purchase on Alex’s waist, the woman pulling back only to lean right back in, the brush of her lips sending a jolt throughout your entire body.

A crack of lightning makes the two of you jump, though neither of you pull back, your lips brushing as the two of you smile, toothy grins on full display.

Alex’s forehead rests against yours, her hair stuck to her face thanks to the water entirely soaking the two of you.

The reasonable members of the team usher the chaotics back into the arena, leaving you and Alex alone, the two of you so wrapped up in one another you hadn’t noticed them anyway.

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your Y/E/C orbs focused intently on Alex’s.

“When did you know?” Alex asks, her voice pulling you out of your trance, your cheeks flushing.

“Know what?” You ask dumbly, earning a look that says Alex knows you’re just playing dumb.

You sigh.

“The first time you yelled at me during a match in college.”

Alex’s brows arch.

“It was cute.”

Alex scoffs.

“It wasn’t meant to be cute.”

You shrug.

“Well, it was to me, and I was right smitten.”

Alex’s lips split into a massive grin, the woman leaning in to bump her nose playfully against yours.

“Your nose crinkles up when you’re angry.” She giggles and you bite your bottom lip, your cheeks dusted pink.

Alex tilts her head back, kissing the tip of your nose, your lips splitting into a grin.

“I guess we better get back in there...” Alex sighs and you huff.

“I guess so.”

Alex reluctantly takes a step back before she turns around, the two of you walking back to the door that led back into the arena.

Before Alex can make her way through the tunnel, you grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug until she’s back in your arms again, your nose brushing hers.

“I never ACTUALLY hated you.” You whisper softly, giving her wrist a squeeze.

Alex smiles, the forward closing the distance between you with a feather light kiss, her lips feeling as if they barely brush your own.

“And I never ACTUALLY hated you either.”

You cup Alex’s cheek, the woman’s blue orbs disappearing behind her fluttering eyelids as she leans into your touch.

It’s in that moment when you spot them out of the corner of your eye, a snort sounding in the back of your throat as you watch your teammates scramble to make themselves scarce.

Alex follows your gaze, the woman rolling her eyes in annoyance when she spots your nosy teammates.

“Idiots.”

You wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling the woman close, your chin resting on her shoulder.

“So, you yell at them, and I watch? I bet it’s even cuter when you’re yelling at someone else.” You grin, grunting when Alex elbows you in the stomach.

“It’s not cute when I’m angry.” She pouts and you grin, shrugging.

“Actually, it’s adorable.”

Alex growls, a furrow forming between her brows as she tries, and fails to scowl at you.

“Still so infuriating.” She grumbles, the woman about to turn away, but before she can you catch her lips, unable to bite back a smile as the two of you kiss.

“I’m so infuriating, but you still smitten, aren’t you love?” You ask and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.

She gives your shoulder a playful slap and you snicker.

Looking into the pools of blue that are Alex Morgan’s eyes, you knew coming to the US was the best decision you’d ever made.

You lean in, tilting your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.

“What do you say we go kill our nosy teammates now?” You ask with a grin and Alex takes your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“Lead the way.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

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sslytheringhufflepufff · 3 years

Text

Tranquil

Min Yoongi/SUGA x Chubby Reader

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything so I hope you guys like this

It’s very fluffy so if you want more like this from other members let me know <3

The day was slow, painfully slow to be exact. You opened a couple of weeks ago but you still weren’t as known as you wanted to be. The door’s bell rang bringing you back from your thoughts and two young men walked in, one a little bit taller than the other “Hi, welcome to Tranquil, how may I help you?” You said smiling at them politely “Hello, can I please get a large Americano” the tallest of the two said “Sure, anything else?” You asked and the tallest turned around and asked “What do you want?” “An Iced americano, large” said the other one in a broken English but easy to understand “Okay, Name for the order?” “Namjoon” “Okay it’ll be ready shortly” you said smiling at them “Ask her” the other men said while taping Namjoons shoulder “Do you have any private place here where we could work?” “We don’t have a private seating area but the shops barely gets customers, but if you guys want you can take a seat on the booth at the back, that’s where I hide from my boss” you said laughing “Great, thank you” Namjoon said turning around “You heard her, head out” the other one nodded and gave you a small smile “Here’s your order, you guys can stay as long as you want, the shop gets lonely sometimes so its nice to know that there’s people here” “Thanks” Namjoon said smiling and taking the order walking away with his friend.

A couple of days have passed and Namjoon and his friend whose name I still don’t know but came to the realization is extremely adorable have been to the shop everyday usually ordering the same thing always which I don’t mind because it’s easier than making other drinks that take more time. The bell at the door rang making you stand up smiling you greet the customer you know but not his name “Hi, you’re alone today, same as always?” You smile at him and he nods “What’s going to be the name for the order?” He stared at you for a moment before answering “Yoongi” you smile finally learning his name writing it down on the cup “Ill take it to your table” “I’m going to sit there today” he said pointing at the table by a big window in front of the counter “Okay” you nodded and smiled as he turned around and walked towards the table setting down his bags and sitting down. He took out a notebook, his computer and some earphones and started writing as you made his drink looking at the name on the cup “Yoongi, hmph cute like him” you whispered smiling, grabbing their drink taking it to his table “Enjoy” you say smiling at him, he smiles back which gives you butterflies in your stomach, he has a really cute smile, you start walking back “Hey, wait” you turn around looking back at him “Yes?” He stares at you for a while before speaking “ Your Name?” Smiling “Y/n” he smiles and nods “Pretty too” you look at him and blush lightly laughing at his comment “Thank you” you say walking back to the serving counter heading through the back door closing it behind you letting out a sigh and replaying his words on you mind smiling at them jumping a little as you try to calm yourself and grabbing something random to make it look as if you were looking for something in the back and heading back to the counter sighting as you look up staring at Yoongi, he has white hair and is very pale but he looks angelic, the sunlight is hitting him in the face lightly making his dark brown eye look lighter ‘he really looks like an angel while I look like this’ you thought to yourself as you looked down. You were chubby, which there’s nothing wrong with it, but boys like Yoongi would never go for a girl like you, heck no boy ever went for a girl like you, at your age you’ve never had a boyfriend or anything close to that it it was fine but it got lonely sometimes, you just wished for something special, someone special. You sighed going back to work cleaning the floor and making some orders here and there, the night was getting close and Yoongi was still at the table sometimes glancing up looking at you without you noticing, he stared at you while you talked to other customers, your charisma and personality shinning with them, he really thought you were beautiful with your chubby adorable cheeks that made him want to squish them and kiss them but he didn’t really have the nerve to even talk to you, hell he just asked your name after a week of convincing Namjoon to come with him everyday until today where he had to come alone because Namjoon was meeting up with one of their other friends, he invited Yoongi but he really wanted to see you again so he declined and got the courage to come the the shop, and here he is, staring at you while you prepared another order.

The next day Yoongi came in with a small smile on his face as you greet him “Ice Americano?” “Actually not today” “oh?” “I came by to ask you on a date” he said smiling wide showing his adorable gummy smile “Really?” “Yes, unless you don’t want to” he said hurriedly as his cheeks turned pinkish red “I mean i would love to but are you sure? You look like an angle while i look like-“ “A Goddess” you stared at him looking for the lie in his eyes but all you saw was honesty “Yoongi I-“ “Please” you sighed “you don’t have to do that” “Do what?“ he said looking at you confused “I really want to take you on a Date y/n, look maybe you don’t like me like that but-“ “No Yoongi, i really like you and i would love to go on a date with you but I don’t want this to be a joke” “It isn’t, i swear its not, since the first day i saw you i had to convince Joon to come with me because i never had the nerve to talk to you myself, then i just started coming alone and it felt great because you talked to me like a normal person, you didn’t mind the language barrier and even helped me learn new things, I’ve had this massive crush on you since the first day that you smiled, those cute chubby cheeks that with all honesty it has taken everything inside of me to not reach out and grab them and kiss , because y/n, I think you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen, inside and out. “ he sighed looking at you “I swear the least i want to do is hurt you” he said smiling a little making your heart flutter “You really want to squish my cheeks?” You said giggle at the comment “Yes, I really do, i also want to squish other things but that’s for another time” he said smirking making you turn tomato red “So what do you say?” “Maybe you’ll get to squeeze my cheeks tomorrow after work” you said smiling at him he let out a chuckle “It’s a date then” he said smiling walking away “Hey wait, here” you said giving him and ice americano “You didn’t ask for it but i had it already made for you, its on the house” you said chuckling “I want to marry you” he said grabbing the coffee chuckling while you just stared at him as he walked away feeling you cheeks heat up at his comment that he literally said as if it was nothing out of the ordinary right after asking you on a date “This boy is going to be the death of me.” You said while you ran your hands through your hair smiling lightly thinking about him.

#min yoongi x chubby reader #bts x chubby reader #suga x chubby reader #taehyung x chubby reader #bts #jungkook x chubby reader #jimin x chubby reader #jin x chubby reader #Namjoon x chubby reader #jhope x chubby reader #chubby reader #bts x plus size reader #plus size reader #fluff

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x soulmate!reader #tom hiddleston soulmate au #soulmate au #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #completely self indulgent #as always

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years

Text

I Was A Bet, You Were A Distraction (K.SJ/M.YG)

Warnings : swearing, drinking, betting on feelings

Word Count : 4941

Synopsis : a relationship started on a bet, a classic trope, but with a twist.

I knew the rumours that circulated about me. I knew what everyone thought of me, but it never bothered me. Being an ice queen and keeping everyone at an arms length keeps my heart safe. Guys still tried to break me, wanting to be known as the person who broke the ice queen, but I’ve never cracked.

“Another rejection?” My best friend, Park Jimin, pouted as he sat across from me. “You really should give someone a chance. You’re obviously not going to make a move on library guy.”

“His name is Min Yoongi.” I cut him off, a playful smile on my face as he rolled his eyes. “Besides, that guy was gross. He literally told me he could show me a fun time if I just showed him a pretty smile.”

“Okay, gross.” Jimin chuckled. “But please, if a non-gross guy asks you out, just give it a shot. They could surprise you.” I rolled my eyes, reluctantly agreeing to the only guy I’ve ever had a soft spot for.

“Hey, Y/N.” Someone said as Jimin and I were getting ready to leave the café and grab dinner. When I turned around, I met the eyes of the infamous Kim Seokjin, standing there with a nervous smile on his face. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me sometime?” His eyes looked hopeful, but it didn’t phase me. I heard the rumours; heard the stories of the many girls he’s been with. I refused to be another notch in his belt. But before I could reject him, Jimin jumped in.

“She’d love to!” Seokjin looked over to my best friend who had thrown his arm across my shoulders, and then looked at me for confirmation.

“Sure, Kim Seokjin.” I didn’t bother faking a smile. I’m sure he’d heard the rumours about me. I’m sure he just wants to be the one to crack me. He’s always enjoyed a challenge.

“Great! Uh, here’s my number. Text me.” He handed me a piece of paper ripped from a notebook with his number scrawled on it. I took it from him, telling him I’d text him later, and walked away as fast as I could.

“I thought you said non-gross guy, Jimin!” I hit him lightly as we walked away from the café. “Kim Seokjin is one of the grossest!”

“Yes, but he’s got money, babe. I did you a favour.” He lightly shoved me with his shoulder, and I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes. I suppose one date couldn’t hurt. I’ll get some good food out of it at the very least.

“Here, drink some water.” Yoongi looked up at me from his textbooks with wide eyes. He quietly thanked me as I took my usual seat across from him. I took quick glances up at him every once in a while as I studied, thinking about the first day I took the seat across from him.

I used to study at the café as I waited for Jimin to get out of dance. But random guys would always interrupt me, and I found myself barely getting any studying done. So I decided to study at the library for a couple hours before heading to the café to meet Jimin per our tradition.

Min Yoongi, known as the ice king, would always sit alone. Sitting with him was my best bet in getting any work done, knowing he wouldn’t bother me. He seemed annoyed when I first sat down, but when he saw it was me, didn’t say a word. No one dared bothered us when we were together.

It didn’t take a genius to see how handsome Min Yoongi was. I always found myself sneaking glances at him while we studied, unable to keep my eyes off of him. We spoke a few words to each other over these last few months, and that was enough for me to give into my growing crush.

“Hey, Y/N?” He softly asked as I began packing up. I seized my movements, looking up at the gorgeous man I can’t stop thinking about. “I heard you were the best at this, would you mind tutoring me sometime? I’ve been having a hard time grasping it.” He pointed to a homework booklet he was given that was still completely blank save for his name in the top right corner.

“I got to go meet up with a friend, but,” I ripped a corner off from one of my notebooks and quickly scrawled my number on it, sliding it across from him. “Text me and we can figure something out.” He looked up at me with a small smile on his face, and I could swear time stopped. I quickly shook myself out of the trance his smile put me in and packed up the rest of my books before walking to the café, a lovesick smile on my face.

I was dressed in my best dress, my hair and makeup done to the best of my abilities, and I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. “Who knew my best friend was so hot.” Jimin joked over Facetime, a playful smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to actually go on a date with Kim Seokjin.” I grumbled, collapsing on my couch as I waited for him.

“It didn’t take much convincing. I know apart of you is excited to live the rich life for one night.” I giggled, but we both knew he was right. When the doorbell rang, I said my goodbyes to Jimin and went to answer it, surprised to see Seokjin standing there in a tailored suit holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Wow, you look, wow.” I chuckled, taking the flowers he was holding out for me. Quickly, I filled a vase with water and placed them inside before sliding on a pair of heels and grabbing my purse.

“You know you could have just texted that you were here.” I pointed out as he opened the car door for me.

“How am I supposed to sweep you off your feet if I do that?” He smiled before closing the door and rushing to his side.

As much as I hate to admit it, I actually enjoyed the time I spent with Jin. He was a complete gentleman right up to the end. And there wasn’t any awkward silence; conversation seemed to flow easily. I found myself laughing at his jokes and his stories. Time just seemed to fly by while I was with him as he wasn’t dropping me off until after midnight. “You certainly surprised me tonight, Kim Seokjin.” I smiled.

“Does that mean you’ll go on a second date with me?” I found myself agreeing before I could stop myself. Maybe this is exactly what I needed to get over my one-sided crush on Min Yoongi. He’d be a good distraction.

“I hear our resident Ice Queen got a boyfriend.” Yoongi teased as I sat across from him. Ever since our first date, Jin and I have been spending more time together. I still keep up my regular schedule of studying with Yoongi until I have to leave to meet up with Jimin, but Jin and his friends have decided to join us. It’s been 2 months since my first date with Jin, and 1 month since we’ve made it official.

“Now it’s time for our resident Ice King to get a girlfriend.” I teased back, taking a sip of the coffee Yoongi bought me. He’s made it a daily thing, buying my favourite coffee before I come, and I bring us water since we’re usually here for a couple hours together.

“Unlikely.” He chuckled. My heart started to pound as I looked up at his smiling face. “The girl I like doesn’t like me back.” He added before taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Oh my god! The Min Yoongi has a crush!” I quietly exclaimed, a wide smile on my face as I wrapped a hand around his wrist, begging him to tell me about the girl he likes.

“She’s beautiful.” He says, blush rising to his cheeks. “But I can tell she doesn’t believe she is. And she’s so smart, so kind. There really isn’t a better girl.” I thought dating Jin would help my one-sided crush on Yoongi, but as I sit across from him as he tells me about this girl he likes, I can feel my heart breaking, knowing it’ll never be me.

I stood in the kitchen while the party raged on around me. Since dating Jin, Jimin and I have been invited to a lot more parties, parties I keep getting dragged to. I watched as Jimin drank and made new friends, enjoying himself, and I couldn’t be happier for him. I watched as Jin and his friends played some games, laughing and drinking the night away. They’ve always been the life of the party, and though I don’t like parties, I wasn’t going to stop my boyfriend from enjoying himself. So I stood in the kitchen, watching as everyone enjoys themselves, silently wishing I took Yoongi up on his offer to see a movie tonight.

“Now don’t tell me this beautiful girl is here alone.” I looked up and met a stranger’s eyes as he smirked at me. “All alone, standing in my kitchen, must be fate.” He continued, draping an arm across my shoulders.

“Actually I’m here with my boyfriend.” I smiled, turning towards where Jin last was, and seeing that him and his friends disappeared. My heart dropped to my stomach when I couldn’t see them anywhere.

“No need to lie to me.” He teased, removing his arm from my shoulders, and instead wrapping it around my waist, pulling me closer to him as I tried to move away from him. “I’m sure I can show the Ice Queen a good time.”

“What are you doing, Minho?” The familiar voice eases my nerves but seems to do the opposite to Minho. His arm immediately drops from my waist as his eyes widen, meeting Yoongi’s eyes filled with anger. If I didn’t know Yoongi the way I do, I’d be terrified. When Yoongi raised his brow, Minho left the kitchen without another word. “Sorry about him. I’m still training him.” He chuckled. “Where’s Jin?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around for my boyfriend.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know Mr. Min Yoongi partied.” I teased, a smile making its way to my lips.

“I’m actually, unfortunately, apart of this frat. My dad actually started this frat with his friends, so I had no choice.” He explained, chuckling at my shocked face. “I really do apologize for Minho. I hope he didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, Yoongs. Thank you for saving me though. I don’t know where any of the guys went.” I took a quick look around, trying to see if I could any of the 6 guys I came with. “If you see any of them, can you let them know I went home? Parties really aren’t my thing.” I chuckled.

“I’ll take you home.” He said, setting the cup he was holding down on the counter. “Just text one of them to let them know you’re safe.” I nodded, closely following Yoongi as the two of us made our way through the dense crowd of people and out the front door. As we walked, I sent a quick text to both Jimin and Jin, letting them know Yoongi was walking me home.

“You know, you didn’t have to walk me home.” I spoke up after some silence. “It is technically your party; shouldn’t you be there?”

“Honestly, I try not to be home when there’s a party. It’s why I asked you to a movie tonight. Well that, and I like spending time with you.” My heart fluttered at his words. My head began spinning with theories as to what he meant. Would I be reading too far into it by thinking he has feelings for me too?

Monday afternoon, Yoongi was sitting at our regular table in the library, two coffees in front of him as per usual. “How’d your test go?” I asked, placing a bottle of water in front of him before taking my seat. He looked up at me as I sat down, a smile on his face when he met my eyes. So different than how things used to be.

“I won’t get the results until the end of the week, but I think I aced it!” He exclaimed. I remember the days we would study silently across from each other, not knowing anything about each other besides the rumours that circulated.

“Of course! You have the best tutor.” I joked, a wide smile on my face as he just smiled back at me, chuckling slightly, and shaking his head. I used to know absolutely nothing about him, besides the small things I heard from others, and the things I picked up on while silently crushing on him.

Now I know his smile. I know it so well I could probably draw it from memory. I know that his older brother would always cook for him. I know he’s not as close to his family as he wished he was. I know he struggles in his classes. I know he prefers iced coffee over hot coffee, and that he always forgets to drink water. He hates parties and spends most weekends at a diner, studying and trying to keep his grades up. I know he’s so far from being an Ice King. He’s so caring, so kind. And I know that I’m falling in love with him.

“I think it’s time we call it.” I overheard as I walked into the café I meet Jimin at everyday. I looked over to the tables Jin and his friends push together so the 7 of us can sit together, and saw the 5 of them sitting together, serious looks on all their faces.

“I love hanging out with her and Jimin.” Taehyung spoke, and I quickly sat at a nearby table, wanting to hear what they have to say. “You need to tell her about the bet.”

“A bet?! Seriously Jackson?” He stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a good excuse, but there wasn’t one. “Glad I could help you win. Don’t contact me again.” I pushed passed him as he called after me, but there wasn’t anything else that needed to be said. 2 years. I wasted 2 years of my life thinking we were in love, but it was all a bet. It was never love.

Jimin sat in front of me, snapping me out of my memories. He opened his mouth to say something, but I shushed him and pointed over to the guys.

“She’s so awesome. I feel so bad.” Jungkook added to the conversation. “She doesn’t deserve to have her feelings played with like this.”

“We can tell her everything and apologize. Hopefully, she’ll forgive us.” Jimin looked at me with confusion on his eyes as I struggled to breathe. It’s like high school all over again. When Jackson came into my life, stole my heart, and then destroyed me. Telling me he loved me, and planning our future, all the while laughing with his friends about how gullible I was. Jimin was the one to pull me out of my slump, but I put my walls up and I promised myself I’d never let them crumble. I’d never be so naïve again.

“I doubt she’d even care.” Jin scoffed. “She’s the Ice Queen for a reason.” Yet here I was, repeating it all over again.

“Just because she’s an Ice Queen doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings, hyung.” Hoseok spoke up, shaking his head. I’ll admit that the reason I started dating Jin wasn’t the best, but I found myself enjoying his company. Everything felt real, like he really cared about me. My feelings for Yoongi have always been stronger, but sometimes I felt myself falling for Jin’s charms. He’s not the school playboy for nothing. He really knows how to make a girl feel special. He knows how to knock down any wall someone has put up to protect themselves.

“Whatever. You guys can tell her about the bet then. While you’re at it, you can tell her we’re over. I have things to do.” He stood up from the table, and that’s when they all noticed Jimin and I sitting at a nearby table. Jin’s eyes widened when he saw us.

“You guys are all fucking disgusting.” Jimin exclaimed, standing up from the table. “You’re damn right she doesn’t deserve this. No one does! Y/N, let’s go.” His voice softened when he looked over at me, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked up at the man who bet on my heart. “They don’t deserve your tears, angel.” He whispered, wiping away my tears before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the café.

“Talk about déjà vu.” I chuckled as we walked towards my apartment.

“Guys are the worst.” Jimin mumbled, shaking his head as the two of us walked hand in hand. I laced our fingers and walked closer beside him, swinging our arms causing him to chuckle at me.

“You’ve always been the exception to that statement, Min.” I smiled up at my best friend. I wasn’t in love with Jin the way I was with Jackson, but it doesn’t hurt any less. The crush that was forming on the handsome man quickly faded as the reality set in. Once again I was a bet. And I just wished people would stop making bets on my feelings.

“Don’t you usually leave by now?” Yoongi asked as the two of us studied together the next day. “The boyfriend is probably waiting for you.” He chuckled.

“We actually broke up.” His smile quickly fell as he spit out an apology. “It’s fine. The relationship was all a bet anyway.” I shrugged, trying my best not to let my feelings show. Trying to seem as unbothered as possible. “People love trying to break the Ice Queen.” Little do they know, the reason for my smiles wasn’t Kim Seokjin, but Min Yoongi, the Ice King himself.

“That’s so fucked. Guys are the worst.” He scoffed causing me to chuckle.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.” I smiled.

“Talking about me?” Jimin joked, taking a seat beside me. “I hope you don’t mind if I intrude from now on.” The statement was directed towards Yoongi who shook his head. “Good, because if I see any of those guys, I will be throwing hands.”

“Please, Jungkook could beat you with just his pinky.” I teased, shoving him lightly. Yoongi was watching us with a fondness in his eyes I haven’t seen before. And I couldn’t stop the pounding of my heart, no matter how hard I tried.

Jimin continued meeting Yoongi and I at the library everyday after getting out of dance. At first I thought Yoongi would hate it as Jimin isn’t known for quietly studying like Yoongi and I are. But he quickly warmed up to my best friend, and 3 of us spent weekends going to movies and to the diner Yoongi loves to much. We avoided all the parties we were once invited to, and the café we were regulars at for so long, hoping never to cross paths with the guys we once considered friends.

My feelings for Yoongi only continued to grow as spent nearly everyday together. Days quickly turned into weeks, and before I knew it, it had been a month since Jin and I broke up. With Jimin and Yoongi with me everyday, I barely had time to feel the hurt I felt when it happened with Jackson. “Y/N.” 1 month since I found out about the bet. 1 month since I’ve seen any of the guys. 1 month and now Jin is standing in front of me. I moved to push passed him and get to the library, but he wrapped his hand around my arm, effectively stopping me. “It’s been a month; can I please just say something?”

“What more is there to say? I was a bet, and honestly speaking Kim Seokjin, you were a distraction.” His hand fell from my arm, dropping back to his side. “It was fun, though. But that doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t hurt. And you didn’t seem to give a fuck. Telling your boys to tell me and break up with me for you. So why now? Don’t tell me some cliché shit that you realized you had feelings for me and that you miss me, because we both know that’s bullshit.” He stayed silent. “Good talk, Kim Seokjin.” I pushed open the doors to the library and made my way to my regular table, Yoongi already there, two coffees in front of him. “I feel like getting drunk.” I said, plopping in my regular seat.

“Rough day?” Yoongi chuckled, sliding my coffee across the table towards me.

“Let’s just say Seokjin wanted to talk.” Yoongi closed his text book and smiled up at me.

“Soju and ice cream?” He asked as he quickly packed up.

“I’ll text Jimin to meet us at my apartment. Let’s get drunk!” I exclaimed, grabbing my coffee, and leaving the library with Yoongi by my side. We were both chuckling as he opened the door, allowing me to walk out first. I wasn’t paying attention as I walked out the door, turning my head to look at Yoongi, and bumped into someone. “Sorry … Namjoon?” He smiled down at me as I quickly took a step back. Yoongi looked up at him before wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer to him.

“You didn’t let Jin talk, so I figured I’d try.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Yoongi spoke up. “You guys got caught; deal with the consequences of your actions.” The two of us tried to walk passed him, but unlike Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon was persistent.

“You act like you don’t make mistakes.” He called after us, stopping us in our tracks. “Jin told me you said he was just a distraction.” I turned to face Namjoon causing Yoongi’s arm to fall back to his side.

“When I agreed to the first date, I agreed hoping for a distraction from my one-sided crush. But when I agreed to the second date, it was because I liked his company. When I said yes to being his girlfriend, it was because I had real feelings for him. And that’s the difference between me and him, Kim Namjoon. Everything on my end was 100% real, where as on his end it was all fake. He pretended to have feelings for me.” Namjoon stared at me, obviously not expecting my blow up. “What else needs to be said, Namjoon?” I asked, my voice cracking. Yoongi slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“We’re sorry. We never got to apologize, and we want to.” I shook my head.

“I don’t want your apology. You don’t deserve my forgiveness.” He didn’t stop us as we walked away this time. “I really need a drink.” I whispered causing Yoongi to chuckle.

“Consider it done, princess.”

Jimin was angrily pacing around my living room after Yoongi and I told him what happened. “Hoseok approached me today, too. They waited an entire month to try to apologize. What a joke.” He took a swig of his drink. “I can’t believe they did exactly what Jackson and his friends did in high school! Like, we’re in fucking college now.”

“Wait, this happened to you before?” Yoongi jumped in as Jimin continued to mumble to himself between taking swigs of his drink.

“It’s not a big deal.” I shrugged, really not wanting to explain what happened in high school. But Jimin had other plans.

“No big deal?! You switched schools! Wouldn’t eat unless I forced you to! Jackson is the whole reason you’re known as the Ice Queen in the first place.” Yoongi looked between the two of us. “You spent 2 years believing he was the great love of your life, just to find out it was all a bet and he never loved you. That’s a big deal!”

“2 years?” Yoongi asked and all I could do was nod. “God, guys fucking suck.” He exclaimed, leaning back on the couch as he took another sip of his drink.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Jimin added, plopping himself down on a chair.

“You two are the only guys I need.” I smiled, cuddling up to Yoongi, who happily wrapped his arms around me and placed a kiss on top of my head.

“I never should have told you to go on that date.” Jimin mumbled as he watched Yoongi and I.

“You didn’t know it would end up like this.” I told him; my words muffled by Yoongi’s shirt as my head rested on his chest. The three of us continued to drink, trying to forget all the angst of the day and have a good night.

“Hey! Now that Suck-Jin is gone, you can make your move!” Jimin exclaimed some hours later, all of us considerably more drunk than we expected to be.

“Oh yeah! You were saying you had a crush on someone!” Yoongi jumped in, poking my arm with a teasing smile on his face. “You’re beautiful! You should just go for it.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Come on, Y/N!” Yoongi whined. “I want to see you happy.”

“Yeah, Y/N! What was his name again?” I couldn’t help but laugh at how Jimin hasn’t changed. He still forgets everything when he’s drunk. “Yoongi!” He yelled, causing Yoongi to look over at him.

“You don’t have to yell, I’m right here!” Yoongi yelled back. Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Y/N! Now’s your chance! He’s right there.” He loudly whispered, cupping his hands around his mouth as if that would stop Yoongi from hearing him.

“Shut up, Jimin!” I said as I threw a pillow towards him, missing by a lot due to the alcohol in my system. “He has a crush on some girl!” I exclaimed with a pout on my face.

“Dammit Yoongi!” Jimin exclaimed. “How can you not like Y/N?!” He leaned forward in his chair, causing him to fall to the ground. I burst out laughing, completely forgetting the conversation that was happening seconds previous.

“Idiot! You’re always falling off chairs.” I laughed, but Yoongi was silent, seeming to have quickly sobered up. “Yah!” I slapped Yoongi’s arm. “What’s with that face?” I pouted.

“You like me?” My eyes widened as my jaw dropped.

“Who told you?” I whispered. “You weren’t supposed to know!” Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head at me.

“I think it’s bed time for you.” He stood up, holding a hand out for me to take so he could help me up. “Jimin,” he turned to saying something, but Jimin was passed out on the floor. “Okay then.” He chuckled before helping me to my room.

“Stay.” I pouted as I patted the empty space beside me. He shook his head as he tucked me in and turned to leave. “Yoongs!” I whined. “I want cuddles.” He chuckled, standing in my doorway contemplating whether he should stay or leave. “Please.”

“Always my weakness.” He mumbled to himself before crawling into bed with me and pulling me into his arms. I fell asleep quickly while listening to his heartbeat.

I woke up still wrapped in Yoongi’s arms, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. “Fuck.” I whispered to myself, trying to wriggle out of his arms without waking him up.

“You wanted cuddles; you live with the consequences.” He mumbled; his eyes still closed.

“Yah, if you’re awake, let me go.” I whined, trying to pull his arms off of me, but his grip only tightened. “What are you doing?” I asked, eventually giving up on getting out of his arms. He mumbled something I couldn’t understand before pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wow, who would have known the Ice King was actually the biggest softie.” I joked.

“Says miss Ice Queen pouting until I cuddled her.” I let out a small giggle, the memory coming back to me slowly. “You and Jimin are really funny when you’re drunk.” Before I could ask, he continued. “You accidentally confessed to me last night.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard him loud and clear. “Before you panic,” He was moving so he could look at me, but his arms were still around me. “I like you too.” I couldn’t help the smile the overtook my face when he said that. “So if we can shake the third wheel, I’d like to take you out today.” I giggled, but promised I’d find a way for it to be just us. “Okay, then I’m going to go home and get ready. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple before getting out of my bed and leaving.

My two previous relationships may have failed miserably, but I know things are different this time. Third times a charm, as they say.

#bts imagine #bts au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi au #min yoongi x reader #kim seokjin imagine #kim seokjin au #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

229 notes · View notes

fandom-imagines · 3 years

Text

A bad case of jealousy

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Jealous!Hanzo x Jealous!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Like one swear word.

“Isn’t he incredibly handsome?” One of the new recruits whispered as three of them entered the room. “I mean even the way he dresses is handsome.”

“He really is,” another chimed in, a lovesick look gracing their features.

Y/N watched the group for a little while longer, genuine interest sparking within her as to who they were discussing.

“Hey, Genji,” she leant over to the cyborg, whispering in his ear so that nobody around the pair was able to hear her question. “Who are they talking about? Do you know?”

“I believe it to be my brother. They were swooning over him practicing his archery skills. It was quite amusing if I do say so myself.”

“Oh,”

Noticing the sudden change in behaviour of his close friend, he decided to somewhat comfort her. “I could be wrong though.”

Wordlessly, the girl nodded before standing up and leaving the room.

A tense feeling overcame Hanzo as the latest recruits, who he had not had the unfortune of speaking to yet, stood in the corner of the room giggling to one another as they stared at him yet again.

He had noticed them the first time they were there, inwardly rolling his eyes at their childish antics; it was almost as though they believed he did not notice their attraction to him and the way they would whisper compliments about him.

“I hear he’s single,” he caught the voice of the smallest recruit. “Maybe I should try and win his heart.”

“I heard he doesn’t get attached. Maybe I could change that?” Another said, shooting him a smile which he barely caught, attention being focused on the bow in his hand.

“No way! Surely it would be me,” the final girl spoke. “I hear he likes someone; it has to be me.”

Her final words shocked him, confused as to how somebody knew that he had taken a liking to somebody. Perhaps it was a mere rumour, or even a lie at that, but everything has some truth to it.

Too deep in his thoughts about the supposed rumour, Hanzo did not notice the girls gradually getting closer until one had their hand on him.

“Hello!” She said a little too eagerly, a bright smile on her face. “What is a man like yourself doing alone in a place like this?”

“Practicing,” came his curt response, praying that the trio would leave soon enough.

None of them seemed discouraged by his unwillingness to converse with them, however. In fact, they seemed delighted that he had even spoke to them.

“Well, do you need some help with that?” Another girl attached herself to the archer, reaching for his bow to ‘help’, but he moved it out of reach before she could touch it.

“I am quite alright, thank you.”

A look of excitement covered her face as she realised that he had said more to her than her friend, something that was an achievement to her.

As the flirting continued, Hanzo couldn’t help but notice a familiar bunch of Y/H/C-hair enter the practice zone, one he quite enjoyed seeing. However, she didn’t stay long, a shocked look filling her face at the sight of three girls clinging to him. He had never seen somebody leave so fast.

“Excuse me,” Hanzo quickly excused himself, brushing off their touch before leaving the zone in search of Y/N.

“Genji, have you perhaps seen Y/N recently?” Hanzo asked his younger brother as he seated himself opposite him.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “Not since this morning. Why’d you ask?”

“No reason,” and with that Hanzo excused himself yet again to continue his search for the girl.

It didn’t take him long to find her. She was seated outside, leaning against a tree with her head rested on her bent knees, seemingly deep in thought.

“Y/N,” Hanzo’s deep voice caught her attention, pulling her from said thoughts.

“Hanzo,” she greeted with a polite, and forced, smile.

Hanzo hesitated for a moment, unsure as what to say.

“Forgive me,” was all he could think of.

His words confused the girl, her head tilting in confusion. “For what?”

“You should not have witnessed the scene in the practice range. It was irresponsible of me to allow it to him.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re together or anything. You didn’t want that, and I respect that. You’re welcome to flirt and see who you wish, Hanzo. It’s quite alright.”

Hanzo almost winced at the hurt in her words, guilt filling his body knowing that he was the cause of this. Both the hurt of telling her he did not wish to date her, as well as allowing the trio to flirt with him.

“I-“ Hanzo was cut off by Y/N standing up.

“Like I said, Hanzo. You’re welcome to flirt and date who you please. You rejected me, and that’s alright. I wish you the best with which ever of the three you choose.” And with that she left.

With a guilty look at her back, Hanzo regretted ever telling her he did not wish to date her. Not only was it a complete lie, but he also lost her friendship that day, preventing awkwardness and so.

“Genji, I have a mission with Hanzo and only Hanzo,” Y/N sighed, resting her head on Genji’s lap which was more comfortable than one could imagine.

His hand unconsciously lifted itself to her hair, running his hand through it which was common between them.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Y/N/N. What could possibly go wrong?” He replied.

“I suppose you’re right,”

“Of course I am,”

The trip to where Y/N and Hanzo were to go was an awkward one. Neither of the pair spoke to each other, silently avoiding looking at the other. It was painful.

Once they checked into the hotel, there was a short walk to the room, both ready to settle in for the night; it was freezing outside, a snowstorm taking place.

“Oh,” Y/N’s voice rang throughout the room. “There’s only one bed.”

Panic overtook both of them.

“I shall take the floor, it is not bother.”

Y/N shot him a look as though he was stupid. “Hanzo, it’s freezing. You will surely freeze to death before anything. It’s fine, we can share.”

A blush covered both their cheeks at her words, one they both desperately attempted to hide.

“I’ll go get changed,”

Y/N silently cursed herself for bringing only shorts and a vest. Had she known a snowstorm would be taking place, she would have taken something warmer. She was already freezing.

“Are you going to be okay sleeping like that?” Hanzo asked upon seeing her sleepwear. “Not that I was looking or anything! I just worry…”

Shivering, Y/N responded. “Hopefully I don’t freeze to death. Let’s just go to bed.”

Hanzo simply nodded in agreement.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed, only that they couldn’t sleep. Y/N was both too cold and nervous, and Hanzo was nervous.

“Hanzo,” her use of his name caught his attention. “This is really awkward, but can you cuddle me. I’m freezing.”

Hanzo, whose eyes had widened immensely, shuffled closer to her as he wordlessly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body close to him in an attempt at providing some warmth to the freezing girl, something in which he succeeded. Within minutes the pair fell asleep, enjoying the others contact; the awkwardness of the following morning was something they hadn’t thought of.

Waking up tangled with Hanzo was something Y/N had imagined many times, but never had expected to happen. Eyes wide, she couldn’t apologise more.

“It is quite alright, Y/N. You most likely would have gotten sick otherwise,”

“I suppose that’s true. But I’m still sorry, that must have been uncomfortable for you.”

“Not at all,” he admitted with reddening cheeks.

“Welcome back guys!” Genji cheered upon the arrival of his brother and best friend. “How was the mission?”

“It was fine,” came Y/N’s awkward response, pushing past Genji with an apologetic look whilst Hanzo simply nodded in agreement.

“Did something happen?”

“It does not matter.”

Downing another shot, Y/N turned to her two drinking partners: McCree and Genji.

“I have decided,” she slurred. “I am going to get over Hanzo!”

“Yes you are!” An also drunk McCree cheered, patting her on the back. “What’s the plan? I’m always open to help.” He jokingly winked, stroking her hair.

“I will go flirt with the guy who has been buying me drinks all night.”

“You go girl!” Jesse cheered again as he watched his ex Blackwatch co-worker head towards another man.

“I think she may have forgotten we invited Hanzo to join us later,”

Hanzo, much to everyone’s surprise, did in fact join everyone at the bar an hour later. He had no plans of drinking, simply enjoying everybody’s company. But one was missing.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked, glancing towards the cyborg and cowboy who shared a nervous glance.

Both of them knew about Y/N and Hanzo’s feelings, but they also knew how Hanzo had rejected her, quite harshly at that.

“Uhm-“

It was then that Hanzo caught sight of the girl who was standing to leave with another man who had his arm around her waist, his lips on her neck as she giggled.

His two friends stared at him, searching for a reaction which they didn’t have the pleasure of seeing. Instead they witnessed him standing up, almost running towards the door which they had just left through.

“Y/N!” He called out to the girl who was about to climb into a cab. “Wait,” the desperation and determined look on his face was what made her stop in her tracks.

“What is it?” A wide-eyed Y/N asked, watching the man rush towards her.

“I must confess something,” he swallowed. “I am in love with you.”

“I’m sorry what?” She felt the mans arm drop from her waist, clearly getting angry at this strangers sudden confession.

“Look man, go find another girl to spout lovey-dovey crap too, this one is taken.” He snarled, too drunk to notice how easily he would lose a fight against Hanzo if it came to it.”

Hanzo simply brushed off his comment. “I said no out of fear of hurting you, but I seemed to do so by doing that. I never wished to hurt you, that is the last thing I would ever want to do. The truth is, I am too worried that you would not like me if you were to be in a relationship with me, it would hurt me too much to lose you.”

Frozen in shock, Y/N was unsure as to what to do, how to react.

“Hanzo I-I don’t know what to say.”

“It is okay if you do not wish to reply. I shouldn’t have said anything, I apologise sincerely.” He apologised, visibly deflated as he turned to leave.

“Hanzo wait!” The previous man was forgotten, her hand reaching to grab Hanzo’s own to prevent him from leaving.

“I love you too,”

A soft smile graced his lips as he took her hand in his own, attention solely on her.

“I am glad,”

His smile simply widened as Y/N raised a hand to his cheek, holding it in her hand as she placed a short kiss on his lips, pulling away to gaze into his eyes which held nothing but pure adoration.

“I love you, and I’ll always love you.”

348 notes · View notes

whumperooni · 3 years

Note

Mr.Natsuo being your teacher and you purposely flirt with other boys as wear really short skirts in his class to make him ✨jealous ✨and horny , he asks to see you after class and you get fucked on his table 🥺🥺 Sorry I’m on my period and I’m going feral 😃

No, no- never apologize for this! It makes me feral too ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Natsuo Sensei, please come get this pussy ♡

tags/warnings: teacher/student relationship, teacher kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, manipulation, improvised gags

A/N: I wrote Natsuo a bit more rough than I normally do, but I think it turned out okay;;; I also abused the words professor, doctor, sensei, and teacher;;;;

But. Ya know.

Enjoy! ♡

You were fucked the moment you walked into his classroom. Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology. 2:30 pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Led by Doctor Natsuo Todoroki. An insert into your schedule that seemed harmless enough. Interesting, surely. Something you were a little worried about- what if you turned out squeamish despite your love for all things horror and gore?- and something that would just fill your first semester of college. Harmless. Routine for your major. Nothing to give you any sort of fuss or throw you into a flustered little mess. Or, so you thought. Honestly, you hadn’t given much thought to what your professor might be like. You were more worried over having to share a dorm room with a stranger, if you could handle your class load, how hard it might be to adjust being away from home and all you’ve ever known. You suppose your mind’s eye might have conjured a vague image of a wrinkled and wizened old man with a stern gaze and whitened hair. You suppose you might have faintly imagined Doctor Todoroki to be a tired geezer in a lab coat and faded sweater vest. You suppose you might have had the predetermined, unconscious notion that your professor would be intelligent, elderly, stern and, well, someone who you would only think about in terms of being someone to give you tests and homework and lectures. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to find a smiling, young man with a handsome face and thick thighs, big arms. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to lock eyes with your professor and immediately go weak in the knees under a stormy gaze and a sunshine smile. You didn’t think that you would walk into the room to only have your breath snatched away, your cheeks flared with a flush, your heart forced into a thundering staccato. You didn’t think that Doctor Todoroki would be hot. But, oh god- oh god- he’s gorgeous. Doctor Todoroki- well, Doctor Natsuo or even professor; he seems to prefer those much more than his family name- is, honestly, a living, breathing wet dream. He’s hot. He’s kind. He’s friendly. He’s funny. He’s perfect. The class that you thought would be only mildly interesting turns out to be your favorite. How could it not be when you’re blessed with a full hour of delicious eye candy, a teacher that’s so generous with his praise and has your spine tingling whenever he says your name? He’s so friendly and he’s so polite, too. The way he calls you Miss is a little old fashioned, sure, but it sends your mind reeling and your cheeks flushing- quick fantasies zipping through your thoughts as your thighs involuntarily push together. Your crush springs up from the moment you see him and it only gets stronger with each passing day. Little accidental brushes against you, the smiles he sends your way, the scent of his cologne whenever he leans over your table to correct an answer, the way his praise rings in your ears late at night- it all sends you spiraling. You’ve never had a crush quite like this before. Certainly not on a teacher. You want him, though. Oh, god, do you want him. Your roommate is the unfortunate one that has to hear you whine and moan over him- you’re much too embarrassed to admit your crush to your friends back home or any of your family; they’d be sure to scold you, to call you foolish and chide that you’re a silly little girl. She understands it, at least. That helps, keeps you from being too ashamed. “I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got a thing for him,” she muses. “He’s young. He’s hot. Anyone would get a little crush.” You don’t like that thought, really. You don’t want to think about others lusting after your sensei. “Why not try shooting your shot?” At your scandalized look, she huffs and shrugs, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “No need to be such a good girl. Professors hook up with their students all the time. You just gotta be discreet.” “I can’t,” you protest- shaking your head and pulling your knees up to your chest. “And it’s not like he- he doesn’t see me in that kind of way.” “You don’t know that,” she counters with a click of her tongue. Another huff leaves her and it’s easy to see that her patience with the situation is waning. “Either feel it out or get over it or find someone else to moon over. There’s no point in moping and stewing.” You’re not moping. You’re just- you’re just- Okay, you’re mooning over him like she said. But you’re not moping. It’s just- it’s such a new situation for you. You’ve always had crushes on your peers- never anyone older than you by more than a year or two, never anyone in a position of authority over you. A taboo situation like this has never been your cup of tea- you’ve always been a good, sensible girl. Crushes on teachers have never been something you thought to entertain. But now? Well, now... You bite your lip and eye your reflection, nervously touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. It’s light and simple but pretty and sweet. Stalking Professor Natsuo’s social medias helped you gain the insight that he seems to prefer his women more natural and cute, innocent looking- all glossy lips and doe eyed, fluttering lashes with just the barest hint of mascara and blush. The false lashes might be a bit too much, but they make you look even more doll like and, that too, is something he seems to like. Pretty. Simple. Doll like. Sweet. Young. You think you’ve managed to put that look together rather nicely. The pleated skirt- just shy of rising above your knees- and the soft cardigan help, too, and, really, you don’t think you’ve ever looked quite so innocent before- even when you were a wide eyed, straight A, pure and untouched student back in high school. ...god, what are you doing? A groan leaves you and you nearly scrub the makeup from your face, nearly rip off the skirt and switch it out for the leggings you have stuffed inside your backpack. Nearly. You don’t think that this is really going to work. You don’t think that this is really going to draw any sort of reaction from him. And, well, maybe that’s what you need? Maybe you need to truly see that it’s a fruitless desire- maybe then it’ll shrivel up and away and you’ll be free from your sinful fantasies, free from the desire that has your head spinning. And, well, it’s been a while since you’ve dressed up a little, too- the rigors of college have had you leaning more toward comfort than style, have kept you too tired and busy to give time to makeup and skirts and a polished appearance. It feels kind of nice being all cute and attractive instead of frumpy and disheveled. ...you’re not going to change. You deserve to feel nice and you’re dying- desperate- to see how your professor will react to you looking nicer than the tired lump you usually display. Just act normal, you tell yourself as you head toward the class- clutching your textbooks tight to your chest. Don’t be too hopeful. Don’t be too excited. Don’t get disappointed. Just- just think of it as an experiment. That’s all it is, right? Just an experiment! You’re just putting a hypothesis to a test! (What a load of crap. It does help to calm your fluttering, nervous heart, though) You swallow as you approach the room and take a deep breath to steady yourself, bite your lip as you eye the open door. You can hear him rustling around and you know that the others will be around soon- you can’t just keep standing there like a dumbstruck, coltish fool. Another swallow, another deep breath. You walk into the room and fix a nervous smile on your face, chirp out a nearly stuttered “Good afternoon, Professor.” He’s faced away from you- broad back greeting your vision as he scrawls something across the blackboard. His head turns, though, and you get to hear an absent “good afternoon” replied back, you get to watch his gaze fall on you. His hand pauses. His snowy lashes blink once, twice, three times. Surprise flickers over his face- evident enough that you can catch it without doubt. His eyes flick down and back up so quickly that you almost miss it, dart away whenever your smile shrugs off its nervousness and grows ever so sweetly. You sit yourself down front and center- right in front of your sensei’s desk. He doesn’t look back at you as you organize your books and gear. He doesn’t look back at you as you primly cross your ankles and rest them to the side, drag a curious, studious gaze along his back. You had hoped for a response, but you hadn’t really expected it- Professor Natsuo has been kinder and more friendly and open than your other teachers, yes, but he’s still been professional. He’s never crossed any boundaries and you’ve never see him give another student the once over. This is...promising. Your cheeks stay flushed as the other students file in, but your anxiousness is gone away. Sure, that little look doesn’t really mean anything but now you’re...well. Now you’re curious. Desperate and needy for some validation of your silly little fantasies, but curious too. Could you...would he...? You wet your lips, unthinking, and keep your eyes on Doctor Natsuo throughout the class- analyzing his behavior, absorbing his words, taking in how his gaze finds you a bit more often than it usually does. Interesting. Encouraging. The next day you wear a skirt that’s a little bit shorter, don sweet mary janes and ankle socks decorated in lacy frills. Steel grey eyes dart to your legs more than once during the class and you even catch your professor tracing his eyes over your hips when he thinks you’re not looking- his reflection in the shining convex mirror hanging above your dissection table showing guilt, an almost nervous tilt to his lips. Oh, you’ve got him. But how do you proceed...? Your worries and frets and protests over taboo desires are long gone- they got dashed away with the first blink of his long lashes, with the first glance over he had given you. Really, you should feel ashamed over discarding your morals so easily, but it’s an exciting situation, isn’t it? It’s nothing you would ever think to find yourself in. But college is all about new, exciting situations, right? It’s about taking chances. God, you hope this is really a chance for you- you’ve never had the opportunity to play a coy game like this before. It’s...fun. High school would have been a lot more interesting if you had known this kind of thrill. You come home smiling ear to ear after a successful attempt at making Doctor Natsuo blush. (A sway of your hips, a flit of your slowly shortening skirts, a coo of his name as you thanked him for such an interesting lesson, a sweet smile and your fingers daring to skim ever so lightly and quickly over his wrist as you walked out of the classroom) The smile on your face has your roommate’s brow quirking, but one look at your outfit has her lips pulling into a smirk- something near gloating on her face. “You shooting your shot?” she asks, already knowing the answer. “Something like that.” You plop down on your bed, smile waning but still present- content as you let yourself get comfortable. She doesn’t offer any more conversation and you’re okay with that- mind fixating instead on how you could possibly further things with your sought after teacher. Things are good, for now- much better than you had ever thought they would be. The little forays into flirtation have been fun, exciting and they’ve even helped boost your confidence- something you hadn’t realized was sorely needed. It’s been fun. And it stays fun- the short skirts, the girly lilt you find yourself injecting into your voice, the soft makeup and sweet perfume, the way you always leave the class with wet panties and a vibrating exciting buzzing through you, the way your teacher’s eyes can’t help but dart over you, the way he breathes in just a bit deep when you get a little too close, the way he swallows whenever you so lightly purr his name- it all stays fun. Fun, but...frustrating. After a while it gets frustrating. Because he doesn’t do anything, not really. He stays a proper, good teacher- something you give props to him for- and he never returns your gentle flirtations, the subtle and silent invitations you push his way. He’s so...professional. It’s kind of a turn on- kind of. It’s mostly just...frustrating. You find your lips dipping into a pout more and more, find yourself sulky and downtrodden. Sure, this has been fun and interesting but you...you want more. You want him. You need him. You’ve needed him for so long it seems. You find your muffled ministrations in the shower getting more and more frantic- your fingers pumping into your cunt relentlessly but giving you none of the relief you seek. When you are able to cum, it’s always with a whimper of sensei or doctor or professor- sometimes even a daring Natsuo. You get restless and impatient, desperate and a little hopeless. If your teacher senses or sees that, he doesn’t say anything- in fact, his gaze seems to avert from the feverish look in your eyes, he seems to pull away from your bold, reckless attempts to get closer to him. That hurts. That makes you angry. That makes you feel stupid. But he still wants you- or, at least, he still finds you tempting. You know he does- he can’t hide the way his eyes fall on you whenever you walk into the room, he can’t hide the quick glances he lays over you when he thinks no one else can see. You see his hesitance and want. You see it. ...if he’s not going to act on his desires, if he’s going to resist, then you’re going to kick things up a notch- someone has to; you can’t live with this stalemate any longer. It’s not a punishment, not really- it’s just throwing in his face what he’s missing out on. (My, whenever did you become so reckless and cruel? When did you become so desperate?) The ratio of boys to girls in the class is quite staggering- something one would think the university wouldn’t allow for fear of lawsuits. There are three boys for each girl- ambitious, studious, virginal, frantically horny things with expectations piled high on their shoulders and stress wracking their every thoughts. (It wouldn’t be unfair to say they you’re just like them- just sans the virginal part, double the stressed and horny part to make up for it) They’re good boys, for the most part- friendly and tired, nice but none of them quite to your taste or striking enough to jar your fixation from your sensei. Some of them are even handsome- which makes this a lot easier. “Oh, you brought me coffee? Thank you so much, Dai-chan! You’re so sweet!” The kiss you lay upon your classmate’s cheek makes him blush and fluster. It also makes your dear teacher stare- eyes wide and brow furrowed when you flick your gaze his way, his lips twitching as if he’s not sure if he wants to frown or not. The soft giggle you let out does bring a frown- something that deepens whenever one of the other boys comes over to grab your attention, try his hand. You should have thought of using them earlier on- they’ve been eager enough to try to flirt this whole time. Doctor Natsuo, for his part, doesn’t say or do anything- of course he doesn’t. But his usually happy temperament turns a bit tense, a little sour. He doesn’t lash out, not really, but you can see the way his teeth grit and his brow puckers whenever one of the boys dares to lay their hand on your arm, the small of your back. Good, you think- vicious and bitter, sour yourself. Get jealous. “What the fuck is up with Todoroki lately?” “Dude, did you hear how he snapped at Araka?” “Do you think something happened? He seems...stressed.” Your classmates trade hushed whispers as they flee the room, but you don’t think to join them- you stay quiet and soak in their quiet gossip, smile sharply without a look back to your grimacing, frustrated sensei. Just a little more. At this point, you’re not even sure what you want from him- an admittance of his own desires, him hurting and annoyed? You don’t know. You just want something to happen- you need something to break this little silent game apart. You think and think and think over what could raise the situation to the breaking point and, finally, you settle on something simple. The night before your Thursday class, you invite over one of your classmates- Eita; one of the more attractive ones, one of the less nervous ones. Your roommate is gracious enough to stay away (thanks to your offer of money for booze and weed and help with her homework) and you have the room all to yourself. Three beers and some easy flirtations, just a few small touches- that’s all it takes to get what you’re after. You don’t let him fuck you- he’s not worth it, nowhere near what you want- but you let him fumble his hands over you, are kind enough to wrap your hand around his cock while his lips frantically roam and suck over your neck. You don’t let him come until you’re absolutely sure that you have what you want. It reduces him to a whining mess- which, hey, is honestly kind of cute. You rebuff his sweet offers to “return the favor” and send him off with a kiss to the cheek, spend the rest of your night nursing a glass of wine and silently brooding- mind tired and body exhausted, your desires so restless. The next day you dress in a pleated, short skirt that just barely skims the middle of your thighs and fix your hair into a cute little updo, don your now signature mary janes and pull on a brand new pair of knee high socks. The sly comments you get throughout the day are annoying, but easily ignored. You’re impatient through the morning and it only gets worse as Doctor Natsuo’s class creeps closer. You spend the day jittering your leg and biting your lip, checking your phone every few moments and huffing to yourself, clutching at your arms and trying not to pace up and down the school’s halls. Finally- finally- it’s time for your favorite class. You have to force yourself to walk slowly toward it. You have to breathe in deep to quiet your pounding heart, to still your trembling hands. This has to spur something on. You walk into the classroom- skirt swaying, lips hiding your anticipation behind a smile. You ignore Professor Natsuo and make your way to Eita’s desk, plant your elbows on it and rest your chin in your hand, arch your hips up so your teacher can be teased by the sight of your soft thighs and curves, taunted by how just an inch or two of fabric prevents your panties from being flashed. (Is he looking? He has to be looking. He better be looking.) “Eita-kun,” you coo, sweet and loud enough for others to hear, “I had such a good time last night. We should do it again.” Eita’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. You might enjoy it if you weren’t so distracted by the noise of a coffee cup slamming down and clattering on the desk behind you, if your breathing didn’t hitch so sharply at the fault in your sensei’s composure. Slowly, you straighten yourself to standing and turn around. Professor Natsuo’s face is red and flustered- jealous- when you look and his eyes are narrowed at you, his coffee spilled on the desk. You offer him a sweet blink and a sweeter smile, tilt your head so he can see the blossomed bruise tinting your throat pewter and mauve, a stormy and swirling blue. His eyes widen, his gaze darts behind you. Your smile grows. How do you like that, sensei? Your hands tremble just a little- from nerves, from excitement, from aching anticipation- and you clasp them behind your back to hide them from his gaze, lean forward and peer over his desk. “Are you okay, sir?” you ask him- chirping and so very sweet. “Do you need help cleaning that up?” He stares at you- disbelieving and still so evident in his shock, his envy. Some strangled noise chokes its way up and out of his throat whenever you flutter your lashes his way and smug amusement gathers in you as you watch his jaw tighten, his teeth grit as he tries to gather his composure once more. “No. Sit.” Oh. You’ve never heard him sound like that before. So authoritative, so stern. So hot. It’s your turn to let out a noise- something soft and almost curious, accompanied by flushed cheeks. You obey your teacher and sit down without a fuss- thighs pressing together and already growing damp, lip bitten and eyes half-shut as you watch him silently clean up the coffee. He doesn’t look at you throughout the whole lesson. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t call on you. He doesn’t smile or laugh or joke around. He’s...cold throughout the class- words iced over and posture rigid, his face holding no warmth at all. You gulp as you listen to him lecture and squirm in your seat- nerves starting to gather and grow despite the way you’re still so very wet between your thighs. You had wanted something to happen. You were determined to force anything to happen. But maybe- maybe you miscalculated. Maybe you fucked up. It’s something of a relief when the class ends. Usually, you like to linger for a few moments, like to stay just a bit longer than necessary so you can grab your teacher’s attention with a question or some sort of compliment over the lesson. Today, though? Today you shoot up from your seat without delay, begin to gather all your supplies as quickly as you can. At least...at least until he says your name. It’s firm, just a little icy. You stiffen at the sound and gulp, look back at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. Before hearing your name part from your teacher’s lips would send you flying high, but right now...right now your skin is tingling with a giddy apprehension, your fingertips are trembling as you search his face for any hint of what’s to come. “I need to have a word with you,” Doctor Natsuo tells you- eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen where you stand. “I, um,” you try to weakly protest, “I have to get to my next class...” “It won’t take long.” If he catches your wince, he doesn’t react to it. Professor Natsuo simply leans against his desk as the rest of the students file out- arms folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to display thick forearms. And you? You stay rooted to the spot- heart pounding and eyes still wide, cheeks flushed and thighs damp. When the last student leaves, Professor Natsuo walks over to the door and closes it shut. Click. W-Wait- did he just- “D-Doctor Natsuo?” you squeak out. “What are you- what are you doing?” “I think I should be asking that question.” Oh, shit. Your teacher turns around slowly and the look he gives you takes your breath away. He looks angry and frustrated. He looks pissed. Pissed, but there’s- there’s something more- there’s- “What-” He takes a step toward you, you take a step back. “- do you think you’re doing, young lady?” The whimper that leaves you is equal parts anxious and needy- soft and unwanted. You probably shouldn’t find the growl in his words so hot. Your knees probably shouldn’t knock together and your pussy shouldn’t throb at the snap of young lady. But it’s- you didn’t expect him to be like this. But you- it’s- A tremble wracks through you and Professor Natsuo takes another step toward you. You bump against his desk whenever you stumble back and flinch at the wood that slams into your lower back, gasp and whimper once more when big hands fall to the table on both your sides, when your teacher brackets your trembling form and keeps you enclosed and captive. His eyes are narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. His cologne smells so nice up close, his height has your lashes fluttering and your breathing shuddering as you’re forced to tilt your head back to look up at him with wide eyes. “S- Sir?” “Don’t sir me,” he snaps, crowding closer to you. “I’ve lost my patience with you playing coy.” He’s lost his patience? Your mouth opens to shoot off something probably very stupid, but the words die as a big, cool hand finds your throat and forces your head to a tilt. The touch is beyond expected, has you crying out softly and gripping onto his shirt, almost hyperventilating. The pin prick retraction of your pupils is dramatic and so is your whimpering exhales but, god, this is not what you had expected. “You’ve been toying with me for weeks now,” Doctor Natsuo growls out, his fingers digging into the hickey on your neck. “All your short skirts and little touches, your shameless flirtations- you’ve been trying to drive me mad, haven’t you?” “Pr- Professor,” you whimper out, thighs rubbing together and a moan threatening to sound. “I just- I just wanted-” “You just wanted some attention,” he huffs out- his other hand gripping at your waist and his knee knocking your legs apart. “You wanted to see what would break me, right? That’s why you came in flaunting this today.” Your teacher’s thigh slots between yours and his fingers push deeper into your bruised flesh, his stormy eyes narrow and take in the way you shudder, how your cheeks flush even darker and your eyes start to turn just a bit glossy. A mewl leaves you- embarrassing and so needy, so helpless- and you whine softly after, try to turn your head away so he can’t see the way all your bravado and confidence is melting away into your selfish, needy, hopeless desires. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he demands- forcing your face back to him. He doesn’t look angry now- just frustrated- and your stuttered little gasp only makes his teeth grit, the way your thighs squeeze his makes his breath in sharp and deep. “Go on- tell me.” You- you can’t. You can’t deny him, can’t lie. Not now that things have finally boiled over, not now that he’s finally confronting you. Not now that you’re about to come just from the feeling of his thigh pressing against your soaked cunt. Not now that you’re so close to moaning and falling into a pleading, begging thing. “I- I had to,” you whine. “You weren’t- you wouldn’t-” “Tch.” The grip on your neck tightens and leaves you whimpering, leaves your fingers curling even tighter into your teacher’s shirt. “I was trying to be a good teacher,” Professor Natsuo grits out. “I was trying to keep from taking advantage of you.” Take advantage of you? You would laugh if it weren’t for your wettening lashes, the way your hips are aching and tightening from trying not to grind over your sensei’s thigh. “Sensei-” “Did you fuck him?” he interrupts- fingers dragging over your hickey and hand gripping your hip tighter, pulling you closer and making you whimper, tremble as your cunt is made to glide over his leg. “Don’t tell me after all this time you settled for a boy like that?” You shake your head the best you can- almost frantic with it, flushed and vaguely angry he would even insinuate that you would hook up with someone after you’ve put in so much effort toward him. “N- No! I wanted- I didn’t want- didn’t want him,” you whine, hips jerking despite yourself, a mewl leaving you whenever your teacher’s breath catches. “Sensei, please-” “Fuck.” The groan that leaves him has your lashes fluttering, your lips parting with a soft whine. The hand on your neck moves to your scalp and buries thick fingers in your hair, messes up your updo and sends your hairtie flying. He ignores the protesting noise that leaves you and looks down at you instead- eyes dark with a need that mirrors your own, nostrils flaring as his breathing turns heavy. “You are so naughty,” Doctor Natsuo growls- one hand curling his fingers into your hair, the other smoothing down your waist and to your spread legs. “Filthy little thing.” Filthy? You’re not- you’re not- The hand at your waist moves to loosen his tie and you whimper when he pops open his top button, when he shifts his hips forward and you feel his cock hard on your thigh. “Pl- please, sensei,” you breathe out in a beg- unplanned and so thoughtless, even overwhelmed. “I- I’ll be good! I won’t tell! I just want- I need-” You cut yourself off with a whine and rock against his thigh, look up at him with your wet lashes and flushed cheeks. He groans whenever you whimper and you clutch at him tighter, try to press against him. “I need you, sensei,” you plead- so soft and so desperate. “I need you. I- I promise I’ll be good. I just- I just-” You whimper once more and he groans, grips your waist and sits you on the table rough enough to make all his pens rattle and shake. He slots himself between your spread legs and buries his fingers back into your hair, presses his mouth against yours so fast and hard that it makes your whole world screech to a screaming halt. Your eyes widen and then slam shut, your body goes limp as you whimper and tremble from the way his tongue traces over your bottom lip. You allow your mouth to open and your teacher groans over it, slips his tongue inside and forces you to bend back as he presses closer toward you. Whenever he pulls his head back from yours, there’s a glistening of spit on his lips, a flush to his cheeks. You squirm under his gaze- suddenly so shy, suddenly so flustered- and whine as he stares down at you, arch your back and gasp whenever he forces your head to the side once more and presses his lips to your throat. It hurts when his teeth dig into the already tender, bruised flesh but it sends your mind reeling, has you mewling and reaching to scratch at his back. “Y- Yes! Please! Cover it! Make that mark yours!” The words fly out fast and without any thought, the begging comes from a place you didn’t realize existed within you. You don’t even realize that you mewled such a thing out until your teacher is groaning against your neck, until he’s muttering a, “Fuck- that’s a good girl” right against your throat. If you weren’t so swept up in the situation, you might feel embarrassed. But, you’re not- you’re just gasping and flushed and made even more needy from the praise, from the way your sensei’s hands drag down your sides to grip your waist. Tears blur your vision and a stuttered breath has you shaking, your nails digging deep into soft fabric and clawing over a broad back. “Doctor Natsuo please!” Another groan from your teacher and his hand slips under your skirt, his fingers push your soaked panties to the side and dip into your sopping cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he growls, curling two thick digits and making you cry out. “Hey- shh, shh. Be good. You promised you were going to be good.” Be good? Oh, fuck, you wanna be good. You bite your lip as your teacher fucks his fingers deep inside you and try so, so, so hard to stay nice and quiet and good. He watches you as you try to muffle your whimper behind your hand and you shake from the way he licks his lips, from the way his lashes lower and his gaze turns approving. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Good girl. Fuck- turn over.” Professor Natsuo backs away and you can’t quite bite back your whine whenever his fingers leave, can’t quite inject any gracefulness in the way you scramble to comply. He yanks you back whenever you’re on your stomach- has your knees knocking against his desk and your hips arching up. There’s no warning when he grabs the plush flesh of your ass and spreads your cheeks wide. Your face flushes and a soft noise leaves you, your thighs press together as you squirm and whimper. “Cute,” he murmurs, squeezing your butt roughly. “Even better than I imagined.” Imagined? Oh- oh. He- he thought of you. He fantasized about you. Sensei- sensei got off to you. Your cunny clenches and your teacher groans- low and deep and accompanied by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. When you look back over your shoulder at him, his fingers are undoing his tie and you’re left blinking in confusion as he wraps each end around his palms. “Professor...?” “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation- lips falling open and fingers curling against the wood of the desk. Professor Natsuo slips his tie between your lips and you whine as it digs into your cheeks, shudder whenever he gives it a tight tug. “Now be a good student for your sensei,” he instructs, gathering the tie in one hand and pulling out his cock with the other. “Quiet and good.” You nod the best you can, but it’s a promise you can’t quite keep whenever his cock nestles between your cunt’s lips, whenever the tip eases into your hole and then slams fully in. You cry out- spit wetting your teacher’s silk tie and his hand laying heavy across your ass, your head getting yanked back whenever he jerks on the tie. “What did I say?” He said- he said to be quiet and good. You have to be quiet and good. A muffled whimper leaves you and you rock your hips back, squeeze around your sensei’s cock with the softest little whine. He groans and his hips pap against you, his dick drives in deep enough to have your toes curling and your lashes fluttering. He’s- he’s big. Bigger than you thought he’d be. Bigger than you dared to imagine. The stretch is- it’s so much. But you’re so wet. You’re so needy. Tiny, strangled whimpers leave you as your professor falls into a rhythm and you shudder, do your best to fuck your hips back against him. That stops whenever he grips your waist with a grunt and you whine softly, still and let your teacher fuck you how he pleases. You take it and you love it, get pushed close to orgasm faster than ever before. You almost collapse when you come on his cock and you hiccup out a whine of pleasure, a muffled mewl of his name. Doctor Natsuo groans as your gummy insides spasm around him and his grip becomes bruising, his rocks get faster- harder. Feels so good! Feels so good! Sensei’s dick feels so good! “Shen- shensay!” “Oh, fuck- god- you’re so tight, baby. Good girl- you like sensei’s cock deep inside you? Is this what you wanted?” You whimper and nod- cheek scrubbing against the desk, cunt gripping his cock like a vice. He grunts and grabs onto your hips, forces your head up and back as the tie drags you and forces your back to arch in a tight, painful angle. Still feels good, though. Still feels like everything you wanted. You want- need- so much more. “Shoulda done this sooner,” your teacher groans out. “Shoulda- fuck!” He slams in you deep enough to have your eyes rolling back, hard enough to have your whole body shaking and your nails clawing across his desk. “C’mon, c’mon- take it- take it! Sensei is- Sensei is gonna fill you up- gonna give that needy cunt what it needs!” He’s gonna- he’s gonna- oh, god! Doctor Natsuo fucks into you faster and faster- the movements jarring you against the desk and making it rock, the jab of his cock rushing you to the height of pleasure again. You cry out as he slams into you- the tie falling from your lips as he drops it and forces you back onto the desk, slides his arms under you and grips your shoulders, fucks into you rough and deep and so, so perfectly. Warmth floods inside your pussy and you whimper as you’re filled with your sensei’s seed, twitch and come on his cock again- lashes fluttering and teeth digging into your lip to muffle your whine, honeyed insides milking his dick as if you need more. You do need more- you do. How could you have ever imagined one time would be enough to satisfy your fantasies? Your teacher pants and grinds into you- hot breath fanning over your cheek and his cock sliding out with a wet pop whenever he draws his hips back. You whimper at the loss but mewl when his fingers draw up your slit, slide back and down onto your knees as exhaustion slips over you. Fuck...fuck, did that just happen? A touch to your cheek has you looking up and you blink hazily at your sensei’s flushed cheeks, the shining and wet cock that he stuffs inside his trousers. “Satisfied?” he asks, slightly breathless and a groan hiding in his voice. “Going to be a good girl now? No more teasing sensei?” You nod, not quite thinking over the action or processing the words, only close your eyes when the slightest smile flits across his lips, when his fingers brush over your cheek and his gaze goes heavy lidded. “Sensei...” His fingers glance over your jawline and down low, stroke over your new hickey and bring a mewl. With your eyes closed, you can’t see the way his expression ripples with something hesitant and something curious, something...greedy. Strong hands help you up from the floor and you shudder as your legs tremble, press against his chest and look up at him with heavy eyes, a yearning that you can’t quite hide. He strokes your hair and it’s...nice. Unexpected from the way he reacted before, so very welcome. “...I was harsh with you.” The apologetic tone is also unexpected. Your professor seems to almost fluster, hesitates as he strokes your hair again and allows his grey gaze to look over your flushed cheeks and parted lips, the desire that you can’t quite hide. “...you were a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you flush even more. “...you gonna keep being good? Not tell?” Of course you’re not going to tell. Of course you’re not going to risk this. You nod without any hesitation and you’re graced with a smile, another kiss that has you wanting to melt against him. “Then in that case...” You blink and watch as he breathes in deep, tilt your head as your heart begins to flutter in your chest. “Come over tonight. I can give you what you want properly.” He wants...he wants you to come over? He wants to fuck you again? You could swear it’s almost a smirk that forms on his face whenever your eyes widen and your breath catches. “I- I...yes, please.” He hums and he steps away- leaving you to stumble slightly and look at him in wonder, an unending adoration that you had pretended wasn’t underneath all your lust for him. “Good. But for now...” Sensei takes a deep breath and then he smiles at you- this time a bit wry, a little amused. “You’re going to be late for your next class.” Next class? Oh- oh shit! A squeak escapes you and you hurry to gather up all your stuff, shove your books in your arms and race toward the door. “Hey.” You freeze as you grab onto the doorknob and nearly tumble into it, look back toward your sensei. “I want you to call me Natsuo when we’re alone.” He- he what? Oh. Oh. You open your mouth, but the trilling of the bell cuts you off and you’re left only with the time to nod and flush, mumble out a soft, “Yes, sir” before you have to rush out the room. You head toward your next class with weak legs and cheeks red from where your sensei’s tie pulled deep into your skin, hair a mess and your teacher’s- Natsuo’s- cum dripping down your thighs. You smile as you rush off to your next class- happy and fucked, eager to see what Natsuo has in store for you later that night.

#natsuo todoroki x reader #rooni's shit #tw breeding kink #Anonymous

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