#why would you make yourself say five syllables when you could say one instead

[trans-cuchulainn]

i only recently learned that americans actually say "refrigerator" as standard. like, i saw it in books and stuff, but it always seemed formal and kind of old fashioned so i assumed it was just Book Language and didn't register it as an americanism. only recently found out youse are just... calling them that all the time. wild

#i thought it was just that written language was extra formal and used proper terms for things #then saw someone online joking about americans and refrigerators #and now i cannot stop noticing it everywhere #why would you make yourself say five syllables when you could say one instead #so tiring

[hamsterclaw]

Vows (Part 2)

aka 10 ways to win your husband's heart: an arranged marriage AU

You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Arranged marriage, e2l, smut, angst

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Sex and swearing

Read part 1 here.

Nara puts a slice of sashimi on your plate.

‘How’s making up with your husband going?’ she asks.

You shrug. ‘I’ve got five things left to do.’

‘Five?’ Nara asks. ‘Surely he’s already soft for you? Why do you even have to do any more things?’

‘It’s not about making him soft for me. It’s making up for all the things I did to him.’

‘Is he even asking you to do any of this?’

‘He never asks for anything,’ you say. 

‘Figures. I’ve always pegged him as the strong silent type.’

You don’t think it’s that, though. Yoongi has no problem being vocal when it comes to telling you off. 

You think Nara has a point.

‘Maybe I’ll just ask him what he wants.’

You can’t believe that Yoongi would ever ask you for anything, but it’s worth a shot.

***

You stare at your husband over the dining table in disbelief. 

‘A month?’

‘You asked,’ Yoongi says, shrugging.

‘No. I never did anything that bad.’

Yoongi just picks up another dumpling and pops it in his mouth, chewing nonchalantly.

‘You asked how you could make things up to me. Do everything I say for a month and we’ll have a clean slate.’

‘I’ll do everything you say for a day,’ you bargain.

‘A week,’ counters Yoongi. 

‘It’ll probably just be sex things,’ you mutter to yourself.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. ‘And you wouldn’t enjoy that?’

You bite your lip. ‘A weekend?’ you offer.

Yoongi considers this. 

He puts out his hand. 

You shake it.

***

It’s your weekend of enforced subservience to Yoongi. You’ve been subtly prying all week, trying to get a hint of what he’s got planned, but your husband’s been a closed book.

Well, as closed off as he normally is.

Although he’s been more open lately. You think of the night in the cabin you fell asleep in his arms and woke up to him stroking your hair.

You think your husband’s starting to warm towards you. 

He even gave you a kiss yesterday morning on his way out.

Beside you, Yoongi turns over. ‘Morning, princess.’

You never thought you’d enjoy being called princess but it’s different when Min Yoongi’s saying it in his gravelly, early morning voice.

‘Morning,’ you say.

Yoongi lays on his back, running a hand through his hair. ‘I was thinking, I call you all sorts of things, but you don’t call me anything.’

‘You mean, like, baby?’ you ask.

Yoongi laughs. ‘Am I a baby?’

You can’t think of anyone less baby-like than your confident, capable husband.

‘You’re more of an oppa,’ you say, honestly. ‘Or a daddy.’

Yoongi props himself up on one arm. ‘Not sure about daddy but I could probably get behind oppa.’

‘Noted,’ you say cheerfully. You sit up, and Yoongi holds you back as you swing your legs onto the floor.

He sweeps his slippers out of the way with his arm.

‘Don’t trip,’ he orders. 

‘Yes oppa,’ you say, half joking.

Yoongi laughs. ‘Maybe we should save it for when we’re in bed together.’

‘I like Yoongi,’ you tell him, heading for his bathroom. ‘Two syllables is nice to wrap my tongue round.’

‘I have something else you can wrap your tongue round,’ Yoongi says. 

You laugh and pull your t-shirt, well, Yoongi’s t-shirt, over your head. 

You pause just before you step into the shower. ‘Wait, was that an order?’

Yoongi’s already brushing his teeth. ‘I won’t order you to do any sex things with me. I’d rather you begged for it.’

‘I have another ouvert,’ you say, turning the shower on.

‘Wear it,’ Yoongi says instantly. 

You both laugh. 

‘Yes, sir,’ you say.

Yoongi cocks his head to one side. ‘Sir,’ he says, considering.

You lather up your hair. 

‘No way.’

***

At breakfast Yoongi says you’re going to visit his grandmother. 

It’s not at all what you were expecting. 

You like Yoongi’s family, and you think they like you too. His grandmother’s always been warm towards you.

‘I like visiting your family,’ you say.

Yoongi glances at you. ‘Did you think I was going to make you do things you don’t want to?’

‘I’ll be honest, I thought anal was on the agenda.’

Yoongi scoffs. ‘Like I said, I won’t make you do anything sexual. You’ll have to beg for it.’

‘I’ll never beg,’ you say, just out of defiance. You’re perfectly aware Yoongi’s brought you to the point to begging in the past.

Yoongi’s expression shows he knows it as well as you do.

‘My grandmother’s having a family get together today. Most of my family will be there.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ you say, enthusiastically. 

You love Yoongi’s nieces and nephews.

Yoongi says, ‘they’re expecting us for lunch.’

‘One dutiful, pliant, obedient wife coming up,’ you reply.

Yoongi shakes his head. ‘Not too pliant, they’ll think you’re being sarcastic.’

‘Yes oppa.’

Yoongi scoffs, but you see the way his lips twitch as he turns away.

***

Ah shit.

You’d forgotten about Yoongi’s cousin. 

Yoonseok and Yoongi have always been competitive, from what you can glean.

They grew up together, but took wildly different paths. 

Yoongi, as the eldest son of the eldest brother, was always set to take over the company.

Yoonseok, with a similar drive and ambition but a different set of talents, became a professional basketball player.

You’ve always had a thing for athletes, the man you dated on and off before you married Yoongi was a football player.

Fresh out of your whirlwind marriage to your aloof, distant husband, you’d turned your attentions to flirting outrageously with Yoonseok in front of Yoongi.

You’d initially wanted to just get a reaction out of Yoongi, but as he’d shown no discernible reaction, your antics, encouraged by Yoonseok, had got progressively more outrageous.

You have a vague memory of cavorting in a tiny bikini in the pool of Min family home with a shirtless Yoonseok. Also of grinding drunkenly with Yoonseok at a family wedding anniversary. 

You cringe at the memory. 

Yoonseok approaches you when Yoongi’s drafted to help with the barbecue.

‘Hey, Y/N,’ he says.

You’re not going to lie, Yoonseok’s stunning, all muscles and height, but for the first time, you’re left cold. 

He’s not a patch on your grumpy husband.

‘Hey, how’ve you been?’ you ask, politely.

‘Great,’ he says, smiling warmly at you. 

He takes the tray you’re holding out of your hands, and you realise there’s another opportunity to make something up to Yoongi. 

You’d planned to do it at his parents’ wedding anniversary next month, but you can do it right now. 

You’ve always been a fan of ruthless efficiency. 

‘Hey, Yoonseok,’ you say, putting your hand on his arm. 

His gaze falls to your hand, and you take it away hurriedly. 

‘I’m trying to make up for all the things I’ve done to Yoongi, and this —’ you gesture between you and him, ‘is right up there.’ 

‘You’re gonna need to be more specific,’ Yoonseok says, the bastard. 

You guess being a gorgeous asshole runs in the family. 

You look up at him. Damn. He’s really going to make you say it. 

You say, voice as flat as possible, ‘flirting with you every chance I got.’ 

Your timing couldn’t be worse. Yoongi walks into the kitchen to see you and Yoonseok, and in time to hear your sentence. 

He looks at both of you carefully. 

‘I was just saying to Yoonseok that I’m trying to make up for all the outrageous things I did in the early days of our marriage,’ you say to Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s face is expressionless. 

‘Like flirting with a bunch of men I really had no interest in,’ you finish, determined. 

‘Ouch,’ says Yoonseok. 

You feel like dumping the entire tray over his gorgeous head. 

‘Ah,’ says Yoongi. 

You stand between the monosyllabic Min men awkwardly, then decide there’s no salvaging this. 

‘I should — ‘ 

You’re out the door without finishing your sentence. 

Yoongi says barely anything to you at the meal, and for once, Yoonseok doesn’t try to sit next to you. 

When Yoongi’s nephew Junho suggests a game of ultimate frisbee you’re the first to volunteer. 

Thankfully you’re dressed appropriately enough to get dirty. 

Ah shit. 

There’s enough of you to play three-a-side, and somehow you end up on Yoongi’s team with Junho. 

You consider protesting over Yoonseok, a professional athlete, being allowed to play, but seeing as he’s paired with twin ten year olds, Sana and Mina, you think you can probably let it slide. 

Yoongi and Junho are discussing strategy, and you pretend to listen. 

‘Got it?’ asks Yoongi, looking at you sternly. 

You think you’re less of a liability than nine year old Junho but you nod meekly anyway. 

The game starts easily enough, you quickly work out that Junho’s quick and Sana’s highly competitive. 

Yoongi snaps the frisbee to you, and you catch it, tossing it to Junho. 

Yoonseok plows into Yoongi for no discernible reason. 

You’re about to run to him when Yoongi jumps up and into him. 

You hadn’t realise Yoongi was so quick. 

No one acknowledges the goal you score when you run into the end zone and Junho tosses the frisbee back to you. 

Sana and Mina score a goal whilst Yoongi and Yoonseok continue to wrestle. 

You consider getting involved as the only other adult present, but Yoongi looks kind of hot like this, teeth gritted, sweaty, panting. 

Also, he hasn’t looked at you once, arms trembling with the effort of holding Yoonseok down.

Mina intercepts a careless pass from Junho, and she scores another goal. 

Junho yells, ‘Come on, we got this!’ 

You’re torn between not letting down your 9 year old teammate and feeling a little worried and a lot horny for your sweaty, intense husband. 

Junho throws another careless pass, and the frisbee thwacks Yoonseok on the head. 

He turns to look at you, incredulous. 

Now you’re torn between selling out your 9 year old teammate and being mown down by a sweaty-ass man built like a brick wall. 

‘RUN!’ you shout. You grab Junho’s hand and, no questions asked, he runs with you. 

You can hear that you’re being pursued, but you don’t dare turn. 

You can hear Yoongi’s low voice. ‘Come back, motherfucker!’ he hisses. 

Ah shit. Ah shit. 

Junho trips and you turn, fully expecting to be mown down by Yoonseok. 

Instead, you see Yoongi starfishing on top of Yoonseok. 

‘Get off!’

‘Make me,’ Yoongi grunts. 

Shit. Again, you think how fucking hot Yoongi is when he’s angry. 

Junho turns over, and at first you think he’s injured, and then you realise he’s laughing. 

‘Motherfucker!’ he yells. 

You, Yoongi and Yoonseok freeze. 

‘Damn,’ Yoonseok says, smug. ‘Good luck explaining that to halmeoni.’ 

***

Yoongi steps out of the shower, towel around his waist.

You’re already showered, lounging on the bed in a silky slip. 

He barely raises an eyebrow at you. 

‘Are you going to give me the silent treatment all weekend?’ you ask. ‘How are you going to get me to do what you want if you won’t talk to me?’ 

Yoongi towels his hair, and you stop him. 

‘Sit, let me dry your hair.’ 

He’s been growing his hair out lately. It suits him. 

You grab a frizz-tamer from the toiletries you’ve been gradually moving into Yoongi’s bedroom and pump some into your hand. 

Yoongi sits, quietly, looking at you in the mirror whilst you dry his hair. 

‘There,’ you say, when you’re finished. 

You’ve styled his hair away from his forehead, it’s a look you love on him. 

‘I’m just going to bed,’ Yoongi says. 

‘Am I going to bed with you?’ you ask. 

Yoongi sighs. ‘I’d never kick you out of bed,’ he tells you. 

‘Not even if I —’ you fall silent as you click through all the things you’ve done to Yoongi over the last five years and realise you’ve done all the worst things you can think of already. 

Yoongi looks at you. It feels a little bit like he’s waiting for something. 

‘I’m sorry for being such a terrible person,’ you offer. 

‘I’m sorry for not being the husband you wanted,’ Yoongi says. 

‘Damn, I should have said that. Can I change my apology?’ 

Yoongi gives you a half-smile. He starts to stand, and you reach out and tug his towel. The two sides come apart, and you kneel between his legs. 

‘Please,’ you say, looking up at him. 

Yoongi strokes your hair away from your face. ‘I’m always thinking about this,’ he says. 

‘Me sucking your cock?’ you ask, kissing your way up his thigh. 

‘You and me,’ he replies. 

He hardens as you lick along his cock. You curl your fingers around him and put him in your mouth.

Soon, he’s hard enough to push against the roof of your mouth. 

You lick a stripe along the underside of his cock, and he hardens even more. 

‘You like this, oppa?’ 

‘I like it, jagiya.’ 

Yoongi’s cock is beautiful when it’s fully hard -- perfectly straight, veiny and thick enough to make you gasp when he first enters you, no matter how many times you’ve had him. 

He seems to know how much you like the stretch as he pushes into you, he’s always slow about it, teasing at your entrance, pushing in slowly until you’re writhing under him. 

He leads you onto the bed now, somehow hitting the lights as he goes because he knows you like it when it’s dark. 

You get on your hands and knees for him, poised at the end of the bed. 

You can hear him approach you. He puts a hand on your bare ass, groans and slides his hand up your naked back.

‘Always so quick to get naked for me, princess,’ he says.

‘I love being naked for you, daddy.’

His hand stops on your hip. 

‘Yeah sorry oppa I was just trying it out.’

Yoongi laughs and slides a finger down your slit, pushing your thighs apart.

‘When you’re wet and naked like this, baby, you can call me anything you want.’

‘I want to call you Yoongi,’ you tell him. 

You can feel the head of his cock against your cunt. 

He slips in, and you moan.

His hand splays across the curve of your spine, angling you for him.

‘You’re always so perfect for me,’ he says. He kisses your back, following the line of your spine. 

His hands come around to cup your breasts, toying with your nipples. You cry out as he pinches.

‘Yoongi!’

He shoves his hips against your ass. ‘I’m here,’ he tells you. 

You put your hand on his, over your breast. Yoongi stops, and then he pulls out, flipping you over on the bed.

‘Look at me,’ he says. You look up at him as he enters you again.

He knits his fingers through yours, holding your hand as he rocks into you. 

His lips meet yours in a slow, tender kiss. He slides all the way into you, until his cock feels so deep you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

He stays still like that, hard and heavy within you, as he kisses your lips, your cheeks, your eyes.

It feels like he’s loving you more than he’s fucking you.

‘Are you ok, baby?’ he asks, and he sounds so tender you feel a surge of emotion. You haven’t got the headspace to unpick it right now.

So you nod and smile up at him. ‘I’m good, Yoongi.’

He smiles back. 

‘You’re so soft, like this.’

You shift your hips. ‘You’re very hard,’ you observe, grinning.

He thrusts, once, and you moan.

‘Don’t stop,’ you say. 

You can feel his cock jerk at the pleading in your voice.

He lifts your leg to his shoulder, and you both moan at the change in position.

Yoongi turns his head to kiss your calf as he starts moving again. 

You’re so wet now you can hear yourself over the slap of his skin on yours.

His lips seek yours again, swallowing your cries as you pulse around his cock. He shudders and you feel his warmth fill you.

You pull him down on top of you in a tangle of limbs and sweaty skin, and you’ve never felt so complete.

***

You’ve planned out the final three stages of your plan to make things up to Yoongi with laser precision.

Well, as precise as you’re capable of being.

You meet Yoongi for lunch sometimes these days, and today you’ve taken the afternoon off because you know he’s playing tennis with Seokjin after lunch.

In the first couple of years after you got married, Yoongi had forgone his driver and driven you around in his car, a vintage sports car he’d seemed to like. 

You’d had it sold to a classic car collector and used the money to buy him a completely different car, the antithesis of the car he’d had. It was flashy, and brand new, and soulless. 

You still remember the way his jaw clenched when you presented it to him. 

You hope today goes better. You’d tracked down the collector you’d sold Yoongi’s original car to and repurchased it from him.

Thankfully, it still seems to be in perfect condition. Namjoon had a friend check it over for you.

You can’t wait to see Yoongi’s face when he sees it.

Yoongi smiles at you as he parks up in your driveway. ‘Why are you so excited?’

‘I have a surprise for you,’ you tell him. ‘It’s —-‘

His phone rings and he murmurs a quick ‘sorry’ before answering.

You fidget impatiently in your seat as he talks. You pick up that he sounds tense, irritated.

Yoongi hangs up and turns to you. ‘I need to go back to the office, baby.’

‘Sure, of course. Want me to drive you?’ 

‘You should probably just get lunch. I might be back late.’

‘Sure.’ You lean over and give Yoongi a kiss and hop out of the car.

You wave at him as he drives off, but you’re not sure he sees you.

***

Yoongi ended up coming home after you fell asleep, and he was gone by the time you woke up, so you’re not sure if he saw his new car.

You’re in your office replying to emails when Mr Jee, your boss and one of the directors, a good friend of your father’s, knocks at the door.

‘Congratulations,’ he says.

For one wild moment you wonder if he’s congratulating you on reaching the last two stages of your plan to atone for your past sins with Yoongi.

‘For what?’ you ask.

‘For reaching all the milestones on the Juno launch,’ he says.

Juno is a new service you’d launched a few months ago, a food delivery service with a USP of being able to order from multiple places at once.

It’s doing better than all projections, you’re pretty proud of it and your team for seeing it through.

‘You’re getting an award at the company dinner next week,’ Mr Jee says, smiling kindly at you. 

‘Does it come with a raise?’ you ask, because you aren’t your father’s daughter for nothing.

Mr Jee nods, serious. ‘Come see me in my office in the morning and we’ll talk about it.’

As soon as he leaves you pick up the phone to call Nara and tell her, and it occurs to you for the first time that Yoongi might be interested too.

Impulsively, you call him. 

He answers on the second ring. ‘Are you ok?’ He asks.

He sounds worried.

‘I’m fine,’ you say. ‘I just —‘

‘Before I forget, I saw the car.’

You forget your own news temporarily.

‘Do you like it?’

‘I love it. Thank you, baby. Maybe we can take it for a spin once this Novatech thing is over.’

‘Love to,’ you say, immediately.

Yoongi says, ‘ah, sorry. I need to go. I’ll be back late, hopefully see you at breakfast tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, see you, Yoongi.’

You’ve hung up before you remember you didn’t tell him your news.

***

Nara’s pulled some strings at her publishing company to help you with your penultimate task.

To make up for sending Yoongi’s STI screen to his entire company, you’ve managed to get him to be featured in one of those lists of hot up and coming tech multi-millionnaires. 

You hadn’t really had to do much more once you got in the door to meet the editor than to wave a picture of your gorgeous husband at her.

Yoongi’s got enough of a reputation that he had made their shortlist anyway.

The picture had just been the icing on the cake.

Thinking about it, you aren’t sure that sending Yoongi’s STI screen was that bad a thing to do. At least his employees knew their boss was responsible for his sexual health. 

You remember Yoongi’s thunderous face as he’d pointed out that half his staff were his parents’ age, his parents’ friends and deeply conservative. 

Anyway you’ve been sent an early copy, and Yoongi’s feature is so hot you feel like running around and showing him off.

Yoongi’s aware, of course, he’d had to consent to the feature, but it’s come out even better than you could have wished for.

You’re lying in bed, still awake, when he comes home. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, putting his hand on your thigh. 

‘Still awake, baby?’

‘I’m glad I got to see you before I fell asleep,’ you tell him.

He loosens his tie, tugging it off. 

‘Want me to rub your back?’ you ask.

‘Nah. I just want to sit here with you for a bit.’

‘Hey,’ you say, remembering. ‘Are you free this Friday?’

‘Ah, I have dinner plans. Why?’

‘Just I have this company dinner to go to and I was hoping for some company.’

You giggle at your inadvertent pun and you can sense Yoongi rolling his eyes.

‘I promised I’d take my team for dinner to thank them for their hard work with the Novatech deal.’

‘Ah, ok.’

You roll over to hide your disappointment. 

‘Good night, Yoongi.’

‘Good night, my love.’

‘Say that again,’ you say.

‘Demanding little brat. I said good night.’

‘What did you say at the end?’

‘Nothing.’

You huff in annoyance. 

You’re falling asleep when he finally gets into bed with you.

‘I said you’re my love,’ he tells you.

‘Thought so,’ you murmur. 

Yoongi reaches around you to hold your hand and you fall asleep in his arms.

***

You don’t normally invite Yoongi to events at your company, well you haven’t prior to this.

Nara sometimes comes with you, and she’s with you tonight.

She cheers the loudest when you’re presented with your award, and you can’t help laughing when you get back to your table.

‘How’s your voice?’ you ask, teasing.

‘Always here to scream on your behalf,’ Nara says, loyal friend that she is.

You hug her tightly. 

‘Come on now that I have my raise and my award, let’s go celebrate. Drinks on me.’

You wake up in Nara’s bed with fifty missed calls and messages from your husband.

Ah shit.

You call Yoongi to assure him that you’re fine and say you’ll meet him for breakfast. 

Nara’s already up, looking disconcertingly healthy in her gym clothes.

You hug her goodbye, pull on some sweats and dark glasses and go to meet Yoongi.

He’s at a coffee shop you both go to sometimes because the pastries are good.

Seokjin’s with him. 

They both look frighteningly bright and chirpy in your hungover state.

Yoongi passes you a coffee. 

‘You should let me know if you’re going out,’ he says. ‘I was worried.’

‘I’m sorry, I will next time. We were just celebrating.’

You fish your award out of your bag and put it on the table in front of him. 

‘I got an award at the company dinner last night for Juno.’

For the first time ever since you’ve met him, Seokjin actually looks impressed. 

‘You were involved with that? I use Juno all the time.’

You nod proudly.

Yoongi frowns. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come —-‘

‘You had plans, anyway,’ you say. 

You break off as Park Gyuri approaches your table. 

Like everyone else in your life, she looks bright, chipper, fresh.

You resist the urge to pull your hoodie over your head and tie the strings, taut.

‘Thanks for dinner last night, Yoongi,’ she says. ‘We probably should have rescheduled considering it was just two of us, but it was great, anyway.’

Her words make you glad you’ve got sunglasses on that hide half your face.

Ah shit. 

You’re tired, and emotional, and too fucking hungover for this. 

You think you’re going to cry. 

You get up, quickly, mumbling something about forgetting something in your car.

As soon as you’re out of the line of sight of the coffee shop, you speed up. 

‘Hey,’ a voice says. ‘Hey stop.’

Kim Seokjin is beautiful, but he’s not the asshole you want right now.

You press your lips together so they don’t tremble. 

You turn your face up to his, hoping he can’t see how teary you are.

Seokjin says, ‘Min Yoongi’s my best friend, but he’s a goddamned idiot half the time.’

He waits until he’s sure you’re looking at him.

‘Say the word and I’ll get my bodyguard Sungho to fuck him up right now.’

You can’t do anything but stare at him in astonishment. 

He holds out his arms. ‘They say I’ve got a good chest to cry on. Broad shoulders, and all that.’

You’re half-crying, half-laughing as he hugs you. ‘Who says that?’ you ask.

‘Shut up, brat,’ he advises. ‘Just enjoy the Seokjin shoulders to cry on.’

‘Not a thing,’ you say, snarkily, but you let him hold you anyway.

***

Seokjin drops you off at home.

Yoongi’s waiting by the door.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, just a little tired,’ you reply.

Yoongi says, ‘I’ve never been unfaithful to you, Y/N.’

You’re worried you’re going to start crying again. 

‘If I’d known I’d have rescheduled the team dinner,’ he tells you. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there.’

His words soothe your sore heart like a balm.

He reaches out to slip your sunglasses off, your last flimsy layer of protection.

You know now that you’re firmly, irrevocably in love with your husband.

You melt into his arms.

***

It’s the evening of your final task to make things up with Yoongi.

You’re not even sure what the real world significance of ten tasks means.

It’s arbitrary.

Your relationship with Yoongi has been mending itself purely through getting to know each other.

You know Yoongi cares for you. He’s been showing it with his actions even if he can’t bring himself to say the words.

But you, you love words. You love romance and dreaming and all those other things people get ridiculed for loving.

You check in your bag to make sure you have the ring you picked out for Yoongi.

You’re going to ask him to marry you tonight.

He’s meeting you at the tallest building in the city because you wanted the gorgeous view when you propose.

You’ve just arrived at the front steps when Yoongi pulls up in the car you bought him.

He gets out, and you walk over to him.

He greets you with a kiss, and it’s so sweet it gives you butterflies.

‘Hey, I want to tell you something before we go up there,’ he says.

‘I know you have this idea that you want to make things up to me for things you’ve done in the past, but you should know I don’t think you need to do any of that. You were young, and hurting, and I wasn’t your choice. I don’t blame you for any of that.’

You go to speak, but he stops you. 

He reaches out to hold your hand. 

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t the husband you wanted,’ he says, ‘because you’ve always been exactly the wife I wanted.’

Yoongi’s lips curve in that half smile you’ve grown to know so well. ‘I’ll always choose you, my love.’

You lean into his arms. ‘Damn. Why do you always say everything better than me?’ you ask. 

You reach into your bag. ‘Since we’re doing this here on the road.’

You drop to one knee elegantly. ‘Will you marry me, Min Yoongi?’

Yoongi looks down at your face, at the ring you’re holding out to him.

‘Come up here, brat.’ 

He pulls you in his arms again. 

‘Is that a yes?’ you ask, between kisses.

‘I hate to break it to you, but we’re already married,’ Yoongi says, dryly.

‘I wanted to propose to you up there, with the world at our feet,’ you complain.

Yoongi ushers you into the car, closing the door and sliding in after you.

‘The world’s already at our feet,’ he tells you. ‘Can I take you home?’

You put your hand on his. ‘Yes.’ 

Read next: Sorry - a drabble

©hamsterclaw 2022

#yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #bts smut #btscarnivalnet

[syndullqs]

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 [ 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒙 ]

summary : rex reels from the events on umbara

warnings : gn!jedi!reader, angst, umbaran arc, mentions of death, comfort, established relationship between reader and rex

𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐗, like he did everything else. what happened on umbara was horrific, but captain rex was still expected to carry out his duties. he couldn’t dwell on the deaths of his brothers, the fact he killed a jedi, or the fact that two of his brothers were almost executed for doing the right thing, even if it was reckless and stupid.

anakin skywalker knew about umbara and what happened there. his anger boiled inside of him and his face twisted with heat. krell was lucky he was killed there or he’d have to face anakin. the jedi knight didn’t understand why pong krell would ever do something like that, something so heinous and horrific. anakin halfway blamed himself for allowing the monster to be with his men, but the chancellor needed him. for what? he didn’t know, even after he had his meeting with him.

it’d been a few days since the takeover, the 501st being granted days off. it felt weird to be off, staying on coruscant instead of going wherever with general skywalker. rex appreciated it, but the more he found himself relaxing, the more his demons reached the surface.

he shot up out of his bed, another nightmare plaguing his mind. he should be used to them, considering he has them quite often. this one was different. this one depicted the brutal slaughtering of his men by pong krell over again. it was something he never wanted to relive, but his mind decided to plague him anyways. it was torture.

so, instead of staying in his cot, he got up and walked out of the barracks on coruscant. he didn’t care he was only in his blacks, he just wanted to get out of such a confining space.

as soon as he exited the barracks, he felt most of the weight move off of his shoulders. he felt the walls began to crumble, but he kept his composure as he walked further away from the barracks. it wasn’t until he saw you that he nearly lost it again.

you weren’t waiting for anyone in particular. you sat at a table outside, allowing the breeze to calm the nerves that ran through your veins. after the news of umbara, you found yourself unable to sleep. how could someone sleep after that?

you picked up your head from one of the reports you were working on to see captain rex slowly making his way towards you, looking like he’d seen a ghost. maybe he had. you didn’t push it past anyone. especially given what they’d been through.

“captain?” you spoke up, anxiety twirling in between the syllables.

“y/n,” he breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down in front of you. you knew something was wrong when he didn’t ask to sit down. he didn’t have to, rex just normally did.

“rex, what’s wrong?” you shoved your report aside, deciding it could wait. you watched as rex came to terms with the fact he’d had a nightmare. his eyes flicked from one of his hands to the other, deciding what the best wording was.

“i…i saw them,” he spoke softly, barely audible over the breeze. you heard him though, but you remained quiet. “i saw my brothers dead,” he finished. your heart broke all over again when you heard him say it, tears rolling down his cheeks. you had no idea what to say, but you knew that just being there would be enough.

“i should have known somehow,”

“no, rex, there’s nothing you could have done,”

“fives and jesse almost died because of him!” you’ve never heard him raise his voice, ever, but he was grieving, and you weren’t angry with him at all.

“i’m sorry,” he spoke up, shaking his head. you moved to sit next to him, grabbing his hands in your own.

“i know,” you whispered. you didn’t expect what happened next. you didn’t expect rex’s arms to be around you, enveloping you in a bone crushing hug. you hugged him back, even though you were taken aback by his actions.

rex was the first one to pull away, wiping the escaped tears from his eyes. he never broke down like that, and he probably wouldn’t do it ever again, but it felt so good.

“i’m here, rex, i’m here,” you reassured him. he nodded his head and kept his hands in yours. he’s never felt so small before, except when he was a cadet, but your gentleness was what made him feel so comfortable and so appreciated.

“i know,” he allowed a smile, to which you offered one right back.

you know? this wasn’t my best. but, i’m moved up to school so this week has been crazy!! next week the real crazy starts and i’m honestly kind of excited (i know i’m gonna regret it haha) but anywhoodles, hope you loves are fantastic and enjoy this piece i whipped up for ya!

#star wars #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex imagines #captain rex imagine #clone wars imagine #clone wars

[hphmseojunglee]

‘deed i do [1/4]

read on ao3

wc: 4576

more info about this fic in this tumblr post

———

It hits you, out of nowhere, one Tuesday afternoon in the Hufflepuff Common Room.

You’re minding your own business, reading about how to turn the tiny owl hooting quietly in front of you into a pair of opera glasses, when you catch a rustle of fabric to your right.

Looking up from your secondhand textbook, you bite back a fond grin.

Sitting next to you is your study partner and best friend of five years, Penny Haywood. Your futures were forever intertwined when your paths crossed as tiny little first-years in the main Courtyard. She appreciated your lack of ass-kissing and down-to-earth introvertedness. You were grateful that she didn’t hold Jacob’s actions against you. You two had a lot in common and became fast friends.

You remember the sense of warmth and safety emanating from Penny. Your immediate thought was, “Yep, I’ve just met my best friend.” You could not put your finger on what made you so sure. You still can’t. But if there is one thing you are sure about, it is that Penny Haywood will always be in your life.

At the moment, Penny has a cute little frown on her face. It’s the face she makes when she hits a wall. As a perfectionist and someone with extremely high standards for herself, when she doesn’t grasp a concept right away, it frustrates her.

You know you should be a good friend and console her, but she is so adorable, you find yourself blanking on words for some reason. Your throat feels dry and raspy, so you say nothing and wait for her to speak first.

“I’m taking a break. This is doing my head in.” A sour scowl sits on her lips as she crosses her arms and glares daggers at the textbook in front of her.

Penny was a whiz at Potions and Herbology, but Transfiguration did not come as easily to her. She often joked, “That’s why I keep you around, so I get perfect grades.”

You both knew it wasn’t true. But what was love without a little banter?

Underlining a section in your textbook, you put down your pen, moving closer to Penny and gesturing for her to pick up her wand. “I’ve got you, Pens. Alright, so first we’re going to practice the wand movement. Is it okay if I grab your hand?”

She nodded.

Gently putting your hand over hers, you slowly move her arm and wand. “It’s like a violin bow. You keep your wrist flexible and make small circular movements from the wrist, not the elbow. Two loops, okay?”

If you weren’t so focused on teaching, you might have noticed the dusting of pink on her high cheekbones. But, you don’t catch it. Instead, you steamroll on.

“Next, the spell itself. Operaspecula. O-per-a-spec-u-la. Make sure to accentuate the first and fourth syllables, not the second and fifth. Common mistake.”

You take a moment to demonstrate, mentally crossing your fingers that you get it right. It would be awkward if the teacher flubbed up the demo.

The owl gracefully turns into a handsome pair of opera glasses, then back into an owl. She gives an indignant hoot and flaps her wings to display her discomfort at the situation. You quickly apologize to her and then turn to Penny. “Your turn.”

“Okay. I got this.” Squaring her shoulders, she exhales slowly, then raises her wand. “Operaspecula.”

Nothing happens. Penny’s shoulders slump.

“Try again.”

“But—”

“No, I have faith in you, Pens. Really mean it this time. You got this.”

A brief staredown happens. Both you and Penny are stubborn as hell, so it’s a common occurrence. Thankfully, this time, you win.

“Operaspecula.”

This time, the owl changes into a pair of opera glasses with feet sprouting from the bottom. It’s not a complete Transfiguration, but it’s certainly progress. That’s enough reason to celebrate for the both of you.

Penny nearly knocks you out of your chair with an enthusiastic hug. The warm scents of musk and amber hit your nose. You relax into the embrace and whisper quiet congratulations to your best friend. She tightens her arms around your neck, despite the awkward side position you’re both in.

One thing you learned quickly about Penny Haywood: she is touchy. Hands thrown around necks, hugs, pats on shoulders and heads, and if she’s feeling particularly in high spirits, hip checks. These are all things to expect from the epitome of Hufflepuff. Especially if you choose to be in her inner circle.

It’s not a huge problem, except for the fact that you’re horribly touch-starved from a less-than-stellar family life back home. The steady, non-judgemental contact makes your chest feel warm, every single time. Even after five years of it.

In the beginning, you shied away from the hugs, believing you were undeserving. But after a lengthy conversation about your family history, Penny fiercely set the record straight and made sure to give you as much physical contact as she could. And that is how you find yourself the constant recipient of hugs, back rubs, linked arms, and shoulder squeezes in passing. You’ve never been happier about anything.

When Penny pulls back, she looks back to her usual self. Her frustrated pout is gone, replaced with her usual sunny smile. You’re sad to see it gone, but also happy that she’s not beating herself up anymore.

“I’ve got to go to Runes, but we should pick this up after that. Will you still be here?” Her hands play with the hem of her school robes, adjusting her Prefect badge.

“Should be. I’ve got a DADA essay that I need to start and I’m done with classes for today.” Sighing, you pick up your pen again, closing your Transfiguration textbook and opening up your Defense Against the Dark Arts one instead.

Penny’s face brightens at the news. Her shoulders relax and her hands stop fiddling with the lapels of her robe. “Great! In that case, I’ll see you later. Thanks, Jung. You’re a lifesaver.” She stands from the table, slings her bag on her shoulder, and hugs you from behind. A hug, you expected. What you didn’t expect was a quick kiss on the cheek.

By the time you realize what transpired, Penny is gone in a swish of robes and blonde pigtails. All that’s left in her place is the lingering scent of her rose and sandalwood perfume.

Where did that come from? Sure, Penny’s always used physical contact as a way to show her affection, but she’s never kissed you before.

Your hand reaches up slowly to your cheek. Damn.

Before you can dissect this move, you feel a nip on the middle knuckle of your pointer finger.

Dropping your pen, you swear under your breath and cradle your left hand. Throwing a dirty look at the owl, who is innocently preening her feathers, you smart at the pain. “Okay, okay, I’m taking you back to the Owlery. Yeesh.”

—

Penny finds you a couple hours later, still in the same spot where she left you. You are surrounded by balled-up sheets of parchment and your hands are covered in ink. As it turns out, describing how hex-deflection works is harder than you thought it would be.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?”

Her soft voice jerks you out of concentration, causing an ink blot in the middle of your sentence.

“Oh, sorry.”

“S’okay.” You sigh and wave your wand, whispering an undoing spell you learned pretty early on. The insistence to use antiquated technology for writing was laughable. And of course, no pencils; ink is a must. It took a lot of persuasion to convince your professors that a fountain pen would be acceptable. You were hoping for a ballpoint pen, but anything was better than a quill, so you took the win and didn’t push. Suffice it to say, you’re very good at removing ink blots and misspelled words from parchment. “How was class?”

“Interesting, as usual.” Penny’s voice was rife with sarcasm. “More grammar today.”

“That bad, huh?” You reach for her hands, but then think twice as you remember the stains. “Why’re you taking it, then?”

“It’s useful for reading old books, which is where all the interesting Potions recipes are.” She groans, plopping into the chair next to you and laying her head on your shoulder.

“Ah, yes. I should have known.” You want to wrap an arm around her shoulders, but your inky hands stop you again. You stand, jostling her head, and hold up your hands. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to wash my hands.”

Penny, who pouted at the loss of contact, breaks into laughter, wiping away tears. “Come sit back down, you idiot. Tergeo.”

You blink down at your now-spotless hands. “Oh, right. There’s a spell for that.”

The blonde rolls her eyes and pulls you back down into your seat, putting her head back on your shoulder and pulling your arm around her. “What kind of witch are you?”

“One that doesn’t like to depend on magic.”

“Hipster.”

“Lazy-ass.”

You both share a chuckle, looking at all the things strewn on the table in front of you. For the life of you, organization does not seem to be in your vocabulary. No matter how hard you try, chaos always finds its way.

“I know you said you wanted to work on Transfiguration stuff again…but what if we found our friends and went to supper instead?”

“That sounds like a grand idea.” With a wave of her wand, Penny organizes your books and parchment into neat stacks. Happy with her work, she tucks her wand away and loops her arm through yours. “I’m hungry and in no mood to study.”

You find Chiara and Skye in the dorms, Rowan in the Library, and send an owl for Tonks. There is no telling where Tonks is at any given moment. As a matter of fact, you would rather not know. Plausible deniability and all that. They don’t tell, you don’t ask.

The six of you meet up in front of the Great Hall before entering as a group. All six girls take your unofficial designated seats at the Hufflepuff table. Rowan on your left, Penny on your right. Tonks sits across from Penny. Skye’s seat is on Tonks’ left and Chiara sits next to her.

Today’s meal options feature different kinds of sandwiches, steaks, and soups. You have a hankering for soups, so you’re thankful that something is your way for once.

As you dip your roast beef & Pepper Jack sandwich into your chicken noodle soup, you listen to Skye, Tonks, and Penny excitedly catch up about a recent Quidditch match. You share a glance with Rowan and Chiara as they begin to use words and names that even you don’t know. Sure, you might be on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, but you don’t follow any actual games that happen outside of Hogwarts.

“How were your classes, Row?”

“I almost got trampled by an Abraxan in Magical Creatures. But other than that, it was largely uneventful.” Rowan dryly remarks, then takes a bite from her chicken sandwich.”How about you?”

“The classes are fine, but the homework is really testing my will to live. Especially the DADA assignments. I’ve never been more reluctant to write an essay!”

Rowan knocks her shoulder into yours. “I understand completely. The classes are getting real now… We’re covering topics even I have never heard of in History of Magic.”

“Speaking of which, have you started on that essay due next week?”

“Not yet. I was thinking of working on it tomorrow after Potions in the library.”

“I might just join you.” You sigh darkly, not looking forward to working on yet another essay. Words are hard.

As dinner begins to wind down, Professor Dumbledore stands and makes his way to the center of the raised platform. Amplifying his voice with his wand, he begins to speak.

“Greetings, students and staff. We are rapidly approaching the time of year when we shift our attention to happy matters of the heart.”

A buzz begins among the student body. The Headmaster clears his throat and continues.

“As such, it is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting a special Valentine’s Day Ball this year.”

The Great Hall explodes with chatter. All around, students are asking each other about outfits and food and dates.

Penny sighs dreamily. You can feel her warmth down the entire right side of your body as the blonde leans into you. “A Valentine’s Ball! What could be better? I bet it will be full of blooming flowers, colorful lights, and candy…”

Tonks, on the other hand, has a different idea in mind entirely. “And a killer band we can rock out to, with great music. No way this isn’t the best night of the year!”

“Maybe we’ll even get to bring a date! Ooh, I can’t wait.” Penny clasps her hands to her chest and giggles. For as long as you’ve known her, Penny has had a soft spot for romance and love stories. It’s one of her endearing qualities that you love about her. You resist the urge to kiss her forehead.

Professor Dumbledore wisely waits for the hubbub to die down before he continues. “For more details on the event, let’s hear from the teacher who will be in charge of every detail… Madam Pince.”

The six of you exchange confused looks. Wait, what?

Madam Pince does the same as Professor Dumbledore to amplify her voice. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I promise I’ll approach planning this ball as I do all things at the Library—with the utmost seriousness!”

You don’t remember what she says after that, but with each sentence she says the mood in the room sinks ever lower. Finally, she nods curtly and returns to her seat.

The excited buzz that filled the room quickly turns sour. There is much turbulence among the students. Madam Pince is not known for having fun.

Tonks puts their head in their hands. “Blimey, this ball just went from being a potential blast to a crushing bore!”

“Let’s hope that’s not the case. It’s possible Madam Pince has something fun planned after all.” Always the optimist, Penny is trying very hard to look on the bright side. It’s a valiant effort.

Both Rowan and Chiara are quiet, introverted girls, but even they know that a party should be the opposite of everything Madam Pince stands for. They silently nod in agreement with the more vocal members of the group.

You look for your friends in other houses around the room. Jae is glaring daggers at Madam Pince, Talbott has a very disappointed blank face, Tulip is face-palming, Andre looks like he’s going to cry, and you can almost hear Badeea’s wince. You find Merula at the Slytherin table, her fist shaking as she holds a knife.

Suffice it to say, no one is happy about this new development.

You sigh, picking up your mug of ginger tea. “At least it sounds like Madam Pince is taking this assignment very seriously.”

Tonks throw up their hands. “Too seriously. She said it would be chaste, uncomfortable, and we’d have to follow the rules!”

Penny wacks them lightly on the shoulder, reprimanding gently. “Let’s focus on the positive. There are so many great things about a holiday ball!” She turns to you, laying a hand on your upper arm. “Jung, what are you looking forward to most about the ball?”

You stumble on your words as you feel warmth emanating from Penny’s hand, through your whole body. What was happening with your brain? “Hm? I wasn’t planning on going.”

“Oh, come on, please?” The blonde pleads with her puppy eyes. She knows that you cannot say no to her pitiful blues. You wait a few seconds, but in the end you know you’re a goner.

“Fiiine.”

“Yay!” Penny leans forward and wraps her arms around your middle. “Thank you, thank you! I promise we’ll have a good time. We could all use a really fun night together.”

Skye is much in the same boat as Tonks. It doesn't help that she isn’t the biggest fan of the Librarian. “With Pince in charge, this night could end up being torture for all of us!”

Rowan nudges your arm. “You should do something about this. You’ve beaten much harder opponents in the past.”

“Yes, yes! Pretty, pretty please, Hero? You’re the exact right person for this job!” Penny’s face is back to her pleading pout. The use of her special nickname for you is certainly deliberate. She knows how to slip past your defenses and hit you in the heart with her persuasion.

You won’t lie; you were thinking up ways to trick Pince into relinquishing control. Now, with a very compelling reason sitting to your right, you find yourself speaking before your brain can fully catch up.

“Okay. I’m going to save the Valentine’s Ball from Madam Pince.”

Tonks and Skye raise their goblets and cheer loudly. “Alright, Jung! Three cheers for the Hero of Hogwarts!”

Chiara clinks her mug of tea with yours calmly. “I’m rooting for you, Seojung. You can do this.”

Suddenly, a Gryffindor sixth-year comes up to them. “Penny Haywood… would you go to the dance with me?”

“Oh hell, here we go.” Penny mutters this under her breath so quietly only you hear. She straightens up and smiles her best socialite smile. “Thank you for the offer, but I will have to decline. I hope you can find someone.”

The Gryffindor boy nods. “Cheers.”

You are aware of a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach. It’s hot and strong and totally alien. What is it? Anger? Fear?

Shit.

It’s jealousy.

But wait. Why are you jealous? If anything, you understand why people are so keen to ask Penny out. She is kind, friendly, warm, funny, smart, pretty—

Ah.

Because you want to ask Penny out.

Really, for someone so smart, you can be so dense sometimes. Falling for the popular straight girl? Of course you had to have the quintessential lesbian student experience. It could never happen. But now that you know, you can’t stop thinking about it.

All of the feelings you didn’t quite understand, the strange things you did, they all make sense now. You don’t know when your feelings turned from friendship to something more, but you’re certainly aware of it now.

You tamp down the fire in your gut and return to your sandwich and soup. You have no chance.

Another boy, this time a Ravenclaw, comes up to Penny and asks to be her date to the dance. Again, the offer is rebuffed. By dessert, five other boys have shot their shot. All five walk away without a “yes” from Penny.

You’re relieved. A dark part of you is happy that Penny hasn’t accepted an offer. If you can’t have her, no one can have her. Immediately, you lecture yourself for having such possessive thoughts. Penny is not an object for you to claim, she is your friend. Your best friend, in fact.

“Penne, are you going to accept an offer? What’s the hold up?” Tonks unleashes a disgusting belch. “People are practically lining up to ask you out!”

“I’m not interested in any of them! I don’t even know half of them. If I’m going to take a date to the ball, at the very least I should know who they are.”

Skye pipes up. “They’re just going to keep asking, then, unless you accept or something.”

As Penny opens her mouth to say something else, another Gryffindor comes up to her. “Penny, would you—”

“No. I’m already going with someone else.” This time, Penny snaps in an uncharacteristically curt tone. The Gryffindor nods quickly and practically runs away.

Tonks raises an eyebrow. “Why’d you say that?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well, now you need to say yes to someone.”

“Oh, Merlin…” The blonde starts unbraiding and re-braiding her hair. You put your hand on the small of her back. Her coping mechanism for stress is playing with hair. Usually it’s hers, but sometimes it’s yours.

Penny smiles at you, silently thanking you for the silent support. You smile back. You’re a sucker for Penny Haywood.

A throat clearing to your left makes you look up. It’s another boy, this time a Hufflepuff in your year. You sigh and roll your eyes internally, readying yourself for another suitor throwing himself at Penny.

“Erm, Seojung…” Wait, what? He’s asking you? “Will you go to the Ball with me?”

You’re not as nice as Penny. Laughing, you respond, “Dude, I’m a lesbian. But even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t. Fuck off.”

“Right. Sorry. Seeya.” The boy scrampers off.

The six of you sit in silence. Did that really just happen? Then, you all burst into raucous laughter.

“Did he just— No fucking way!” Tonks is pounding the table lightly with their fist in between fits of laughter.

“I could not possibly be more gay. There are very clear signs! What the hell!” This time, you really do roll your eyes.

Even Penny cracks a smile, despite her stress. And frankly, that makes it all worth it.

“Mates, I got it.” Tonks breaks you out of your haze. Immediately, Rowan, Chiara, and Penny cast wary glances at each other. They know much too well how most of Tonks’ ideas turn out.

“Yes?” Rowan takes one for the team and asks the question you’re all scared to ask.

“You two—” The pink-haired witch wags their fingers between you and Penny, “—should pretend to date each other, so people will stop asking you guys to the ball.”

The table falls silent. You scoff at the very notion, but shut up once you look at the other three girls. They aren’t objecting. You can’t believe that Rowan of all people is actually considering this.

“I think it’s an elegant solution.” Chiara pipes up quietly.

Rowan shrugs. “It does make sense. Benefits both parties.”

Skye grins manically. “You two do act like an old married couple anyway. Might as well play it up and use it to your advantage.”

You roll your eyes and turn to Penny, about to say, “Can you believe this nonsense?”, but you find her staring off into space.

“Pens?”

“Would you be okay with it?” She looks at you with imploring eyes. Classic Penny, always looking out for others. “It would be nice to stop having people come up to me, but only if you’re okay with the arrangement. I don’t want to force you.”

“The question is, would you be okay with it? I mean, you’re straight and all.”

Penny snorts. “No I’m not! Jung, how do you not know this?”

“You’re… not?”

“Jung, I’m bi. I told everyone last year!”

You blink. “Was I there?”

This time, all of the other girls respond. “Yes!”

“Oh. Huh. Alright then, I stand corrected. But, still, my other points still stand. Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

The blonde takes both of your hands gently in both of hers. “I am so tired of all the unwanted advances. I’ll make it worth your while. Think about it?” Her bright blue eyes drill into yours.

You sigh and squeeze her hands. “Let me sleep on it.” You glance down at your wristwatch. “Right. Off to Quidditch practice. Come on, Skye.”

—

Thankfully, the drills keep your mind off of Penny, Penny, Penny. By the end of practice, your limbs are sore and your robes are soaked with sweat. You hit the showers, and only then does the fake-dating scheme come to the forefront of your mind again.

Pretending to date Penny Haywood. Could you compartmentalize your feelings? Could your heart survive this?

You can’t keep this secret to yourself. You need to tell someone.

Thankfully, when you return to the Hufflepuff Common Room, you find just the person you’re looking for.

“Row! Can we take a walk?”

Over the years, you and the bookworm have come up with a set of code phrases. Her eyes instantly snap up from the book she’s reading. She closes the tome with a quiet thud. “Of course.”

Once you’re bundled up in appropriate coats and out walking the border of the grounds, Rowan speaks up. “What’s up, Jung?”

“So you know the fake-dating thing? There’s a problem with the plan.”

“What is it?”

“I may or may not… have actual feelings for Penny.”

Rowan halts in her tracks. “Oh, dear. That is a complication. How long?”

“I just found out at dinner. I realized I was jealous of all the guys asking her out. I wanted to be one of them. And then it all kinda hit me, and all the dots connected.”

The other girl nods. “Honestly, that makes a lot of sense. I did wonder sometimes. So… are you okay with fake-dating Penny with your real feelings?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I think so. I mean, I know I have no chance. She’s in a different league.”

The bespectacled girl frowns. “No, she’s not. You’re just as popular as she is, you know.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah. Everyone wants to rub elbows with the great Curse-Breaker and sibling of Jacob Lee. You really don’t know?”

“Guess not. Explains a lot.” You roll your eyes and move on to your other pressing question. “Hey, when did Penny tell us she was bi?”

“Oh, she mentioned that sometime last year during breakfast one day. You probably weren’t awake enough yet.”

You nod. That makes sense. Everyone in your inner circle knows that you are not a morning person in the slightest. They’ve learned not to strike up conversation during breakfast, because you don’t talk.

“Well, that doesn’t change anything. There’s no way she likes me back. She sees me as her best friend, and I would hate to betray that.”

“O…kay. If you say so.” Rowan pushes her glasses by the bridge up her nose. “So, will you do it?”

“Do you think I should?” You fidget with the zipper to your jacket.

“Well, I was less sure than I was earlier, due to this new information, but I do think it would be nice. Like a trial period. Do you really want to be Penny’s girlfriend, and all that. She doesn’t have to know.”

You grin. Rowan has a knack for looking at problems analytically. “Thanks, Row.”

“Anytime, Seojung. Now, let’s get back inside. I’m freezing.”

As you troop back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, you notice your shoulders feel lighter. A good talk with your best friend always helps.

That night, as you turn in for bed, you stare up at the ceiling of your canopy. Tomorrow, you’re going to agree to the fake-dating scheme, for Penny’s sake. You might not be totally sold on the idea, but you have a bad habit of putting other people’s needs before your own.

If it makes Penny happy, then it will all be worth it. Fake-dating Penny Haywood and saving the Ball? Honestly, compared to the Cursed Vaults, it seems like a breeze.

Suddenly, the curtains to your bed open. On the other side stands Rowan in her pajamas, sans glasses. “Scoot over.”

“What?”

“I could hear you thinking from my bed. Scootch.”

You make room for the other girl, who slides in and shuts the curtains again. “Now, goodnight.”

“Night, Row.”

———

#hphmseojunglee #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #seojung lee #harry potter #jacob's sibling #player character #my fic: ‘deed i do #my fic #fireandfolds on ao3 #penny haywood #penny haywood/player character #penny haywood & player character #seojung x penny #penny haywood x female!mc #penny haywood x mc #wlw fanfic #sapphic fanfic #hphm fanfic #hphm fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

[timextoxhajima]

Accelerate [Dana’s 600 Special]

Track: Feel It by Michele Morrone / Drunk-Dazed by ENHYPHEN / Insanity by THE BOYZ

Member: I swear he’s not even my bias

Genre: i-ion know-

Word Count: it’s pretty damn long so please don’t make me write a part two

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal​ @lsangyeons​

The first time you laid eyes on Lee Hyunjae, you were both in Italy as he was being blinded by a billion flashes in his face. The light reflects off his dark hair - which was once a brighter color - as he maintains that polite, miniscule smile on his face. Most of the photographers and interviewers were male, for the sole reason that female photographers and interviewers would be too stunned to continue at their job. 

Not that the males rushing to get a shot of his face or a string of words out from him now weren’t stunned themselves. 

Despite being hailed for looking like every woman’s wet dream, Lee Hyunjae was more known for being South Korea’s youngest first class F1 racer. Sure, if he ever bothered to utter a single syllable of speech to you, you could pass out on the spot. 

But right now, all you wanted was to get an exclusive modelling contract from Louis Vuitton to his manager. Not Lee Hyunjae, not his bodyguards, his manager.

“Lee Hyunjae! Do you have anything you want to say before your final race of the season? How do you feel about being so close to coming out top?”

His manager stands a step behind him to Hyunjae’s right, and gives the racer the green light to respond. The flashes and sounds of clicking from the cameras were so overwhelming, it’s impossible for you to even imagine how it felt like being in the spotlight.

But the celebrity couldn’t receive the question any less gracefully, and offers one of those swoon-worthy smiles before leaning into the microphone.

“I feel nervous but I’ve prepared for this. Consistency is key and I believe in myself, so if that answers your question...” 

“Do you have any other plan other than racing? Word has it that you’ve received offers to be the face of Gucci and Louis Vuitton!”

The contract in your briefcase is still ironed out safely in its file when you pull it behind your legs, away from plain sight.

Hyunjae turns to look at his manager when the question posed obviously isn’t one of those in the list prepared, so the manager steps forward, and coincidentally spots you at the back of the crowd. He recognises you from the meeting he had with your higher-up.

“My apologies but Mr Lee isn’t permitted to answer to any of these, so if this is all then we must be going. Thank you for coming to the conference tonight.” 

Lee Hyunjae and his manager step back away from the microphone and bow for the press to continue their aggressive, merciless snapshotting. You wait patiently for the duo to disappear behind the conference area, and for the press to switch their attention to the pictures they have on their camera before you make your round backstage. 

The 5-star hotel is grand in all the ways possible: chandelier, white wines and champagnes being served in waiting areas and water was served sparkling. Finally fishing out the tag that you were given at the registration for entry to the event, you hand it to the lady at the meetings’ conference registration counter.

You wonder how the Louis Vuitton logos on your clothes and briefcase had gone unnoticed earlier at the showcase. Even on the tag, the ‘LV’ logo was so apparent. How far does the company need to go in order for them to have the logo printed in some shiny, golden print on the tag-

“Welcome to the F1 internal press conference and meeting, Miss l/n!” She pulls a sticker off a page and presses it onto the tag below the LV logo. “If you need anything at all, please just approach one of our staffs. All waiters and staff concerned will have a red tie tonight.”

“Alright, thank you,” The tag gets slid across the table to you. “Where’s the nearest washroom?”

“Oh, she’ll show you the way,” The lady gestures behind her for one of the staff members with a red tie to accompany you. 

“Oh-” Slightly taken aback by the aggressive escorting, the younger female grins at you before holding out her arm in the direction of the washroom. “Thanks.”

The hotel’s grandeur only gets more and more apparent as your heels click through the hallways and corridors. For an event night, the hotel’s pretty desolate. Then again, the press conference happened outside where all the photographers and journalists were. The one you were here for was an internal press meeting, and last you checked, there were fewer than 10 names on that list. 

“I can find my way back to the main hall after,” The slight panic in your voice humors you when the staff member seemed ready to wait outside the washroom. “Thanks.”

She bows and takes her leave only after you enter the bathroom; you can tell from the sound of her shoes echoing down the corridor. The scent of lavender is so overwhelming, you could almost taste it. Walls of cream and silver strokes cut through the tiles, a vase made of bronze sits in the corner of the platform where the sinks were, filled with roses.

The crisp reflection of yourself stares down at you in the mirror; it’s one of the few times you were dressed in branded goods head to toe. None of the articles of clothing you were wearing right now, you owned. Usually, you’d be gaping in awe at how beautiful these places where - after all, you were in a five-star hotel in Italy. 

But no, after almost five years of working with Louis Vuitton as a brand ambassador and subsequently becoming an assistant model-scout has numbed your habit of wandering eyes. 

The LV briefcase gets set on a dry area of marble, your fingers automatically clutching the edges of the sink as the jewelry on your ears, neck and hands twinkle under the fluorescent lighting. The makeup looks close to perfect - because someone had done it for you. Your clothes and shoes fit right down to your skin - because they were tailored for you. 

You were more upset you couldn’t sell it off and donate the money over having actual ownership of these fabrics. 

News of the orphanage had reached you hours after you touched down in Italy, and your heart yearns to stop the ache that seeps through you. They had run out of funds to continue the orphanage, the kids already enrolled would be split and sent to other organizations instead. 

What you had once called your home was going to be non-existent in another years’ time. Those whom you called your teachers, mentors, parents... were going to be in places you were not familiar with. The children that you always bring back food, clothes and toys for were going to be separated into different cities and states. As if not having a family was not bad enough, the people you now called your family was going to be split apart. 

You hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed until you opened them, the weight of the makeup on your face urging you to rub your eyes and skin but the discipline written into your hands stop you from doing so. 

Standing back to fix your posture, your eyes land on the one garnish on your body that doesn’t belong to Louis Vuitton - the ring on your middle finger. A gold band that looked more like a wedding ring than anything else. 

It had the name of the orphanage engraved on the inner side, so it feels lighter on your hands than it would otherwise be. 

A deep breath expands your chest as you take your briefcase and step away from the sink, attention scrutinising yourself more than you actually would.

The corridors of the hotel collect you back into its wealth again, drawing the thickest line between the realities of people like you and those who enjoy the luxurious life. 

The racer’s manager was sitting at the end of the meeting table when you enter, and you immediately recognise half the list of names you had seen before. Gucci’s manager was here personally. Another racer and his manager were here too. Stefano Domenicali and Michael Masi were here. 

Why were they here? Their names weren’t on the list.

“Ah, Miss l/n!” Masi gets off his seat and holds out his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Honor on my part,” Reaching out a palm, you smile the most graceful smile you can find in the muscles of your face. 

“Can I get you a drink? We’re still waiting for Mr Lee before we begin our discussion on the collaboration.”

Collaboration?

“Pardon my ignorance but... I thought I was here for a sponsorship or a model-contract request for Mr Lee... I wasn’t expecting your attendance or... a collaboration.”

Domenicalli chuckles heartily at his seat as he whirls around to gesture to one of the staff members in the room. “Will you get her a Mojito?” 

Then he stands up and pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “We’ve been looking for a company that’s willing to do a three-way partnership with us and Mr Lee’s agency. Right now, it’s boiled down to both Louis Vuitton and Gucci so... it depends on which contract Mr Lee’s agency is more interested in.”

“Oh... Um, if that’s the case then I’m not entirely sure if the contract I have with me right now is appropriate-”

“Oh, it’s not. LV has already told us you’d sell them better unscripted than if planned,” Masi leans forward and mutters away from your ear. “Don’t tell Gucci though. Their manager’s only here because they panicked.”

He pulls away and before he can say anything else, the door clicks open with a staff member pushing the door open for the star of the night. 

“My apologies,” He’s changed out of his formal suit and is in a more comfortable set of hoodie and baggy pants now. “Did I keep everybody waiting?”

“No, not at all!” Masi throws his hands up into the air and beckons you to meet Lee Hyunjae. “Might I introduce... Miss l/n from LV. She’ll be the one pitching the collaboration for LV today.”

Hyunjae’s eyes are wide and clear, despite his fringe covering his eyelids. “My pleasure,” He holds out his hand and you take it to shake, but he doesn’t stop there.

Lifting the back of your hand to his lips, the contact is soft and gentle on your skin. 

Your hairs stand against your will and goosebumps erupt all over your neck when he pulls away, eyes now locked with yours. Nobody else in the room bothers to provide a reaction - it’s like he’s done this before and it’s perfectly normal. 

The rest of the evening is spent listening to your own pitch, and Gucci’s, but you couldn’t really keep your head in the game when... all that was in Lee Hyunjae’s head was... you.

You’d be lying had you said you were comfortable with how much he was glancing at you across the table, obviously not listening to Gucci’s pitch at all. His manager was the one busy jotting down all kinds of things, almost like it was an act of dictation. But the racer’s eyes fail to leave you for any longer than five seconds, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t really paying attention to the pitch. 

Gucci’s pitch finally finishes, giving you some kind of escape because now his manager is pummeling him for not listening to the benefits provided as Gucci’s ambassador. The contract document from LV was sitting before you, very single term and condition now inapplicable because you had just pitched something that wasn’t in the instruction manual.

God help me not to get fired.

“Mr Lee has some to a decision,” Masi claps his hands together, earning the attention of everybody in the room. “The Formula One federation would like to officially welcome Lee Hyunjae as the brand ambassador in a stellar collaboration... with Gucci.”

The Gucci ambassador scout smiles with triumph as the room provides a round of applause, you included. 

“Thank you so much, Miss l/n, for coming down. Your pitch was nothing short of commendable and I will make sure your manager will hear of that, alright?” Masi and Domenicali take turns shaking your hand. In your peripheral vision, you watch the Gucci ambassador shake hands with both Lee Hyunjae and his manager. 

Masi and Domenicali finish up with you, and Lee Hyunjae’s manager approaches you for the handshake with his client behind him. “That was a stellar... impromptu pitch, Miss l/n.”

A gentle chuckle rolls off your tongue as you pull your hand away, tightly clutching the briefcase. “I work better when things aren’t planned, so...”

“We’ll... we’ll keep in touch, LV. You’re an excellent scout with marvelous presentation skills. It makes me sad Mr Lee didn’t choose you.”

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae’s and he’s already looking at you like he hadn’t eaten in three days and you were a bowl of soup.

“Of course we’ll keep in touch. He’ll still be valuable asset and ambassador after his contract with Gucci ends,” Ignoring him, you return your attention to his manager. 

“Now, let’s hope the Prince of Korea doesn’t screw anything up, yeah?” His manager grins as he pats Hyunjae on the back. “Anyway, it’s been a mighty pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

You lower your head as a small nod, turning on your heels to exit the room. Even then you can feel his eyes on your back. 

By the time you’re back in your hotel room (which was in the same hotel as you had the internal meeting), your feet are half dead from the heels you were wearing and the makeup on your face was starting to wear off. It took a nice, warm bath and a rather long conversation with your own manager on the phone as he congratulated on pulling through an impromptu pitch. 

He finally finishes, and you drop your phone into the towel by the bathtub as the steam fogs up the mirror. But your peace is cut short when someone rings the doorbell of your room. 

“Room service for Miss l/n!”

Tightening the robe around your waist, you pull open the door and watch the hotel staff hold out a bottle of wine and an envelop. “Mr Lee Hyunjae sends his regards, Miss.”

Surprised, you receive the bottle. The hotel staff bows and leaves, letting you turn around and the door click shut. 

To: Miss l/n

I apologise for the inappropriate staring earlier this evening. This is an attempt to compensate for my behaviour. I’ll be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow so if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tomorrow... I’d like to be acquainted.

I’ve made a reservation at La Terrazza for 7pm. I’ll meet you in the guest lobby downstairs at 6.30 to pick you up. 

Love, 

Lee Hyunjae

You can see how the material of the paper trembles a little between your fingers. The thought runs, So he’s a creep and a national treasure. He can’t hurt you, right?

Again, the evening gown is more than fitting on you. It’s been tailored to hug all your curves at your chest and your hips and thighs and it exposes your leg where the slit is. It’s like LV knew you had an important evening appointment coming up and had you pack all these different sets appropriate for the event. 

The usher standing by the guest lobby nods when you head for the door, and he pushes it open to reveal only one person in it: Lee Hyunjae. 

On the phone, he whirls around when he hears the doors swish against the carpet flooring. His eyes are glimmering under the soft, rosy lighting and the glossy collar of his suit looks like plastic from the reflection. 

“I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The phone clicks to black before he opens his blazer and slides it into his inner breast pocket. 

“I’m gonna guess that’s your manager,” Your fingers wrap around the clutch tightly as he takes a few steps toward you, obviously very stunned by how different you looked compared from the previous day. 

“Uh, no, actually,” That million-dollar smile gleams at you. He reaches up to his forehead and scratches his brow. His hair is styled upwards so seeing the glory of his forehead was pretty enticing. “My mom. Making sure I’m doing well and fine here.”

He stops a safe distance away from you, finished with taking in whatever of you his eyes and memory can allow him. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I think LV would fire me if they knew I stood the Lee Hyunjae up.”

Hyunjae licks his lips then purses them together, attention finally peeling off your face as he reaches for your hand. He presses his lips into the back of your palm, then casually hooks your arm around his while he walks to your side. “Ready to go?”

At a loss of words for his flirtatious mannerism, all you can afford is a nod.

But as if your vocabulary bank wasn’t already exhausted, you can’t help but stare in complete astonishment when you are led to the matte black Sian Roadster already waiting at the drop-off point right outside the lobby. 

“Have them send the Dior package to Miss l/n’s room by 9pm,” He instructs the bell boy by the hotel entrance as he reaches for the vehicle door. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Yes, Mr Lee.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” Your vision is finally peeled off the car when Lee Hyunjae pulls the door open. “What Dior package?”

“Just a token of appreciation from me, that’s all,” He releases your arm as he guides you into the vehicle. “I knew if I gave it to you over dinner, you’d reject, so...”

Twitching his eyebrow, he smirks and retreats, closing the car door. 

Flirt.

The vehicle moves off with a sharp rev of the engine, and you almost feel guilty for being able to be comfortable in in your clothes, shoes, sports car and on the way to a fancy-ass restaurant. 

If only things could be like that for everybody and everything. 

“So, when are you leaving Italy?”

“Oh, um... tomorrow too actually,” Rome’s lights are wondrous on the outside, some of them blinding you. “I have... something to attend.”

“Hmm, that’s... vague.”

You turn to eye him at his silent call for clarification. “I’m attending a closing event; help out with administrations.”

“Like... a pet store or something?”

“Yeah, ‘or something’.”

“That confidential, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle. 

The gut in your abdomen tells you not to look at him. He’ll see right through you, figure out that there’s something more to it than something ‘confidential’. 

“Yeah,” You mask it with a sigh. “Funds and things.”

You can feel his attention sink into your back as silence befell the atmosphere. 

There’s a kind of light in his eyes when he talks about racing. When he’s describing the feeling of adrenaline in his fingers, gripped around the steering wheel. He’s unexpectedly kind to the service at the restaurant, then again he was a celebrity and he had a reputation to uphold. 

It’s the kind of light that made you panic throughout dinner, because there’s no way this specimen of a man would ever pay you a second thought. Maybe you were going to be his Italy fling that he would boast about to his friends and colleagues and they’d laugh at you without you even knowing. 

What was a rich, handsome racer even doing, single? It was too good to be true, and even if it was, you? Of all people?

Dream on.

“It’s been... an amazing night. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Lee Hyunjae walks you into the lift, letting you press the button to your floor first. 

“I’ll walk you back. I have time.”

Standing with your feet together, in the safety of your gown, your hands are holding your clutch like your life depended on it. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable now, not with his hands over one another and placed politely on his abdomen.

When the lift door dings open, the silence remains. He trails behind you as you walk your way to your room, hands fumbling through your clutch to search for your keycard. The slick of the door is fast and you push the door open, with a black and silver box with the label ‘DIOR’ printed on it sitting at the foot of your bed. 

“Oh, my God!” You rush in and grab the box, eyes widening as you turn to him, who has one arm extended to keep the door open. The box was almost as big as a pillow.

There’s a soft, warm smile on his face. A stark contrast to all his flirty ministrations throughout the evening. “Goodnight, Miss l/n. Sleep well and have a safe flight.”

“Wha-” Then he lowers his head, and turns around. “Wait!”

Without another moment of hesitation, he disappears down the corridor and the door swings shut. 

It feels ironically empty. Your hands are carrying this Godforsaken box of a gift and yet you cannot think of a way to properly thank the person who gave it to you. With slight reluctance, your fingers find the edge of the cover.

It’s a beautiful Dior blazer, packaged with a perfume and a cosmetics set. The cream letter in it is handwritten and signed the racer himself.

I wish we had more time. Love,  Lee Hyunjae

The nauseating sensation of your heart sinking in your chest beats all the logic in your brain when you find yourself reaching for the door handle. The box is mindlessly thrown back onto the bed as you rush out, kicking off your heels in the moment of folly. (Of course, remembering to use the door latch to keep the door open.)

“Hyunjae!” You call down the corridor, and he was just about to enter the lift. He turns, providing you with a gorgeous view of his jaw. 

It feels like a fairytale, when you run down the carpeted corridor, barefooted and still in your gown. The urge to throw your arms around him far supercedes your brain yelling at you not to, but you do it anyway. 

He catches you by the waist as your rest your forehead in his blazer, arms already struggling to meet the height of his shoulders. 

A whisper. “I wish we had more time too.”

He pushes you back by your upper arms, tucking one bit of your hair behind your ear. “If time is what you want, then I’ll make time.”

“But... I- Will you get in trouble?”

He looks you dead in the eye and subtly shakes his head. 

Time stops. 

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling. 

Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in. 

“I don’t think I’d care if I do.”

His breath hits your upper lip and your instincts flutter your lids shut. 

White wine and strawberries from dinner. That’s what he tastes like.

Warmth radiates off his palms and into your cheeks as he holds your face close to his, unable to resist the satisfaction and sweetness you were providing him. In this moment of intimacy, he loses all sense of realism and urgency - all he wants is you to himself, for the rest of the night until the sun rises. 

Then he’d have to worry about never seeing you again because his manager had chosen Gucci over LV. 

But right now, he has your heart and soul in his hands, as does his in yours. 

Being the romantic and (probably) egoistic man of a celebrity he is, he lowers himself and slides his arms where the back of your knees would be, somehow never breaking the kiss. The material of the gown dribbles over the cotton of his suit and your arm circles behind his neck, only minimizing the distance between the two of you. 

It feels like you’re getting married in this black and gold sparkly evening gown when he pushes the door open with his back. The scent of the room is inviting, but definitely none in comparison to the scent of his cologne beginning to stain your hands and your clothes. 

Gently resting you into the cool sheets of the bed, he pulls away to remove the Dior package off the bed, placing it on the mini coffee table by the bed. 

You were never one to deal with one night stands. Hell, the only person you’d ever slept with was some stupid kid back in the orphanage when your stupid teenage hormones were running-

He pulls off his blazer and leans in again, picking your awkward hands and resting them on the knot of his tie. His fingers are grazing the skin on your upper arm, trailing down to your cheek and then your hairline where he combs his hands through your hair. 

The knot on the tie comes undone with some slight tugs, and you slide it out from under his collar. Undoing only the first one, you rest your palms against his chest, creating a small rift where the air rushes to your lips where his should be.

He’s slightly stunned at the slightest breakage, but he is overwhelmed with more care and concern than he was upset. “Why? What’s wrong?” He traces your jaw and rests his fingers on your chin, noses almost touching.

“Are you sure... You want to do this? I can’t risk you losing your career,” Your index finger traces the likes of his cheekbone. “You barely just started.”

Hyunjae shakes his head subtly, taking your hands to his lips and pressing them into the back of your palm. “When I saw you in that room, I was... star struck. You’d think being the celebrity in the room would mean everything, but I felt like I was nothing if I didn’t know you, much less be able to get close to you.”

And for someone who hasn’t really had a biological family to love, his words stuck. 

“I just... knew. There are some things in the world you can work for, but I don’t think any amount of effort can give me you.”

His brown orbs find your gaze and it melts you thoroughly. Like ice cream on a hot day; like the way the ocean washes against the sand by the beach, taking grains of sand away with it - the same way Hyunjae was winning you bit by bit, if not already all of you. 

Your hands find his collar again, and it tightens around the stiff material to pull him back down. He smiles into the kiss, hands pressing into the mattress by your hair while you undo the rest of his buttons. His skin is hot under the shirt, blood running on the adrenaline and tension he was riding on from the intimacy. Muscles pumped and heart racing, you finally get his shirt off and he does you the honor of dropping it to the ground. 

He gives you time to gasp for air while he dips his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume and the scent of the hotel shampoo in your hair. His back muscles tense up under your cold fingertips as you run them along his spine. It’s almost beast-like, when he flexes his arms and every single move shifts his shoulder blades under his skin. His lips leave gentle pecks in your neck and your exposed collar bone, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin. 

His hand caresses your waist as a way of request, and you arch your back just enough for him to find the zipper on the back of your gown. The vibrations of the zip being pulled downwards already feels like little bolts of electricity up your spine, and the straps around your shoulders loosen with every inch unzipped. 

He’s done, when his fingers return to your shoulders to push the straps off. The cool air kisses your skin in spots where he isn’t touching with any part of his body. The silk of the gown gently slides off with every inch of a movement you make, more and more of your torso exposed to him. 

Sliding one of his arms under your lower back, he pulls you out of the dress instead of stripping you of it as he helps you further up the bed. Your hands press into the mattress in a bid to help him shift yourself without breaking the sloppy, messy kiss. Your back finally meets the pillows and he pushes the gown off the bed with his leg. 

Chin tilting to the ceiling, he finally creates some distance between the two of you, eyes drifting down to your collar bone and chest still covered. His palms are hot around your waist as he trails butterfly pecks on your cleavage, while your fingers find his hair to tousle and grip. 

Goosebumps start to surface when his breath is heavy on your stomach, then he reaches your underwear and it’s almost embarrassing to have him kiss you. 

Your clouded vision is manually stuck to the ceiling when you can feel your face burning with adrenaline. The tickle of the material when it gets pulled off your hips and down your legs bring your cheeks more color, and before you know it, Hyunjae has your breath hitched in your throat. 

He rests your thighs on his shoulders as he works his way around, the bare minimum sanity left inside you decides to grip onto the sheets instead of ripping out his hair. 

Chills shoot up your spine mercilessly, emanating in the form of lewd mewls directed into the air. The crown of your head meets the cushioned head board of the bed when his grip on your thighs tighten to keep you from squirming too much. 

Without warning, he drags a finger down your sensitiveness and slides it in easily, the sensation erupting a more-than-shameful groan from you. Pulling away, he adds another finger before shifting his attention back to your upper body, now eyeing the last piece of material covering your chest. But he captures your lips first to earn your attention, and your arms naturally find your way around his neck to keep him close. 

His free hand goes around your back to unhook your lingerie, and it’s nothing but a new addition to all the clothes on the carpet now. He removes his fingers, and breaks the kiss first, for the sole reason of giving you a perfect view of him licking his glistening skin. 

You can feel your brows furrow with frustration now, the warmth from him dissipating when he leans back on his heels in a kneeling position. By providing you a gorgeous view of his being while he undoes his belt, he’s only adding more fire to the fuel. 

It’s significant enough to stretch out the material of his boxers, and so he climbs over you as he removes his last bit of clothing. He harshly yanks you downwards into a lying position by your ankle, and the sharp friction against your back is an addition to the heat between the two of you. 

His breath is heavy on your lips as he rests his palms by your ears, weight pushing in the mattress. “Tell me if it hurts, love.”

Then he presses his lips into yours, like his life depended on it, and in one swift motion, he buries himself inside you like it was the most natural thing to do. 

You suck all the breath out of him as you gasp into the kiss, and he finds your arms to hook around his neck and shoulders. 

If you could feel the taste of honey throughout your body, this must be how it feels. 

He gives you some moments before he starts grinding his hips slowly, his palms finding your thighs and digging into your flesh as he hooks them around his hips. 

Breathless, you pull away first, whimpers in the back of your throat louder than what you would’ve expected. His nose dips into your neck again, arms now stretched out to use the headboard as support when he picks up the pace. 

Cursing under your breath, you feel guilty for the bliss that was spreading through you. Your nerves are all heightened by the adrenaline and your vision is blurred from the sole nature of the intimate act. 

He’s not fast, but every spot he’s hitting feels like cloud nine over and over again. 

Like a spark in the dark, the sacred spot reveals itself in the form of harsher breaths and groans. Your fingernails dig into his back and your thighs are losing stamina to remain wrapped around him. 

“That’s it,” He breaths into your ear, pressing a kiss into your lower jaw. “Come for me.”

Tremors burst through your body like lightning in a storm upon his request. He helps you ride it out with a few more thrusts before he pulls out himself, releasing on your stomach, chest heaving. 

Resting his forehead on yours, he smiles. “Let’s hope that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.”

You scoff, slightly tired. “We’ll see.”

You are woken up by the unfamiliar warmth you normally don’t have under the blanket. White sheets and tousled hair come into your field of vision before you can process the face, partially hidden, but eyes wide open.

“Jesus,” Your morning breath billows out between your lips and you swallow to dampen your dry throat. The room looks too damn bright for it to be morning. “What time is it?”

“7am. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. My manager hasn’t called me so... we have time to spare.” 

You shuffle around under the sheets and your arms slide under the pillow where its cool. He shifts and pulls out his arm to rest on his tricep, palm under his ear and hair as he perches up his head. 

“What?” You pull the blanket up to your face and inhale the scent of it. It smells like him now. 

“You look pretty when you’re asleep.”

“What?” You frown, but a smile is on your lips. “How long did you watch me sleep for?”

“Not long, don’t worry. I’m not a perv.”

“Well, considering we just slept together after 24 hours of knowing one another-”

“Hey, we’re both about to be deported back to Korea to work. Give us a break, would you?” He groans and shifts again, this time trying to pull you into his chest. 

“Ah,” Snorting, you let him cradle you in his arms, his bare skin pressed warmly into yours. “‘Deport’? That’s what you call your job?”

“Only because you’re involved now,” He pecks you on the lips. “So... can I ask about your ‘administrative matters’ you said you needed to attend?”

Right. The orphanage is closing down. 

The guilt washes through you again. 

“Oh,” A look of seriousness overtakes your facials, and he notes the change in expression. “Um... I- Well... It’s an orphanage. It’s closing.”

He blinks at you, gaze filled with wander. “Were you a volunteer or...?”

Silence. 

You can’t bring yourself to say it. 

Unable to bear the incoming judgment he might provide you, your eyes dart away. 

“Hey, hey,” He finds your chin and tilts it back up to his attention. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anything wrong with being who you are. Why are you ashamed?”

“I... I’ve lived all my life with that label. ‘Orphan’. It only got better when I came out to work.”

“Is that why you are so worried? That... we might affect something and possibly implicate that?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs, thumb stroking your cheek as he shakes his head. “Nah. It shouldn’t matter.” Pulling your head into his chest, you can hear the steady thumping of his heart through his skin. “’Administrative matters’, huh? Are you like a... committee member or donator?”

“I’m an unofficial sponsor ambassador from LV. Well, LV was supposed to arrange for official funding, but they just never really had the time or resources to build the rapport. The orphanage was doing too badly for any company or brand to want to help and invest their attention on.”

“Mm,” He hums, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

“It’s okay. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway. All I hope now is for the kids to be safe, no matter where they go.”

It feels empty again, having Hyunjae being ripped from your side at the airport once the plane touched down. The manager was surprisingly not surprised to know that you had spent the night together, the only question he had asked being something that concerned a future pregnancy, which the two of you have already confirmed negative. 

It’s late when you reach back your apartment, and you ready yourself for the private meeting with the committee members of the orphanage. Though tired and severely jet-lagged, you cannot miss this meeting. It’s the last time you’ll see all the caretakers and members of the organisation in the same room.

You shift into the taxi in a new set of clothes, but topped with the Dior blazer and smelling like the Dior perfume, you feel like you were probably going to get slapped once you reach the meeting.

The building of the orphanage looks so run-down, it could be mistaken for a prison had it not been for the words HILDA’S ORPHANAGE in big, block letters above the entrance. Before you can exit the taxi, your phone starts vibrating in your purse.

It’s the President of the orphanage.

“I’m right outside the building, going in soon,” You push open the car door and thank the driver. 

“The meeting has been cancelled. Someone bought the orphanage and we’ll be managed under a new system.”

“What?”

“Surprise.” 

You turn around and see the last person you’d expect to see here, in his hands, a folder of documents and a small bouquet of flowers. 

“Um,” Your eyes are stuck to Hyunjae, but you’re still on the phone. “The buyer... Does it have anything to do with Gucci or F1?”

“Yes, it’s an F1 sponsorship but there will be more details into the managerial and planning system. Some things will have to change.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you back.”

Hyunjae watches you lock your phone in shock, attention unrivalled. He takes a few steps towards you and you now realise he’s still in the same clothes he was in on the plane. His eyebags are obvious but the prideful grin on his face makes him glow. 

Stopping about an arms’ length away from you, he holds out the folder.

“I checked with my manager and he checked with F1. They green-lit it, but on a few conditions. I heard them out before I told them it would be more likely than not you’d accept it, so here are the legal documents. All the terms and conditions and sponsor contract are already in here, so you and the President can sign it when you deem fit.”

Taking the folder, you didn’t even notice your hands are trembling as you flip through it. 

But your eyes flitter up from the page when you notice the printing: 

OWNER’S SIGNATURE (Y/N L/N): ____________________

“It’s yours if you sign it.”

Now, he holds out the bouquet. “I thought of putting it under my name but I don’t want you to think you owe me a favour and have it bugging you all the time.”

Gently shaking your head, as if you could shake out the surprise, you close the file and look to him in awe. “But I’ll still owe you, big time. This is... this is everything, so thank you.”

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes the bouquet of flowers a little. 

“You can return the favour by going out with me. Properly, whenever I have time, and I promise, no Dior packages.”

Taking the bouquet into hand, you throw your arms around his shoulders, tears welling in your eyes.

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #hyunjae smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae smut #tbz scenarios #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

closeted | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn't like you and you don't like him. Your friends and his friends decide enough is enough and they lock you in a closet together to settle your differences. Mhm.

warnings: language; implied slut-shaming; alcohol consumption; fuckboy?Jungkook x (technically noona) fuckgirl?reader, ft all other BTS members being... helpful? lol; enemies-to-lovers

–

“Jeon Jungkook? I don’t really have any thoughts about him. Isn’t he kind of a fuckboy?”

“Oh, her? Ah, there’s nothing to say really. Doesn’t she like to mess around?”

Those were your opinions about each other, which was now why both you and Jeon Jungkook were stuck in a closet in Kim Taehyung’s parents’ house.

“Taehyung, let us out right now!”

“Not until you two stop hating each other!” announced the booming, baritone voice of Kim Taehyung on the other side of the door, slightly tipsy and yelling over the loud music.

“We don’t hate each other,” came the silvery growl behind you. Jungkook shoved you slightly to the side so he could slam his fist against the heavy wood. You scowled, jerking away from his touch. “Stop being stupid and open the door.” His short ponytail at the back of his head swayed as he tried to shoulder the door, only for you to hear more bodies press against it.

“Nuh uh, Jungkookie,” Park Jimin snickered, sounding drunker than Taehyung even though the two of them had probably consumed the same amount. “Can’t muscle pig your way outta this one.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into giggles on the other side of the door as Jungkook fumed next to you, long black bangs flaring as he clicked his tongue and rolled the sleeves of his black sweatshirt up, eyes narrowed, jaw tense.

You threw up your hands as Jungkook backed up and ran into the door with a loud thunk!

Nothing except Jimin, Taehyung, and squeaky laughter adding to the mix.

“We don’t even talk to each other,” you muttered as Jungkook shook his head vigorously and prepared to rear up again like a stubborn horse.

“And that’s the problem!” Kim Seokjin tittered in between bursts of laughter. “We’re all friends, except the two of you that like to pretend the other one is a fucking tree rather than an actual person.”

Jungkook collided with the door again and the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered ominously.

“Who cares?” Jungkook roared, throwing his head back and pushing his hair away from his face with two hands. You rolled your eyes as he smacked the closet door.

“We do,” said a fourth, trying to be the voice of slurred reason. “In order for our shared friend group to have harmony, we two should work out your differences in a civil, dignified manner and discuss the root of your negative relationship.” You made a face and glanced at Jungkook, who made a similar confused expression. How much did Kim Namjoon drink? He sounded like a drunk philosopher.

“Locked in a closet is not civil, Namjoon,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s funnier,” Jung Hoseok laughed cheerfully, knocking on the door. “You two good in there? Not ripping off each other’s heads yet?”

“We don’t hate each other,” Jungkook repeated, giving up on fighting the door now that five people were holding it down. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“What’s the reason then?”

“Huh?” you shouted through the door. Jungkook rolled his eyes at you and you rolled your eyes back.

“What is,” Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable. “The reason that you guys are so hostile towards each other?”

“Did he eat some snacks you hid one time?” Seokjin piped up. “Because that would piss me off too.”

“That already pisses you off, hyung,” Jimin cut in. “You always bring it up.”

“Because he does it all the time! No matter where I hide them!”

“Your hiding places a pretty bad, hyung.”

“Namjoon! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Eh?”

“The side of reason and being right!”

“Hah…”

Jungkook clicked his tongue again and shoved his hands into his loose cotton pants. They were black and white striped and looked more like pajamas than actual pants. He hadn’t even bothered to get dressed to hang out with his friends. What a weirdo. You sighed, looking away, staring at the wall instead. Why look at Jeon Jungkook? Everyone looked at Jeon Jungkook. You didn’t need to add to that ego.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Why are you wearing hyung’s shirt?”

You glared at him from your periphery. He was leaning against the wall, hunched over, glaring back.

“First of all, this is my shirt,” you snapped. “Second of all, they’re all your hyungs. Be more specific. And third of all, Yoongi only borrowed it because he said he was cold and this was one of the few things that fit him.”

Jungkook shoved his tongue into his cheek, looking at your black-on-black long-sleeved shirt with a moon tarot card design. He narrowed his dark eyes, giving you a piercing stare. You ran a hand through your hair, cocking your head away from him haughtily.

“Yeah, but you knew which hyung I was talking about.”

“Because only one of them has borrowed this shirt, idiot.”

“That’s not very nice,” Hoseok chided from the other side of the door. “No name calling in there!”

“You’re not very nice,” you retorted at the door, suddenly remembering that they were out there listening. In fact, one of the loons had turned down the music so the five of them could hear the exchange better. Mature of them.

“Why don’t you two say something you like about the other?” Namjoon suggested. “Compliments might help lessen the tension.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook’s clenched jaw, a vein popping on his neck. Yeah, okay. He noticed you looking and you jerked your head away, staring at the wall again.

“This is stupid. Why do we have to do this?” you complained.

“You look pretty good from the back.”

You flinched, irritation rising. Did he just–?

“For an older lady, that is.”

A muscle in your eye twitched. “Yeah, well, every guy says I look good from the rear view.”

“That’s not a compliment, Jungkook,” a deep, raspy voice from the bottom of the door.

Jungkook lifted himself off the wall, making a noise of surprise. “Yoongi-hyung? How long have you been there?”

“The whole time,” Jimin giggled. “He’s been pretending to be asleep.”

“I can’t sleep anyway,” Min Yoongi grumbled. “You guys are loud as fuck.”

“Nah, you just wanted to listen to the shitshow of these two,” Taehyung teased. There was the sound of a hand smacking of a shoulder and a disgruntled grunt at the bottom of the door.

Seokjin called your name loudly. “Yah! You haven’t said anything, backhanded or not!”

You grimaced and glanced at Jungkook again. He still looked surprised and, for a single second, you thought he looked pretty cute with his big round dark brown eyes and parted pink lips in an ‘o’. For a single second, he didn’t seem like that ‘hot guy’ that literally everyone, not just women, but men too, everyone was head-over-heels in love with, Jeon Jungkook, ‘hot guy’ with tattoos and a handsome face.

Blech.

You shifted your eyes away and stared at the corner. “I guess you might not have only one brain cell. Maybe you have two or three.”

“Ooh, nice, that’s a great one,” Jimin agreed behind the door. “Three is being generous, noona, well done.”

“Shut up, Jimin-ssi.”

Ugh, this shit was so dumb. And what kind of closet was this anyway? It was full of coats. A lot of them were more neutral colors, but there was the occasional muted jewel tone. Why did Taehyung’s family need this many coats and why was this closet on the upper floor? Some of them were neatly tucked in clear plastic covers. Oh. Probably to prevent them from getting moth holes, huh.

“Why do you hate me, anyway?” Jungkook muttered. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you,” you huffed.

“Why not? What did I do?” he sighed, reaching over and placing his hand on your shoulder.

You whipped your head around, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t touch me.”

He removed his hand, backing up with his hands in the air. “Whoa, okay, jeez. It’s just kind of hard to talk to you when your back is to me.”

“Hmph, why? Precious Jungkookie wants attention? Wants everyone to dote over him and love him?” you mocked in disgust, crossing your arms.

He twisted his lips. “… distracting, that’s all,” he mumbled.

“Hah?” You leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “You forget how to talk?”

Jungkook looked away from you, frowning. “Sometimes, yeah. You’re kind of pretty.”

You blinked at him. What? You didn’t expect him to say that.

“In some lights, anyway.” He pointed up. “This one is pretty dim, like you.”

That was more like it. “Takes one to know one.”

His eyes shifted back to you. “What? A pretty person to spot pretty?”

You growled and scoffed, rolling your eyes. “See, this is why I can’t talk to you. You’re so full of yourself. All you ever do is think about is showing off how much better you are. How cool you are.”

“That’s because that’s all they ever talk about.”

You paused at his downcast tone. Your eyes drifted from the wall to his face. Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were on the ground and he was rubbing the back of his head, frowning.

“I envy the way others talk about me. They always have such a perfect image pictured.” He inhaled deeply, slumping against the wall again. “It’s hard to live up to the picture everyone has of me in their head. Sometimes I don’t even want to try anymore so they give up and leave me alone.”

What?

His dark eyes shifted to you, half-shrouded by his long dark hair, tan skin glowing even in this dim closet light.

“I envy you,” he snapped, irritated edge to his voice. “I know you hear all that crazy shit they say about you, but you do whatever you want anyway. People call you a slut and you just invite all the hyungs over to your place and watch movies all night. People say you dress weird and you show up in big fur coats and wacky t-shirts and knee-high boots. People say you don’t know what you’re doing, but you can calculate your change faster than the cashier with the fucking computer.”

You gawked at him; jaw slightly slack. It took you a second to collect yourself. “It’s… not that hard. It’s basic math.”

“Hmph, yeah, well, I suck at math,” Jungkook muttered. “I’m not smart like Namjoon-hyung.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, Jungkook.”

“Like what?” he accused, putting you on the spot.

“Uh… you can draw. Namjoon draws like a five-year-old.”

Jungkook snorted. “Taehyung can draw.”

You raised an eyebrow. Honorifics, where? “Not realistically like you can. It’s a different style. Weirder.”

“I’m not weird,” Taehyung said through the door, voice half-muffled.

“Yeah, you are,” Jungkook replied without looking away from you.

“You’re kind of like an alien. In a good way,” Jimin added hastily.

“You’re kind of like an idiot,” Taehyung shot back.

Slapping sounds ensued outside the door.

Jungkook scratched his head, messing up his black hair. “I’m just saying I wish I was a little more like you sometimes.” He coughed. “Only sometimes.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “Well, I kind of wish I was like you sometimes,” you admitted, looking away from him. “I wish people would say nice things about me like they do for you. I wish people would praise me without reason. I wish people would fall in love with me like how they fall in love with you, without even knowing you.” You scoffed bitterly, flicking a hand carelessly. “Instead, they just play pretend and mess with my feelings because they think I’m easy.”

You left out a heavy sigh, weight off your chest. You hadn’t meant to say all that, but oh well. It was out there now.

So dumb.

“Then, when they find out I’m not, it’s my fault for some stupid reason. Like it’s my fault you painted this fake picture of me in your head.”

You felt something touch your outstretched hand. You jumped, seeing Jungkook’s right hand touching your fingertips, hand ink standing out against his flexed fingers. You almost pulled back. Almost. Then you caught the look in his eyes and stopped, mesmerized by the seriousness in his dark brown orbs.

“I meant it when I said you were pretty,” he whispered, barely audible.

Your eyes widened.

Your pulse raced through your veins.

“You… you said only in some lights,” you whispered back.

Jungkook lifted himself off the wall. One step. Two steps, towards you. You could have backed up. You could have slapped his hand away and yelled at Taehyung some more to let you out. Men were stupid. They ain’t shit. They play with your feelings and only want to use you. Dudes are just fuckboys.

Except Jungkook confirmed he wasn’t, just now.

And you confirmed you weren’t the female equivalent of a fuckboy – a fuckgirl?

For some reason, that made this different now.

This moment.

Jungkook looked down at you, tilting his head, brown eyes curious. You spread your fingers a little more and laced them with his, pressing your fingertips against the back of his hand as he pressed his against yours. You tilted your head the other way as he leaned down.

“I said you’re pretty in some lights,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful in all of them.”

He stopped just above your lips.

Pausing.

You lifted yourself up to close the gap, holding his hand tightly.

Mouth to mouth, resuscitating something that was almost dead because of misunderstandings and surface judgements, whispers and rumors clouding the truth, because everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks… too much.

For some reason, you expected Jungkook to smell musky or woodsy, something manly, but, in actuality, his cologne was light and sweet, barely there, like a fresh summer’s breeze. It was you that smelled more intense, your coffee and cream perfume mixing with his fruity scent, dominating a little, just like how you pressed harder into his soft lips, capturing them, surprised that was pleasant, almost sweet but with a hint of spice, the tip of his tongue teasingly brushing against your lips, and you drew back, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smiled a little, squeezing your hand lightly.

“That was nicer than I thought,” he murmured.

“You’re not that bad yourself,” you muttered, frowning a little at the heat rising in your cheeks.

“You guys still alive in there?” Yoongi asked gruffly from the ground, his voice drifting under the door.

“Did they kill each other? Should we open the door?” Seokjin wondered.

The doorknob began to turn.

Jungkook started and reached for the door.

You jumped and reached for the door.

A thin crack of light appeared.

Your hands intertwined, grabbing the doorknob and yanking it closed before it could fully open, both swiftly locking the door together with a firm click. The doorknob shook, confused noises on the other side of the wood.

Jungkook stared at you, brown eyes wide. “I… I just… thought we were getting somewhere,” he whispered under his breath.

You scratched your cheek with your free hand. “Yeah… we were getting somewhere... with this.”

The doorknob rattled violently.

“Excuse me, you two?” Taehyung shouted through the door. “Why the fuck is the door locked?”

“Uh…” you started.

“It’s jammed,” Jungkook shouted back.

“Nope, it’s definitely locked. I heard it,” Yoongi said from the floor.

“That bastard,” Jungkook hissed quietly, stepping closer to you.

“Why is it locked?” Jimin accused, sounding peeved. “Hmm? You two doing some naughty stuff?”

“Scandalous,” Seokjin and Hoseok gasped in unison.

Jungkook glanced at you and you shrugged, mouthing, maybe? He mouthed back, I thought you weren’t easy. You chuckled, speaking softly to his chin.

“We already spent all that time being hostile to each other.”

“So, you admit to the hostility.”

“Sure, if it helps your delicate baby brain sleep at night.”

His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest, kissing you again, holding your hand tightly, muttering against your lips, you’re kind of annoying, and you muttering back, you’re actually annoying, and him smiling between gentle kisses.

“I have to find the key, fuck, what the hell are they doing in there?”

“Are you sure you wanna know Taehyung?” Yoongi yawned from the ground. “What if you open the door and you’re scarred for life?”

“They were supposed to find common ground, not get handsy!” Taehyung shouted back, bounding away with Jimin’s disapproving sigh following. In the closet, Jungkook let go of your hand, kneading your waist as you wrapped your arms around him, both of your hands on his broad back, moaning softly into his lips as he sighed into yours, the kisses more audible now, hands exploring as Yoongi sat outside the door, clicking his tongue knowingly.

“You’re handsome, huh,” you breathed against his kisses.

“In some lights?” he teased.

You laughed, slipping your hands under his black sweatshirt, running your fingertips on his skin, making him gasp into your kisses.

“Yeah, in some lights.”

Outside the closet, Yoongi and Namjoon sat side by side, Seokjin and Hoseok long gone from secondhand embarrassment. The sounds from the closet were escalating, clothes rustling a little too much for two people who supposedly hated each other. But, as Yoongi and Namjoon discussed calmly, there were plenty of signs that indicated that those weren’t their true feelings.

“If you think about it, they’re a good fit,” Namjoon chuckled, amused as he heard Jungkook yelp. “This whole stuck in the closet thing was more fruitful than I thought.”

Yoongi laughed, raspy and full.

“Why do you think I suggested it?”

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Chaotic Foundling

Paring: Din Djarin x teen reader (GN)

Word count: 1,908

Rating : PG

Summary : Din's foundling is a wild thing and poor him has to do his best and parent them.

Warning: I am not really that wild so I did my best to show that they really don't have any boundaries in life lol. I hope you enjoy :)

It only took Din a day after taking you in to realize how much of a handful you would become. Sure, he thought that you were just a little on the hyperactive side…. He was quickly proven wrong.

“Stay put. Stay quiet.” Din sat you on the co-pilot’s seat of the Razor Crest. He was making last minute preparations for their departure off-planet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” You hummed, swinging your legs in the chair as he walked off.

He made his way over to the sleeping quarters to check on Grogu. The Mandalorian was unable to make a proper check up as the ship suddenly jerked, tripping Din over his feet and face first into the floor. His armor rang loudly in his ears, disorienting him for several clicks before he managed to make a proper stance and run to the cockpit. There, he found you sitting in the pilot’s chair, his chair, a wild grin on your face as you gripped the controls.

You made a disappointed grunt when Din tried to pry your hands off of the controls.

“No!” You swatted at his hands in an attempt to stop him but he overpowered you quickly, landing the razor crest in a fast manner. The pit was silent except for the occasional beeping of machinery.

Din suddenly turned to you. “What was that?”

“You took forever!”

Din paused a moment, seemingly in disbelief despite not being able to see his face. “I was gone five seconds.”

----------

“Y/N! Stay put. I’m coming to get you.” Din stood at the base of a dune, staring up into the sky where you were. He had turned away for one second the next thing he knew was you got nabbed by local thieves who’d made a surprise attack, taken up into the air by one of them mounted on their cruisers as others surrounded him.

“No shit!” Your voice rang from above.

Din was quick to overpower the group around him. They were equipped with menial weapons that were nothing compared to his beskar. After throwing the last of the men to the ground, Din made a move to activate his jetpack when a body fell to his feet. He paused a click, seemingly unaffected by the sudden crack the body made and looked up at the cruiser where you sat alone.

To say that Din was proud would have been an understatement.

“Good job kid,” Din beamed underneath his beskar. “Sit tight, I’m- hey- wait- NO.”

Without giving Din a chance to finish his statement you dove into the air. You had no parachute or jetpack on your own. Instead you dawned a crazed grin on your face and a light in your eyes as you fell closer and closer to the ground. Your mouth opened to yell in joy, but instead made an “oof” sound when Din caught you midair.

“STILL ALIVE!” You exclaimed, dangling upside down from the way Din managed to catch you.

“Maybe if I drop you you’ll have some sense knocked into that head of yours.”

-----

Din thought that after the endless lectures you’d come to realize that you were to stay put where you were told as he went into battle. He quickly realized he was wrong when amidst the soldiers was speck of (H/C). He paused for a moment, unsure of what to think as he scanned the area for whatever it was he saw. Blasters grazed his helmet and hit a droid behind him, Din quickly straightened up and turned to the fallen droid before diverting his gaze back to whoever shot the fire.

There you were, carrying a blaster almost twice your size with Grogu swaddled on your back. And you were… laughing?

“Y/N” Din began marching towards you too.

“I wish I could have seen the look on your face.” You wheezed, jumping up and down. Din worried for the blaster in your hands and whoever was unfortunate enough to receive the next shot, most importantly whether it was to be on purpose or not. “Guess you weren’t ready for me to save your butt just now. You’re getting slow Din!”

A blast shot out of Din’s weapon as a soldier advanced toward the two children. You barely made a reaction as you were in the middle of spinning in joy.

“Where did you get that? I- Y’know what- nevermind. Go back to the ship. We’ll talk later.”

“But we like it here-”

“Now.”

You looked at Din a moment with a small frown. It quickly concerned Din when he saw that frown turn into a toothy grin, but before he could say anything a cruiser zoomed past him and all he could do was watch as you somehow mounted the vehicle mid-air, laughing with a wild glint in your eyes,

“No. Kid get off. No, no- Y/N! Hey!” Din broke into a run and followed the cruiser as you taunted him by sticking out your tongue and shooting the blaster recklessly.

---

The Mandalorian was assigned to hunt down a Bosa that had been terrorizing a peaceful farming village. After leaving you and Grogu to the care of the villagers, he spent the next several days tracking down the beast before he finally found it. What he was not expecting to find was you taunting the trapped beast with a metal pole and a blaster by your side. How you managed to trap it, Din didn’t know. He didn’t even want to know how long you waited before sneaking out of the village. But he turned to find Grogu nearby watching, giggling wildly until he fell over.

Din tried to call for you, but you didn’t hear as the beast roared loudly at you. You bore a crazed grin and screamed back at the creature, your face unnecessarily close to its mouth, and laughed wildly as you poked the creature with a stick. Just as the creature was about to try and bite you from it’s trap, Din picked you up and carried you and Grogu away from the creature.

“Can we cook it??”

----

With the amount of trouble you’ve caused for Din he’s learned to do a routine checkup to make sure that you had all of your limbs intact as they should be. With the amount of trouble you went into, from taking big falls and getting hit by a dewback -long story- he realized that checkups were a necessity as you probably had more mishaps and adventures than you let on.

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE.”

“You need the bacta kid,” Din was hot on your tail as you ran away from him and the bacta spray in your hands. He quickly put you in a corner. “Aha. C’mere, it’ll only sting a little.”

He took some steps forward and knelt down, opening his hand so as to invite you to allow him to put the spray on your arm. For a moment, he saw your eyes soften and thought he finally got through to you.

“SNEAK ATTACK.”

Seemingly out of nowhere you smacked a metal breastplate against his helmet and made a run for it as he was disoriented.

---

For obvious reasons, Din had to find a lock for the armory. He took you and Grogu with him to the local market close to where they were given room and board for the night.

“Put it back.”

Your hand froze, holding a blade in your hand. You quickly stuffed it out of sight even though Din was ahead of you and wasn’t looking in your direction. “Put what back?”

Din stopped after a few paces, his attention turned to a fruit stand and began to pick up some and check to see if they were ripe. “What happened to the credits I gave you?”

“I lost them.”

A sigh. Din wasn’t surprised. “How?”

There was a pause.

“Gambling.” The largest smirk spreads across your face.

Din whipped around. He blinked for several moments and enunciated each syllable, tone almost sarcastic and defeated as though he was trying to not believe what you’d said “Gambling?” You nodded enthusiastically. With a sign, Din decided that he didn’t want to deal with any interrogation and cause a scene, instead he grabbed your arm to lead you in front. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, you in front until we get to the ship.”

The clan made their way down the marketplace until Din steered the troupe to a vendor with an array of weapons on her stall. You were left admiring the pieces as Din made his business. He needed some information regarding his next bounty and thanked the vendor afterwards, paying a little extra for her cooperation before turning to you.

“What?” You stared up at him with widened eyes.

Din held his hand out, “C’mon.”

You stared at his hand for a moment before sighing, fishing a small bomb out and placing it in his hand. The vendor watched wide eyed but said nothing as Din returned the ware to her and returned his gaze to you. “All of it. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

A moment. Then a sigh as you find that you had no way out of it. You pulled out all of the wares you’d stolen from the stand alone, putting them all on a considerably big pile on the stall while the vendor quickly retrieved them to put away.

“There.” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning away from Din.

“Thank you.” Din’s tone was sarcastic.

“Yeah, no problem rust bucket.”

Din shook his head and turned to the woman, ��I’m sorry. My foundling hasn’t broken their habit of stealing. I hope you can understand.”

After he made you apologize to the vendor he took you by your arm and walked you back through the streets and towards the ship. He sighed, “I don’t know why I bring you to the markets. If you don’t stop this you’ll end up stealing from the wrong hand. And then what will you do?”

“Die probably”

---

Din knocked on the door of your sleeping cot. It was early morning and he needed you to help him with some preparations for the next trip off planet.

“Y/N. I need you to help me out with inventory. Can you come out?”

The door made a hiss before opening and you bounced out of the hull and zoomed off, ready to tackle the tasks. You were usually ecstatic to go off-planet, despite Din’s dismay as he knew it meant you’d find yourself into more trouble. He chuckled a moment and was going to walk off when the datapad on your bed caught his attention. He picked it up a moment and gazed at the screen.

You perked up at his voice while you were on your way to the storage below the floorboards. “Kid, what’s this?” He had the screen facing you, showing detailed maps of star destroyers and other military projects.

You gave the screen a glance before disappearing under the floorboards, your voice echoing louder from beneath. “I was just messing around a bit with some channels and found that.”

Din stared at the pit where you were for a moment before walking off into the cockpit, falling into his chair. He found himself facing an unprecedented predicament in which he was faced to call for Bo-Katan to inform her that his foundling had hacked into the Empire’s system.

Tag list:

@kiara-is-gay @sagedgeek

#dad!din #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #gender neutral reader #teen reader #star wars reader insert #reader insert #grogu #foundlings #pedro pascal

[jotunn-loki]

no penance due to innocence

FANDOM: tom hiddleston rpf, mcu rpf PAIRING: tom hiddleston/reader RATING: explicit, NS// FW!! WC: 4,544 WARNINGS/K¡NKS: female!reader, professor/student, daddy k¡nk, praise k¡nk, schoolgirl fantasy, age difference/age k¡nk, voice k¡nk, degradation, spanking, dom!hiddles, sub!reader, pain k¡nk, not a warning but hiddles in suit/glasses/beard

SUMMARY:  Despite your best interests, you can't help but fantasize about your classics professor, Tom Hiddleston. But as it may seem, your thoughts may not be so fruitless after all...

NOTE: the title is a line from John Donne's poem "to his mistress going to bed" which is partially quoted in this fic--you'll see! imagine Hiddles reciting it hehe. also, i typically don't use "y/n" in my fics, but this fic does use "Miss Y/LN" (your last name) thrice! not in the heat of the smut but near the beginning and end:) enjoy!

It was nearly seven p.m.

Tom Hiddleston, your classics professor, stood at the front of the lecture hall, one hand wrapped elegantly around a remote clicker and the other adjusting his glasses as he spoke.

You loved his voice; everyone in the class did—the smooth richness of it, the authentic Britishness that was so short in supply at your American university, the elegance and intent he put into each and every syllable. He obviously was quite passionate about his subject, which made not only for a fascinating class, but an attentive group of students. You were sure that there was no one in the section who ever dared to not pay attention to his lectures, much less skip it completely. Why would anyone want to miss the crisp tightness of Professor Hiddleston’s custom-tailored suits or the soft unintentional growl in his voice when he read aloud a section from your readings? He was a talented actor in that regard, but you were glad he had never gone into such an industry...otherwise you wouldn’t be able to watch him in class now, listen to him, soaking in every bit of his perfection.

And that, truly, was the reason that you loved this class most of all. While you were ashamed to admit it, after the seventy-five minutes you spent in the Intro to British Literature lecture, your underwear was always slightly damp as you rose from your seat and tried to ignore your mortification as you passed by the man you couldn’t stop thinking about on the way out of the door, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Professor.”

It was the same now, and you could barely focus on the class’s content while Professor Hiddleston turned from one completely filled up white board to the next, giving you a splendid view of his glorious tight ass. You shifted in your seat in what you hoped was an inconspicuous way and turned away. This was getting out of hand. You almost were wondering if you needed to drop the class altogether, purely for your own sanity.

But then again—if every student in the class did that, there would be no one left in the section.

Now Professor Hiddleston was running a hand over his beautiful dirty blonde beard, thinking for a moment before he wrote the next name upon the board. John Donne, it read, and you suddenly remembered the poem you had been assigned to read the night prior. It was short, less than one hundred lines, which had lent for easy reading, even for the turn of the sixteenth century. But that wasn’t, of course, what had drawn your attention. The poem was unashamedly erotic, a scene about undressing, a mistress and her lover, vulnerability between them both.

And now, to your absolute undoing, Professor Hiddleston had decided that it was a good idea to read it aloud. You could barely breathe as he spoke, as he again, acted, the poetry, each line sending you further into a frenzy. Around you, the class held its collective breath as well, creating an unnatural silence. Not even a paper moved, nor did a pen drop.

“...shew / thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence / there is no penance due to innocence / to teach thee, I am naked first; why then / what needst thou have more covering than a man,” Hiddleston finished with a flourish, a slight smirk on those perfect lips. His eyes roved around the room thoughtfully, that smirk dissolving into an unabashed grin. “Quite the charmer, Donne thought himself to be,” he added with a laugh. “We can thank him for that.”

Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours, and you could have sworn that he swallowed as he looked at you. Or perhaps that was just a stupid hope. You twisted your lips and looked away abruptly, missing the narrowing of his eyes and the way his hand ran down his tie and fiddled with its tip.

Soon enough, class was over, the hour just passed, and you gathered your things, stuffing the poems you had printed out into your bag and rising from your seat with a grimace. Your body had found itself aroused. Again. Thankfully, now that your day was finished, you’d be able to make it back to the dorms with minimal consequence, and you knew it would be a few hours before your roommate to return, so you’d have a solid amount of time to...get your professor off of your mind.

But as you turned the corner from the descending steps between the rows of chairs towards the door, a voice cleared itself behind you. Heart pumping, you pivoted to find Professor Hiddleston standing there, one hand rolling up the sleeves of his crisp shirt up to his elbows, revealing lean but corded muscle there under smooth pale skin.

“Y-yes, Professor?” you asked him, trying not to let your voice shake. It was almost as if he could read your thoughts, sense that you were clearly horny and in need of leaving the fucking lecture hall.

“I need to speak with you privately,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help but clench tightly and swallow.

“About what, sir?” you asked.

Hiddleston smiled. “Just grades. Your recent performance.” Seeing your confounded face, he added, “Nothing serious, of course.”

Slowly, you nodded. “When should I come?”

You didn’t miss the slip there, the unintentional double-meaning, but as it would seem, neither did he, as Hiddleston’s pleasant smile slid into a heavily lidded smirk, one eyebrow raising.

No. It couldn’t be. Professor fucking Hiddleston—into you? Just another one of his sophomore students who was most likely taking the course solely for a humanities credit? Granted, you were not one of those—you loved classic English prose and poetry, but it was such a large class that most of them were not that into the subject.

“Right now,” Professor Hiddleston said then, gesturing for you to follow him. Eyes widening, your hand tightened around the strap of your bag and you waited for him to gather his teaching materials before you both left the lecture hall promptly.

His office was not far, only a few floors up. Luckily, you did not have far to go, as it was in the same building, and so you did not have to dwell in the anxious interim stage for long.

The office itself was spacious and graciously private, with a large modern window that looked out onto the urban campus of your university, and a shade that was currently rolled up to the top. There was a large mahogany desk as well, old-fashioned as you had expected, and a luxurious chair that sat behind it. A plush violet-colored rug laid on the floor as well, completing the look.

You had been purposefully avoiding office hours for this class all semester, unable to trust yourself in such close proximity to your professor. It seems that your goal had now been foiled by the man himself. Oh, well. Hopefully this would be quick, and you wouldn’t have to endure this torture for long.

Sighing, Hiddleston sat himself down behind his desk and rolled the chair away from it, hands steepled with his elbows on his thighs. His thighs... which were currently separated far apart in the most attractive manspread you’d ever seen, no matter what an oxymoron that may have been in any other situation. But not in this one. Not here, with Professor Hiddleston, alone.

This man who you could guess was around forty years old. This man who was probably over twenty years your senior. Unwittingly, the thought sent another stroke of heat down to your pussy. Oh, god. Biting your lip, you waited for him to speak.

He seemed to enjoy holding you in suspense for a moment, that infuriating grin still plastered across that handsome face. “You must have wondered why I called you here.”

“Yes, sir.”

At that, his grin disappeared, and something else crossed his face instead, something much darker, much hungrier. “I do love it when you call me that.”

You gulped. “What’s that, Professor?”

“Either of those,” he replied, that familiar growl filling his voice. “And you must know by now that I don’t give a damn about your grades. That is your own business...besides, you are doing excellently in my class.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say, so you just smiled and crossed your hands behind your back.

“No...you’re here because you are far too distracting. It’s causing me problems during lectures. That is an issue,” Hiddleston said, spreading his legs even wider.

“I...hadn’t noticed that, sir.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he replied simply, that prim accent making it all the better. “I wouldn’t be a good lecturer if I allowed myself to be easily affected by a student...even if you are as stunning as you are.” His eyes flashed. “I wonder...are you doing this on purpose, darling?”

Mouth parting, you shook your head.

“Mm,” Hiddleston murmured, scratching the side of his beard slowly. “I don’t know about that. Are you sure?”

“Why would I be so willing to entice you, Professor?” you asked him, willing yourself not to collapse where you stood.

Hiddleston dropped his hand and ran it instead along the inside of his thigh. Your eyes widened and you had to avert your gaze. “Because you want me as much as I have lusted after you,” he said huskily in reply.

When you didn’t respond, throat too tight to speak, he stood, edging around the side of his desk. “Admit it, Miss Y/LN,” he said sternly.

He was so close to you now, just an inch away. You could barely intake breath—no, scratch that, you couldn’t breathe at all.

After a painful moment, you nodded.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“Yes,” you squeaked, eyes flitting to his, a bright, intense blue.

“Yes, what?”

Steeling yourself, you brought your hand to his chest. “Yes, Professor Hiddleston.”

“Good girl.”

You clenched again, barely withholding an audible moan. Still, Hiddleston had spotted your near slip, and he grinned, bringing one of his large hands to cover yours where it was placed on his chest and entwine both of your fingers. “Say yes to me, then. And I will give you what you so crave.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. “Yes, Professor Hiddleston. Please.”

“That’s my good girl,” he said again. “Now. Undress.”

You gawked at him. “Excuse me?”

Hiddleston snatched both of your wrists then, pulling you right to his chest so that your bodies were pressed together. “You do want me to fuck you, Miss Y/LN, don’t you?”

Quickly, you nodded.

“Then do as I say,” he hissed.

You complied easily, removing first your bag from your shoulders and then your light jacket. You hesitated only a moment before sliding your fingers under the hem of your shirt and lifting it from your head, exposing your skin to the slight chill of the room. Still, everything inside you was fire, and it only burned hotter as Hiddleston inhaled deeply, taking in the sight of your breasts, hidden only by the bra that cupped them gently. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “Just like I imagined.”

Your breath quickened at that. It was terribly gratifying to know that he had fantasized about you, his student, just as you had fantasized about him, your professor. So you smiled at him through your lashes, putting on a facade of demureness.

“Now, don’t give me that,” Hiddleston automatically smirked, grabbing your jaw and holding it tightly. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I know how dirty your thoughts have been, my dear, and it would be a lie for you to pretend otherwise, wouldn’t it?”

Unable to help yourself, you whimpered. Beside your ear, Professor Hiddleston laughed. “Whore.”

You held your breath as he then unbuckled your bra, the garment in his hands looking like it belonged there—and leaving your breasts bare. “Professor,” you murmured as he leaned forward, cupping both of them in his large hands and placing a kiss to each nipple. “Professor—fuck—”

CRACK.

There was a sharp stinging feeling on your ass, and you realized that Hiddleston had just spanked you—actually spanked you—and was now leaning onto his desk casually again, this time with a stormy expression on his face. His chin tilted upwards in disgust as he said, “Such foul language. When have I ever tolerated that, little one?”

When you didn’t answer, he raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t rhetorical.”

“You didn’t, sir,” you said meekly, grimacing from the pain. You could only imagine what it would have felt like without clothing to cover the sensitive skin of your ass.

“Hence why I needed to punish you,” Professor Hiddleston said matter-of-factly, which somehow only turned you on even further. His confident nonchalance made you want to kneel before him and unbuckle those perfectly-pressed trousers, but you managed to hold yourself together.

It wasn’t long before you were standing before him naked, trying fruitlessly to hold in a tremble as Professor Hiddleston circled your body, eyeing every part of you. “So,” he said when he’d finally turned to face you eye-to-eye again. “You not only are extremely intelligent, but you are a goddess among humans. You look so innocent, but I know you aren’t. Not with those eyes.”

It was true. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from looking at him the way you had been doing all semester.

“Intelligent, sir?”

Hiddleston smiled gently and stepped toward you, finally encircling you in his arms. His hands, placed firmly on your upper back, slowly slid down to cup your ass, pulling you against his form. You could feel the strain of his crotch there, and your heart pounded at the thought. You still couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Yes, intelligent,” Hiddleston murmured, brushing a light kiss on your cheek, your jaw, your lips. “Your textual analysis of Much Ado About Nothing a few months ago was one of the best interpretations I’d ever seen.”

Had it been? You’d only been commenting about the way that it had impacted modern fictional tropes and set up socially acceptable gender roles in romance, but you supposed that it had been written in such a way that had greatly pleased Professor Hiddleston.

“Do not be so hard on yourself,” he said then, as if he could sense your thoughts. “Truly...you are a pleasure to have in class.”

You felt your body tense at the way he said ‘pleasure,’ for he certainly knew what he was doing. “Even if I am distracting to you?” you asked.

“Especially when you are distracting to me.”

With that, he pinched your ass firmly between two large fingers and you yelped, flinching into his arms. You felt the outline of his hard cock in his trousers again and squirmed against it, desperately needing friction. “P-Professor—”

He tsked quietly. “Such a cockslut you are, my little schoolgirl begging for me,” Hiddleston tutted. You felt your arousal even stronger as your mind filled with the fantasy he had planted there, imaging yourself in high stockings and a short skirt, a pure virgin teenager with no experience.

Luckily, that was not the case, but he was your professor, and if anyone found out that he’d fucked you, you’d both be in serious trouble. It only made the whole thing more exciting.

“Please, fuck me,” you whimpered. “Professor, I need you—”

“What did I say about foul language, little girl?” Hiddleston said sharply. “Or do you think yourself above such formalities and rules now that you are standing naked like a filthy whore in my office?”

You moaned, and without warning, Professor Hiddleston threw you against the dark mahogany desk so that you were facing away from him, clapping a hand across your ass again. Your eyes watered from the sudden pain, but you only bit your lip, loving every bit of it.

Hiddleston leaned over you so that you could feel his hardness against your body again and tilted your tear-stained face towards him. You watched him remove his glasses silently and place them beside you on his desk, smirking all the while. “You are going to count for me now, alright, my dear?”

You nodded, tensing your body in preparation.

And then it came without warning, his hand on your backside with a sharp cracking sound, leaving the feeling of fire against your skin. You cried out in pain, and Professor Hiddleston cleared his throat.

Oh. “One,” you whispered quietly. “But, Professor Hiddleston, won’t anyone hear?”

He let out a soft laugh at that. “I’ve been tenured here long enough that no one else of importance is in the vicinity, little one. But who knows…”

With a self-satisfied laugh, he spanked you again.

“T-Two,” you said.

Crack. “Three.”

Crack. “Four.”

Crack. “Five.”

With each spank, your voice grew stronger, more sturdy, and you relished in the sting of your ass stuck out behind you and caressed by your professor’s hands. He was rubbing it now, a gentle reprieve before he hit you again, this one harder than the rest.

You shrieked and gripped the edge of the desk, feeling the wetness of your cunt moistening your legs. “Oh, Professor Hiddleston,” you moaned. “Hit me harder, please, Daddy—”

The word slipped out of your mouth without expectation from either you or him, and you immediately stilled, feeling embarrassment cloud your senses.

“You are a kinky bitch,” Hiddleston murmured softly, and he ran a hand along the top of your head, even as you lay panting over the edge of his desk. It made you feel lesser, somehow, and you wanted that. You needed it.

“Be a good girl then, and take what Daddy gives you.”

The spank following was the hardest of them all, making you buck into the desk in all its force. “T-Tom!” you cried. You needed release, now, and him building you up was starting to irritate you.

“One more,” he said through gritted teeth, and you tensed as a final slap hit your backside, causing your eyes to water in pain as you heaved against the desk, nearly bringing you over the edge in and of itself.

“I can’t wait to see that bruise up nicely,” said Professor Hiddleston smugly, flipping you over as you let out a pained hiss. “And now that you’ve been adequately punished, I will give you what you’ve been longing for.”

You let out a long sound, something that was a mix between a contented sigh and a broken moan, and watched as he tore off his belt buckle and pulled out his cock, hard and weeping and flushed a very eager red. “Ready, darling?”

You nodded quickly before your nerves could get the better of you.

He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, still feeling the familiar tendrils of embarrassment creeping across your neck.

Professor Hiddleston—Tom—smirked and spread your legs with each of those gorgeous large hands, gripping the flesh of your thighs. Between them, you were on fire, evidenced further by the wetness dripping from your core.

“Oh, my dear,” Tom whispered with an air of disappointment, though it was impossible not to see how pleased he was. “You’re so wet.”

“Mm—” was all you could say. With him standing over you, eyes boring into your pussy and flitting back to your face every few moments it was all you could do not to scream.

Suddenly his fingers were upon you—within you, and you let out a long moan as he pumped them deftly, the other hand gripping his own cock. As you panted, completely at his whims, Tom grunted, his eyes fluttering closed.

But then, just as you felt yourself reach your peak, body begging to throw itself off into the abyss, he stopped. “Daddy,” you whined, pouting at him. “Why did you stop?”

“I had to, little one,” he murmured gently, running his hand along the inside of your thigh and sending shivers across your skin. But though you bucked your hips forward into his touch, Tom didn’t continue, only let out a smug chuckle. “I want this to take a long time, my dear. I want every part of your body to remember that I was here. I want it to know—I want you to know—that it belongs to me. Understand?”

You swallowed. “Yes, Professor Hiddleston.”

“Good.” The word was sharp, succinct, radiating with pure dominance. You clenched at the sound of it.

And unfortunately for you, your professor had witnessed that with his very own eyes. Immediately, you felt a sharp sting against the same spot on your thigh where he’d just been caressing, and you squealed. “Professor!”

“Whore,” he spat, pushing your upper body flat onto the desk. “I told you that you needed to be patient, didn’t I? Didn’t I?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy…”

“And you disobeyed me,” he replied calmly. “So you deserved that, little one.”

You let out a small sound of assent and he kissed your lips softly. “Now, let’s continue. You’re doing so well, my darling.”

He slid those fingers along the inside of your thigh and caressed the sensitive skin where your legs met your cunt, tickling your skin. You tried to hold in a laugh and failed, a small hiccup escaping your lips. Tom glanced up at you and smirked. “My poor little girl,” he teased.

You smiled at him and bit your lip. “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

You couldn’t help the whine that slipped into your voice. Honestly, it awed you. Less than an hour ago you were afraid to even make eye contact with Professor Hiddleston for fear of your own sexual desires; now you were sitting on his expensive desk bare naked with your legs spread for him and pussy dripping with unquenched arousal. Still, he refused to bring you release.

“Will you please fuck me?” you asked him softly, sweetly. “I need your cock, Professor.”

You could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he tried to hide the way your words affected him, So you pushed out your bottom lip and bared your breasts forward to him for good measure. “ Please.”

Where he had been gentle and sensitive a moment ago, Tom was no longer holding back. “What happened to ‘you need to be patient?’” you hissed as he flipped you over, bending you over the desk as he’d done before.

“Hush, my little whore,” Tom grunted as he shifted behind you, and you could feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance impatiently. Hypocrisy at its finest, but you couldn’t care less. “You’re going to take all of me, and I will be merciless,” Tom whispered as he took your hands and pinned them beneath his own on the desk. “Do you understand?”

You nodded, difficult as the action was in your current position.

“No,” Tom said softly. “I don’t think you do.” He sighed dramatically as he pinched the spare skin on your hip, making you squeak in pleasure. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, gravellier...that same cadence he had when he’d read some of those poems. “You’re going to take every inch of my cock, and it’s going to be painful for you, my dear. But I’m not going to go slow, not going to rest and wait for you to adjust. And only when you’re begging for me, crying for me like the whore you are will I finally let you come.”

“Oh, Tom,” you moaned and he chucked. “Yes, that’s right, baby. Moan my name. I haven’t even entered you yet.”

You couldn’t even feel the embarrassment hit your mind; you were too fazed over with the anticipation of him fucking you. “Please—”

Then he was pushing into you, and you groaned in pain. He had been right—this was unlike any other man you’d previously fucked. He was large, but just perfectly so; you felt as if the pain inside your cunt should live there forever. His hips snapped as he thrusted into you again, and you pushed your ass into the air to get more friction. “Oh, Professor Hiddleston—”

“Yes, fuck yes,” he panted as his thrusts sped up, and he moved one hand off of yours to finger at your clit. Sensation flooded you, and you cried out again. You could feel the warmth and power of his body behind you, even through the now-sweaty formal shirt he wore. And you could feel the coolness of the desk against your skin, and the rising pleasure throughout your body. “Tom, fuck—”

“Remember what I said?” he growled. “Beg.”

You couldn’t resist. “Please, Daddy, let me come! I want to come so bad around your cock, Professor. Fill me up—please—”

He grunted in pleasure at your words, and you ground into his fingers where they worked at your clit as he continued to pound into you. Each thrust sent you higher, hitting your g-spot just perfectly. “That’s my good girl,” Tom cooed gently, such a contrast to the violet strokes of his body. “You’re doing so well for Daddy. See how well you take my cock? That’s right, little one. Keep grinding into me. Such a good whore—”

At that, you moaned, grimacing in pleasure. “Can I come yet, Daddy?”

“Not yet, my darling,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I need you to be louder for me. I need everyone to know that you belong to me. That you’re my little cockslut who’s only taking this class so you can fuck your professor like a filthy whore.”

“Please let me come, sir!” you cried, bucking into him. You let out a loud cry as he nipped at your shoulder, teeth digging into your skin. “Yes, my good girl. Scream for me.”

“Tom!” you shouted. A shudder coursed through you at the possibility of someone hearing you, but in your haze of pleasure, you could barely notice. “Professor, please—”

Finally, he chuckled, and his thumb pressed tightly into your clit. “Come,” he commanded in a low voice, and you did, gasping as you rolled against his touch and felt his cock find release within your walls and he cried out your name.

“ Tom ,” you moaned, eyes rolling backwards. “Oh, Tom… ”

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, caressing your neck with his free hand. “My sweet darling.”

You were both breathing hard, covered in sweat, and an utter mess against the rich wood of Professor Hiddleston’s desk. “I’m—I’m sorry,” you stuttered, coming back to your senses. “I...didn’t realize. This all happened so fast…”

But to your surprise, Tom only chuckled, helping you to stand and wrapping his arms around you. “No, my dear. This isn’t over yet.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he repeated. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You swallowed, feeling a pleasant flush spread across your body as you met his gaze. “So…”

Tom smiled. “I will see you on Tuesday, Miss Y/LN.”

As disheveled as you were, and most likely smelling of sex as you left his office, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling that had risen within you. You would see him again, and soon.

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A/N: thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, likes - all appreciated! this fic is also posted on ao3 under the same name (via my username MavenMorozova). give it some love there if you’d like!

TAGS: let me know if you want me to make a taglist!

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x ofc #hiddles #tom hiddleston fanfiction #hiddles fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfic #hiddles x reader #tom hiddleston smut #professor hiddleston #fanfic by maven #mine #mcu rpf #tom hiddleston x yn

[blue-bird-kny]

This took way to many days to write for absolutely no reason, but I liked it in the end so please, enjoy~Amanda

Warnings: N/a

Words: 2.4k+

↳{Fluffy first baths together are nothing short of what you’d expect with Inosuke}

The gentle pitter-patter of water droplets drizzling down bamboo shoots and swaying green leaves filled the otherwise quiet space. The welcoming scent of dew and greenery danced through the night air as you overlooked the outdoor bathing area, “absolutely perfect” you thought as your muscles cried in despair. You, along with your team of idiots and sweet Nezuko, had walked miles in search of a home bearing the Wisteria crest, everyone in desperate need of some rest, repair, and (hopefully) lots of delicious food. “Come in, young child, as weary as you may be, your body needs food to begin the healing process” a grainy voice beckoned. An elderly woman, just barely 5 feet wrapped in purple with shimmering silver hair, waited patiently beside the open door, “I think my husband was too excited to greet you all because he got carried away and made far too much food” she continued. “Oh don’t worry, my boys are very capable of eating you out of house and home, especially my boyfriend” you giggled while climbing the wooden steps to meet her.

You walked side by side to the dining room, the smell of beef stew and rice already reaching you, “Thanks again, to you and your husband, we’ve spent weeks running around and I know we desperately needed the break” she chuckled, “No need child, my husband misses the thrill of battle even in his old age, so we are thrilled to have you.” your eyes widened slightly but before you could ask the shorter woman of her husband's past, a loud crash could be heard behind the thin sliding door. Behind its papery protection was a scene that couldn’t be anymore hilarious; wrestling on the floor was an older man, thick and burley with round rims sliding down the bump of his nose, hovering over a wailing Zenitsu whose body was being forced into a backbend with his head held tightly in a choke-hold by the man’s hairy arms. Tanjiro stood beside the duo desperately trying to pull his friend out from under the other, trying to talk over the hefty laughter and screaming, while Inosuke stood cheering the man on as if this were some sort of cage fight.

You could feel the twitch in your eye act up, ready to pull them apart but before you could open your mouth the elderly woman cleared her throat, causing the wild bunch to freeze. Her husband's eyes slowly fell on hers as fear overcame them and as for the other three, they couldn’t help but shiver at the dead set look on yours. “What’s going on here?” the women commanded, her steel set tone sending the group scrambling into seated positions as she prowled into the room- you followed slowly behind her. Tanjiro croaked first, “W-well Mr.Shimura was telling us about his days in the force and he just wanted to show us some of his, uh, moves'' Tanjiro's voice wavered a bit at the end, not sure if ‘moves’ was the right way to describe assault. “Y/n! Please don’t let this man torture me anymore, he’s crazy!” the blonde rushed to your side with teary eyes and a tight grip on your arm. The women pulled her large husband up by his ear, “Don’t worry, you children enjoy your food, my husband,” she tugged on the lobe for emphasis, “and I will be off to bed” she turned to you, “I assume you’ll be able to find the bathing area and your room?” “Of course” you assured. The moment the couple became shadows behind the door, you could hear the wife’s grumbling- you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

Unsettled by the silence, you turned to find all eyes on you, waiting for a reprimand you had no intention of delivering, “Oh ease up, eat before the food gets cold'' a collective sigh could be heard around the table, your hand gentle releasing the part of Zenitsu that was still clinging your clothes. The spot open next to Inosuke was as inviting as the mouth-watering scent of a hot meal that had been calling your name since further down the hallways. Your fingers faintly fell on the tuft of your boyfriend's hair, ruffling them a bit, before diving into your own bowl of rice and soup. While Inosuke felt your small act of affection and craved it a bit more, he only offered a messy smile as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. 

Ceramic dishes once filled with hand-cooked deliciousness were now cleaned empty, stacked into small towers all across the wooden table in some sort of toppling city. The room was almost empty too, Zenitsu and Tanjiro both eager to wash the wear away and to finally allow themselves to be consumed by uninterrupted dreams, had already taken off for the night. “I’m going to die,” the bloated heap on the floor cried, his duo-toned hair sprawled out around him and his robe strewn on the ground. You laughed, “No, Inosuke, you aren’t going to die” you laid on the carpet beside him, propped up by one elbow. As the man heaved and sighed as if he were going into labor, your nose caught a whiff of something salty and musty and earthy and gross, “I swear if you don’t go shower right now, my eyes are going to melt from my skull” you complained nasally as you pinched your nostrils shut; You were met with only louder moaning and heaving. “C’mon everyone else already-” you stopped yourself short, an idea too good to pass up crossing your mind. “Since everyone else is already tucked away, why don’t we bath together?” before you could even finish the question, Inosuke sat up faster than light, his eyes challenging yours as if saying “Are you playing me?”. “We never get to do anything just us so if you're up for it, I’m down” you concluded slightly smug as he clung to each word you uttered like a puppy waiting for a treat. You stood to leave, crouching down once more to balance your fingers below his chin, forcing him to face you, “But, no funny business”. 

You didn’t even have to look to see Inosuke was following, his second set of steps echoing yours as if they were the thunder that follows lighting; two things equally as powerful, yet relied on the other for strength. Again, you were greeted by the soft flow of water streaming into the natural spring, the brilliant moonlight above lighting the large basin carved from polished rock that sat in the middle of the space. “Turn around” you asked, to which Inosuke surprisingly compiled too with only a tiny grumble. You slid your filthy clothes off layer by layer, the black garments piled together as you tip-toed into the warm water, the steam instantly feeling irresistible on your skin. “I-I’ll close my eyes so you can get in, too” you stuttered, the heavy realization of the intimacy that was to come next, an intimacy that had never been shared before. “Whatever you want, we’ll be naked anyways in the water” Insouke pointed out as he too discarded his smaller pile onto yours, however, you didn’t dare peek before you heard the breaking of water as he climbed in, didn’t dare breathe as he groaned in relief. Slowly, you uncovered your eyes, trained steadily past the demon slayer's face; awkwardly and in unusual silence, you two sat five feet apart, waiting to see who dared to move first.

Well of course it was Inosuke who shuffled through the water first towards you, “You can look at me, ya know” he said with a sort of want in his voice, as if your gaze offered an approval he sought from only you. Whether the pink that painted his skin was from the temperature or the heat of the moment, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t dwell on it for long because other things piqued your interest. While the number of times you’ve seen Inosuke wear a shirt was almost non-existent, the steam rising from the water altered his scarred chest into something else; it was more chiseled, more tanned, each dip and mark was more perfect, the reflection below somehow glowed in a way that was more than you had every painted Inosuke to be and it took your breath away. “What are ya looking at?” he asked defensively, fidgeting in an almost timid way; it reminded you that you shouldn’t be nervous around him, “You, ya dummy”. He scoffed at your bluntness, grateful to hear the normal bite in your tongue instead of the disgust he feared you’d feel towards him. His stunning pair of green orbs watched as you leaned closer to him, arms stretched as you grew even closer, “What the hel-” he panicked slightly only to be fooled as you grabbed something that was behind him; two bottles waved in front of his face as you teased, “What? Afraid of some soap, piglet?”. He muttered a string of complaints, ‘tease’ and ‘mean’ being the only two you could work out.

You squeezed the white shampoo into your open palm, setting it down somewhere on the edge of the bath, “May I?” you asked, hovering your hands beside his head. He sucked on his teeth before mumbling a raspy “fine”, easing himself between your awaiting limbs. You worked the suds into his scalp, gently massaging his dark roots with the pads of your thumbs before working your way down to bunch his falling strands, lathering them in the floral-scented soap. As you worked to cover every last inch of his scalp in bubbles, Inosuke struggled to keep quiet; his half-lidded eyes fluttered with every circular rub, his mouth slightly agape as he relished in your touch and had to work at suppressing the purrs that threatened to escape his chest like a cat.

“Bend down a little, will ya” you pushed against his head till he was close enough to the water that when he tipped back, his long tresses would be covered. You rinsed his hair gently, taking your time to enjoy this rare chance  with your loved one (along with the funny faces you knew he was making). Inosuke wanted to say something, anything would do really, but he just couldn’t put syllables together as if with every trail your fingers followed, you sucked away his ability to think. You had already rid his scalp from the soap, however, you weren’t ready to let go just yet; you ushered him out of the water so you could use your nails to push the soaked strands back, twirling them into a loose bun at the back of his head. Inosuke was so close, he was sure he’d make it out of this without any weird noises but the subtle scratching against his skin was too much for any man. A low rumble emerged from his throat followed by a relieved sigh, “If I knew all it took to tame this wild boar was a few head scratches, I’d have started a long time ago” you giggled, sliding your palms down the length of his neck to rest on his shoulders, “all done”. His brows furrowed at the weight behind his head and the lack thereof on his back, “It’s a bun” you explained, “Yea, well I feel bald” “Don’t knock just yet, it helps keep your hair from your face when you’re fighting, plus I think you look hot with it” you tightened your hold on him for a second as a blush crept its way onto his skin.

“It's getting late, you can get out if you want, I’m going to wash up” you reached for the same bottle of shampoo, tipping it over to collect its contents, but before the suds could touch your skin, Inosuke’s grip caught your wrist. “I’ll do it” he stated firmly, “You don’t have to-” “I’ll do it” he repeated, already taking the bottle. A glop of shampoo slapped against his palm as he rushed to spread it between his two hands. You closed your eyes, ready to be serenaded by his sweet touch when you were quickly reminded of who you were dealing with here- the furthest thing from sweet. Water splashed haphazardly as Inosuke drilled into your skull, roughly kneading your scalp. “Ouch! Stop it! Is that what it felt like to you?! Any harder and I’ll be the bald one!” you yelled, moving away from his hands still hanging above the water. Inosuke shrunk a little, visibly upset as he looked to his right at nothing specific. Instantly regretting your reaction, you acted to fix the situation, “Here” you gently placed his thick fingers against your scalp once again this time placing yours above his, easing them into a gentle, rhythmic massage. “See,” you sighed, “not everything in life is a race.”

Inosuke looked at the way your face fell at the feel of his fingers gently working against you, he almost had to double-take to make sure it was his touch that was providing you so much pleasure- in fact, it sort of inflated his already bulging ego. Although he spent less time washing and rinsing your hair as you had hoped (you could have sat there for hours) the water was growing cooler and time was nipping at both your ankles, reminding you of the sleep you oh so needed. Washed and feeling refreshed, you reached for his shoulders, using them to glide through the water until your chest was pressed against his, becoming more familiar with the feel of his warmth against yours. Your arms dangled over his shoulders with your head buried in his neck, while his large palms found themselves holding your waist, “this was fun” you whispered into his skin. Inosuke grunted, exhaustion creeping up on him too. “Let go to bed” you yawned ready to detach yourself reluctantly from the strong man when you were suddenly carried above the water, exposed and shivering you wrapped your legs instinctively around him. “What are you doing?” you asked embarrassed and flushed red. A wide grin overtook his face as he held you tighter, “Figured you’d be too weak to walk after I almost put you to bed with my magical fingers” he replied as he trudged through the water and out the bath, two towels already waiting to dry your skin.

Later that night as you both lay covered in cotton robes and silk sheets surrounded by the gentle buzz of the others snoring around the room, together on one futon with eyelids as heavy as stones, something occurred to you. “Hey babe?” you whispered, getting a half grunt in response, “you never took that bun out, did you?” the arm that was holding you securely to his side flicked you gently, “hush women” he breathed. You chuckled low, snuggling closer into Inosuke's warmth, falling effortlessly into a peaceful sleep.

Thank you~

Masterlist

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny #kny x reader #inosuke #inosuke x reader #inosuke hashibira

[realcube]

LEAVING MIDORIYA

part one (nsfw) | part two 

tw// mentions of toxic relationships, drinking & mention of a bombing

honestly, if you were given enough time you probably could’ve figured it out on your own — without the assistance of a psychiatrist — but exactly one appointment later, you were left with the disheartening realisation that you weren’t having ‘bad dreams’ and the marks on your body weren’t inflicted by yourself during slumber. eventually, the fact set in that it was your sweet, gentle fiancée who was the cause of all these things. 

this whole time, you were under the impression that you were the problem, that there was a malicious part of you that wanted to paint deku out to be some sort of villain; and now you were finally made aware that a villain is exactly what he is. 

it was a hard conclusion to come to but the initial wave of relief you felt was enough to make you act on it quickly, as the more you waited around and let the fact sink in, the more you doubted whether or not to take action. but reasoning isn’t what you need right now, you just need to get away from him. 

where will you go? you had no idea, but any where away from him is good enough. 

midoriya didn’t even get enough time to try fill your head with even more lies. you came marching into the apartment with the intention of ignoring everything he says and simply pack your stuff so you can leave. no matter how much he screamed, begged or yelled, it was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall hence he eventually gave in, leaving you to collect your things in peace as there was clearly no way he was going to get through to you. 

you left without another word — not even a goodbye — and you were sure to sneak your engagement ring out with you. although it made you sick to look at, realistically you might need the cash since as soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment with your shit in bags, you were officially homeless. 

no need to worry though, you had arranged to stay the night at a friend’s house until tomorrow morning, then you could catch the train to your parent’s. from there, you’d stay with them until you manage to find a new apartment within your price range. 

one problem; your friend just texted you saying that they have to retract their offer because their landlord doesn’t allow over two people to sleep in the same dorm, and they already have a roommate. very unfortunate but hey, what can you do? plus, they apologised and offered to pay for your hotel but you reassured them that their money wouldn’t be necessary. 

now sitting outside your old apartment complex, scrolling through your phone looking for the nearest hotel. since both you and deku were well-paid pro-heroes and bought a penthouse in a rather affluent area, it was no surprise that most of the hotels that were reasonably close were from 4-5 stars.

although a 5-star hotel room for one night really wasn’t necessary, the post-breakup adrenaline was telling you otherwise. it also told you that treating yourself to a shopping spree, getting wine drunk at a bar and then shuffling back to the hotel with mcdonald’s take-out was a great idea! 

those emotional discussions you had with complete strangers must’ve really gotten to you because when you opened your front camera to take some pictures, you immediately grimaced at the sight of your mascara staining your cheeks. you were lazing around in the hotel lobby surrounded by name brand gift bags — waiting for your room key — looking like that? how embarrassing. 

quickly wiping away your tears, you put on a pair of designer sunglasses you brought earlier to shield your smudged eye-makeup from the world. not that you cared what anyone in this damn lobby thought of you anyway, you were only going to be here for one night, after that you would never see most of these people again. or at least, that is what you thought.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw flashing lights which prompted you to take out your earbuds but once you did, you instantly regretted it as all you heard was screaming and yelling from the entrance. looking up, you noticed an average-looking guy wearing a skull tank top resembling the fashion sense of a middle schooler, being followed by a mob of screaming fans, paparazzi and gossip channel reporters. 

“dynamight! thank you for everything!”

“you deserve to be number one!” 

“we are here at scene, pro-hero dynamight has just been seen entering what appears to be his five star accommodation, wearing his signature blac--”

the loud noises were suddenly muffled as the doorman shut the entrance behind him, leaving things just as they were, except now there was a muscular blond man encircled by bodyguards staring daggers at you.

in any other situation, you would’ve just tried your best to ignore him but some of that liquid courage was beginning to get to you, so your reaction was to snarl right back at him, yelling across the hall, “take a picture, why don’t ya? it’ll last longer.”

only upon processing your reply did the man finally snap out of his trance and storm up to, being hastily followed by his guards who looked as though they were ready to throw down at any given moment, so of course you cowered back in your seat, apologies waiting on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill until his face was hovering centimetres away from yours. 

your throat ran dry at his unexpected action, your eyes scanning over his chiselled features through the tint of your glasses. in a turn of events, you were now the one speechlessly staring at him. then, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, causing the shock to show on your expression. 

“i knew i recognised you! you’re stupid deku’s girlfriend- fiancée or whatever; i saw the invite for your wedding in my mail and i just got a look at your face before i threw it away. small world.” the blond continued to laugh, talking to you as if you were an old friend of his despite the fact you’ve never seen him before in your life, “anyway, you like a hot fuckin’ mess. where’s deku?” 

why was he talking to you so casually? and how dare he say that!

“first of all,” you started, peering over your glasses to gaze at his face without the rose tint but to no avail, you still had no idea who this man is. using the soles of your palm, you pushed him away by the shoulders as he was a bit too close for comfort, but that resulted in all his guard looking at you with murderous glints in their eyes. “deku and i broke up--”

“when?” he cut you off

“let me finish.” you glared at him, fixing your sunglasses, “we broke up this morning. secondly, who the fuck are you?”

the man looked like he was ready to burst out laughing once again until he had a visible realisation, “eh, well, we’ve never met before but i’m sure deku has told you about me. if not, you’ve probably seen me in the news; i saved around a thousa--”

“no, i’ve not watched the news for, like, the past six months.” this time, you cut him off with a mischievous smirk which you tried your best to conceal.

“bitch! let me fuckin’ finish!” he barked, then had a sudden change in demeanour as he let out a sigh, momentarily silent as he scanned the surrounding area, “i’m bakugo. kastuki.”

your reply of a blank stare spoke a thousand words.

“y’know, dynamight.”

who?

“the number two hero!”

nothing.

“the one who saved that whole airline from blowing up just a week ago! c’mon, it was all over the fuckin’ news!”

“you look like a hotter version of my old maths teacher. oh, and i’m (y/n) (l/n).” was the only verbal response he was able to get out of you, even after all his explaining.

“why do you i feel like you are sayin’ that just to piss me off?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, followed by a sharp inhale which you assumed was an attempt to calm himself down. his carnelian eyes darted around the room, halting once he raised his arm to view his watch. his brows knitted together as he read the time, forming a concentrated look which was short-lived as his face was quick to relax, emphasised by a slight shrug as if to say ‘i’ve got time’, before slumping down on the couch next to you. 

“so why did you and shitty deku break up?”

“i may be a bit tipsy but i’m not just gonna tell that sorta stuff to a complete stranger.” each syllable felt like it had to be forced out one at a time, but you’d rather that than slur you speech as bakugo seemed like the type to poke fun at you for it. 

“i just wanna know how badly he fucked up this time.” bakugo smirked, propping his elbow up on the back of the couch to turn and look at you, “eh, i don’t think we’ll be strangers for long.” 

there was a certain purr in this voice which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you never expect someone like him to come on so strong. not that you were complaining, i mean, being in his presence during a time like this felt like a gift from god but you weren’t going to let him know that. it’d only add to his already massive ego so you decided to ignore his suggestive behaviour, opting to show disinterest instead, “hm, you think?”

it was almost comical how fast bakugo’s cocky smirk fell into a frown. honestly, he wasn’t used to people that he flirts with rejecting him, considering that he rarely ever makes moves on anyone. so, now what did he do? due to the foreign nature of this situation, bakugo felt as though he was left with no choice but to bargain, since he’s far from a quitter, “oi, what that supposed to mean?”

you shrug.

bakugo clicked his tongue along with a roll of his eyes before he said, “how ‘bout this; i pay for your room tonight and in exchange we can get to know each other tomorrow.”

“i can pay for my own room though.” 

bakugo deadpanned, he honestly thought he had won but apparently not. perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to hit on someone who had just gotten out of a relationship but whatever. “you’re impossible.” he spat, getting up from the couch and marching away, presumably to his room.

he tried to brush off the encounter like it never happened, reassuring himself that he didn’t have to think much of it as he could get with anyone else. plus, you’d probably come crawling back to him, begging to fuck once you get over deku anyway. 

and he was half right.

eventually, you came to the realisation that both you and bakugo have one thing in common — a hatred for deku. and as it turns out, hatred provides a good groundwork for friendship. 

#deku angst #izuku angst #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #midoriya angst #👾angst #i'll probably have to make a part 4 for this to make sense

[13uswntimagines]

12 Drinks and a Kiss for Christmas (Sam Mewis x Reader)

Request:  uswnt x baby reader where their birthday is 3 days before Christmas and so the team tries to make it like extra special cause people usually just kind of ignore readers birthday. 

But @literaryhedgehog​ and i went slightly off the rails and had way too much fun making a drunk version of the 12 days of Christmas. 

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…

“One shot of bourbon whiskey,” you sang, modifying the words as one of the most infuriating Christmas carols came over the radio. You didn’t hate Christmas, you just hated the fact that it swallowed the entire month of December like a black hole. Hell, it took up November too (minus the last Thursday reserved for Thanksgiving). The music was inescapable, and any event planned in the month risked being decorated with whatever leftover trees and red and green trinkets someone had laying around. 

Any child born in December was lucky if their wrapping paper wasn’t also holiday-themed. You should know- you had the misfortune of being born on the 22nd. 

“That sounds like a change I can get behind,” Sam said, sliding into the chair next to you. “Never really understood why someone would want a bunch of birds. I mean towards the end of the song the lover starts giving dancers and pipers, and like, I know that probably means they were hired for the day, but still. An alcohol-themed song seems more my style.”

You laughed, “Happy to help.”

You bumped her with your shoulder, smiling up at her. You were friends with most of the women on your new team, but Sam was one of your favorites. She got your sense of humor, a sort of dry and quiet sarcasm that was a bit subtle if someone didn’t know you. But despite how incredibly cuddly her tall frame was, she was also completely willing to spend an afternoon exchanging barbs under her breath as you watched the significantly less subtle flirting going on between Mal and Rose. You had bets on when the oblivious forward and midfielder would admit their feelings for each other. 

“Wait,” you paused in your thoughts, frowning up at her. “I thought everyone was already gone. I took my time in the locker room because I didn’t think anyone was still here.”

“The first van already left, but I didn’t want you to have to ride with Carli and Becky by yourself,” Sam said bumping you back. 

You smiled up at her, then leaned over to grab the shoulder strap of your bag, “Well I guess we shouldn’t make them wait any longer-”

“Oh no it's fine!” Sam said, quickly. “They needed to run to the store anyway to restock our Oreo supply, they promised to text when they got back.”

“But Dawn said no more Oreos until after the Friendlies are over,” you pouted.

“Well Dawn isn’t driving the van, is she? Thus why Carli and Becky waited to run to the store until after the first van left. So nothing to do while we wait except rewrite the words to the twelve  days of Christmas, right? What should replace two turtle doves?” 

“Body shots…?” You asked, squinting your eyes. At least that would fit the tune. 

“I like it… Kind of annoying how well that fits actually. Are we going to make the entire song about shots now?”

You tapped your chin in through, quirking your lips. “Hm, not a bad idea, but I think it would get a little repetitive,” 

“Fair point. Okay, so the next line is three French hens. Do we want to make it three French wines, or is that too easy?”

“I think that’s cheating just a touch,” You smiled, holding up fingers a centimeter apart. 

“Ugh, fine,” Sam rolled her eyes, though that didn’t disguise for one second the grin on her face, “three mulled wines.”

“I think that’s acceptable,” you nodded. It fit like a charm. “four gin and tonic?” 

“Then four martinis. Come on short stuff, calling birds, martinis, they have the same number of syllables!” Sam exclaimed, slapping your shoulder. 

“Whatever. Five Gin fizzes,” You huffed, pouting playfully. You didn’t like to lose. 

“Oh, yum. I have no idea what that is, but it sounds delicious. How long again until we’re allowed to drink?” Sam whined. You both knew that one of the costs of your career included swearing off alcohol at certain points of the year. Especially hard alcohols. Something about feeding your body good foods so it could give you even the slightest of edges. 

“Too long,” You deadpanned. 

“Sigh,” Sam said, pretending to be melodramatic.  

“We gotta use grey goose in the next one. You know. It’s like a spin on the gooses. Guises? Whatever the correct pronunciation is,” you waved your hand dismissively. This would be much more entertaining if you were soused. 

I’m

“GEESE, you heathen. You’re right though. Ummm. Six grey goose toddies?’

“A vodka toddie though?”You looked at her skeptically.  “I’d rather share Emily’s Budweiser,” 

“Fine, fine,” she pulled out her phone and started googling drink options, muttering to herself (for your amusement, presumably) about ‘perfectionists’ and ‘just because someone knows so much about vodka’. “Um. There's a drink called a sunset? Or we could just go basic bitch and say six grey goose cosmos?’

“Well sunsets are made with tequila so a cosmo is more appropriate,” You mumbled. 

“The grey goose website says that you can make a sunset with their vodka. See, look at this, right there!” 

“Poppycock. They just want you to spend money in their stuff instead of Don Julio,” 

“But tasty has a recipe too, look,” Sam said, whining slightly. You weren’t the only one who didn’t like losing. 

You moved your head, dodging the screen. If you didn’t see it, then it didn’t exist. If it worked with Jill Ellis then it would work for you. 

“Just LOOK you obstinate bulldog of a human being!” Sam was giggling as she grabbed you to try and hold her phone in your line of vision  

“You can’t make me,” In your haste to pull away, you leaned too far over the edge of the bench. Before you knew it you were tumbling off the bench, pulling Sam with you in your effort to not crash out on the locker room floor. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You groaned, looking up into the woman’s eyes. You never realized there was a thin golden ring around her pupil before it melted into blue or the smattering of light freckles that covered her cheeks. You weren’t sure if you were leaning into her, or if she was leaning into you. All you knew was that after a few seconds your lips were lightly touching hers. 

An annoying buzz broke the two of you out of your daze, Sam’s phone lighting up in your peripheral vision. You reached out and grabbed it, since her arm was currently trapped under you. 

Saucy Sonny- need an extra 5, you up for keeping her distracted with your flirting for that long? 

“Fuck, you probably shouldn’t be reading that. What’s it say?” Sam asked, as she extracted her arm and tried to reach around to take her phone. 

“You were flirting just to distract me?” 

“No! Sonnets just- I was just supposed to talk to you to keep you in here until the party was se- and I spoiled the surprise. fuck.”

“So Sonnett didn’t dare you to kiss me?” You asked with a very small voice. 

“No, but she has been teasing me about wanting to kiss you for the last two months. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if you didn’t have similar feelings.” Sam ruffled the hair at the back of her neck. “What a way to screw up your birthday. First the kiss then ruined the surprise party, and--” 

“I think we should definitely ruin our friendship,” You interrupted, smirking,  and nudging the woman’s chin with your nose. You reached around to intertwine your fingers. “And I promise to act surprised, as long as there are more kisses in it for me.”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #sam mewis imagine #sam mewis x reader #literalhedgehog

[jokerscrazybrilliant]

Survive - Chapter 3 - (Captain Rex)

Chapter 1 · Chapter 2 · Chapter 3 · Chapter 4

Story on other platforms:

A03 · Quotev

________

Not for the first time in my life, I found myself in the middle of a war. But not the kind of war I was used to. It all began when I wiped the training mat with Fives' face in front of all his brothers. This led to him serving me a cup of caf which I thought was a peace offering but turned out to be not entirely caf. Kix ended up having to pump my stomach and spent an hour lecturing both Fives and I on the dangers of consuming anything that goes in a battleship engine, no matter how much either party might've deserved it. Since I couldn't have Fives one upping me, I ended up sneaking into his barracks and shaving off most of his beard, making him look utterly ridiculous and having him walk around with his bucket on for most of the time until it grew back. He then returned the blow by breaking into my quarters while I was away and painting his signature five on all my clothes. I did not confront him, instead borrowing some standard issue blacks to wear until I could get more robes with the next supply run. But carefully, I plotted my revenge. "I thought revenge wasn't the Jedi way?" Kix commented while searching for the necessary tools for the operation. "Let's call it justice then. You gonna help me do this or not?" I raised a brow at him. "Of course." I smiled deviously. "Then let's get to work!"

***

The plan was set in motion. I was grinning, quite proud of myself as I sat, eagerly watching the doors in the ship’s mess hall, surrounded by the usual group of idiots. I had informed everyone in the squadron notto touch the caf machine today, and even with the numerous displeased grumblings and complaints, everyone was on board with the plan. Everyone except for Fives, of course. “Nim, are you even listening to me?” A voice insisted on drawing my attention away from the mess entrance.

“Not really Echo, why, have you said something important?”

He sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “I guess not.”

“I hope Fives gets here soon, I’m tired of waiting and I have to get to the med-bay soon.” Kix complained, pushing away his empty tray.

“Speak for yourself, I only just got here.” Echo said, shoveling food into his mouth as if to prove his point.

I grinned at the boys’ usual antics before turning back to look at the newest arrival, who was making his way to the caf machine. My eyes grew wide in realization as Rex went to press the button. Everyone but the captain! I stared in shock, my mouth about to form a shout before his hand made contact with the machine, electrocuting him immediately. He yelped in surprise, staggering backwards before composing himself quickly.

Turning around slowly to face the mess full of soldiers that had just witnessed what happened, his face was a combination of emotions as he searched the faces in front of him. “Alright, which one of you boys is responsible for this?! Fess up!”

It was chaos. Kix was giggling like a mad schoolchild beside me, and Echo had his face in his arms while trying not to choke on his food from across the table. Fives, who had stepped into the mess hall at the most opportune moment, was heaving on the floor, tears in his eyes as he took in the situation, obviously knowing it was I who was at fault. The other men were at varying degrees of delight, some simply laughing, while others, like hardcase, were shouting in joy, slapping the table loudly.

I was silent, face stonelike as I rose from my seat. “It was me captain, I am so sorry, it wasn’t meant for you – It was meant for that bitching lunatic!” I lost my composure as I pointed at Fives, only making him laugh harder. “I warned everyone else but I guess I forgot to tell you.”

The captain faltered as he looked at me, temper dissipating as he raised a hand to rub his face wearily. “That’s okay commander, didn’t realize it was you.”

“You can taze me back captain, it’s only fair.” I walked up, looking from him to the caf machine earnestly.

He chuckled lightly, “That won’t be necessary.”

I shook my head adamantly, “No, it’s only fair.” I quickly stepped in front of him, jamming my hand down on the caf machine before he could say anything else, letting out a small grunt of pain at the shock as the electricity buzzed painfully through the entirety of my body. I twitched on the floor, unsure of when I had fallen. The captain stood over me, offering me his arm.

“Are you alright commander?”

“I’m alright.” I choked out, chest still constricted in pain. “I may have fried my every last brain cell, but I’m alright.” I grinned as I realized he was laughing at me. “I am glad, however, that you find this amusing.”

His laughter only increased as he helped me up to my feet. “Permission to speak freely, commander?”

“Of course.”

“Are you certain the Fives is the lunatic?” I laughed at his words.

"Oi! I just fried myself on your behalf, you ought to show me at least a little respect.” Finally, the pain subsided and I quickly became aware of all the eyes that were on us. I cleared my throat as I devised a new plan, seeing as how the old one backfired so spectacularly. "May I borrow your gun, captain?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he took it out of his holster, handing it over slowly. "I'm almost afraid to ask why?"

My eyes locked on Fives, who registered what I was thinking a moment after I answered Rex. "I owe someone a little payback."

Fives immediately turned around and bolted out of the caf, but I was right behind him, setting the weapon to stun as I went, the caf full of soldiers cheering me on. Kix followed after us to make sure neither of us killed each other, and Echo followed after him to record it on his holopad.

My chase was cut short when we ran into Master Skywalker in the hallway. Immediately, I straightened myself as if I had been taking a stroll the entire time, flashing him an innocent smile. "Anakin." I dragged the last syllable of his name in a singsong, “What can I do for you?”

"Hello Nim. If you've had your fun, we need you on the bridge for a mission debrief." His eyes roamed over all the guilty party, from Fives, who was cowering in an entryway, to Kix, who was attempting to hide behind me, to Echo, who was trying to discreetly put away his holopad, finally settling back on me with an amused grin. "I'm glad to see you're finding your place here."

I nodded with a small chuckle, relieved when he turned and walked towards the bridge ahead of me. I turned to give Fives a threatening glance on my way. "I'd watch my back if I were you." I hissed as I passed by.

We quickly made our way up to the bridge, where Ahsoka was waiting, and Captain Rex had somehow beaten us there.

Anakin wasted no time in explaining the mission to us. “We’re being sent to the Quell system to aid Master Aayla Secura. As I understand it, her Jedi cruiser is damaged beyond hope of repair, so we need to prepare a ship to dock and evacuate anyone we can. Rex, prepare the men, Snips, go with Nim and make sure that ship is ready by the time we arrive, I’ll meet you at the gunships. Let’s have some fun!”

***

Thankfully, we hadn’t been too far from Quell, so before long I was onboard a gunship with Master Skywalker, Ahsoka, and Rex, on our way to board Master Secura’s ship to help with the droids that had overtaken them.

I watched as a stream of rocket droids powered by duo jets made their way from the separatist ship to Master Secura’s, landing on the surface and cutting their way in. “Those droids are boarding Aayla’s ship!” Anakin called over the noise. One of the battle droids landed on our gunship, ripping into the cockpit. “Take care of that clanker! I’ll be onboard Aayla’s cruiser.”

“Master! Are you sure that’s the wisest thing–” Anakin ignored Ahsoka’s comment, and I watched with awe as he jumped down, landing on the back of a super droid as it made its way to the ship.

Master Diya had been a great Master who liked to encourage creativity in problem-solving scenarios, however he usually carried the stoic air you would expect from an esteemed Jedi Master, and wasn’t usually so unorthodox. Master Skywalker, as I was eagerly learning, was entirely the opposite. He faced everything as he was, an overwhelming swirl of emotions attitude and power. And he cracked jokes as he did it.

I turned to look at Ahsoka with excitement in my eyes. “Your master is fun!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, but it gets him into troub–” I missed the rest of Ahsoka’s comment, turning to leap after Anakin, eager to join the action. I managed to land on my feet on the back of a super droid, slicing it in half before hopping down onto another, and another, before finally landing on Master Secura’s ship.

I hopped down into the ship after Anakin, slicing through battle droids as we went. “I see you followed my example.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the action.” I grinned at him as we went through several more droids. Ahsoka made her entrance before long, Rex and his troops following after her. “Glad to see you could join us.” I flashed her a quick grin before deflecting a shot back at a droid, then slicing it and the one beside it.

“You shouldn’t encourage him you know.” Ahsoka teased as we made our way to Master Secura.

“I heard that!” Anakin called, taking out the final droids separating us from the Master and her troops.

“Nice entrance, Skywalker.” The Twi’lek turned to greet us. “How do you plan on getting us out of this mess?”

“I have a ship docking in the lower hangar as we speak.” Anakin responded, grunting with effort as he stabbed his lightsaber to the hilt into two droids at once.

Quickly, we led the path to the port, ship shuddering around us as it took more hits than it could bear. “We made it!” Ahsoka exclaimed, extending the docking port. We quickly ran down the corridor but an explosion sounded, making me turn to watch as Master Skywalker force pushed us out of the reach of the blast.

“It’s too late!” He turned to try to face the blast as the doors shut between us.

“Master!” Ahsoka and I shouted in shock, quickly getting up to try to find him. I opened the blast doors slightly as she searched for his form.

“I found him.” She sliced a hole in the doors and we pulled him through, quickly getting him onboard the ship so we could detach. Ahsoka and I carried Anakin to the med-pod as Master Secura headed to the bridge, hopefully to get us to dock with the Resolute.

“Ahsoka, get an oxygen mask on him while I turn on this med-droid.” I quickly gave her a task to occupy her while I fiddled with the med-droid, searching for it’s on button. “Kix is much easier to wake up.” I mumbled, recalling the pleasant memory of dousing him with ice water and wishing he were here. He’d know how to calm Ahsoka down. How to calm me down, too. I thought to myself, conscious of the unrest that surrounded the force around me.

The droid finally powered on and began working on Anakin, beginning its scans and attempting to stabilize him. I gave Ahsoka’s shoulder a little squeeze as she stood back to let the droid do its work. “He’ll be alright.”

She gave me a little nod but didn’t speak, watching her master with anxious eyes. I felt the ship shift around us, and my brows raised of their own accord. Making my way into the hall, I found Rex working on a repair panel. “Did we just jump to hyperspace?” I asked, observing how he handled his hydrospanner less than expertly.

“Not sure. Just trying to repair the shields.” He said, accidentally shocking himself and letting out a frustrated huff before trying again.

I folded my arms and leaned against the wall, watching in amusement. “Need some help there, captain?”

He turned at my teasing tone, but unfortunately his helmet obstructed whatever expression he held underneath it. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

I laughed as he shocked himself again, “Just let me help.” Leaning down beside him, I took the hydrospanner from him, taking his place in front of the panel as he moved to the side slightly. “Besides, you’ve been fried enough for one day.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” He watched as I began repairing the damaged panel easily, blushing lightly as I laughed again in embarrassment.

“Sorry… It was an accident.” He chuckled at me, shaking his head.

“It’s alright, I’m just messing with you.” My grin didn’t fade as I kept working at the panel. “How are you so good at that?” He piped up after a few silent moments.

I shrugged easily, thinking I must’ve appeared to know more than I did. “I like starships.” Completing the repairs, I replaced the panel as Master Secura rushed past us, Ahsoka following her into the cockpit.

“That seemed important.” Rex commented, and I nodded as we stood to follow after them.

“Karabast.” I mumbled to myself as the flashing screen showed us heading directly for a star.

“We need to shut down all the power circuits so we can reset the coordinates.” Master Secura commanded.

“But that will cut off Anakin’s life support!” Ahsoka protested the orders.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s a risk we’re going to have to take.”

“We don’t have much time.” I interjected, preparing for being thrown out of hyperspace. “Let’s do this.”

“Switching off primary power units.” Ahsoka informed.

“Ready to shut off auxiliary power.” Master Secura said from her spot beside me.

“On three. One, two, three!” Master Secura pulled the lever, turning off the remaining power to the ship and throwing us violently out of hyperspace.

The ship shook around us and Rex, who had been attempting to hold onto the chairs in front of him, was tossed backwards, slamming into me, throwing us both against the wall and taking Master Secura with us.

“Switch the power back on! What are you waiting for?” Commander Bly shouted back at us in panic as we came up on the star.

Master Secura reached through the force, switching the lever back on just in time for us to miss the star, Rex and I crashing onto the floor as the gravity came back on. “Ow!” I complained loudly, untangling myself from him and staggering to my feet, helping him up as well.

“Sorry commander, are you alright?” He brought up his hand to the back of his helmet embarrassedly as he apologized.

“I’m fine, but man your armour hurts.” I wheezed, rubbing the bruise I could feel already forming on my side from where his elbow had slammed into me.

“Well, we’re not gonna crash into that star, but we’re definitely going to hit that planet.” Ahsoka pointed out of the viewing port in front of us. With the state our ship was in we definitely weren’t going to have a smooth landing.

Gritting my teeth, I braced myself as we began our descent into the planet’s atmosphere. The shields lasted well enough that the ship didn’t break apart until we hit the ground, flames rising around us. “Everyone out!” Rex shouted, Master Secura and Ahsoka going to get Anakin while I helped Cameron, who had been injured in our escape, out of the shipwreck.

“I – I’m alright commander, thank you.” Cameron gave me a little nod of thanks as I let go of him slowly, letting him find his way to where we would set up camp.

Commander Bly scouted the area as the other troopers set up the campfire and I helped set up a small protected area for the injured Anakin to rest in. Rex searched the ship for anything we could use but unfortunately the med-droid was damaged beyond repair.

I watched as Master Aayla and Ahsoka argued about leaving Master Anakin behind. While I understood Ahsoka’s worry, I also understood that Master Secura wanted to use this opportunity to teach the young padawan to learn to control her attachment. I could sense the anxiety Ahsoka was pouring into the force from concern over her master. I related to it, having gone through similar experiences with my own master, and when I ultimately lost him, it was excruciatingly painful. Having gone through that myself made me appreciate what Master Secura was trying to do for Ahsoka.

They seemed to have settled their dispute before coming to join the rest of the group, Commander Bly holding out a wooden carving he had found while scouting the plains around us. It showed some sort of people, surrounded by what looked like giant trees. “General Secura, look. We're not the only ones here on this planet. There has to be some kind of – something here.” Master Secura took the carving from his hands before strange guttural screeches drew our attention to our surroundings, soldiers flicking on their helmet lights, my hand drawing near my lightsaber on my belt. “That doesn’t sound too friendly.” Rex commented from next to me, gazing into the plains with his gun drawn.

“No, not at all.” I murmured. I squinted my eyes but found nothing, then opening myself to the force. I couldn’t sense anything too close, and satisfied, I stepped back to where Ahsoka kneeled in front of Anakin’s form. “Be strong, Master. Just a little bit longer. Rex and Nim will watch over you.” She told him. “It is time to go.” “Don't worry, kid. The commander and I will take good care of him.” Rex told her, helmet tucked beneath his arm. When'd he take that off? Master Secura turned to us. "Alright, both of you keep your locators on. We should be back by daybreak with whoever, or whatever, lives on this planet." "Got it, General Secura." Rex gave her a nod. “Hey, kid. Good luck." He gave Ahsoka a small smile and she returned it before they headed out in search of giant trees, and whatever help they could find.

“Hey Rex?” I spoke, still watching their retreating forms in the distance.

“Yes commander?”

“What if the trees are normal sized and the creatures are just really, really, small?” I turned to look up at him, pleased to see him grinning widely at my asinine suggestion.

“The thought had occurred to me, commander.”

I moved to sit in front of the fire, glancing at Anakin to make sure he was still breathing. “Are you really going to keep calling me that? No one else does.”

“Doesn’t matter to me what everybody else does, sir.”

I nodded sagely at this. “I respect that. I just wish it didn’t mean you kept calling me ‘commander’.” I kidded lightly, grinning as he sat down near me. “Fives didn’t even bother trying with that.” I chuckled, thinking of how easily Fives had abandoned all protocol when we became such quick friends.

There was silence between us for a while, and I could see him mulling something over in his mind before he turned to look at me, finally speaking up. "I’ve been meaning to say, commander, that I’ve noticed the way you treat the troopers in our battalion. Like they're your equals. That kind of treatment... It's rare. And it means a lot to those men. It means a lot to me. So, thank you." I glanced away from him for a moment, trying to maintain my composure and stop the flush from creeping into my cheeks, before turning back. "I know that what we're fighting for is important but sometimes... I can't help but feel like they deserve more. Deserve better. I see someone like Kix and – he's such a dreamer. The fact that war is the only life he's ever known, it just doesn't seem fair."

"All due respect sir, but we were bred for the sole purpose of this war." The firelight reflected in his golden eyes, giving them a fervour I’d never seen before. I nodded. "I know. But you're still people." He held my gaze meaningfully before turning to look into the fire in front of us. "You're one of very few who see it that way." He shook his head, lost in thought as he stared into the crackling flames, and I resisted the urge to say anything else. “You should rest, commander. I’ll take first watch.”

I shook my head at him. “I’ll take first watch, you rest!”

He huffed out a chuckle at my stubbornness. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I know I hit you pretty hard back there.” I immediately stopped nursing the bruise on my side. I should’ve known he would notice it. “You should rest it off for a bit, then I’ll have my turn.” He pushed before I could protest that it was nothing.

Sighing, I stood up and found a small area across the campfire from him. “Fine. But don’t let me sleep too long.” I lay down on the uncomfortable dirt and tried to find some peace in the silence of the nature around me.

***

A low predatory growl in the distance woke me before the nightmares could, and I bolted awake, holding my lightsaber at the ready.

“Everything alright, commander?” Rex asked from opposite the campfire.

I scanned the plains in front of us carefully. “Something’s out there.” I spoke quietly.

“Clankers?” I shook my head and he turned to see if he could spot anything.

“Something else. A creature of some kind I’d guess. And it’s not alone.” I got in a defensive stance, my back to Rex and his back to mine as we stood protectively in front of where the injured Anakin lay.

A large creature jumped at me from the shadows, and quickly I activated my lightsaber, slashing it, causing it to take a few steps back. I could make out a fierce beak, a dark feathery mane, and four taloned feet. It tried to swipe at me again, but I slashed it again, this time successfully cutting into the flesh of its leg, causing it to whimper and run off as I heard blaster shots behind me.

Whirling around, I found another of those creatures standing over Rex. It had him completely pinned down even as he tried to get a shot on it. Quickly jumping over it to land near its face, I slashed at its beak, and it backed off immediately, running after its counterpart.

“Are you okay?” I extended an arm to Rex, and he took it, nodding at me gratefully as he got to his feet.

“I’m fine, but those things will be coming back. And I’ll bet they’ll bring their friends with them.”

I nodded in agreement, staring after the creatures. “I hope the others are doing alright out there.” Quietly we sat back down, more vigilant than before as we waited for whomever returned first, the creatures or our friends.

***

It was well into the next day before we saw any more action. Rex was walking around the perimeter again when Anakin awoke, grunting as he tried to sit up. I quickly tried to get him to lie back down. “Master, you need to rest!”

“I can’t rest. They’re coming.” I helped him stand and turned as I sensed the creatures from the previous night approaching.

“Rex!” I shouted him a warning and he responded immediately, gun drawn as the two creatures stepped into the clearing. Rex managed to shoot the first one down before it could do any damage but the other one pounced on him, knocking him down before heading for me and Master Skywalker. I quickly tried to put myself between him and the creature and push us both out of its path as it charged. It overshot us and quickly found its bearings, preparing to charge again before a small furry being jumped into the clearing, tying a rope around the large beast’s legs and trying to pull, attempting to trip it.

Ahsoka followed it into the circle, and I turned to Anakin, figuring the others had a handle on things. “Are you alright, Master?” I asked him, laying him down gently and checking him over to look for any additional wounds.

He hacked out a cough before responding. “I’m doing great, can’t you tell?” I grinned at his signature sarcasm, glad he was well enough to find his wit.

“Of course, Master Anakin.”

“Master!” Ahsoka ran up to us, having successfully dealt with the large beast, and knelt next to Anakin, seeming relieved to be back by his side.

“Good to see you, Snips.” I smiled and backed off to give them privacy before we loaded Anakin onto a stretcher to carry him to whatever civilization Ahsoka had found.

Turning to find Rex cradling his arm, I raised a brow in concern. “That thing got you?”

“Just a scratch.” He shrugged it off, moving to stand next to me as we watched the creature who arrived with Ahsoka introduce himself to Master Skywalker as Wag Too in Basic.

“I guess those trees really were giant.”

“I guess they were.”

#Captain Rex #Rex x reader #rex x you #The Clone Wars #Star Wars #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Clone wars #Clone trooper rex #Clone wars fanfic #Clone wars fanfiction #Clone wars Rex #Star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #rex clone wars #captain rex x jedi reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex fanfic #captain rex imagine #tcw rex #tcw captain rex #tcw fanfic #tcw oc #captain rex x oc

[captain-hen]

dancing in a snow globe 'round and 'round

title: dancing in a snow globe 'round and 'round

Summary: Eddie mock-glares at him. “You’re a coward, starting something when you know I can’t retaliate since you’re holding your niece.”

Buck smirks smugly. “This little one will protect me,” He says and bends down to nuzzle her head, making her burst out into giggles. Eddie has to look away abruptly, something inexplicably warm and fuzzy building in his chest, a feeling of want so strong he thinks his heart might burst.

ao3 link

a/n: look at me, jumping back into the writing game after i don't even know how long. thank you @malikjavaddzayn for reading this as i wrote it and being so sweet!

also tagging: @evaneddie @matan4il

As Eddie lets himself into Buck’s apartment, he is instantly greeted with the high-pitched wails of a crying baby and the sight of his best friend looking minutes away from beginning to cry himself as he bounces his niece in his arms. Eddie bites back a smile, closing the door behind him.

“I thought you said this was an emergency,” He teases. Buck looks up, his expression morphing from one of relief to a glare.

“Make yourself useful and help me,” Buck all but whines. “She won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do, I tried feeding her and it didn’t work. Her-her diaper doesn’t need to be changed and I-I don’t know, am I hurting her? Why did Maddie let me babysit? I’m terrible at this!”

“Alright, alright,” Eddie quickly goes to Buck and gently takes Baby Joy out of his arms. Buck lets go hesitantly and his eyes become comically wide as Joy begins to quiet down almost instantly when Eddie cradles her in his arms.

“You’re kidding me,” He says, looking betrayed. “How did you do that?”

“You’re stressed out and panicking,” Eddie says patiently. “Which means you’re stressing her out in return. Babies can sense that sort of thing, you know.” A smirk appears on his face. “Unless she just prefers me to you,” He looks down at Joy, cooing at her. “You prefer me to your Uncle Buck, don’t you, honey?”

“I hate you,” Buck grumbles, sinking down into the couch. “I’ll have you know that I’ll always be her favorite.”

“I’m surprised Albert isn’t fighting you for that title.”

“Hah! He can try.”

“Where are Chim and Maddie, anyway?”

“Date night,” Buck replies, reaching out for Joy again, sighing in relief when Eddie gives her back and she doesn’t immediately start crying again, instead just reaching up and fisting her little hand in his shirt. He all but melts, smiling dopily down at her. She really is a little angel when she isn’t screaming loud enough to wake half of Los Angeles.

“It’s their first night out since Joy was born,” He continues, looking up at Eddie now that he’s sure Joy’s not going to throw another tantrum. “I offered to babysit, and, well…”

Eddie looks amused as he sits down next to Buck, stretching his arm over the back of the couch, his thigh pressing into Buck’s. “Just because she happened to have a crying fit while you happened to be babysitting doesn’t mean you’re terrible at this, you know. Babies cry sometimes. It’s been known to happen.”

Buck pouts at him. “Stop making fun of me.”

Eddie tries to keep a straight face and fails miserably. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Careful not to dislodge Joy, Buck picks up a couch cushion and throws it at Eddie’s face. Eddie mock-glares at him.

“You’re a coward, starting something when you know I can’t retaliate since you’re holding your niece.”

Buck smirks smugly. “This little one will protect me,” He says and bends down to nuzzle her head, making her burst out into giggles. Eddie has to look away abruptly, something inexplicably warm and fuzzy building in his chest, a feeling of want so strong he thinks his heart might burst.

It's been a while since Eddie had come to the long overdue realization that the feelings he had for his best friend might not have been as platonic as he’d thought. It had dawned on him, ironically enough, while he had been dating Ana Flores. As smart and kind and pretty as she was, no amount of time they spent together had ever made him feel as at home and carefree and…safe, even, as coming back home after every single date with her, to see Buck either on his couch playing with Christopher or waiting with a cup of coffee and a soft smile long after Chris was in bed. The moment he’d started realizing that was the moment he started noticing everything else, the way they were constantly in sync in everything they did; be it tiding up Buck’s living room after movie night with Christopher or out in the field, doing their jobs and saving lives. The way he gravitated to Buck, constantly in his orbit, wanting to share any piece of good or exciting news or even random trivia with him, first, and no one else. The way watching Buck with his son sometimes moved him so much, he’d need a moment to compose himself, to hide the feelings he felt must show so plainly on his face, clear for the world to see.

After that, he had to break up with Ana. And he still hasn’t done anything about his feelings, because, well…

Well, Eddie has never claimed to be brave when it comes to matters of the heart. There’s a reason why Buck has teasing called him ‘emotionally constipated’ more than a couple of times.

There’s a knock on the door, bringing Eddie out of his musings. Buck perks up.

“I ordered us some pizza before you got here,” He says and nods to his wallet on the coffee table. “Could you go get it?”

Eddie is relieved to do so, convinced that he won’t be able to conceal the extent of his affections the longer he keeps watching Buck with Baby Joy. As he takes the pizza from the delivery guy, he hears Joy begin to fuss again and doesn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know that Buck is panicking. He can’t help but chuckle.

The delivery guy peers around the doorway and smiles at what Eddie presumes is Buck with Joy. “Newborn, eh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs fondly as he pays him. “She’s got quite the pair of lungs on her.”

The delivery guy shakes his head with an endeared smile. “Looks like you and your husband have your hands full.”

Eddie stills at the innocuous remark and before he can say anything, the delivery guy has bid him goodbye and left. He closes the door slowly, frozen in place.

It’s not an unreasonable assumption, he thinks. Hell, it’s probably one he would make himself. It shouldn’t be that surprising that people look at him and Buck, with a baby between them and automatically think they’re together. He wouldn’t be surprised if the same thing has happened whenever Buck has joined him and Christopher on any of their outings.

No, what is surprising, somehow despite the fact that he knows he has feelings for his best friend, is how desperately he wants it to be true. How much he wants Buck to be with him and Christopher, the three of them a family; how easy it is to envision it and scarily enough, how easy it is to go even further and see them many years along the line, still together, possibly even with another child-

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice sounds in equal parts amused and concerned. “Are you just gonna stand there with the pizza all day?”

Eddie turns to face him. Joy seems to have calmed down, since Buck has placed her back in her crib. Taking a step towards him, Buck must see some of the existential crisis playing out in Eddie’s head right now on his face because he quickly takes the pizza from him and sets it down.

“Hey, man,” All traces of amusement are gone from his face now. “What’s wrong?”

There are a number of things that Eddie wants to say. That he should say. He knows he shouldn’t jump into something without thinking about it properly, especially after the disaster that was him moving too fast and too recklessly with Ana.

And yet.

This isn’t just anyone. This is Buck.

And Eddie isn’t even perfectly sure that Buck even feels the same way, but-

He’s never felt quite so compelled to just go for it, to throw caution to the wind and be brave for once as he does now.

Slowly, Eddie sways into Buck’s space, cupping the back of his neck and pressing his forehead to his. He feels Buck exhale sharply, stiffening for a brief moment, before melting into his hold.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes, his voice breaking on the last syllable.

“Is this okay?” Eddie whispers, not quite sure what it is that he’s asking permission for.

Is it okay for me to touch you? Is it okay for us to cross that line? Is it okay that nothing is ever going to be the same again?

Are you sure you want me, baggage, demons and all?

Buck responds by closing the space between them and kissing him.

It’s soft and gentle and sweet, somehow both hesitant and confident at the same time, so much like Buck himself that Eddie smiles into the kiss, joyful laughter caught in his throat as he pulls him closer. They keep it at that, mindful of the fact that there’s a baby less than five feet away from them, not even kissing after a point but just swaying together, breathing in each other’s air.

“So, this is new,” Buck murmurs what may be twenty seconds or twenty years later.

Eddie hums. “Feels like we’ve been dancing around it for a lot longer than we’ve both realized.”

Buck chuckles. “I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.” He admits. “And…I guess I was scared, too.”

Eddie pulls away slightly to look at him. “So was I,” He says quietly. “Hell, I still am. But…” He pauses momentarily, trying to find the words. “I think we can be good together. We are good together.”

Buck’s responding smile is like sunshine personified and Eddie can’t help but kiss it, lingering softly, just because he can.

“I guess we’re really doing this then,” Buck says, breathlessly when they part.

As if on cue, Joy begins to fuss again and Eddie laughs at Buck’s groan.

“I think she’s hungry,” Eddie says. “And our pizza is getting cold.”

“But we’ll talk later, right?” Buck asks, rather anxiously. “We need to figure this out-and work-and Christopher-“

The fact that Buck’s already thinking of Chris makes Eddie’s heart swell. “We will,” He assures him, taking his hand in his, smiling when Buck interlinks their fingers. “One thing at a time.”

Joy makes another disgruntled noise and Buck finally nods, his smile returning as he turns to check on her. And Eddie-Eddie cannot be happier.

And maybe, for once, he gets to keep this.

#911 fox #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #neethu writes #otp: you two have an adorable son #buck x eddie #canon divergence #how do i tag this asfdjkl #me? using taylor swift lyrics as fic titles? it's more likely than you think #dailybuddie

[bxebxee]

What I have to say: This is really not what I typically write, but please allow me my self-indulgence. Also, I am rusty and unpracticed, but this made me happy to write. 

What this is: Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school. 

What this wants to be: Romance

What this warrants: Rated R for Rotten Relationships (and other things) 

You hold your sister’s new baby reverently. The baby is so small, and you’re scared that your bad morals would somehow seep into the skin through contact diffusion. 

“I feel like I’m already the irresponsible aunt,” you whisper, shooting your sister a terrified look. The baby isn’t even sleeping, but what if your bellowing voice would upset him. “Are you sure-” 

“Yes,” she says firmly, “You’ll be a good godparent. There’s literally nothing to do except spoil your nephew every now and again.” She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Unless we die. Then I guess you’d have to be more of a parental figure...” 

You and your brother-in-law interject at the same time in a cacophony of protest. 

“Okay, we are not dying,” he sighs as your octave increases by a half-step, “Please do not say that as I hold your offspring in my arms. I can’t feel them by the way. Seokjin, can you take him? I don’t want to drop him.” 

Seokjin takes the baby, and you feel bereft of warmth. It’s a weird feeling to note that considering your firm No Babies Policy. You miss the baby already. This is witchcraft. 

“It’s just a fucking hypothetical, relax,” your sister laughs, her eyes softening considerably as she sees Seokjin coo over his son. 

“If our baby’s first word is ‘fuck’ I am not taking responsibility,” Seokjin says mildly, eyes never leaving his baby. You don’t really blame him. 

“And you’re not blaming me either. I’ve been good,” you say. 

“Oh please, everyone curses younger these days anyway. I’d rather my son know than not know, you know?”  

“You’re pushing it,” Seokjin warns. 

“You’re such a dad,” she scoffs. 

“And you like it,” he counters. 

“Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, I do.” 

You check your phone for the time, and it’s thirty minutes before the official start of the baby gathering. Time for you to leave. 

“Hey, it was good to see you guys. And the baby,” you tell them, hugging both lightly so as not to disturb the tenderness of the moment. Bear hugs were for a different day. “I have to head out, but I’ll come visit a lot, okay? I’ll even babysit. For free.” 

“Not staying for lunch?” your sister asks, looking very sad and disappointed, but you steel your heart. The two of you have inherited your mother’s knack of guilt-inducing looks, and you’re not about to fall for it. 

“Not today, no.” 

Seokjin nods, bidding you to take care. He knows why you want to leave before the crowd gets too heavy. 

Unfortunately for you, cosmic luck was not on your side because as soon as the front door shuts behind you, the elevator dings and Yoongi steps out, clad head to toe in celebrity black and holding five Burberry shopping bags. There’s no one around, so you don’t particularly feel the need to stand on the niceties of greetings and choose instead to brush past him in favor of the elevator. 

“And hello to you too.” he remarks sarcastically. 

“Go to hell,” you reply, wishing that you didn’t have to be in a close fucking hallway because you could smell his cologne. 

“Oh come on-” 

You press on the close door button rapidly, and the doors shut out Yoongi with a soft, muted click. 

Twelve hours later, you get a text from an unknown number. Coward is all it said. You stare at your phone screen in bed, seeing typing bubbles start and stop and start and stop. Mister Unknown Number finally settles on silence because nothing follows after the one-word epithet. 

It feels like a dare. 

--

Yoongi finally puts his phone down. You were too smart and too self-respecting to try this all over again with him, and he wants to kick himself for ever thinking that goading you would work when you were clearly over him-

His phone vibrates intensely and consistently. You’re calling him. 

“Hello,” Yoongi says, picking up the phone after just a single ring. Desperate, to be sure, but he wasn’t positive you’d wait for five rings anyway. 

“You changed your number again,” you say without preamble. 

“I’ve actually had this number for two years now,” Yoongi says. “Been getting hacked less and less. Guess you never saved the number.” 

“Why would I?” you ask, petulance peppering every syllable of your words. 

“Why didn’t you stay for the luncheon?” he asks instead of answering your question. 

“And sit in a room with you for a couple of hours pretending everything’s normal? No thanks,” you scoff. “And luncheon? Really?”

“You missed out on the shrimp toast.” 

“I think I’ll live.” 

“So why’d you call?” 

You could take the easy way out. Save your pride and your face, and pretend that you still don’t carry a torch for Yoongi. You could lie and say you just wanted to call and make sure it really was him. But you were always a glutton for pain, and he was all too happy to oblige to your needs. 

“You wanna come over?” you offer, not feeling an ounce of trepidation that he’d reject you. Yoongi always came when you asked. 

“Where do you live?” 

“It’s the same place as last time.” It’s a test. Let’s see if he even remembers my address-

“Be there in thirty.” 

--

He’s late by a few minutes, but Yoongi explains through interrupted kisses and hasty undressing that there was traffic, and he showered- 

“You could have showered here, you know,” you mutter, pawing at his dick and biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Yoongi always like a little pain.

“I’ll shower here after.” (After he fucked you at least twice, minimum. After he got to see you naked and temporarily his. After he was somewhat satisfied but much too sweaty for sleep.) 

And then it’s No Talking Time for a short while because he has your face occupied with inhaling scant oxygen against the mattress while his own head was buried between your asscheeks and legs, lapping and sucking at you like he had something to prove. Could this count as some form of asphyxiation? Probably. You don’t expect his mouth to make you feel close to losing control. The act had always unnerved you, but you found yourself uncaring of past discomforts and losing yourself into the feeling of soft, insistent lips. 

Yoongi eats you out with soft grunts, hands holding your thighs apart and firm. Don’t move, his hands say. His tongue up your cunt isn’t any sort of giving on Yoongi’s part; this was all selfish. He wants you to cum and feel starstruck and ruined, wants you to get it through your head that your flesh craved his flesh in the same animalistic way he needed you. 

You turn your head around just enough to be able to get out, “You can sto-” 

But he silences you with a warning slap on the ass. You are not to be deterred. 

“Stop with the tongue,” you order. 

“You’re insane,” he hisses, pulling away and shamelessly licking his lips. “You can’t ever just let me-” 

“Put it in now,” you demand. 

Yoongi lets out a terse sigh. “I should just leave right now,” he grumbles, getting up on his knees to rub his dick against you and nudges the head on your opening. “I shouldn’t be here.” He presses inside at “here” and wrenches a moan from your lips. 

“Then leave,” you sigh, pressing your ass back against him, relishing in the feeling of being filled again by Yoongi. “Just go home and jerk off instead. That’s what you’re good at, right? Leaving me?” 

“You’re a bitch for bringing that up during sex,” Yoongi says, fucking into you steadily and slowly, resisting the urge to pound into you like his baser instincts demanded. He was going to enjoy you for as long as he wanted. He knew you wanted it rough and bordering on violent, but he wasn’t going to add more ammo to your already large arsenal of Reasons To Hate Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi leans over completely, letting his torso lay flush against your back, unbothered by your sweat as it mixed with his own. You were going to feel every last inch of him inside and out. He pumps in and out slowly, sucking on your neck and breathing into your hair with audible moans of enjoyment. 

“I’m not leaving,” he groans, reaching over to rub your lower stomach gently, as if comforting you. The intimacy of this wasn’t lost on you, but you can’t find the words to tell him off. You missed his heat and the familiar weight. You are only human, after all. 

Yoongi threads his fingers through your unkempt hair, stroking gently before balling his fists into a pronounced grip. He turns your head to the side and kisses you, your neck straining from the awkward, uncomfortable position. But it reminds you of the beginning - of the before times when things were easier in the shadows of his success and unavailability. 

It’s impossible not to feel things when he fucks you this way, and kisses you, and moans soft nothings into your ear like you’re the only woman he’s ever done this with. You are atrocious at protecting your heart, and even after two years of icing him out, Yoongi barges into you like it’s nothing. 

“Don’t stop,” you moan, heart thumping against your chest. You really, really can’t stand to want him so much. 

“I won’t,” Yoongi reassures, kissing the corner of your eye. He doesn’t speed up, and instead chooses to test the limits of your patience with languorous but firm strokes. “Not until you tell me to.” 

There was nothing that compared to this - not heated fucks with attractive strangers, or money, or getting crossfaded by the Han River. When Yoongi did this to you, you almost felt like he loved you. 

--

Yoongi sleeps silently besides you in the sunlight, completely worn out after an emotionally exhausting round of sex that made him cry when he came inside you. He’s usually sensitive to the light, but he’s out cold and completely drained. You hadn’t expected that part - the crying. You thought it was just sweat until you heard rattling breaths and a hiccup. 

You watch him breathe silently from your place in his arms, unwilling to leave the small cocoon of warmth. You’re the opposite of him, and right now, you’re wired. You’ll probably end up crashing sometime later in the day, but for right now, you’re content to just watch him sleep in your bed, on your pillows, smelling like your body wash. 

You’re too old to be scared, and yet this moment fills you with dread; that once the spell of sex and yearning was broken, everything would tilt back to its regular axis, and you’d be all alone again. If you were younger, you might have up and left already. Leave him before he leaves you. And it’s not like you haven’t done that before. Your entire relationship with Yoongi is always filled with one person leaving behind the other one because nothing about the two of you ever lined up properly. 

But this time, you’re too tired to run away. So you close your eyes and pretend to sleep until it finally comes to claim you. 

#bxebxee comeback season #lol jk #drafts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yes its vague #yes it can be about anyone #but i just have a lot of thoughts and feelings and maybe i'll have another part

[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

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#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves

[bananapie99]

Excuse Me

Bucky Barnes x Reader

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Bucky Barnes knew several languages. All fluently. He even knew Latin. Who knows Latin?? One language he did not know: American Sign Language. That became crystal clear when you quite literally ran into him while running away from your ex. You didn’t realize the super soldier was right in your path, and the impact made you think you ran into a wall. As you stumbled back, his arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Flustered, you look up and realize exactly whose arm you were wrapped in, and suddenly you felt your ears burning. You could tell he was saying something, his chest vibrating and his lips moving. You couldn’t quite read his lips between his hair falling in his face and the inability of your eyes to stay focused under his stare.

Regaining some sense of yourself, you just shook your head and pointed at your ears. I can’t hear you. You opened your mouth to speak the words to him, but you were interrupted by a clearer view of his mouth. It was obvious he was speaking slower, enunciating each syllable. It took everything in your power to not roll your eyes at the man. Believe it or not, that makes it so much harder to read lips. When you stretch out a word, it no longer holds the same shape. This time, you opened your mouth again and spoke to him as you signed.

“I’m deaf, it doesn’t matter how slowly you speak to me. I can’t hear you.”

His cheeks reddened and you saw his mouth move again. I’m sorry.

“Common mistake. And it’s harder to read your lips the slower you talk.”

His eyes were locked onto your hands, watching as you signed. It was kind of cute, watching his brain try to make sense of the motions while hearing your voice.

How did you lose your hearing?

His question took you by surprise. People usually wait a little longer to ask you that, but the look on his face was proof he was genuinely curious.

“In middle school I started getting really bad ear infections, each one worse than the one before. After each infection my hearing was worse, until one day it was just gone.”

That’s why you speak so clearly.

There it was. He found your button and pushed it. Gorgeous super soldier or not, some things just shouldn’t be said. In your head you were debating whether or not to explain to him how insulting that statement is. Instead, you settled on this.

“Maybe so, but I typically don’t speak unless I have to. I don’t like not being able to hear myself, it makes me anxious. Thanks for catching me.”

And then you walked away.

That night you were in your apartment reviewing notes for class, but Bucky Barnes kept invading your thoughts. Accepting defeat, you closed your laptop and walked into the kitchen to brew coffee. Bucky Barnes was even more attractive in person than he looked on the news. Greek god didn’t even do him justice, but it was the closest comparison your mind could draw. Maybe you had been a little rude to him today. It was clear from the beginning he was not trying to offend you. The poor man had actually been genuinely curious, but you let your own insecurities get in the way. If you were to ever run into Bucky Barnes again, which let’s be real is highly unlikely, you would apologize, and this time properly introduce yourself.

As fate would have it, you were running late for class the next morning. It was as though you had learned nothing about what running gets you yesterday. Running gets you into the beautifully sculped arms of a super soldier…could be worse. You smirked to yourself at the thought, but that quickly disappeared when you found yourself stopped suddenly by another wall. There’s no way this is happening. Sure enough, as you looked up, your gaze met with his intoxicating blues. You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Apparently, the universe really wanted you to apologize to this man. As you opened your mouth to begin your apology, you were distracted by the sudden movement of his hands, the sun reflecting off the metal of one. Quickly you realized the man was signing to you. He was quite clear and fairly fluid, especially for someone who presumably knew no sign language just the morning before. Bucky was apologizing to you, acknowledging how his questions yesterday may have been inappropriate and at the very least he could tell they made you uncomfortable. It was sweet, really, and you could tell he genuinely meant what he was saying. It wasn’t some thrown together half thought out apology. He had started learning how to sign for goodness sake. Finally, his hands stopped moving and you smiled, taking the opportunity to begin your apology. Slowly you began signing to him, hoping he could understand, but willing to explain if he didn’t know a sign.

Thank you. But I owe you an apology too. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you yesterday. That’s just a sensitive topic for me. Can we start over?

His smile led you to believe he understood. He nodded and his hands started moving again.

I’d like that. A lot.

With a new understanding of each other, you decided to start again, with proper introductions. You told him your name and what your major was at school. He told you his name, though of course you already knew who he was. Bucky Barnes was the sweetest man you had ever met and a total gentleman. He offered to buy you a cup of coffee and that’s how you ended up sitting in this little café for the past five hours. The two of you had a great time getting to know each other and you taught him more sign language and gave him more information about Deaf culture and etiquette. It was amazing how fast he was picking up sign language, including its grammar structure that differs from spoken English. Bucky Barnes made you feel truly seen and understood. You weren’t sure how to explain it, but there was something almost magical about being around him.

Bucky and you made your coffee dates a regular occurrence, when his schedule allowed of course. His interest in sign language never wavered and neither did his ability to easily learn and retain. The more time you spent with him the more you felt yourself falling for him. Of course, from the beginning you were quite taken by his appearance, but your admiration went so much deeper than that. A few months into these little coffee dates, he worked up the courage to ask you on a real date. He was already at the coffee shop when you arrived. As you took a seat you notice his gaze kept shifting and his body was jittery. From someone with his background this was very unusual.

Are you okay? You signed to Bucky.

He just nodded.

You put one of your hands on top of his flesh one and rubbed your thumb against him to attempt to ground him. His eyes suddenly snapped to yours with an intensity you rarely see. His hands were moving.

Can I take you on a proper date?

At first you thought you misunderstood. You asked him to repeat what he said. You saw he was laughing.

Come on doll, it was hard enough to ask you once. You’re really gonna make me do it again?

Was it even a question what your response would be? Of course you said yes, and as you did you saw the muscles in his shoulders relax and a true smile take over his face. You had a feeling this was the start of a long and happy life with Bucky Barnes.

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@belladonnabarnes @moteldwelling

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you