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solarwonux · 3 years

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89. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.”

93. “Fuck…did we use protection?”

twitch streamer!wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.9k (honestly I think I forgot what drabbles were clearly lol)

warnings: some angst, smut, mutual masturbation, some slight panty stuffing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pregnancy scare, talks about plan b

note: excuse me everyone I literally love gamer and twitch streamer Wonwoo, but not everyone does. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one if you want more twitch!streamer wonwoo let me I will be happy to oblige, I have MANY ideas. Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts.

p.s send me a prompt for either svt or bts or both. I will also happily oblige to that lol

Masterlist || Drabble game

Watching Wonwoo play Zelda was not what you had expected when he had texted earlier asking you to come over. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.” He whispered against your lips in a half kiss when you walked in through his front door.

That had been over an hour and three completed levels ago. It was an empty promise long forgotten as he kept himself immersed in the game, talking enthusiastically about his day and random things his brain would conjure up on the spot. It was like you didn’t exist, and for the most part to his viewers, you didn’t. It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend or anything. Even if you were, you valued your privacy more than anything in the world. You preferred to work on your own things in the background away from his camera whenever you were over. This was something the two of you had mutually agreed to.

Casual hangs and casual sex.

Lately, your relationship had become the product of most of your stress. You never knew where you stood with Wonwoo. Sometimes he would literally invite you over to keep him company while he streamed only to kick you out the second he finished. “I’m too tired, you should go.” He would say pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’ll see you later.”

Of course, those moments were overshadowed by the soft touches he left imprinted on your skin. By the sweetness of the words he shared with you and only you whenever he wasn’t working. It made you want more. More of him, more of his attention, and more of whatever was going on between the two of you. But that was something you refused to bring up afraid that the only one harboring feelings for the other was you.

Heartbreak was not in your plans for life, at least not for a while.

You sighed, throwing your phone down onto the couch. Your patience was wearing thin. Maybe it had to do with the fact you were already having a bad day, and Wonwoo’s indifference towards you wasn’t helping. When you had gotten his text earlier, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. The two of you hadn’t seen each other in a few days with work schedules being all over the place and not aligning. It was something to look forward to, not necessarily because of the sex--which was always amazing. But you really just wanted to talk to him. Lay down with his arms wrapped around you while you complained about work and how frustrating your coworkers were being.

By the looks of it, you weren’t going to get any of that, not even what he had promised when you had first walked in. You were tired, your clothes were starting to annoy and you wanted to cry. If it wasn’t for the fact that his front door was in line with his camera, you would’ve left already.

Wonwoo could sense something was wrong with you. Every time you sighed it felt like you were punching him in the gut. He really meant what he had said when you walked in earlier. He also meant the quiet I love you he mumbled underneath his breath when you walked past him and into the living room. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with you, just that months ago he had woken up and you were the only thing he could think of. Every time he held you in his arms the three little words bubbled up in the back of his throat, wishing he could bring himself to finally say it, but his fear held him back. Afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.

“Alright, you know what I think that’s enough for tonight.” Wonwoo smiled into the camera, trying to keep up with the chat as they begged him not to go yet. “I have to go, my girlfriend is over and I want to spend time with her. Anyway, same time next week Monday guys.” Wonwoo nodded, stopping the stream. Once he was positive that he had turned everything off he felt his shoulders relax and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the panic surging through his veins was unbearable. He turned around in his chair meeting your equally shocked face.

He royally fucked up. He just confessed to his audience without meaning to confess. He had told his audience that you were his girlfriend and he hadn’t even asked you yet. The surprise and speech he had worked on all week, the reason he took a break from streaming until tonight, was for nothing. He had gotten ahead of himself and he didn’t know what to do now. Or how to fix it.

“G-Girlfriend? Wait you have a fucking girlfriend?” You stood up from his couch, blinded by anger. “What the fuck Wonwoo, when were you going to tell me? Before or after you fucked me?” You shouted, your heart was beating fast as you turned around to gather up your stuff.

Unbelievable. Here you were distracted, thinking about how cute he looked while he blamed his failure on his character. The pout that had formed on his lips as he pushed his glasses up his nose and blew out a raspberry, moving aside the strands of his newly dyed blonde hair. The frustration you had felt earlier, forgotten, replaced with admiration. Only for it to come back after what he had said, this time fiery red and ready to burn everything it touched.

“Stop, no wait, I don’t have a girlfriend. At least not yet.” He spoke fast, his words blending with one another as he quickly made his way to you. He grabbed hold of your laptop and held it against his chest.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, did you just call me down to ignore me and then fuck me one last time before you called it quits!” You said in disbelief reaching over for your laptop.

Wonwoo turned around facing away from you. “No that’s not...that’s not what...fuck, calm down please and just let me talk.” He pleaded as he sat down on his couch, your laptop still clutched tightly in his arms. It was your prized possession, it held the first three drafts of the novel you were working on. He knew you well enough to know that you hadn’t backed anything up no matter how many times he told you to do so. So, he was positive that as long as he held onto it like his life depended on it (because it did) you wouldn’t leave without it.

You crossed your arms in front of you ”I am calm, but I don’t know if I want to listen to what you have to say.”

Wonwoo cringed, he was more nervous than what he had intended to be. He had an entire speech planned. Wrote it down, even got Jihoon to proofread it. He had performed it in front of his bathroom mirror every morning and night. He thought he had it in the bag, pumped up his chest a few times before opening his front door to you earlier. Yet, the second he saw you, he forgot everything he had planned to say. This is mainly why he had spent such a long time streaming. Hoping that the distraction would somehow help him remember.

It didn’t.

“Wonwoo, I swear if you don’t start talking in the next five seconds I’m leaving and suing you for holding my laptop hostage.”

Wonwoo sighed and slapped his forehead lightly before turning to look at you, “okay, I don’t think that’s allowed bu-”

“It is if I say that you stole it trying to steal my work, I don’t know I’ll find a way.” You shrugged, earning a glare from Wonwoo. You knew he hated whenever someone interrupted him while he was in the middle of saying something. It was something you would do to him out of spite, but in your humble opinion this time he really did deserve it. Though, it didn’t make you feel as good as you had hoped, “fine sorry, you can continue.” You sighed and sat down on his coffee table.

Wonwoo put your laptop down and leaned over his elbows taking your hands in his. “I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend. I know we agreed to just keep this casual but I can’t help the way my heart literally feels like it’s going to fall out of my ass whenever I’m with you. So yeah, I don’t have a girlfriend yet, because I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend yet. But there’s no one else, only you, and I’m so-”

Wonwoo was cut off when he felt your body land on his, knocking the air out of his lungs. You hugged him, straddling his hips and burying your face into his chest, giggling. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you felt awful for assuming the worst and jumping to conclusions.

“Ask me ask me ask me ask me.” You bounced on his lap like a child. He groaned doubling over in pain.

He placed his hands on your hips to keep you from moving, “No now I know you’re actually trying to kill me.” He smirked and left a sweet kiss against your lips. A low chuckle running past his lips as he took in your pouting face, “fine, my love, my baby will you please be my girlfriend?” He cocked his head, his hands playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Yes, but only if you give me my laptop back and keep the promise you made me earlier.” You smiled innocently, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Wonwoo smirked, his hands made their way underneath your shirt. “No to the laptop, you work too much and I’m determined to back up everything on a hard drive later.” He rubbed his thumbs over the skin of your hips, slowly inching closer to the button of your jeans, “not sure I remember the promise I made earlier though, can you remind me?”

You kissed him slowly, tugging on his shirt, “you said you would finish a level before going down on me all night, and it’s four and a half levels later and I’m still waiting.” You whispered against his lips, before pulling away and bringing his shirt over his head, taking it off, throwing it behind him, aiming for the laundry basket, missing it completely, making you sigh.

“Well you didn’t give me enough time to answer, but that can be arranged.” He pecked your lips, pushing your shirt up and over your head, throwing it behind him. “You’d have to step into my office though.”

“Wonwoo, baby, don’t ever call your room your office.” You rolled your eyes and got up from his lap.

He chuckled, shaking his head and stood up, “oh no that’s not what I meant, room comes later. Tonight we start in my office.” He says cheekily, pointing his thumb towards his gaming setup. Your eyes grew wide as saucers, only making him laugh harder while he pushed you towards his gaming chair.

“Wait, you’re like not going to turn the camera on are you?” You said as he pushed you down to sit in which you obeyed. The colorful lights from his gaming setup kept you distracted as Wonwoo got down on his knees in front of you.

“Nope, I’ve just always wanted to eat you out while you sat on my gaming chair. But maybe one day in the future if you want. You can take over my stream and play animal crossing while I secretly eat you out on camera.” He smirked, the evil glint behind his soft eyes sent shivers down your spine. The little exibitionist in him coming out. You’d be lying if you didn’t find the thought of it exciting.

“One day.” You breathed, lifting your hips, helping him as he pulled down your pants.

Wonwoo sent you a wink pushing your thighs apart with his hands, “We can also play overwatch together. That cute little vibrator you keep hidden in your bedside drawer, stuffed inside your pussy.” He placed his index finger over the wet patch that had formed over your panties, pushing in slightly. “And everytime you die I up the speed, see how long you can last before you have me begging to turn off the stream so you can cum.” Wonwoo kept pushing his finger in you, your panties sticking onto you like second skin.

You threw your head back, digging your nails into the arms of his leather chair. “F-Fuck how long h-have you thought about this?” You lifted your hips as he added another finger.

“Right now, or maybe a few times when you’re not around.” He leaned down kissing your mound lightly, “but seeing you like this, sprawled out, wet and waiting for my mouth is reinforcing those fantasies.” He worked his fingers diligently, pushing the thin material of your panties inside of you. He couldn’t wait to stuff you full with his cock later.

You let out a whimper as his mouth traveled down to your clothed entrance. He removed his fingers licking up a stride, before taking one of your lips into his mouth and biting down on it gently. “W-Wonwoo please I want to feel your mouth.”

“You are, aren’t you?.” He looked, staring at you through the rim of his round glasses before repeating his actions again making you whimper. “Take your bra off, play with yourself for me.” He left a chaste kiss in your inner thigh and sat back on his heels. He palmed himself over his black tracksuit pants as he watched you slowly unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms. You were teasing him, he knew this but he didn’t care. Seeing you get undressed for him was one of his favorite past times, especially because you always went extra slow for him.

You threw your bra, not caring where it landed. You rolled your palms over your nipples, soft sighs running past your lips as you kept your eyes trained on Wonwoo. “Want to feel your hot tongue fucking me Woo.” You spread your legs even further pinching your nipples. You moved your hand down your body, your index finger playing with the seam of your panties. “Is this one of your fantasies? Me touching myself, sitting here?” You said, tilting your head to the side, moving your hand into your panties and running your index and middle fingers over your clit slowly.

“Yes.” He hissed, pushing his hand into his boxers grabbing onto his cock. “God, you make me so hard.”

“Let me see please.” You arched your back, your fingers getting faster. Wonwoo nodded, wasting no time to free himself, his hand wrapped tightly around his length. His index finger connects with the small bead of precum that had formed, showing you how sticky and ready he was for you.

“Want to taste?” You nodded letting out soft moans as you lifted your hips, into the palm of your hand, sticking your tongue out for him. “Fuck.” He cursed getting up on his knees, bringing his index finger up to your mouth. You closed your lips around it, swirling your tongue over the tip, savoring the salty substance.

You pulled away with a pop, taking your fingers out of your panties and bringing them up to his lips. He took them in, moaning around them. “Do I taste good?” You said taking out your fingers from his mouth, moving them over his lips, wetting them further.

“I’m going to have to take a closer look.” He said lowly, pushing your panties down in a haste. He spread your legs, licking up your slit, teasing your hole with his tongue. Being in between your legs was his second most favorite pastime. He savored every moment of it. Sometimes he would prolong your orgasm, keeping you on edge, so that when you came, your sweet substance would coat his lips, spilling down his chin and neck. It was the most beautiful site, one that only he had the privilege in witnessing.

“Mmm, your tongue feels so good Wonwoo.” You pinched your nipple while tugging on the roots of his blonde hair, pushing his mouth closer.

He moaned, slurping up your juices like you were his last meal. He wrapped his mouth around your clit, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go. “I want to be here forever but I don’t think I can last any longer without being inside of you.” He pushed two of his fingers inside of you. The feeling of your wet walls wrapped around his thick calloused fingers made his cock twitch.

“B-But I-I want to cum.” You pouted, arching your back away from his chair, pushing your hips further into his hand. “Please, I’m so close already.” You pant, the knot in the pit of your stomach threatening to break.

“Oh honey, you will. I’ll have you coming undone more than three times tonight.” He stated with determination and brought his mouth down again, closing his lips around your clit. He sucked harshly moaning sinfully. He fucked you faster with his fingers curling them upwards, reaching the soft mushy skin inside of you.

“W-Wonwoo f-fuck don’t stop I-I’m so close.”

Wonwoo let go of your swollen bud, slowing down his fingers as you clenched around them. “Look at me, I want to watch me while you cum.” You agreed with a pleasure filled sigh, watching as he pushed back his glasses. The sight almost had you coming undone.

He put his mouth on you again, increasing the pace of his fingers. Babbles coming out of your mouth as you pulled on his hair, motivating him to go faster. The squelching sounds coming from your wet, hot pussy sounded like music to his ears. He bit down on your clit lightly, sending you over the edge, your cum coating his fingers, while you moaned his name in a sweet sinful prayer. His eyes burning holes into yours, the sight was award winning, his cock begging to be milked out.

Wonwoo continued, riding out your orgasm. Until you felt the oversensitivity overcome your body “W-Woo, s-stop please.” You pushed his head carefully with the palm of your hand.

He kissed the inside of both of your thighs before sitting up on his knees, taking your face into his hands. “You always look so pretty when you cum.” He pecked your lips repeatedly, before wrapping your arms around you hugging you tightly. “I love you so much.” He kissed your temple.

“Why do you always get so mushy every time you make me cum?” You laughed gently, running your fingers down his back, making him shiver.

“You bring out in me, I can’t help it, stop complaining. I’m giving you time to recover before I bend you over my desk.”

“Not complaining. I love it.” You kissed his cheek. “And I love you.” You whispered in his ear, taking his earlobe, pulling it between your teeth.. He groaned, swallowing hard, his getting tighter around you.

“My desk, then my couch, then my bed, then the shower, and then my bed again.”

The sun had started to rise. It was five in the morning and your body was suddenly overcome with sleep, when Wonwoo pulled out of you one last time. He had kept true to his promise, literally fucked you the entire night, christening his apartment, except his kitchen. “If we have sex in the kitchen, the only thing I’ll be thinking about while I’m cooking is your mouth around my dick.” He said as he pushed you into the wide window of his living room, making you laugh.

“Do you have to work today?” He placed a delicate kiss against your collar bone, laying his head on top of your chest.

“It’s Saturday, why would I have work on Saturday?” You smiled sleepily, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed happily, pulling his sheets over the two of you and cuddling into you further.

“You’re always working, I just wanted to ask.” He shrugged, raising his body enough to leave a chaste kiss against your lips. “Take a break today and I promise that by the time you wake up again I’ll have all of your files backed up into the harddrive I bought you.”

You shook your head, placing both of your palms against his cheeks, squishing them. “Do you know how sexy you sound when you talk about computers.”

“Nope, but you once told me to divide you in half when I was explaining finances to you. Now that I think about it, that statement can go both ways.” He smiled laying down on his back, bringing you along with him. Your eyes growing wide when you felt it running down your thighs. You sat up in panic, removing the sheets of your body to see if your silent hypothesis was correct.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, confused.

“Wonwoo, fuck...did we use protection?”

Wonwoo pushed the covers away with his feet, sitting up quickly. He looked between your legs, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, “You’re on the pill still right?”

“We changed my formula, I had to stop taking it for a few days.” You threw yourself down on his bed covering your eyes with your hands. The tears pooling against your eyes. You felt the bed dip next to you. Wonwoo took your hands in his, revealing your tearful eyes to him making him sigh.

“Baby, don’t worry.” He kissed your cheeks repeatedly before sitting up again, “I’ll run down to the convenience store, get a plan b while you go take a bath. I’ll join you when I get back.”

“W-What’s happens if I take the plan b and still miraculously end up pregnant, it’s only ninety five percent effective.”

“Then I’ll be with you every step of the way. I meant what I said earlier, I love you so much and I plan to marry you and have kids with you one day. Don’t worry.”

Your heart felt full. The butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach. Wonwoo and you had shared many intimate dreams and desires before, but this one felt different. This was a dream the two of you shared and it made you feel at ease. “Okay, okay I will, just hurry up please.”

Wonwoo scoffed, getting up from his bed, slipping on his sweatpants and sweatshirt. “Baby please don’t underestimate me. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned down giving you one last kiss before jogging over to his front door. “I love you.” He shouted, opening the door.

You laughed sitting up on your elbows shaking your head, “I love you, now hurry I can feel your child cooking in me.”

“Impossible, it takes roughly twenty four hours for my sperm to fertilize one of your eggs, and it’s literally been thirty minutes. Therefore you wou--”

“Wonwoo shut up just hurry.”

“Okay I love you.” He said while closing his front door. You laughed shaking your head falling back on his bed. Your entire body was aching and though you were a little scared, given obvious circumstances. You had never felt so much warmth and happiness in your life.

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thesightstoshowyou · 3 years

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Timing is Everything

Jesse Cromeans x F Reader x Asa Emory (NSFW)

Summary: Trapped between a predator and a hard place.

Warnings: All the warnings! Dubcon/noncon, daddy kink, Dominant Asa, possessive Asa, creampie(s), anal play, heavy degradation, slapping, manipulation, knife use, blood, torture, “aftercare.” Safe word? What’s that?

When the penthouse elevator dings, you think it’s Asa. It’s after five, Asa’s typical time to return home and recharge before heading out into the night. Jesse’s been gone for days to who knows where, but this isn’t unusual.

So, when you peek under the cabinets from your spot near the stove and see soft lights glinting off chrome, you’re surprised. He strips out of his black suit jacket, kicking off his boots as he goes. You frown at the blood that drips off the soles onto clean marble. Asa’s going to be pissed.

But, maybe that’s the point.

“Hey, you. Back already?” you ask casually as Jesse stalks behind the counter. He drags his fingers leisurely along the sleek granite as he strolls over to you. There’s promise in the way his hips sway as he approaches, a hint of impatience in his swagger. Immediately, you’re on edge.

Uneasy, you meet his shadowed gaze as well as you can through the darkened eyeholes of his mask. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause, just keeps slowly pressuring you until you’re backed against the sink. You gulp when his arm slides around your waist, one huge hand grabbing a handful of your ass.

“Asa’s not here—

Jesse claps a hand over your mouth and shakes his head. He bends down to your level, nudges your cheek with the chilly teeth of his mask. The hand on your ass disappears, resurfaces clutching one of those heinous blades. Dried blood flecks off the handle as he twists it, brings cold steel under your chin.

You’re afraid, yes, but not of the knife. Asa doesn’t like Jesse to touch you if he’s not there. The Collector is the sole orchestrater of your pleasure and pain, and Chromeskull is an extension of Asa’s knife. Usually, Jesse is more than happy to take instruction on how best to pull you apart and put you back together.

Usually.

Not tonight, apparently. The last time this had happened, you hadn’t been able to walk for a week. You wonder what Asa said to Jesse to set him off.

“Daddy, please,” you mumble behind his hand, hoping the pet name will give him pause. Jesse’s gaze snaps back to yours. He brings the knife in front of your face and shakes it back and forth. ‘No, no, no, little girl,’ it says with its movement. You plead with your eyes and Jesse’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. He’s enjoying the way your lips tremble in trepidation.

Jesse seizes you around the waist, tosses you over his shoulder, saunters to the bedroom. You let yourself be towed, racing mind wondering what the hell you’re going to tell Asa when he inevitably walks in on the both of you. You nearly scoff out loud; as if Asa’s going to let you speak. You’re so, so fucked.

Literally.

When Asa does finally return home, you don’t hear him enter. The only things you can hear are the rustling of bedsheets in your ear, the fervent slap of skin on skin, and your muffled groans and screams. Jesse has your cheek smashed into the mattress, drooling mouth stuffed with your panties, arms pinned behind your back, two, thick fingers speared into your ass, and your hips in the air as he pummels your sore cunt. No hole left unfilled.

You’re dripping cum and your own fluids, the sheets a wet mess beneath you. Whatever Asa said to him, it really, really set him off. Deliriously, you wonder if you’ve ever seen him so pent up.

You yelp around the underwear between your teeth when Jesse tugs his fingers from your ass. His hand flies to your hair, gripping your messy locks and turning your head the other direction so you’re looking at the bedroom doorway. Your eyes widen in horror when you see Asa leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, dark eyes intently focused on the arch of your back.

Behind you, Jesse hisses and hilts himself, spilling another load of sticky cum into your abused cunt. You grunt and wriggle against the hand keeping your arms pinned. He’d timed that perfectly, hadn’t he?

Deliberately, Asa pulls a pair of black, nitrile gloves from his back pocket. He snaps them on, one at a time, intertwining his fingers to achieve the snuggest fit. Your chest heaves, your limbs trembling at the methodical way he flicks open the sheath on his hip and produces a slim knife, the blade glinting maliciously in the low light.

Jesse slips from your cunt with a sigh, releases your arms, crawls up beside you so he’s resting against the headboard. You flop over, yank the panties from your mouth, push to your knees with shaking arms, drop your chin to your chest submissively.

What do you say? He’ll hurt you more if you talk out of turn. Fuck, this isn’t fair.

Jesse will emerge from this ordeal unscathed. He’d never allow Asa to punish him, no, not without a bloody, vicious fight. That’s not what this twisted relationship is about, but Asa will have to punish someone.

And that someone is you.

A normal relationship would have a predetermined word, a phrase, a hand signal, something that would bring this nightmare to an end, but when you’re the obsession of both the Collector and Chromeskull, there is no safe word. There is pain and there is pleasure and no relief from either, ever.

Gloved fingers brush your cheek, grip your chin and tilt your head so your eyes meet black. His face is blank, utterly expressionless, but this is when he is most dangerous. You don’t know what he’s planning. Again, you beg with your eyes, hope he’ll take pity on you. There was nothing you could do to stop Jesse, he must know this.

Asa hums thoughtfully, pulls down your bottom lip with his thumb, “I know this wasn’t your idea, Cricket.” He shoots Jesse a petulant glare and the bed wobbles under you with what you can only assume is more unheard laugher. Your heart lifts slightly. Could you be this lucky…?

His eyes return to yours and you blink until tears slips down your face. Instantly, your stomach plummets and you gasp in shock when he delivers a stinging slap to your cheek. You whimper, clutching your face and shuddering when he sighs heavily.

“Unfortunately, that’s not enough to save you, silly girl. If you weren’t such a desperate whore, he wouldn’t have broken my rules, would he?” You visibly tremble, nod your head, because what else can you do now? Submit, take the punishment like an obedient pet, learn to run faster than Jesse.

“On your back.” Instantly you fall back. You try not to glare up at Jesse when he pulls your head into his lap, fingers carding through your sweaty hair in mock sympathy.

“Look at me.” You do, “How many times did he cum? Tell the truth, Cricket or I. Will. Hurt. You.”

“F-Four, Sir,” you stammer, your heart fluttering in your chest like a panicked bird. Asa’s eyes flick to Jesse’s and the skull mask nods once in affirmation.

“Four? Christ, Jesse,” Asa murmurs with a chuckle, that ominous rumble that never fails to send a thrill of fear through your bloodstream. Jesse shrugs and motions to your naked body as though that should explain everything. Asa shakes his head and addresses you, “Four cuts for the four times you let him defile my cunt. Understand? Speak.”

“Y-Yes, Sir,” you whisper, bracing for the bite of steel. Asa spreads your thighs wide, pushes your knees to your chest. The point of the knife trails down the inside of your knee, comes to rest on the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Your gasping breaths are so loud they echo off the high ceiling. You grit your teeth, hiss when Asa drags the blade along your thigh, your dermis parting under steel and spilling crimson onto the bedsheets.

“Count,” he orders.

“One,” you snivel, hands fisting the sheets as blinding, brilliant agony sears through your leg. The second cut makes you groan through clenched teeth. Your muscles pull taut as you desperately try to remain still.

“T-Two.” Asa moves to your other leg. These are going to scar so bad-no don’t think about it—

“Three!” you scream, a high wail that Jesse immediately muffles with his fingers. One more, one more, you can do it, one—

“F-F-Four,” you sob around the digits in your mouth. Spit drips past your lips as Jesse removes his fingers and smears the saliva across your quivering lips. The clink of a belt buckle and the drag of a zipper reaches your ears. You gasp, meet Asa’s heated gaze. His predatory gaze is fixed on the way your blood drips down your thighs and mixes with the cum leaking from your puffy slit.

You speak without thinking, too desperate to be given a break, “P-Please—

He’s lightning fast, shocking you with his speed more than how roughly he grips your jaw. He spits, “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.” You scream again when he slams into your aching cunt, burying his cock into slick, cum drenched muscles. The pants that hang off his hips catch on your lacerations, agonizingly irritate your throbbing flesh

“Anything going on in that empty head?” SLAP, “Answer me, slut.”

“Y-Yes—

SLAP

“’No’ is the word you were looking for.”

“N-No, Sir—

SLAP

“Shut. Up. If I wanted to hear your simpering voice, I would tell you to, ‘Speak.’ Did I say that?” Furiously you shake your head, anything to get him to stop smacking your burning cheeks. His voice drops to a low purr and he leans over you to murmur, “That’s right. I didn’t. Open your mouth.” Immediately your jaw falls open, “Jesse, give the little whore something to do with that disobedient tongue.”

Three of Jesse’s fingers return to your mouth and languidly count your teeth. His other hand falls to his half hard cock, fist rolling up his girth until he’s fully erect. How he can have the stamina is beyond you, but that thought goes as quickly as it comes when Asa’s fingers find your swollen clit.

You twitch and keen, bewildering pressure building in your gut with every stroke of his deft fingers. How? How does he have the uncanny ability to bring you to the edge even after everything he’s done?

“Jesse, take your fingers out. Cricket, you are going to cum for me. Me. As it should always be. Speak.”

“Ye-Yes, Sir, yes, yes, please, please, I want to—

“I want to hear my name when you cum. Speak.”

“Yes, Sir, yes, I-I will, I w-will, fuck, fuck, I-I-I—

“Cum, now, do it, cum for me.”

“ASA!” Despite the pain ravaging your inner thighs, you bring your hips up to meet his, muscles clenching, pressure in your belly releasing in a flurry of wet heat and rolling pleasure. Asa grunts, thrusts, exhales forcefully, buries his cock in your heat to paint your insides with his own release. Distantly, you hear Jesse hiss through his teeth, see him spill into his fist out of the corner of your eye.

Asa’s body heat disappears from between your legs. You let them fall to the bed, boneless, useless, ready to let unconsciousness claim you then and there, but he returns a moment later with a warm, wet cloth, antibacterial ointment, gauze, and bandages. Meticulously, he cleans the wounds he inflicted, making sure the dressings are well secured before climbing into bed. You crawl into his open arms, turning away from Jesse and burying your face into the crook of Asa’s warm neck.

Asa waits until your chest rises and falls rhythmically before signing to Jesse, ‘Four times? Seriously?’

Jesse shrugs again, lifting his hands and signing, ‘Jealous?’ Asa snorts.

‘I’m not the one that’s going to be in the doghouse.’

‘She’ll get over it.’ Jesse motions to your bandaged thighs, ‘Those are going to scar up good and pretty.’ Asa lets a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth.

‘That was the intent. You timed that last one perfectly, by the way.’ Jesse’s shoulders shake again at that.

‘Honestly, I got lucky. I was so fucking close for a good ten minutes before you walked in. Took your sweet time.’

‘Had to be sure you wore her out. She doesn’t make mistakes when she’s alert.’ Asa winks and Jesse shakes his head, rolling onto his side.

‘Sadist.’

‘Pot, meet kettle.’

‘Touché.’

#asa emory #jesse cromeans #asa emory x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #asa emory x reader x jesse cromeans #skullcollector #the collector x reader #chromeskull x reader #the collector x reader x chromeskull #chromeskull: laid to rest 2 #laid to rest #the collector 2009 #the collection #n sfw #my writing #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader

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nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years

Text

The Chick with the Red Magic (W.M.)

Warnings: None? Maybe some swearing?

Word Count: 1.4k

It’s a typical New York night. The old apartment buildings tower over you, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air from where an old man is perched on his fire escape. There aren’t many people around, and those who do dare to wander the streets this late, stick to themselves. You look up at the dark sky as you walk, and you can’t help but wish that the stars were visible through the city pollution.

It had been a long day. First, you had several hours of classes. You were in your third year of college at NYU, working toward your degree in criminal justice. The plan was to become a detective here in New York. Hey, it might not have been a very detailed plan, but at least you had one. After classes, you went to the gym with your friend, Henry, from school. Then you had an 8-hour shift as an EMT. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement.

You pass a particularly dark alley as you near your favorite coffee shop一 not that they were open this late at night. After you’ve passed the alley, you hear some strange sounds coming from it. Muffled grunts and low thuds fill the thick air. You follow your gut as you quietly ditch your bag on the ground and creep into the alley. You spot a brunette surrounded by four men. You fail to notice the red tendrils floating through the air around them. One man notices you and when he comes for you, you knock him unconscious with a hard punch to the jaw. Your face scrunches up in pain as you grab your wrist and shake your hand一 that always hurts a lot less in training. The other three men are thrown against the brick wall by the red hue, which you finally take notice of, and you instinctively take a step back. The mysterious woman’s eyes snap to yours as she finally notices your presence. You hold her gaze and fight the urge to hightail it out of there.

“Who are you? What was that?” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel.

“Um, I一 you don’t recognize me?” She steps closer and you shake your head with furrowed eyebrows, confused at her question.

“Should I?” “I- I guess not. I’m Wanda. I swear you’re safe. What you just saw... well, I can’t really explain it. But I’m with the good guys, I promise.”

“Yeah, right, okay. Would you even know if you were a bad guy?” You did your best to sound skeptical, but in all honesty, this woman had somehow already gained your trust. Maybe you wouldn’t make such a great detective, after all.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Well, thank you for the help, Y/N.”

“Yeah...I’m pretty sure you didn’t need it,” you deadpan, gesturing to the pile of unconscious bodies further down the alley.

“You should probably go now before my boss gets here, unless you wanna end up in questioning and debriefing all night.”

‘Questioning? Debriefing? I know damn well this girl ain’t a cop’ you think to yourself.

“This is all very mysterious, Wanda, you know that?”

She breathed out a laugh. “I’m aware.”

“Will I see you again? I’d like to solve the mystery, if you’ll give me a chance.” You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, but something about her thick accent and her kind green eyes makes you want to talk to her for hours.

“What’s your full name?”

“Um, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Then, yes. I will find you again, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Okay, now I’m concerned for my safety.”

A wide grin spread across her lips as she said, “No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I probably should be. Uh, goodnight, Wanda.”

“Goodnight.”

Three loud knocks disrupt the peaceful silence that had previously settled in your apartment. You set down the textbook in your hands and rise from the couch. You pull the door open, confused when you see a beautiful redhead standing on the other side. Her face displays no emotion and she scans your figure from head to toe. You tilt your head in a questioning manner, debating whether you were about to get stabbed or converted.

“Um, can I help you? Are you alright,” you ask her, cautious of why a random woman would show up at your door.

“So you seriously don’t know who I am? Or Wanda,” she asks with a raised brow.

“Uh, I一 what? You know Wanda?”

“You know who the Avengers are?”

You nod your head in affirmation. “Yeah. Team of superheroes. Everyone knows about them,” you reply plainly. You had nothing against them, you just didn’t really care. Why is this lady asking about the Avengers? You should definitely reconsider becoming a detective.

“I take it you’ve never paid much attention to them?”

“Not really. What does this have to do with Wanda? Who are you?”

“I’m Natasha. Wanda and I are Avengers.”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds. “Bullshit.” She nods her head with a small smirk on her face. “Huh,” you say, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Mhm. I came here to scope you out, see if you’d be a threat to Wanda, but you seem entirely harmless, so here’s her number,” she said, handing you a slip of paper.

“Um, thanks, I一 wait, I’m not harmless! I can be very harmful! When I wanna be…”

“Yeah, sure. She told me all about the punch. Very harmful,” she teased before patting your upper arm and walking away down the hall.

You barely wasted ten minutes before calling Wanda.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Wanda. Or should I call you ‘My Great Avenger’,” you tease over the phone.

“Oh, God, please don’t. It’s good to hear from you Y/N.”

“It’s good to hear from you, too. I was beginning to worry that I had been hallucinating. So you really sent your friend to make sure I was safe for you to be around?”

“Ugh, I didn’t ask her to do that. She insisted when I told her about what happened. I only wanted her to find you一”

“Oh, so you told your friends about me? I’m honored.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

“Well, I’m a junior at NYU, I work as an EMT, and, apparently, I’m very trusting because I ran into this chick with red magic the other day and I literally gave her my full name on the spot and everything,” you joke.

“That definitely wasn’t very safe thinking on your part. I’m glad that you blindly trusted some weird girl with powers, though. It probably made her night,” she says, playing along.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say she’s weird. Different, maybe, but normal is boring. And you should see her, she’s really pretty. She’s got the kindest eyes and the most amazing smile that could outshine the North Star.” She’s silent and you wish that you could see her face, hoping that maybe you’d put a smile on it. “Although her friend is kind of intimidating. I’m pretty sure she could kill me without batting an eye,” you continue.

“Yikes, not the scary best friend. You definitely don’t want to piss her off.”

“Definitely not. So, what do you think? Should I ask this girl out on a date?” “The chick with the red magic or her scary best friend?”

“The chick with the red magic, of course.”

“I think...you should. Maybe you could take her out this Friday?”

“Maybe to dinner? Something real casual, so I can get to know her outside of a stuck-up, annoying rich-people-restaurant?”

“I think she’d love that. Maybe you could pick her up at seven?”

“I think that sounds like a great idea. I can’t wait to see her.”

“She can’t wait, either.”

“Wait, just to be clear, you know I’m talking about you, right? Like, this was me asking you out? ‘Cause that would be awkward if you didn’t and I’m gonna need your address to pick you up-”

She cuts off your nervous rambling with a laugh and says, “Yes, I’m aware. I’ll text you the address in a bit. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Right, cool. Bye, Wanda.” You hang up the phone with a huge smile and jump around in a celebratory dance, already planning Friday’s date.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader

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ofmythsandmadness · 3 years

Text

touch-starved | d.h.

or...the seven times it takes diego hargreeves to realises he’s touch-starved, and the one time he actually acts on it.

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SUMMARY: diego x gn!reader. an idiot in love, told entirely from his pov as he walks back on a series of monumental moments in his life. WARNINGS: a tad bit of foul language (bc i can never contain myself, jeez). allusion to sexual acts (nothing explicit, but if you know, you know). flowery garbage writing. probably poor characterization. a weird ending. WORD COUNT: 5.7k NOTES: it’s way too late (early?) for me to be putting this out. but after literally driving myself to tears over this stupid thing, i’m forcing myself to publish it and leave it to the world, for better or for worse. it’s...yeah. i hope it’s alright. x

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

THE FIRST TIME HE REALISED WAS IN THE SUMMER.

“Can I say something weird?”

There is a nervous half-giggle that came after the question, like you aren't quite sure how he’s going to take whatever slipped from your gentle, just parted lips. It hangs much longer than the five words you passed to him and he almost forgets what you asked entirely, so hung up on the breathless fashion your chuckle had come.

But when you blink at him and let your beseeching eyes hover over his, he has to let go of the sound and return to the present.

“Sure,” he says dumbly. “What?”

He loses your eyes then and he finds himself following, eager to see what could have lost your attention so fast. His frown digs heavier as you stare at the table he’s leaned over. There isn’t anything there but his harness scattered across the worn wood and a knife in one hand. He’s been idly fiddling with as some show titters in the background, but his weapon (mal??)practices have never been much interest to you before. So...

Slowly a warm smile comes to cradle your cheeks. It rests as delicate as a crashing wave colliding with the great cliffs you had painted once -- like with everything you did, your smile’s a charging force that transforms you entirely and leaves him in awe that anyone could feel something so strongly. He watches with total enthrallment and for once, he’s not ashamed to feel so.

“You have like, really nice hands.”

You drawl the statement out like it’s some kind of joke. Though, the intense look you so briefly shoot him tells him it's anything but. And suddenly he cannot do anything; the knife falls from his hands and clatters to the table and his fingers tremble under your careful stare, paralysed.

“I-I-”

“-I know, weird compliment, but,” you chuckle again, low and soft. You shrug. “I was staring at them and realised how nice your hands are.”

“Uh…” he doesn’t know what to do with that information. What does one say to that? Is thank you enough, or is he supposed to just force a laugh and pretend like he is not completely ruined by the way you look at his hands? Compliments are not a usual weapon of choice, but when they come from your lips -- Diego can die right there and go overjoyed.

“Thanks,” he mutters, folding and unfolding his hands on the table. “I...never thought about my hands like that.”

You brighten. In a flash of pastel movement you were pressing close, close, close to him and reaching for a fist. He’s again powerless, forced to just watch you pull his fingers in between your own, softly running gentle pads against his bruised knuckles. The touch is cool but he feels his body combust at the mere swish of skin-to-skin contact and he realises,

maybe he could crave someone’s touch.

“You should,” you grin, exquisite under your apartment’s shitty lighting and the flashes of whatever’s happening on the T.V across the room. “You could like, seriously be a hand model or something. Go-orgeous fingers.”

And maybe, he starts to crave yours.

━

THE SECOND TIME HAPPENS WEEKS LATER.

He’d fantasized about your touch most of the days between it, but the thoughts had been forced to be fleeting and he had avoided considering the way you looked at him like he could actually hang the moon and stars -- and it only ever caught up to him in the ebbs of night, when he couldn’t sleep and just stared at the ceiling, considering what it would be like to really feel you against his hands and not let you slip away.

He so rarely let the sun touch his skin anymore. It wasn’t intentional to adapt a vampire lifestyle -- but between the shifts that let him keep his dingy ‘home’ and the nights he spends racing around the cursed city, trying to do the right thing (or stick it to his dad, depending on the night and how bleary his head felt), Diego rarely catches himself leaving the gym early than eleven anymore.

A fact that seems to exasperate you, and fuels what you dubbed an intervention. Aka, forcing him to wander around the city just barely kissed by autumn’s chilly embrace. And though he did argue against it (profusely, because he’s still that stubborn sonofabitch), he’s grateful for you still.

“I think we need to make this a regular occurrence,” you sing, tossing a smile over your shoulder. You skip several paces ahead of him as you soak in every bit of sunshine the crisp fall air could offer you. And he flounders and watches as he wonders what it would feel like to have that much energy from merely existing.

“I think I’m gonna have to mandate this. I’ll force you to schedule this into your life, and I’ll take shifts off from work so we can appreciate the afternoon sun while we can. It won’t be long ‘til winter you know.”

He chuckles hesitantly, “the sun’ll still be there in the winter.”

“Sure, but barely. And it’ll be cold then! The sun ain’t nice when it’s cold.”

He laughs again, and you join him. And it’s easy -- because it’s you.

“Diego!”

“Huh?”

You stop then, dropping your hands to your hips and glaring at him. Even from several feet away he can make out the infuriatingly adorable pout that puckers your pretty lips and the way he wishes he could go back in time and learn to paint, so he could capture the curve of your --

“--why are you so slow?!”

“I -- I’m not slow.”

“You are too! You’re dragging your feet like I’m forcing you to go to the dentist or somethin’.” You squint at him as the sun heightens his reach in the great blue sky. “Man, are you that allergic to a good time?”

“Shut up, I’m not that bad.”

The pout gives as easily as honey dripped -- that is to say, he adores the treacly sweet and slow slip from puckered lips to the easy smile you give him. Your entire heart’s behind the look just as it always is. You trot back up the path to him and held your hand out to him, wriggling it in the air.

“What?” he asks, frowning through a slow smile.

“Take my hand.”

“I…” he hesitates again. “Why?”

“Because you’re slow, and I want to make it to the coffee place before next year. Duh,” you drawl, still shaking your hand like one would to a little kid. “Now, come on!”

You pull and he comes without a fuss, dazed as you bumble on about whatever miraculous happenings go on inside your mind. He hardly hears a thing. Every part of his body is fixated on the soft brush of your thumb against his hand, rubbing soothingly -- he isn’t even sure if you knew you’re aware you’re doing it, but he is. Hell, he can’t feel anything else but that.

Maybe your touch could be a tether.

━

HE HADN’T MEANT FOR THE THIRD TIME. Hadn’t planned to make an event out of it, anyways.

“You’re a fool, Diego. You know that?”

Obviously, he responds silently, grimacing as the cloth presses harder into his cuts. That’s why he did it. Because he is a fool. Honestly, that sums up the majority of the things he does in his life. Or doesn’t do, in the case of you.

Is it bad, if as you scold him, he’s creating a list of even more reasons to love you?

“I mean, one of these days you’re going to come here impaled on like, a pole or something and then -- what am I supposed to do with that?” Your tongue clicks like a disapproving mother’s, but your eyes still dance with childlike mischief as you work. “I am not a nurse.”

“Could’a fooled me, with those hands.”

You glare up at him over your lashes, a sight that made his breath hitch. “Quiet, you.”

Diego does as you said -- but not for any bits or for the joke, only because the way you look at him suddenly made his body tremble with the force of a thousand men and all he wants is to grab your neck and drag you up to meet his lips, finally be rid of the burning sensation in his gut that makes him want to ask the most obscene of--

“--does it hurt?”

He blinks, forcing away the images flashing in his mind so he can focus on the real you again. “Uh -- does what, hurt?”

You take that as a joke, laughing low like his horny idiocy deserved such praise. “This, asshat. Does this,” you press harder with the swab, making him cringe, “hurt?”

“Shit -- yes, it hurts! What’s that for?!”

“Had to make sure you were with me still! Sorry,” you hum, sounding everything but. But your grip softens. “You’re lucky. This could have needed stitches.”

Diego snorts. “It’s not that bad.”

“You look like the fookin’ dino from Jurassic Park felt you up.”

“Not that fookin’ bad,” he mocks back.

“Your accent is appalling.”

“So’s yours.”

You press harder; when he scowls, you giggle, pleased to have won the battle again.

The rest comes in silence. You stand between his legs, mopping at his cuts as you are often wont to do when he stumbles into your window. And he tries not to think about the way your weight so casually presses up against his torso as you reach to his temple, parted lips just out of reach. He could do it; he could just reach out and grab your chin, pull you in and kiss you with all the fucking passion that made his stomach roil.

But he doesn’t budge. There is no way you want that and he would never push past that fragile boundary without asking, no matter what the primal part of his mind fantasizes. His eyes fall instead down to his lap, staring at the folds on his pants as your fingers graze across his skin.

“There,” finally comes, along with you stepping away. Your distance leaves a cold chill running down Diego’s spine; he wonders if he asked you to come back, if you would. “Almost done.”

“Almost? What’s left?”

The next few moments move like a movie. The ones he only ever watches with you or with Klaus; the cheesy slow-mo romances, where the two main characters constantly dance around in a will-they-won’t-they that usually drives him nuts. Everything is always so slow in them and he usually hates them -- he did hate them. But when it’s his hands cradled in yours and you are smiling sweet and gentle as a honeybee, hell he’d take every single second of those crap rom-coms, if it leads to that moment more.

You lean in and, holding his hands in your own like an anchor held a boat to shore, press your lips against his temple. The slightest sting from the pressure builds but it falls with the blink of an eye. Your lips are cold, delicate, brushing twice against the cut before pulling away.

“There. Now I’m done.”

Maybe, you’re just some kind of angel.

But then, why are you bothering with him?

━

THE FOURTH HAPPENED SO FAST, he nearly misses it.

You pull him in close, examining his clothes and face for any glaring wounds. When you find nothing but dirt and a couple surface scratches, your worried expression melt into something akin with relief; a shiny-eyed, trembling lip smile that deserves its place in the greatest museums.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper, seemingly untrusting of your vocal cords. You sniffle. “I was - I was so--”

“--I’m okay.” It sounds more like a revelation than a reassurance and he repeats himself twice, just to make sure you understand. His hands still grip tight to your forearms, holding you to him in case you would disappear, too. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

You nod and even as you pull away from his hold, you launch. Your arms lace around his neck and your face instantly finds a place to bury itself, right into his shoulder. Your body shakes; he realises that you’re crying into him, so relieved with him being there.

The embrace is short. Too short. He doesn’t do enough to hold your clinging form, only standing there slightly swaying and just barely grazing your back, He considers it too long and doesn’t act enough even when he wants to beg you to never let go again. And when you pull away, you refuse your tears again, sniffling through a smile and asking if he wants some food. But the embrace remained ingrained in his thoughts like a disease; it polluted everything else until everything was you, just you, holding him and wanting him.

Maybe, he was deserving. Maybe he deserved to be wanted. Was that justification enough?

━

THE FIFTH HE ALMOST DIES.

Not literally that time -- no, he’s done enough of that to you. It’s more of a metaphorical sort, making his heart stop as your fingers just graze against his stubble strewn chin, his breath catching on the lump in his throat as he realises yet again that nothing could be more beautiful than your smile.

Diego is not a formal man, nor had he ever really been. Even at the Academy his uniform was almost always somehow out of place or wrinkled or missing a detail. He hates shirts that buttoned all the way up to his throat and pants that have to be pleated that one specific way for no reason at all. If it isn’t important, he wears whatever is closest to him, or his domino-mask-and-leather getup if he’s ‘working’. Hell, the man isn’t even sure he had ever worn a suit outside of his childhood years and Allison’s wedding.

“You look...different.”

He swings fast around to see you leaning against his doorway. You’re all pink cheeks and cheeky grins. Something about the way you look him up and down makes him suddenly want to hide, slip away so you could not see how stupid he looked in this stupid monkey suit clinging to his arms and thighs like stupid plastic wrap. You probably see him as a circus animal, stuck in some stupid performance outfit and told to juggle fire.

(Honestly, juggling fire would be worlds easier than doing whatever this was, though.)

Slowly, you step into the room, eyes never leaving him. He gulps.

“You look good, Diego.”

He blinks. That is...unexpected. “Y-yeah?” Damn his voice for giving out on him; it comes out squeaky and prepubescent, sounding every bit of uncertainty he feels. “I-I mean, I--”

“--relax, hot stuff,” you wink and his face fills with heat. “You look great. But, your collar…”

Diego glances down only to scowl at the mess of buttons he left around his neck. “Shit, yeah.”

“Let me?”

But you’re already coming to him, though, hands outstretching and delicately folding themselves across his chest. He wonders if you could feel the way his heart beat like there were a thousand drums locked into his chest, or that you knew you smelled like the gods’ ambrosia, honey -sweet smoke dripping from your velvet form. Are you aware how intoxicating your mere presence is?

“Can I?”

He nods dumbly, not trusting his words.

With careful fingers, you weave the buttons together that have been left undone. You then reach up higher, pressing down his collar.

You hesitate against him, hands still folded into the sharp white fabric. Slowly, one set of fingers unfurl and lift to barely brush against his jaw. It’s a mere allusion to what it would be to have you cradle his face in your caring palms and it only leaves him craving more.

Your lips curl up too, coloured as deep as the fabric that clings to your exquisite form. Just the tip of hot pink snakes out of your mouth, pressing slyly to the top lip, riling the hotblood boiling inside him right up to the brim.

“What…” the single syllable comes out strangled and hoarse. You’re strangling the life out of him without even moving a finger. Do you know your power? “What are...what are you doing?”

In hindsight, that’s probably the stupidest question he could have asked.

You baulk and immediately pushed away from him. The fingers glide from his chest and chin and leave him cold. Gone was the confidence you had offered so easily before; he watches, stunned as your eyes fall to the floor, no longer eager to meet his.

“You look good, Diego.” You smile but that time it doesn’t look real at all. “Have fun tonight.”

“Wait, I--”

--you offer a wave and nothing more. Your figure crosses the room and leaves him alone in between the four walls that seemed to press into him without your comforting presence.

Maybe, you could care for him, too. As he wants you too. Is it selfish to think so?

━

THE SIXTH TIME, HE’S ALMOST ASLEEP.

Honestly, Diego isn’t sure how his head had ended up in your lap, or when his body had melted so effortlessly into your own. It wasn’t the alcohol; two beers isn’t enough to kill all of his conditioned issues or turn him into a total sop. It hadn’t even been intentional, nothing about making room or trying to do anything.

But there you are. Your thighs are his pillows and your hands kiss across his scalp, weaving through his hair like it’s yarn to be woven into something beautiful. Once in a while you pause and he thinks that that’s it, you would force him up -- but then you continue like nothing had happened and he continues to lay like a fish out of water across your legs.

Neither of you had talked about the incident before. It was simply avoidance until you both decide to brush it off and move on, forgetting all about the awkwardness. Or, at least, that’s what you silently promised.

But it’s late. Neither of you are thinking. Or, he isn’t at least, when his head slips from the couch to your thinly clad shoulder. And you hardly react when he relaxes even more, silently gesturing for him to use your thighs as a headrest as the movie neither of you are watching drones on. You make some sort of joke, something stupid and it usually wouldn’t be enough to convince him to act so foolishly. But he is tired, and you are you, and it’s all too easy to give in to you.

So he lays. Your hands in his hair. On your lap. Like a baby incapable of even sitting on his own. He should feel unbelievably stupid, right?

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” you mumble, eyes dragging off the television screen to your lap. He barely catches your soft, smiling gaze before it slips back up, but the memory sticks with him long minutes after. “Wish you’d let me play with it more.”

But he can’t bring himself to hate this moment.

He half-snorts, half-laughs because what a funny statement that is. In his state of lovesick, exhausted delirium, Diego hardly recognises himself telling you that ‘you can play with his hair any time you want’.

“Really?”

“Uh…” he had not meant to say that out loud. “I-I--”

“--thanks, honey.” Your hands linger against his temple before stroking down his wavy locks. Honey. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He pulls off of you after a short while -- not because he wants to, because he’s guilty to take your loving hands for his selfish needs. He claims the bathroom excuse and leaves with his head floating in the clouds. The domestic bliss you offer him wasn’t something he thought he wanted, before -- but every time he leaves your bubble, he finds himself more and more starved for your touch.

He leaves your place high on your smile and still stuck on the way you combed through his hair. Even after pulling away yet again, he’s still happy and actually hopeful.

Maybe, he could actually have this, more than just one random rainy night. Maybe he should try.

━

THE SEVENTH TIME, HE ALMOST KISSES YOU.

Almost, because he, Diego ‘number one himbo’ Hargreeves is a self-labelled idiot who loses all cognitive abilities and brain cells when he lays eyes on you, and fails to be able to use them for all the time you’re around him.

And it’s the moment when he finally fully comes to realise the extent of his overwhelming, absolute adoration for you.

He’s never been so bad with that sort of thing. Before he could throw an easy smile and wink his way into a heart he’d no doubt break the following morning and pull a quick-run attraction like it wasn’t anything. But with you? The idea of even your touch turned him bashful and running for the hills, you know...like an idiot.

It takes you pulling him along every single time for him to react and even then, it’s never enough. You’re always left with a pouting lip and that strange, far-off look in your eyes that tells him he’s screwed it up all over again. Every time you get close he’s too blind to react the right way.

Your head on his shoulder, the world’s at peace. He wants you to stay by his side forever. He’ll hold you as long as you want -- hell to his arms, you’re worth the ache or the crick in his neck from bending the wrong way. He’ll let his body waste away and his mind turn to cobwebs if it means an eternity on your balcony, wind in both of your hair and your hands interlacing between his own.

“This is nice,” you murmur. “Yeah?”

He nods. His chin bumps awkwardly against the crown of your head, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I don’t normally like the quiet. But it’s nice like this. With...with you…” you hesitate on the last syllables and the ‘you’ comes out thick and garbled. But he gets it anyways, and somehow he has the emotional strength to pull you even close to his hulking frame. You’re very close to sliding onto his lap and he’d be lying if the idea to just go all the way doesn’t spring to mind. But he doesn’t move.

“It’s nice, knowing you’re here. Safe, alive...with me.”

Diego smiles into your hair. “It is nice.”

Aaand the ‘most obvious statement of the year’ award goes to him. Yet again. Why do you put up with his thick-headed responses? And why can’t he explain the fuzzy feeling in his throat that he gets from being near you, and the desire to give up everything else just to exist by your side? A simple ‘yeah’ doesn’t cover that and he knows that, he knows he has to tell you the entire adoring truth but --

“I like being around you, Diego. You know that, right?”

If he’s being honest...he can’t really believe that. The idea that someone like you enjoys his company is a farfetched concept. But his head bobs up and down again anyways.

“I, uh...I like our friendship.”

Did you -- did you just friendzone him?!

Did he really just --

“--but sometimes…” you snort out a derisive laugh, “sometimes I wish we were a bit more. Y’know?”

He shifts his weight on the chair and stares down at you, unsure what to make out of any of it. “I - uh - whatdoyoumean?”

“I just, I think we’re good together.” You move too, so he can finally see the pretty way the moonlight bounces off your irises. You’re smiling, and he can’t help but smile too, hopeful and eager as a puppy would be. “And I want to, just...man, I wasn’t expecting this to be so hard to say.”

Vaguely, Diego hears himself respond with a grunt (it’s meant to be an ‘it’s okay’, but apparently English isn’t his strong suit).

“I just like having you around. A lot, if that’s not obvious. I know I’m, heh, kind of a lot sometimes. And I’m trying not to be so uh, affectionate because I know that’s a lot for some people and I never want to overstep, or--”

“--you’re not,” he says quickly, finally finding his voice after oceans of gaping. “I like you being affectionate. It’s nice.”

Your smile grows. “Okay, that’s good.” You hold his fingers a little closer and he’s on cloud nine, staring at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the modern world. “Because if I’m being completely honest here, I don’t want to stop. I...I like you. Generally, in the sense of, more than just friendship. D’you get what I’m saying here?”

“Uh…”

“I don’t want to read into things too much, but I can’t stop myself from feeling really strongly about you. And I don’t want to go on like this, without telling you I’m like, head over heels for you at this point.” You blink up at him, pleading for him to not let you down as you finish with, “is there any way you feel the same?”

What Diego should have done, and wanted to do, was to tell her exactly how he felt, and pull her to him and pull the most cheesy, most cliche Hollywood moment in all the world. He’d finally get the girl in the moonlight as the stars sing above him and the world sleeps below and it would be perfect.

What Diego actually does, is leave.

Cold, and alone, with no hand to hold and no head resting on his shoulder. He leaves you bewildered and probably pissed off and he leaves with no explanation at all -- just a garbled sentence or two that adds up to nothing. He drops his shattered heart at the door and wanders home shivering and hopeless, knowing he has just fucked it all up.

As he stares at the sidewalk and plods down the street like a lonely, hard down soul, Diego wonders if he’s deserving of your touch. If he was allowed to open up and feel your affection so strongly as you give it. He wants to like you would probably never believe. He wants to hold you and he doesn’t want to let go again. He’s starved for your touch and he’d trade the sun and stars to keep you by his side, no matter the costs.

But you’re worth more than him. Shouldn’t you offer your heart to a better, kinder man? To someone who knows how to hold you properly, and offer his touch right back? Not someone who shivers away or rejects your kindness like a parasite. But someone brave enough to feed you with all the adoration you’re worthy of. Shouldn’t he be who you seek?

Maybe, Diego muses, the universe is wrong, and the mistress is nothing but a cruel meddler too eager to break his heart.

But maybe, it’s his own fault, and she’s not cruel at all.

His pace quickens a beat, and he suddenly knows what he has to do.

━

DIEGO’S LIKE NINETY-NINE PERCENT CERTAIN THAT NO ONE, no one living soul, had ever said that the eighth time was the charm.

But if he had to be the first, hell he’d ring that bell a thousand times if it got him where he had to be.

He’s running like a madman. And he’s not drunk, even if at least five people have grumbled that about him -- no he’s as sober as the day he was forced into the world. He’s made a thirty-minute walk of hell into somehow a twelve-minute dash through the cold streets of their shitty city and he feels like a god, if gods were desperate sonofabitches who never knew how to acknowledge their feelings until it’s too late.

He takes the stairs, too high on adrenaline to wait for the elevator. He gasps and huffs and pants his way up but he makes it and keels down the hall to your door, falling against it with all his weight. It’s a foolish move but in his defense...his legs are about to give out, and all the energy he’s devoted to this half-baked, foolish, love-drunk plan is very quickly running out.

He pounds against the door weakly. “Hello? Hello? I--”

and then he literally crashes into your apartment.

You both tumble to the floor with a loud thud-thump and he’s so glad you have thick carpeting because he could have probably split your skull right open with the fall. He’s smart enough to roll, so he cushions your upper body with his, but you still groan as you make contact with the floor. His entire bone structure quakes at the feeling of ground hitting him and even with nary a breath in his throat, immediate guilt floods his system.

He falls back and silently screams, wishing he had more tact than this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” he offers with a smile. He quickly props himself up over your body and tries to look as sorry as he truly feels, though it’s hard as his breath still won’t come and he’s still absolutely exhausted from running all this way.

Why did he do all this again?

Oh, yeah.

“I-I love you,” he spurts, followed by him rolling off and promptly falling into a coughing/choking/hacking fit.

You lay beside him, silent and stunned. He can’t see you as he coughs but his mind tries to put the pieces together, and none of it looks good. You’re probably annoyed, and mad that he’s even there so late and after what happened before, and you’re probably tired, and maybe sad, or hurt, or uncomfortable because you just jumped from friends to him admitting he loves you and --

“-did you seriously run all this way and body me, just to tell me that?!”

He pulls himself together long enough to breathe and then turn so he can stare at you. You’re still beside him, body still pressed against the floor (possibly broken after having a much larger man knock you over, who knows) and you’re…

“You’re smiling,” he responds, like it’s the most shocking thing in the world. “You’re - why-”

“Last time I saw you, you were running out of my place like your ass was on fire. And now you come here, knock me on my ass, and tell me you love me?! Diego...uh...wow.”

Diego just stares back at her. He’s still struggling to breathe and if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he can function after any of this. He just wasted so much of his courage (something he’s never been good at keeping stock of) on just getting here, how is he supposed to collect himself and head out the door with any sense of dignity? Or answer you in any way, shape or form? How is he supposed to even move when you’re looking at him like that?

Wait, you’re...you’re looking at him like that. Smiling, doe-eyed, honey-sweet and beautiful even after being violently collided with and forced to your shitty carpet…

“I love you,” he breaths, soft but still sure. He grins back at you and he feels like an idiot but he holds strong. “And I’m really sorry about before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just, all this stuff is stuff I’ve never done before, and I--”

And without another word or even the chance to think, your lips are on his.

Well, they probably were meant to be. What really happens is with a grunt and a swift push, you shift over to him and move to kiss him, only you’re both still smiling and absolute idiots who then just bang teeth against teeth. And you’re left groaning and keeling back, both gripping your mouths while still smiling and,

Ohmygodthisisamessbutohmygodishesohappyandinlovewithyou.

“I’m so sorry,” you groan, muffled behind your hand.

“Me too -- for knocking you over, too!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckle, and lift up again. You hover above him. His nose just barely brushes against yours and he’s straight back into heaven again, even as the embarrassment floods and his teeth ache. “I mean, I would have preferred a bit more warning, but...at least you don’t hate me.”

Diego grins and lifts his hand to push a tendril of hair behind your ear. “I could never hate you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hmm. I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes and shove at his chest. His heart beats even faster. “Like I could ever hate you.”

He lifts his head, trying to pull himself up to meet your lips, but you dart away just enough so he can’t. “Can - can we try this again?”

“Mm…” you pretend to consider his request like one would a business proposal. Your thighs tighten their grip around his stomach and a part of him just wants to pull you in and act as his heart pleads. But, given the last time he did that...and the last time you did...he’ll take this slow.

Instead of answering, you lean down and press your lips to his. It’s gentle and leisurely, but he takes every motion in stride. You’re everything he expected and more. Soft petals of reddened flesh against his, your hips just barely grazing against his own, making him want to pull you into his body and never let you leave his side. He’s jubilant and exhilarated and he almost laughs like a baby as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip.

“If it isn’t obvious,” you breathe as you pull away, “from the way I let you tackle me to my floor,”

“I’m really sorry about that,”

You pull his hand up and intertwine your fingers, shaking your ‘head’ no. “I love your touch-starved ass too, Diego.”

“Good, cause this would have been--”

“--no more talking, chatterbox. Just kiss me and shut up.”

And he lets go of the maybes, and just loves you.

SECOND A/N...this ending is just ackwa!?!hiwogh. very annoyed with how it went, but if you know me, you know i suck at conclusions in every sense of the world and i also always leave them to the very last minute, meaning i’m typing this note as i read over the ending and hate it even more. and i’m sorry for the vague messiness of this! I had an idea, failed to deliver it the way i wanted, and a cool thought turned into a half-baked fic. thank you to those who read this, sorry’s also extended your ways because i know this isn’t fantastic. lmao.

- xx

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #hargreeves x reader #hargreeves oneshot

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kittyprincessofcats · 3 years

Text

She-Ra S5 E09 - An Ill Wind

In which the Best Friend Squad’s back on Etheria and I’m back to writing up my thoughts about it. (The real question is whether I’ll manage to finish these posts before season 5’s one-year-anniversary.) I probably really don’t need to say this anymore, but there might be spoilers for the rest of the season in this post.

- I think it’s funny how Catra can’t stand teleporting, but what’s even more important is how visibly concerned for her Adora is each time. Have you seen how she touches Catra’s shoulders and looks at her with such a worried expression? D’awww.

- “Wow, you don’t trust the princesses? I am shocked.” No Glimmer, Catra’s 100% right. This has nothing to do with trusting the princesses; you really don’t know who’s chipped and which places are occupied by clones. Perfuma literally told you the rebellion was compromised.

- “Catra’s right.” THANK YOU, ADORA! (Also, I love Catra’s satisfied little smirk in the background when Adora says this.)

- I just paused the episode when they arrive in Erelandia and counted the Horde flags you can see hanging all over the town: 14, plus one giant Horde sign in the sky and a spire not too far away. Prime, are you compensating for something? (Also, Adora has an arm on Catra’s back again. Cute.)

- Is it a little disappointing that all the rebellions against Horde Prime on other planets got reduced to one brief exposition scene where a clone mentions they’re happening and a few quick images? Yeah. But I also get why the show just didn’t have the time for more and wanted to focus on Etheria.

- Speaking of, are those the magicats we see in the second image? Interesting… I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of Catra potentially being an alien as well. But then again, the show never clearly answers it one way or another, and there’s no reason magicats couldn’t have existed on multiple planets.

- Also, am I understanding this right: The Star Siblings started the intergalactic rebellion after meeting the Best Friend Squad? And now there are already rebels on several planets? Nice job, Star Siblings!

- “My heart aches for these misguided children.” I’m not sure if I’ve ever properly addressed the heavily religious symbolism around Horde Prime and his cult, but… that right there is *such* a Christian-extremist-coded line, holy hell…

- So Prime says he wants to use the Heart of Etheria “to bring peace to all the universe” and at this point I’m not entirely sure what his exact goal is. Does he just want to destroy all the planets with the Heart? Because I’ll be honest, I tend to find “I just want to destroy everything” a bit boring as a motivation in villains. What’s the point of him ruling the universe if there’s no one left to rule over? I mean, I know Prime had his whole “If there’s no one left, there are no wars, etc.” speech in an earlier episode, but that’s also just so dumb.

- Where did the Best Friend Squad even get those cloaks? Either way, Catra looks adorable with the outline of her ears showing under the hood. 🥺

- “I hope you, too, are full only of love for Horde Prime… and have no crippling doubt eating at your soul.” / “Brothers, there is nothing to see here!” Like I said in an earlier post, all of Wrong Hordak’s lines are absolute winners. Also, I love how the other clones just keep falling for his very obvious bluffs.

- Wrong Hordak learning to wink so quickly makes me jealous because I can’t wink. (No, I really can’t; I’ve tried. Whenever I try to only close one eye, I always end up closing both. If anyone has good advice on learning to wink, let me know.)

- I love the character designs of the mushroom people.

- Catra wasn’t wrong about the locals selling them out and not telling them anything useful. The others should listen to her more.

- Bow posing as the “average traveler passing though” is especially funny because I’m pretty sure there are no “travelers passing through” in times of Horde Prime.

Catra: “A town that hates princesses? Should I buy property here?”

Everyone else: *glares*

Catra: “Is what I would have said before I joined you. Go, team.”

😂😂😂 Catra’s quiet little “Go, team” in the end is what gets me most about this moment 😂. She’s adorable and trying her best, okay?

- I love how Wrong Hordak just calls everyone “brother” regardless of gender. Also, Adora’s little “Did you just wink at me?” / “That’s not how winking works!” moments are hilarious and adorable.

- “You’re wearing hooded cloaks, it’s highly suspicious.” Okay, mushroom lady’s not wrong, though. And I love how someone finally points this out, since hooded cloaks are so often used as “undercover” disguises in shows like this.

- That said, both she and mushroom guy earlier did try to sell the Best Friend Squad out super quickly. Like, I get that the locals are scared, but still… They could have tried to stay safe without running towards the clones to tell them everything right away.

- I’m just noticing that Erelandia has mushrooms everywhere. Obviously the people are mushrooms, but there are also mushrooms growing outside in the streets everywhere, and the shop they’re in is selling mushrooms and clothes with mushrooms on them as well.

- Both Bow and Glimmer blowing their covers almost immediately and Adora just quietly shaking her head at both of them in the background is amazing.

- Love Catra (and Melog) just casually stealing a mushroom from a mushroom lady.

- So Catra’s just chilling in a tree and eating stolen mushrooms and Entrapta wants to analyze samples that’ll be ready in 4-6 weeks – neither of them’s really helping right now. But then again, Catra wanted to leave in the first place because she thought the locals would sell them out (and she was right about that), so she probably thinks it’s not worth the effort.

- Also, you know who this scene with Entrapta and Catra is missing? Scorpia. If there is one problem I have with season 5, it’s that we didn’t get any Super Pal Trio reunion / moments with all of them on the same side now. (Or just in general, that we didn’t get to see Scorpia and Catra properly talking things out.)

- “That’s the windy one, right?” Okay, am I the only one who finds this line weird? Spinnerella literally has Adora, Bow and Glimmer trapped in a tornado as Entrapta says this. Obviously she’s “the windy one”? Entrapta can literally see that??

- “Lord Prime has given me peace.” Oh, I’m just realizing that’s just what Catra said when she was chipped. That’s got to be awful for Adora to hear again.

- Glimmer grabbing Bow and Adora’s hands and teleporting them out of the tornado was badass.

Adora: “How are we supposed to fight our own friends?”

Catra: “It never stopped you before.”

OMG. I love that Catra still considers their time as enemies as “being friends”.

- I really love Netossa’s entrance. What makes it really cool to me is that at that point the Best Friend Squad didn’t even know if there were any unchipped princesses left, so Netossa jumping in there with a casual “Welcome back, guys” was just an amazing moment.

- Also, I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but I really like that this season finally made Spinnerella and Netossa more important characters. (And I wonder how much network censorship of LGBT+ storylines had to do with them not being that important earlier on.)

- Hordak getting flashbacks of Entrapta again (while Prime looks at his older body’s memories) is just 🥺. I like how Prime talks about Etheria while Hordak slowly remembers more and more about his own life on Etheria.

- “So, the only person I’m fighting here is… my own wife.” I love the on-screen confirmation that they’re married! But also, Netossa wanting to attack Catra and Wrong Hordak at first was pretty funny.

- Catra and Glimmer’s respective expressions when they hear about Scorpia and Micah being chipped are a gut punch. Also, Netossa talking about how she has to get Spinnerella back is making me tear up.

- “Where are the rebels?” “Right beside you!” 😂😂😂 Amazing, just amazing.

- Love to see Catra taking out those bots. She’s so badass ❤️.

- “Be careful.” “Always am.” I wonder at what point Netossa started to realize what’s going on between Catra and Adora.

- Love Netossa whistling at She-Ra’s new look. Your wife’s right there, darling. But then again, who wouldn’t whistle at She-Ra’s new look?

- Honestly, why did anyone ever say Spinnerella and/or Netossa were weak? Their fight here really shows how powerful both of them are when they don’t hold back.

- “Stop holding back. She won’t.” Looking past how hard this must be for Netossa, this line really sums up why so many characters in shows like this seemingly become more powerful when they turn evil (or less powerful when they turn good): Because the bad guys have no reason to hold back.

- Adora firing a rainbow beam from her sword was amazing. I wish we’d gotten to see a bit more of She-Ra’s new powers this season.

- “Please. I love you. Come back to me.” I’m crying 😢. That’s a nice first taste of all the “I love you”s to come in the finale. And I love that it works (even if just for a bit). The whole “power of love helps you break free from mind control” thing might be a cliché, but it’s a cliché I love, so…yay, awesome!

- But also, and I’ll probably talk about this more when I get to the next episode (that I had a few problems with), I like how Netossa doesn’t only rely on the power of love, but still realizes she has to first fight Spinnerella without holding back to get her into a position where they can even have this talk.

- Yay, mushroom town is saved!

- Catra reassuring Netossa that Spinnerella will be okay was so sweet. She’s really trying to be nice and I think she’s doing great 🥺. (Also, Adora looks at her so proudly.)

- I just noticed that when She-Ra replaces the Horde symbol in the sky with her sword symbol, all the Horde flags around town are already gone, too. Did Catra, Glimmer and the others just like… take all of those flags down in between fighting the bots? Or did Wrong Hordak maybe walk around taking off the flags while the others were fighting?

- That said, the rainbow sword in the sky looks amazing.

- “I think Horde Prime is going to know She-Ra’s back.” “Good.” Love Adora’s determined expression here.

- Geez Horde Prime, no need to punch the screen. The screen didn’t do anything to you.

- Okay, so Horde Prime finally decides to go to Etheria himself, and when he announces that, Hordak looks at the crystal in his hand – it’s all coming together.

- “This is where the rebellion is hiding out?” “Yup. Why, have you been here?” The looks on Glimmer and Catra’s faces here are amazing. People have of course already written all kinds of amazing metas analyzing their expressions, but the short version is that Glimmer seems to remember their fight fondly, while Catra seems embarrassed.

- Perfuma trapping them all in vines and demanding to see their necks is not only hilarious, but also shows that the rebellion has learned from their past mistakes. 👍

- All of their reunions (Bow and Perfuma, Glimmer and Frosta, Adora and Swift Wind, Entrapta and Emily) were super sweet – I like big reunion scenes 🥺. Wrong Hordak meeting Emily was adorable. Perfuma clinging to Bow and crying about how she doesn’t want to be in charge anymore had me laughing so hard 😂.

- Okay so, I know Frosta’s punch breaks the mood a moment later, but I really think Adora wanting to officially introduce Catra to everyone after seeing her standing there alone while everyone else was having big reunions was super sweet. The way her face falls when she sees Catra standing there sadly, the way she asks her to come here so gently… it’s just so sweet. 🥺

- Also, unpopular opinion, but am I the only one who didn’t really find Frosta punching Catra funny? (And the same goes for Scorpia electrocuting her in the next episode, by the way.) I know these moments are meant to be cathartic “drag the former villain because some people are still mad at them” moments, but Catra’s whole story is largely about being a victim of physical abuse. Wasn’t there some way for the story to make fun of her without having other characters physically assault her? I like how Catra’s redemption was handled overall, but moments like those kind of rub me the wrong way. (Netossa trapping her in a net was fine though, because that didn’t actually harm her.)

- That said, Adora’s “Catra’s with us now. Okay? Hmm.” was hilarious. I love how she just gives the briefest explanation and then turns away from Frosta with a smile and little “hmm”, just completely expecting Frosta to be fine with this now.

- That ending shot of all of them together is epic.

So, what changed this episode is that Erelandia was freed, the space group has reunited with the remaining princesses, and Horde Prime is heading for Etheria. Good episode!

[Previous episode] [Next episode]

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belliesandburps · 3 years

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How do your OCs react to getting bellyaches?

Hakari: He'd groan miserably, firmly massaging his aching belly but trying to play it off if anyone happens by. He doesn't want to appear weak around his friends and comrades, and worries complaining about a little stomachache will just make him seem weaker. Belly rubs do him wonders, but he'd never ask for one, meaning Nara would have to just spring a surprise belly rub on the lad before he can protest.

Aidan: He'd groan for a moment, then slap his belly and let out a HUGE, flaming burp, and sigh so heavily his tongue hangs out of his fang-filled maw, right as rain. :P

Nara: In contrast, she'd rub her stomach, grimace and very casually complain that her gut's giving her all manner of grief. But since she's all about that "medicinal life," she's probably into all manner of concoctions, one of which can probably knock out an upset stomach.

Isole: He'd frown with a strained look on his face, firmly kneading into his grumbly tummy, and ask Aidan if he'd mind rubbing his belly for him. Aidan's warm hands on Isole's aching, chilly stomach does wonders for him.

Lowell: He'd growl at his own stomach, holding it firmly and trying to rub it, then complain that it hurts to his human companion, but basically just accept that his stomach's gonna hurt for a while, til she administers belly rubs.

Drayce: Like Hakari, he hates showing weakness. Unlike Hakari, however, Drayce gets very irritable when his stomach's bothering him. He slinks off into a corner, sneering with some strain on his face as he subtly rubs his belly with one hand, and if anyone asks if he's okay, he'll snap back that he's fine and fly off to be alone (regretting jostling his belly around instantly...)

Runo: He'll literally whine like a big baby that his belly hurts and keep whining at Sonia until she starts rubbing his belly. Despite her fetish, if she's busy, she'll tell him to be patient, but then he'll kick the door open and whine in her ear. (kicks door) "Soniaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...! My gut's all grumblyyyyyyy...! :O " She'll simultaneously be blushing and having a vein sticking out at the same time, tired of his bullshit. 'XD

Roarke: He'll grimace and nurse his gut while it gurgles heavily, and muffle some deep burps in his mouth. He's honest that his stomach doesn't feel great, but he'll flash a semi-confident smirk that he'll be fine. Spoiler alert. He won't be. :P

Kentaro: Doesn't get bellyaches, and the only reason he ever gets anything resembling one is because an inanimate object he swallowed doesn't agree with his system. In which case, he'll just burp it out and spit with disgust at the flavor.

Cadmus: He'll sneer in annoyance, firmly kneading his gut with one hand, otherwise, he'll just ignore it and deal.

Koloss: He'll groan miserably and muffle some pretty hefty burps in his mouth like he's getting nauseous. Then, he'll bark at one of his goons to rub his belly or be eaten instead.

Kai: Like Aidan, Kai will typically just belch ferociously as a torrent of flames spews from his maw. But since he's carnivorous, sometimes, the bones aren't sitting right in his belly, in which case, if he's lucky, he can burp them out. Otherwise, he's going to end up regurgitating them unpleasantly.

Nero: His nanobots will immediately flush out any foreign object that isn't agreeing with his systems, because he's Runo, only not a dumbass, and is much better at using his system to the fullest.

Mako: He gets very nauseous-looking; hugging his aching belly and letting his tongue stick out as he huffs and whines that his stomach feels REAAAALLY not great right now. Then, he'll go swimming because if you swim too soon after eating, you'll give yourself a stomachache...but if you ALREADY have a stomachache, then two negatives should cancel each other out...for some reason, it never has... :/

Mauler: He'll hiccup sickly, letting his long, inhuman tongue hang from his maw, then he'll rest his clawed hands against his aching belly, and snarl at his said belly, threatening to bite it...

Kasumi: He's undead. His body isn't capable of getting bellyaches anymore. The worst that ever happens if he consumes too much shade is he'll just burp and he'll make some comment about pacing himself with the souls better.

Rameel: He'll ham it up, leaning back and rubbing his aching belly, going on about how miserable it feels, and coaxing anyone nearby into rubbing it for him, showering them with compliments and praise until they're compelled to nurse his aching gut. Because again, Rameel knows how to play people.

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cybernaght · 3 years

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Guardian rewatch: episode 10

The tone of this recap is going to be the crackiest so far. The production quality plummets dramatically here, in a way which is as unintentionally hilarious as it is endearing. I have very little of import to say on events of this episode, and there is nothing much for me to hyper focus on, so a lot of this write-up are snark and bad jokes. Apologies in advance. I would not be getting annoyed at a show I did not care about.

Day two of the Road Trip starts with Zhao Yunlan waking up with a splitting headache and his own jacket draped carefully over him. I choose to believe Shen Wei left it there.

Zhao Yunlan wakes up - and discovers that Wang Zheng had slipped a sedative into the party’s water, effectively knocking them all out. He even discovers that she left her doll-body behind as a decoy; thankfully, it’s still Li Siqi and not the blow-up doll from the previous episode.

With the daunting realisation that he’s been betrayed, Zhao Yunlan instantly spirals into hurt and anger, and this is the moment Shen Wei chooses to appear out to nowhere. He enters offering comfort, his entire focus on making Zhao Yunlan feel better by assuring the man that his subordinate is not one of the bad guys, but rather one of the self-sacrificing ones. How SID manages to function when it’s full of people with non-existent sense of self-preservation is beyond me.

“Professor Shen, why are you okay?”

Zhu Hong narrows her eyes. Zhao Yunlan’s look is the one of vulnerability, not suspicion, almost as if he is silently asking to please not be betrayed by his newest partner.

“I didn’t drink the water she gave me.”

Another thing I would like to question here is the reasoning behind Shen Wei waiting until the morning with this. He knew that Wang Zheng was about to do something, since he refrained from drinking the water she offered. Everyone else being unconscious would be a perfect opportunity for him to go full Hei Pao Shi on her, or follow her quietly, or do literally anything but wait for the morning.

“What is your purpose of coming here?” Shen Wei asks because he needs to know how much Zhao Yunlan knows. He does so with a perfect set of puppy eyes.

We cut to Wang Zheng entering the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, and witness the absolute devastation of her hearing her love’s voice for the first time in a century, as he mistakes her for the enemy and calls her a rat.

I should say that while I’m not always on board with Li Siqi in this show, props to her for acting her heart out opposite a literal pillar. Her reunion with Sang Zan is incredibly touching; she really is wonderful here.

Flashback 1. The execution of Ge Lan.

This method of execution seems so inefficient, I actually tried to find if it has any legs in history. As my research yielded exactly no results, I am guessing this is the producers showing hanging without actually showing hanging. They kind of accidentally made the whole affair infinitely worse. People are weaker than gravity, the angle offers no possibility of the neck being broken, so this would be a very slow, and very painful death. Yikes, is all I can say.

Flashback 2. The montage.

Sigh.

This imagery is so carelessly contemporary it’s killing me. I’m not saying it’s completely impossible for the heart shape to have been known to represent love in this fictional tribe on a fictional planet. I’m just saying it’s a boring shorthand for romance, made worse by the fact that so much of the show’s imagery is otherwise fairly intelligent. I am not angry, I’m just disappointed.

Wang Zheng and Sang Zan’s reunion triggers another earthquake, which is felt all the way back in the village, and shortly thereafter Zhu Jiu interrupts the couple, knocking Wang Zheng out. This - her being knocked unconscious - cuts to Zhao Yunlan wincing while clutching at his temples, which almost implies that he can feel it when his people are in danger. Which would be very cool if true.

Shen Wei, in the meanwhile is remarkably good at keeping his Professor’s mask on the whole time, offering enough information without betraying his own knowledge or motives, but it is clear by now that Zhao Yunlan starts to see right through it.

The chief sprints into action when Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng arrive, instructing the two to join him in investigation. Shen Wei opens his mouth to volunteer to come with, but ends up hesitating before saying anything out loud.

Zhu Hong, too, makes a move to go after the three men, but is firmly instructed to say behind and look after Shen Wei. She proceeds to loudly explain that this is the wrong time and place to be fussing over this guy.

Shen Wei looks like he has no idea what to do with this display of emotion.

Zhao Yunaln whispers to Zhu Hong to watch the professor for him: which could equally be him manipulating the Yashou into staying, or a sinking realisation that Shen Wei will actually try to join them either way, or genuine desire to find out what the professor will do next. Or, indeed, a combination of the above. Zhu Hong will attack her task with conviction.

Sure enough, Shen Wei finally voices his desire to go with the group. Zhu Hong reminds him that he has his own people to look after and instructs him to return to the house with barely contained resentment.

Shen Wei will predictably try to sneak out very shortly afterwards, and will be, equally predictably, caught by Zhu Hong. Why the man who can teleport would not just teleport out of the house before proceeding on foot is anyone’s guess.

“He surprisingly views you as a good friend”, says Zhu Hong when she stops Shen Wei from leaving. “You surely noticed it, right?”

He certainly did, although he will always have trouble realising that he is actually cared about in a way which is anything but casual.

Shen Wei obediently sits down and follows Zhu Hong’s instructions as she attempts to hypnotise him. Those instructions are anything but subtle.

“Professor Shen, look at the flame closely”.

Meanwhile, the other party has successfully deduced the location of the Hanga tribe cave/shrine, and heads there, only to find no visible entrance. Thankfully, gaining access to the mountain is not particularly hard for the party. Mostly because this part of the mountain is made of foam.

This is where I want to metaphorically pat Guardian on its non-existent head, cooing, “Oh, Guardian. Baby. What have you done.”

On the bright side, this is also where Guo Changcheng accidentally shocks Zhao Yunlan with the Fear Stick, and Chu Shuzhi literally gives him a thumbs up. Those two are a duo for the ages.

Youchu appear to fight our heroes, and after the first wave is eliminated, Zhao Yunlan decides to go inside, leaving the other two fend them off near the entrance. Considering that the beasts are all hiding inside the cave, rushing in without backup seems incredibly ill advised. Zhao Yunlan instructs Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng to run away if the danger becomes too great. Which he must know surely that they would never do: his department does not leave people behind, and his subordinates will never abandon him.

To no one’s surprise, the cave is crawling with Youchu. Zhao Yunlan goes on the offensive, kicking the feet out of the monster, but failing to incapacitate it. I am going to do my best to ignore how the scale of the beast fluctuates as it falls down, and focus on Bai Yu’s excellent reaction when his character realises that he is about to very much die.

Luckily for our protagonist, Hei Pao Shi sends a ward his way with a note, warning him of the danger ahead and ordering him to return. Zhao Yunlan makes no move to do as instructed and uses the upper hand he’s gained on the Youchu to get out his gun. Before he can fire however, he once more experiences the painful flashback of the devastation this gun carries, and freezes.

This is when Shen Wei shows up in person, jumping in front of the gun and gutting the beast.

The jumping in front of the gun part of the action is sweet, because it indicates, albeit indirectly, the absolute trust Shen Wei must have in Zhao Yunlan’s instincts, knowing that the man will not accidentally shoot him in the back.

The gutting itself happens in reverse grip, with Shen Wei being easily within reach of the beast’s long stabby claws, and as such really questionable to me in terms of logic. I would have not minded it if he had been moving through the space in front of the beast, slicing it while passing through. That would be at least an indicator of both speed and dexterity enough to make me believe Shen Wei made a clever avoidance of the claws. But he doesn’t: he just materialises dead-on in front of the monster and the later just.. lets itself be killed.

Let’s just say that maybe the beast is supposed to be deliberately slow here, and park the long essay in regards to the bladework until the next episode.

“Chief Zhao, are you alright?”

Everything about Hei Pao Shi in this moment screams of Shen Wei-ness. Well, maybe not the sword. But the obvious concern, the tone of voice, the general air: it’s all Shen Wei. It’s remarkable that Zhao Yunlan does not see it. Or maybe, I suppose, he does, without even realising it. His cheeky grin suddenly appears; the corners of his eyes crinkle, as he goes into a very long-winded, almost flirtatious away about thanking Hei Pao Shi, teasing him for not always arriving on time.

Unperturbed, Shen Wei chides Zhao Yunlan for not listening to his warning, and Zhao Yunlan defends himself in a very playful kind of manner, adding that he’s not leaving his people behind. To Shen Wei, this is to be expected, so instead of arguing he goes into a lot of detail on how the road ahead is dangerous, as if he is not really expecting Zhao Yunlan to accept help.

He is wrong of course: proud though he may be, Chief Zhao knows when he is outgunned and outnumbered, and only grins, happy for the Envoy to join him on his mission.

Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan exploring the cave is interspersed with pretty damn harrowing scenes of Zhu Jiu torturing Wang Zheng as her trapped lover screams for mercy. It’s a lot; in fact it’s so much even the cave ghosts attempt to intervene, because while they may be very much pro-murder, they are evidently anti-torture.

As the two keep exploring, they bump into another three of the beasts, which Shen Wei slays in three slick moves. It’s actually pretty cool, despite slightly sketchy teleportation effects.

“Wow!”

(Apparently, this “wow” made Zhu Yilong corpse so much he nearly laughed his mask off. Which sounds adorable)

Shen Wei proceeds to inquire Zhao Yunlan about the gun, party to confirm that it is indeed the dark energy weapon he knows, and partly having noticed that the other man failed to fire it. I wonder how many times Zhao Yunlan froze in the past, considering how easily he once again slips into his mask of playful deflection, claiming that he never planned to fire the gun at all. It’s almost tragic how this person keeps feeling like he needs to prove his own capabilities over and over again.

Interestingly enough, in this particular case Hei Pao Shi actually does own up to a weakness. It’s calculated: he knows this is something Zhao Yunlan must already be aware of, but still, “full disclosure” is not something Shen Wei usually does when it comes to his own capacities.

What he admits to, on the other hand, does not seem very consistent with the rest of the show. He says that he can only use half of his power above ground, which - okay. But he also states that he can’t spend a lot of time here, and I am a little bit… confused? He lives above ground. He spends absolute majority of his time here. I really don’t want to think of this as a writing inconsistency, so please let me know what I have missed; I’ll appreciate it.

Hearing the admission, Zhao Yunlan grows serious for once, asking which they they should be going next. Shen Wei barely smothers a smug smirk seconds before he scries the surroundings with unbelievable panache.

Show off

Unfortunately, his search does not yield any result, as whatever readings he is getting are muddled by the Hallow. Luckily for them, and to Shen Wei’s great dismay, Zhao Yunlan has the Dial on him which he is uses as a compass.

Shen Wei’s wordless reaction conveys a million questions from “what the hell?” to “are you completely stupid?”

Instead of asking any of those things, he settles for a more neutral “I’ve told you not to use the Hallows.”

“You are very much like a friend of mine”, remarks Zhao Yunlan.

Which is, incidentally, also the title of this episode.

Even behind the mask it’s clear to see Shen Wei’s blind panic as he realises he may have just blown his cover sky high. Fortunately, Zhao Yunlan reads the reaction as bashfulness rather than existential despair, and laughs it off.

Now that they know which way to go, they finally make it to the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, which now has Wang Zheng tied to it.

This show sure does like tying their characters to totems containing souls of people significant to them, huh?

In all seriousness though, as parallels go, this one is… uh… unparalleled.

(I am so very sorry.)

Zhao Yunlan makes a move towards his trapped subordinate, but Hei Pao Shi, again in a way which is extremely Shen Wei-like, grabs at his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Zhao Yunlan obediently halts, and calls Zhu Jiu out, correctly guessing that the Undergrounder lured them here deliberately. Shen Wei, on the other hand, relays in a hushed tone information what he had observed so far: namely, that the Hallow stored here is the Dire Awl, and that something is incredibly fishy about Wang Zheng.

As he does so, he is staring at Zhao Yunlan’s lips. It is neither the time, nor the place, but hey, I’m not complaining.

They have a brief discussion about the next moves, in which Shen Wei just says he would like to try something, and Zhao Yunlan nods, letting him do it without asking for any details.

Flashback 3: the Backstory.

We hear the full tragic tale of Ge Lan and Sang Zan: how they met, representatives of the warring sides of the conflict, two people from two different worlds; how their love did not stop the awful bloodshed; how it could not be enough to overpower the politics; how it lead to Ge Lan’s death, and, finally, how Sang Zan could not bring her back to him. They hear how the man changed once he lost the only person he cared about.

Zhao Yunlan is visibly moved by this story, recognising echoes of it in himself.

“The most basic dignity of a man is to ensure that the person in his heart stays safe. If the person I love gets destroyed in my own hands ruined under the system I established myself, it’s very likely I’ll hate these people more than I hated the former tribe leader.”

How much did he harden after his mother was taken away from him? How much of his initial hatred of all those from the Underground stems from that day? And, of course, how much will it break him when he will not be gifted this dignity in his own future?

Shen Wei is near vibrating with how much his very soul resonates with the tale he has just heard. He, who has met someone from the other world, who was lost that person, is visibly weighed down by his own memories.

“That’s right. Even if they’re cut into a myriad of pieces, the hatred would be hard to dissolve.”

Zhao Yunlan stares at the other man, astounded, wondering what hardships and losses the Envoy endured in his long and eventful life, as the episode draws to a close.

And I am left here trying to soothe my aching heart, bruised once more by this show’s relentless fatalism.

Next up, episode 11: Oh Boy Do I Have Sword Opinions

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Notes.

Look. It’s been a long week okay. Besides, I am basically marathoning my way through Zhu Yilong’s entire filmography.

The normal service in terms of analysis will hopefully resume next week.

#guardian #shen wei #zhao yunlan #recap #rewatch #sometimes my brain is like this

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juyeoniemyhoney · 4 years

Text

a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

You love Jungkook. You’ve always known that much. But after living under the same roof for a year, you finally realise that your love for Jungkook is not at all platonic but in all ways romantic. Your feelings only build as another year passes and finally, one grocery run later, you tell him how you feel. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t end well.

-pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

-genre: angst, just angst all the way.

-warnings: swearing, Jungkook’s a little bit of an ass in this one

-word count: 3775 words

-A/N: hii this is my first time posting on tumblr but i’ve been writing since like 2016 lol. i hope you like this depressing imagine and stay tuned for more imagines that are coming soon. also, i don’t really even like the ending and i feel like i dragged this out wayyyy more than i should have but oh well, i hope you enjoy it anyway. please let me know what you think and feel free to leave feedback so that i can improve!

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When you decided to live with your best friend, you should’ve known you were bound to fall in love.

Flashback to senior year of high school. The two of you had miraculously graduated with incredibly average grades. Jungkook got into university solely because of his outstanding performance on the rugby team and you had gotten in thanks to pure luck. Seriously though, that was a really close shave. Anyway, the decision to live together when the two of you realised that you were going to the same university came as easy as a spring breeze.

Which thus began the deterioration of your heart.

Ever since you met Jungkook in your first year of primary school, his big eyes and beaming smile had always tugged at something in your chest. You had never denied this feeling, assuming it was because you love Jungkook, which you did, just platonically. But having to live with Jungkook made you realise that even though you were with him most of the time, you never really wanted to leave his side.

For years, you had denied any thought that maybe you might be in love with Jungkook. But you had taken every single thought by the throat and stuffed it deep, deep down inside you, into the deepest, darkest corners of your being, forgotten and left to rot. Every single time your heart fluttered when you looked at him, every single time your skin tingled when he touched you, every single time your cheeks blushed when he did something for you, you had stopped yourself from feeling those things, those pesky little butterflies in your stomach because Jungkook is your best friend, nothing more, nothing less. Even though you know that he always meant more to you than you did to him.

The one thing you dreaded once you realised that you love Jungkook more than a friend, was your monthly grocery run. When the both of you had first bought the flat — which you had only been able to afford thanks to Jungkook’s kind, high-rolling parents — you had both agreed to always go grocery shopping together, no matter what. You’re not really sure how this agreement came about, but at the time, it didn’t really matter to you because Jungkook was just Jungkook then.

But now that Jungkook is Jungkook, your crush, your heart cannot help but swell with how domestic grocery shopping with Jungkook always sounds.

And grocery shopping with Jungkook is what you are going through right now.

Right now, a year after realising that you are romantically in love with Jungkook and two years after moving in with your best friend, Jungkook stands next to you in the feminine products aisle, holding a crumpled piece of paper with grocery items carelessly scrawled on it, his other hand on the shopping cart that is a quarter-filled with household items that the two of you need to last until the next month. Despite how this situation is not at all scary, your heart beats like you are hanging precariously over a high ledge, palms clamming up as you nervously ball up the fabric of your shirt.

“Which one is it?” Your saliva is stuck halfway down your throat when he asks the question, causing you to choke and cough the saliva up. You seriously need to get better at hiding your nervousness around him, if this even counts as hiding it, seeing as how you are literally not being normal, cool, or calm. You mentally face palm yourself for being you.

“Um, I don’t see it,” you reply as calmly as you can, relaxing a little when you hear that your voice does not waver at all.

“Here! Isn’t it this one?” Jungkook exclaims suddenly, scaring the absolute shit out of you and causing you to jump up in surprise, letting out a squeak when you see that it is the brand of pads that you use. You shove the thought that Jungkook does pay attention to you and tell yourself that it is because he has to see it on top of the cabinet in your shared bathroom every time he goes into it. He has lived with you for two years, of course he knows what brand you use, you idiot.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter as you throw three packets into the cart before walking off, hands casually locked behind you as you roam the aisles, not sparing Jungkook another glance as he pushes the cart and follows behind you. You refuse to look at Jungkook and have your cheeks heat up again, especially not after he caught you blushing when you first met up with him fifteen minutes ago.

Despite the fact that Jungkook had gotten into university solely thanks to rugby, he had surprised everyone by deciding to major in film. Though you had been a little surprised, you knew that film, or anything that had to do with a camera for that matter, had always fascinated Jungkook. And now in his third year of university and a certified adult, Jungkook had decided to get a job and stop relying on his parents. A little later than everyone else, but at least he finally decided to stop splurging the monthly allowance he got on cocktail nights at the bar around the corner. The job he got was a good step for Jungkook but a horrible one for you for he had decided to audition for a modelling company. And he got in.

Which is why you don’t want to even spare him a glance. Because Jungkook had just gotten off work which meant that he had his hair done up, soft strands of light brown styled so that it was out of his eyes, allowing the light to hit his usually hidden, dark brown eyes, turning them a golden brown that reminded you of slow-dripping, melted caramel. And even though all he is wearing is a sky blue shirt and navy slacks, your mind and heart is going absolutely feral at how well they compliment him, high-waisted slacks cinching his waist and loose shirt hanging off of his broad shoulders. You realise that your arms ache to hold him.

“What’s next on the list?” you ask, derailing your thoughts, as you nonchalantly survey the aisles so that you don’t have to turn around and look at Jungkook, even though you want to. You want to look and never stop. But he can’t know that.

“Cereal,” he answers, catching up to you so that he is walking next to you, the end of his sleeve brushing the top of your shoulder. You give into your urge to look up at him and immediately, as if someone has punched you right in the gut, the wind is knocked out of your lungs because he is already staring down at you, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips up. You can quite literally feel your pupils dilate and you pray to god that he did not see it as you quickly but— you hope —casually turn your gaze away from him, nonchalantly asking, “Oh, we ran out?”

“Yeah,” he replies, stopping to retrieve the cereal from the shelf. You reach out too but he beats you to it, knowing full well that you will never be able to reach the cereal that only sits on the highest shelf. Your heart stops for a while when you can feel him unintentionally press into you, chest brushing up on your ponytail, heat radiating from his body and pulling sweat from the pores of your palms. But the warmth quickly retracts with him as he pulls away from the shelf and haphazardly dumps the box of cereal into the cart before setting off, pushing the cart forward and out of the aisle, leaving your frozen form in the dust.

You quickly snap out of it and follow Jungkook.

As you trail behind him, pretending to look at products along the way so that you can stay behind him and play with your thoughts, your mind wanders off. All too suddenly, you are daydreaming, imagining yourself as courageous as you confess your harboured feelings to Jungkook. In this alternate universe that your imaginative mind has created, Jungkook beams down at you and accepts your confession, confessing that he too had been harbouring feelings for you. Jungkook calling your name snaps you out of your delusions.

“Y/n?”

It takes you a little too long to realise that he is talking to you but when you do, you reply with the most flustered, the most nervous sounding what you have ever heard leave your mouth.

“I asked you if you wanted Nutella,” Jungkook patiently asks again. Far too nervous to properly internalise the question and reply with a proper answer, you haphazardly shake your head and pretend to wander off into an aisle filled with shampoo. You honestly don’t know why you said no. Nutella runs in your blood and your stupid diet — which is really just you being far too lazy to actually get up and make food — has your body aching for Nutella. But your pride runs deeper than you expect and you do not correct yourself, allowing Jungkook pass by the Nutella without another glance.

Now back to overthinking. One of the reasons why you liking Jungkook is so bad is because, well, he has a fucking girlfriend, one who he loves very much. Plus, as if the universe absolutely fucking hated you, Jungkook had told you about said girlfriend, on the bloody day that your stupid ass had finally realised that you were romantically attracted and in love with Jungkook. And as if punching you in the face wasn’t enough, the universe had pierced your heart with the fact that you knew this girl. He had started dating Yoora. And you loved Yoora. Or more specifically, you found it humanly impossible to hate that girl.

Ever the polite and sweet girl, Yoora had helped you pick up the wind-scattered pages of the love story you had written, handing them to you with a sweet smile and wishing you a good day ahead as she walked off. After that, you seemed to see her everywhere. So much so, that she had finally decided to approach you one day and become acquainted with you.

The aching pain of your unrequited love only continued, with each glance at Jungkook. You had also third-wheeled on a number of their dates and watching Jungkook look at Yoora, or someone who wasn’t you for that matter, with so much love squeezed your heart painfully, as if the universe was trying to wring a towel dry and your heart so happened to be said towel.

And Yoora being nice to you isn’t helping either. She has always looked at you kindly even though you are literally living with her boyfriend. Maybe she has always assumed you are gay or don’t harbour any feelings for Jungkook, or maybe she has always thought the best of you, that even if you did have feelings for Jungkook, you would never even dare try for him.

So how on earth are you supposed to love him when Yoora’s kind and understanding eyes always flash through your mind when you think about Jungkook? How on earth are you supposed to hate her for stealing Jungkook away from you when she has been nothing but nice to you? But at the same time, how on earth are you supposed to like Yoora when she is the reason Jungkook is impatiently waiting for you to finish with your last year in university so that you can finally move out? How on earth are you supposed to like her when she is all that occupies Jungkook’s mind, leaving you forgotten like you are some childhood toy that Jungkook has grown out of? How are you supposed to live at all when those three fucking words take over your body like a goddamn curse, seizing control of your feelings like your heart is some kind of airplane and your feelings for Jungkook are forcing your heart into a nosedive, flying straight into the ground and shattering the feeble vessel?

The answer is that you can’t. You can’t fucking live.

“Is that all?” Jungkook asks you after about ten minutes. You did not even notice that you were lost in your shitty thoughts for that long. When you raise your head to look at the cart instead of the floor, you see that it is filled with groceries that will be a pain in the ass to carry home alone. Right, you totally forgot Jungkook is meeting Yoora right after this, which means you’ll probably have to carry everything back by yourself, seeing as how you’ve been carrying groceries home by yourself for the past three months.

“Yeah,” you reply after your eyes lazily scan over the items, looking up to give Jungkook a weak smile before walking away and leading the way to the cashier.

Silently, the two of you load the items onto the conveyor belt one by one, allowing the cashier to scan and pack the items into flimsy plastic bags before handing them to you. Jungkook pays since it is his turn and quickly tucks his wallet into his pocket before rushing to help you by taking most of the plastic bags from your hands, leaving you with only one bag. Against your own will, your heart swells with love.

“Aren’t you meeting Yoora?” you question him as the two of you begin to walk out of the building. Jungkook turns to you and flashes you a bright grin, one that has something splintering in your chest and your breath hitching.

“I told her to wait a little longer,” he answers, smiling sheepishly, tone hinting that he feels guilty for ditching you for the past three months. As he should. You reply with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Also,” he starts, trailing off a little as he pauses to let you walk ahead little before switching places with you so that he is walking on the outer side of the pavement, steps spilling onto the grass when the both of you have to squeeze past people who selfishly idle on the pavement, lingering outside shops for smoke breaks. Your heart’s quickening beat rings in your ears. You ignore it and flash him a grateful smile before he continues his sentence.

“As I was saying, what’s up, Y/n? You’ve been a little off these days,” Jungkook questions, taking his eyes off the pavements to periodically glance at you, eyebrows knitted together in a concerned frown, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

Of course Jungkook would think something is fishy. Once upon a time, the both of you could easily read each other like a children’s picture book, it was foolish of you to think that just because he prioritises his girlfriend before you, doesn’t mean that he can’t read your behaviour. It was foolish of you to think that Jungkook had changed at all. So far, he seemed normal. Maybe it was just you.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been cold lately. If you haven’t realised, all you’ve said to me throughout this whole shopping trip were short sentences that end the conversation straight away. And I know you’re always working on your essays for your classes but we don’t even have movie night anymore. Not to mention that you barely even talk to me anymore. So tell me what’s wrong. Did I piss you off or something?” Jungkook explains, a sadness oozing from his gentle gaze that he turns to you as the both of you halt at a pedestrian crossing. The sorrow in his eyes causes your chest to tighten as you find it impossible to talk. Because you miss him too. So much. You would kill just to feel the unadulterated rapture you felt when you were spending time with Jungkook. You really just want things to go back to how they were before you liked him.

“Oh, I’ve just been going through a lot lately,” you answer, trying to keep your reply as vague as possible, hoping he leaves it at that and waits for you to tell him when you are ready.

But of course, Jungkook continues to pry.

“What are you going through? Come on, Y/n, you can tell me. If you do, maybe I can help you,” he bombards you, eyes silently pleading that you allow him to fix your problems. You know he means well. Jungkook has never intentionally caused harm to you but right now, you just want him to drop it. Because how on earth are you going to explain to him that you are in love with him and are jealous of his pretty, smart, kind girlfriend?

Apparently your brain knows how.

“Well,” you start before you can stop yourself. The look in Jungkook’s eyes makes it impossible for you to just cut it off there, so, you continue.

“I’ve liked this boy for a long while now but he has a girlfriend. I really want to tell him but I’m afraid it’ll ruin our friendship,” you blurt. At first, your chest feels light, heart finally rid of the words that had weighed it down. But then, you look at Jungkook, gorgeous eyes conflicted as he carefully articulates what he wants to say next. Then, again, your heart fills with an unimaginably heavy weight that sinks it all the way down to your gut. And you cannot help but think, he knows. He knows and he’s is going to break my heart all over again.

“Can I ask.. who it is that you like?” he asks wearily, as if he is a hunter approaching a wild deer that startles easily. As the two of you turn the corner to your shared apartment, you glance up into his eyes once more and your heart sinks further. Fear. Fear swallows his eyes as he awaits your answer, afraid that what you’ll say next will completely decimate the past fifteen years of your best friendship, afraid that you will completely destroy his trust with your next words.

And even though you want to lie to him, you find it impossible to. Which is why, before you can stop yourself from blurting it out, you reply with, “You.”

The feeling of complete and utter horror hits you after a second of lag time. Despite the extra second that it gives you to prepare yourself, you do not use it and when the realisation of what you said hits you, it hits you hard, like a million bricks to the face.

Jungkook stills and you freeze too, too scared to even look at him. The both of you stand on the street, a few steps away from your ground floor apartment, a few steps away from privacy. But you think that at this point, privacy completely flies over Jungkook’s head.

“I have a girlfriend, Y/n,” he states, as if you didn’t already know. You turn to face him and Jungkook’s expression is not at all far from terrifying. He has never looked at you with such stern, angry expression, eyebrows knitted together in a disapproving frown rather than his previous concerned frown, and it quite literally scares the shit out of you. His gaze has hardened and he looks at you as if you have committed murder — which you have, seeing as how you have completely lynched this whole fucking relationship.

“I know you have a girlfriend,” you scoff. You swear for a second that Jungkook glares at you. Your heart stops. What have you done?

“I just-“ you start, trying to explain yourself but Jungkook cuts you off by raising his hand. For the shortest of milliseconds, you think that he is going to hit you, slap you, do something. But then, you dismiss the idea, knowing full well that Jungkook will not harm you. He is Jungkook. No matter how angry he is, he won’t ever lay a hand on anyone, especially you.

“You know I have a girlfriend and yet you decided that it was appropriate to confess your feelings to me now?” he questions in a clipped tone, frown deepening with each thought that passes through his mind.

“Look, Jungkook,” you start, taking a deep breath before continuing. To your surprise, he listens patiently.

“I have been in love with you for two years now. Or well, I realised in our first year of Uni. But I’m pretty sure that I’ve been in love with you for far longer than I’ve realised. I know that you have a girlfriend and I know that I’m being selfish and a really shitty friend right now but I’ll be honest, it was beginning to burst out of me, my feelings, the words that I yearned to speak but could not, knowing that I’d be condemned to hell for speaking them. So quite frankly, I know I shouldn’t be scolding you, but I don’t need a fucking scolding from you,” you snap at him. Your breathing is laboured after the words leave your mouth. You pause for a second and watch him, waiting for him to make a move, to blow at you anyway. But he stays silent and you walk away, shoving your key into the lock of your apartment and swinging the door open with so much force that it slams into the coat rack standing behind it, knocking it down.

Jungkook silently follows you into the house, gently placing down the groceries at the entrance of the kitchenette before he slips back into his shoes and leaves, slamming the door behind him. The slam is loud and resounding, and it feels like the sound waves are reverberating inside your chest, shattering your heart like glass.

Left in the deafening silence, an air of complete and utter regret filling your apartment like a thick fog, the weight of your’s and Jungkook’s words finally take their toll on you, somehow increasing the gravitational pull on your body and pulling you to the floor. You do not know how you have yet to burst into tears but right now, all you can feel is a numbness that overwhelms your senses, dulling them down. Your ears tune out, your vision narrows, and the cool, tiled floor of the kitchenette beneath your fingers does not feel like cool tile at all.

God, Jungkook must hate you now.

And finally, at that thought, the idea of your best friend — or really, your only true friend — hating you, do your tears fall.

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Fangs - Rafe Cameron

Request: Could I request smth where the reader and Rafe are having like a secret casual fling, but then Rafe admits he's catching feelings and the reader tells him that she's in love with John B (her best friend)

Request: Can I request a Rafe fic based on Matt Champion - Fangs , or Cocaine by Pink Sweat$ 🥺🤲🏻 whichever one inspires you more to write

A/N: Since Reputation is a similar storyline I thought I would change up the outcome...also...a smidgen of smut (it’s not my forte so I apologize in advance if its the worst thing you’ve ever read.)

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

The curtains were still drawn, just a hint of sunlight peeking through as you sat on the bed, tying your bikini top. On the other side of the door you could hear Rose Cameron’s shrill voice bossing around the maid. Inside the room it was still mostly dark, chilled from the air conditioning, the comforter was mussed up on the bed, pushed away from your side. You had your shorts in hand and grabbed your shirt from the floor. Keys, phone, wallet, all sat on the nightstand next to a pink bong.

Behind you, on the other side of the bed, someone groaned. You looked back over your shoulder as Rafe pushed the comforter away from his face, hair mussed. His fringe hung in his eyes as he yawned and looked over at you.

“Hey, you leaving?” He asked, watching as you tied your hair back.

“Yeah.” You nodded, standing up. The cool composure you worked so hard on falling into place. Rafe sat up, scooting toward your side of the bed as he leaned back against the headboard. “I’ll text you later?”

“Okay.” He looked a little lost in the morning and you knew it had everything to do with last night.

If it had been before or even in the heat of the moment you could’ve easily ignored it. Written him off as trying to get you there or just being a little too far gone. But it wasn’t either of those things. He’d said it as he came down. With his weight on you, sweaty in too warm bedroom, he’d kissed you a little longer than usual and told you he loved you.

You’d chosen to ignore it, at least you pretended too. But the words were there at the forefront of your brain the entire night. Nothing you did made you feel more restful. You knew what you should’ve done. You should’ve pulled on your clothes right then, told him you were cutting things off, and left.

“We’re not gonna-”

“I’d rather not, Rafe.” You replied, grabbing your phone to check it. A text from Kiara asking if you’d heard from John B. According to your phone it was later in the morning than you’d thought it was. “I told you-”

“Casual, yeah I know.” He nodded, “it doesn’t feel casual though.”

“Please, Rafe, don’t do this.” You stressed.

“You’ve been here every night this week. You can’t act like that doesn’t mean something.” He said, moving so that he was at the edge of the bed, grabbing your hands. You didn’t pull away immediately, staring down at your hands intertwined with his.

You’d been adamant that this thing you were doing was only casual. And that hadn’t been an issue for Rafe in the beginning, or at all, until last night. And now you were wondering how long he had been catching feelings for you.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I like having sex with you.”

“Baby,” Rafe pulled you down onto his lap. He kissed along your neck and shoulder and you moved your head to the side to give him more access.

You tried to ignore the way his fingers ran along your thigh. “Don’t Rafe,” you wanted to say that you didn’t want to do this, to have to end things because he was getting too emotionally involved. But then you would have to admit that maybe you wanted to continue because you were that involved too.

The hand around your back brushed along your side, fingers grazing the edge of your bikini top. You gripped your clothes tighter as his other hand pressed against the inside of your thigh. It was a silent request for access, one you were too familiar with by now. That should have been the warning sign, the pressure against your thigh should have woken you out of the trance that seemed to enclose Rafe’s bedroom but instead your other leg went slack, falling off his lap, your foot stabilizing you as you opened up for him.

Eyes closed, the sensation of him drowned out any thoughts that had been weighing you down. His hands were warm against your skin and you shifted on his thigh as his fingers slipped passed your bikini bottoms. You always wore bathing suits to his house under the guise that you had just literally been swimming but usually it was simply because it was easier to pull a string than to both taking off clothes.

“Holy shit Rafe,” you stuttered, grabbing his forearm as his middle finger circled your clit. His other hand moved up to your throat as he placed kisses along your shoulder. Somehow he’d managed to manipulate your body so you were straddling one of his thighs, facing the door to his bedroom. With your back against his chest, his grip on your neck tightened just enough that you could feel the pressure of his fingers on your throat at the same time he pressed against your clit. You jerked forward, breath catching from lack of air.

“What’s the matter baby?” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke.

You inhaled, nails scratching at his forearm as he continued to play with your clit, middle finger brushing against the bundle of nerves so delicately it was barely a touch. But you knew what he was doing. You were always hypersensitive in the morning and he knew it.

His grip on your neck loosened as he slipped his middle finger inside of you and your toes curled around the carpeting. “Please, Rafe.” Your voice sounded far off.

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, head bobbing against his shoulder. He pressed his thumb against your clit and you whimpered at the sudden pain it caused.

“That’s not an answer baby.”

Rafe was nothing if not a control freak and you liked the idea of someone else taking over. You let him be as controlling and possessive and needy as he wanted.

“I’m waiting.” He moved his thumb, gentle circles still enough to cause spasms. You weren't sure if you were already halfway there or still having aftershocks from the night before.

“Fuck, yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, It feels good,” you breathed out, rewarded by him beginning to move his finger in and out, he added another, stretching you just enough. You weren’t just hypersensitive you were still sore from him last night and you could only handle so much. “You always know how to make me feel good.”

You felt Rafe smile against your neck. There was nothing he loved more than praise. And he certainly deserved it.

“I’ll call you later, I promise.”

“I’m going to the club later with Topper and Kelce if you wanna come by.” He offered.

Part of your agreement with Rafe was that you didn’t hang out in public. It was one of the first things that you had proposed when you started this casual thing, that no one could know what was going on with the two of you. Especially not considering who your friends were. If John B or any of the pogues found out that you had even looked in Rafe’s direction you would be excommunicated. Having sex with him was out of the question.

You heard yourself say maybe instead of no and you kissed him even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea. Once you were gone Rafe laid back down, burying his head in his pillow and groaning. He seriously regretted telling you that he was falling in love with you and that he wanted this to be more than sex. But now that he had told you he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He knew why this started, because you didn’t think the guy you liked was interested in you.

It had been a blow to the gut last night when you admitted to him that you were in love with John B. Of all the people in the Outer Banks you had chosen that smart ass pogue to be in love with. He’d kept his cool though.

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.” You had remarked as you on his bed with him the night before.

“You can tell me how in love you are with John B but I don’t see you fucking him.”

“Rafe-”

“It doesn’t matter alright.” Rafe had sworn that he didn’t care that you claimed you were in love with John B, you were there with him. You’d gone to the party last night to see him, not John B and when you went home it wasn’t with John B.

But he couldn’t deny that he hated seeing you leave in the morning, knowing that you were going to find your pogue friends and pretend like nothing had ever happened between the two of you. He wanted this to be more than secret texts and meeting up at night so no one would see you together. He wanted to take you out during the day and actually show up with you at a party, not just watch you from across the room.

You had told you were in love with John B because you had been in love with him since sixth grade. Always too chicken to tell him how you felt, you were hopelessly in love with your best friend and hated anyone that occupied his attention. It was at a party, when you saw him chatting with some touron, that you got drunk and had sex with Rafe for the first time. Now it felt like all the time and you didn’t need to think about John B smiling at some other girl to get you in Rafe’s bed. It was enough for Rafe to text you and tell you that he missed you or that he was thinking about you. And you knew what that meant but you didn’t want to think about it.

The vallet at the club let you through when you told him you were there to see Rafe Cameron. You’d never been to the club before though Rafe had invited you a few times. It was always meaningless because you both knew that you would never go there, that was too public. If anyone saw you with him there was no explaining to your friends what you were doing with him.

He was outside at the golf counter with Topper and Kelce and you hung back, waiting for him to notice you watching them. When he did, he passed his club off to Kelce and walked over to you, weaving through tables and chairs. This was it, you thought as he approached you. This was it. He stopped in front of you, ready to ask what you were doing there because sure, he had invited you, but seeing you actually there was surreal. He didn’t get the chance to ask though as you kissed him. You grabbed his shirt and kissed him without warning.

Rafe’s eyes went wide. Before he could kiss you back you were pulling away.

“I lied.” You admitted.

You didn’t tell him that you’d gone looking for John B that afternoon when he didn’t show up to hang out like he was supposed to. That you’d seen him on the dock kissing Sarah. You had stood there on the deck staring at them kissing and realized that you felt nothing. You weren’t mad, you weren’t so upset you thought you might burst into tears like you had at that party months ago. You were completely indifferent. It felt like watching strangers kiss, it meant nothing to you and you knew why. Because you had told Rafe that you were in love with John B and you wanted casual only but you were lying.

“Lied about what?” He asked, still feeling dazed by your actions.

“I’m not in love with John B.” You replied, the words sounding foreign to your brain. You’d dedicated so much of your life and energy to the unrequited crush you had on your best friend, “I don’t want this to just be casual.”

Rafe licked his lips and grinned. He imagined that Topper and Kelce were watching, trying to figure out what was going on. He was too far into this to care about their opinions. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Isn’t the point of me telling you I wanna be public that we...ya know, are public?”

“Right now I just want you to myself.”

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @ssprayberrythings @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox

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erensnubs · 3 years

Text

𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕

Oikawa x F! Reader

Chapter 1

Word count: 1.9k

RANDOM POST:

You let yourself be held by Matsukawa with Hanamaki's legs thrown over yours.

"Mrs. Darcy ....Mrs. Darcy…. Mrs. Darcy ....Mrs. Darcy," Mr. Darcy says to Lizzie on the T.V screen.

Hanamaki sniffles, "Yo I thought this was gonna be cringey but I'm crying right now."

Matsukawa nods, silent tears rolling down his face. You smile a little and both pat them affectionately.

"Pride and Prejudice, will always be timeless. The book and the movie. I honestly think it's great either way. And Mr. Darcy is just UGH perfect," you say sniffling yourself and resting your head on the pillows.

It's been 1 month since you arrived at Aoba Johsai, and you settled in with Hanamaki and Matsukawa as your "in school friends". You've been hanging out together now, and even more so because of volleyball practice and you being manager.

You got close enough to each other that now you were bundled up with blankets, with Hanamaki laying on you and being held by Matsukawa. Popcorn, chips and candy are laying on the ground everywhere with CD's stacked up on the ground.

"Bro this is actually a good show," Hanamaki says looking up at Matsukawa.

"Yo can you be quiet because I'm trying to process this shit," Matsukawa says and you start laughing.

"Okay okay, the next movie is called…." You say searching through the pile.

"....10 Things I Hate About You!" You say pulling out the CD and sliding off the couch.

"What's this one about?" Hanamaki asks, "Is it like a history one like the one we just watched?"

You scoff, "No, this is totally different. It's a highschool one. I'm not going to explain it because it's confusing so just watch it."

You put the CD in and the TV starts up to play the movie. You walk back to the couch as Matsukawa scoots to make some room.

"Yo, [Name], tell me when the movie's actually starting because Iwa and Oikawa are texting me right now and say they wanna talk," Matsukawa says sliding off the couch.

"You too Makki."

Hanamaki looks at Matsukawa weirdly, "Wait why? I wanna watch the movie."

Matsukawa shrugs his shoulders,"Just come over for a bit, it'll probably be short. You cool with that [Name]?"

You nod. You weren't surprised that Oikawa and Iwaizumi wanted to talk to them. They were friends for a while and what you gathered from their perspective, you sort of ruined their whole dynamic.

Especially Oikawa. The volleyball captain, despite your best efforts to try and communicate with him as manager, he'd make up some random excuse or fakely answers your question with that annoying sarcasm and perfectionism that everyone seemed to buy.

Other than that the man literally glared at you, staring spears into your eyes when you caught him looking. You wish you could talk to him about it but it was made very clearly, he didn't like you "stealing" his friends.

"Wait so you're from?" Matsukawa says at the lunch table.

"I'm from [Country], but my parents moved here in Japan for my 1st year of highschool for business and because they move around a lot I've been staying at my Aunt's. I went to Karasuno for a while, then my parents decided I should enroll here," you say, picking at your lunch.

Matsukawa smiles, "Hey that's pretty cool, our volleyball team is actually having practice with them! Soon I think.... I'm not sure. I can ask Oikawa… wait! He's here!"

Matsukawa and you turn to the tall man, with the brown locks.

"Oikawa! Come sit with me, [Name], and Hanamaki today! You too Iwa!"

The two men came over and now you were sitting between Matsukawa and Hanamaki while facing Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

Oikawa gives an indifferent stare at you for a split second before resuming a happy disposition.

"Who might you be?" He asks.

Your body physically retreats back because he made it seem like he does know you, but wanted to take a stab at you.

What the fuck is his problem, you think.

"It's [Name]. And you're Iwaizumi and Oikawa?"

Iwaizumi nods, before Oikawa cuts him off icily, "Yeah yeah. I guess what I'm asking is what are you doing here at the volleyball table?"

Ok so he DEFINITELY doesn't like you and Iwaizumi seems to sense this because he shoves Oikawa's shoulder.

He pulls Oikawa by his arm and abruptly stands up, "God, I apologize about that. Me and Oikawa are going to sit somewhere else."

And with that you were left with a confused Hanamaki and an equally confused Matsukawa, struggling to comprehend what happened.

You've been meaning to talk to Hanamaki about this, but you decided against it. You shouldn't be meddling in their affairs anyway. They were friends longer and Oikawa was probably just having a bad day. You assured yourself with baseless rumors about how Oikawa was a happy-go-lucky boy who was talented, smart and kind to others. Surely he couldn't be bad?

The stares, condescending smirks, and judgemental stares said otherwise. It was as if he gave everyone special treatment, except you. And you really didn't know why.

Until today, you're gonna eavesdrop on their conversation.

You tug on Hanamaki and motion for him to lean into you. He complied and you whisper in his ear.

"Hey just for fun can I listen to the call? I promise I won't make any sound," you say and beam up at him.

Hanamaki pulls back from your face and laughs, "Sure you're too freaking cute to say no to anyways. Mattsun! Can [Name] listen in? Just for fun?"

You turn to Matsukawa and say, "I promise I won't say anything or make any sounds."

Matsukawa smirks, "I don't really care. It's probably about homework anyways."

You and Hanamaki share a devil-like smile. Something unspoken was between the two of you, and you both concluded that this conversation was most definitely not about homework.

Suddenly a voice picks up on Matsukawa's phone and he puts it on speaker.

"Hey? What do you guys need?" he says, calmly.

Iwaizumi's voice cut through, "Nothing just, Oikawa's a little upset."

Hanamaki jumps in, "Wait why?"

Iwaizumi sighs, "He's not telling me, but I think he's upset that you guys are with [Name] and not hanging out with us. Which is weird because we literally hang out a lot together and this is sort of like a once in a while thing right?"

You slap your hand to your face and Hanamaki buries his face into your shoulder, trying to stifle your laughs.

Matsukawa clears his throat, "Uh yeah? So what do you want us to do? Want us to invite you guys over? My parents aren't home so I don't think they'll mind having you come over."

Oikawa's voice, clear as day rings through the phone.

"Oh so a GIRL is alright at your house?"

Your eyes widen as you share a look with Matsukawa. You were tempted to grab the phone and give the guy a piece of his mind but Hanamaki grabbed your wrist.

"Man, chill. This is one of the only times she can come over. And I didn't think you would care so much about her, when you literally have girlfriends left and right," Matsukawa says, earning an approving look from you.

Iwaizumi talks, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure Oikawa hates her guts because of some of the attention she's getting-

"Am not!"

"-because she's the new manager, new student and she quickly became friends with you two and the team…"

Then Iwaizumi suddenly whispers, "Or Oikawa thinks she's interesting and you know.."

Hanamaki looks at you and you jerk your head to the phone.

"Uh… what do you mean?"

You hear Iwaizumi slap himself in the forehead, "He thinks she's interesting romantically dipshits."

Matsukawa snaps his fingers, "Oh he wants to fuck her?" He looks at you and wiggles his eyebrows.

You furrow your eyebrows and flip him off.

"What no? I mean I guess? I don't know…"

Hanamaki looks at Matsukawa questioningly. And this time, you didn't know what it meant.

Hanamaki barely mouths, "But doesn't he-"

Matsukawa glares at him with a "let's continue this conversation later" look.

"Uh alright Iwaizumi, I'm gonna let you go now… byeeee", He says.

"Wait Mattsun no-".

You stare nonchalantly at the screen, "Well you know that was…"

Hanamaki finishes,"Interesting? No more scandalous."

You punch him in the arm, "Wow did watching a Jane Austen movie expand your vocabulary? Maybe we should ask our English teacher to watch period pieces for our class.”

Matsukawa laughs, “And hear this man’s ANNOYING crying! In class? Hell no.”

Hanamaki scoffs, “First of all shut the fuck up Mattsun, and second, I see what you did there. Turning the attention to me.”

He looks back at you and you give a disinterested look.

“Sure, but it's not really anything new. I’ve had plenty of people who hated me at first actually wanted to get to know me. I can’t blame that. People tend to do that when they encounter something new," you tell them.

"I don't blame Oikawa for being, I don't know, a bitch to me. I did kind of steal some time away from all of you to hang out together." You shrug the volleyball jacket Hanamaki gave you back on and look at the boys.

Matsukawa sighs, "Don't think about it too much [Name]. He's probably stressed and stuff about volleyball and all his school things. And honestly don't hook up with him, he's sorta a player."

You nod and turn your attention to the T.V, but you can't ignore the weird look Matsukawa and Hanamaki give each other before finally settling in and watching the movie.

MATSUKAWA POV:

He sees Hanamaki not so subtly come back to the couch, but [Name] doesn't mind the intrusion.

Truth be told, Matsukawa did care for [Name], but not as much as Hanamaki did. To him, [Name] was just another friend he could vibe with. For Hanamaki, it was much more.

He didn't exactly know Hanamaki's motives with [Name]. He knew they were somewhat platonic, but he couldn't tell for sure.

As for Oikawa… yeah that was clueless for him. He didn't want to agree right away with Makki, his pride wouldn't allow that, but he was right. Oikawa did find [Name] interesting, romantically.

He saw it in the way his eyes would immediately trail over to her when she walked to class. How Oikawa would cover his face "casually", when she would randomly waltz around the room with him. When Oikawa would purposely wait a while and then join the lunch line so he could go near [Name]. Sometimes, Matsukawa could literally see Oikawa undressing her with his eyes when she was at volleyball practice and she was running back and forth getting water bottles and towels, sweat covering her like sheet.

He noticed and kept them to himself. Matsukawa Issei didn't owe anybody the information he had. So he kept it to himself. He really didn't have to tell anybody.

So that's what he did. Like how he's probably going to keep this information and statements from Iwa and Makki to himself as well. He won't confront Oikawa about it, nor will he meddle with Oikawa's relationship.

But what he will do is subtly give you hints about what's going on. He thinks you're a smart enough girl, that once he gives you the directions you'll figure it out.

As to why he wants to do it. He doesn't know. Perhaps, you've grown on him.

Yes. Perhaps you did.

IMPORTANT INFORMATION TO DISCLOSE

[Name] is used to men's lewd behavior because they will do ANYTHING to sleep with ANYBODY she thinks

Matsukawa and Hanamaki trust [Name], but not enough to give her The Look

Matsukawa and Hanamaki know something that [Name] doesn't.

Prev/ next

Taglist: @saladskittles @tanakasimpcorner

A note from Chef Tina: I used pics art for the random posts!

#oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #oikawa smau #oikawa fic #haikyu smau #haikyu fic #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff

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bulletproofscales · 4 years

Text

Self-Control Chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896048/chapters/65806804

3k words

tw: mentions of immobility

Feet are dragging him through the lobby; he is dreading this already. Walking up to the elevator and pressing the button.

“Wait up!” Jeongguk’s head springs up turning to see the fat man pathetically attempting to run his way.

"Hobi hyung” He greets, at a loss of words by the way his entire body shakes violently under his movements. He has to stop himself midway through licking his lips; thankfully Hoseok is too busy catching his breath; head hung low and hand against the wall for support.

Jeongguk has to remind himself to breathe too.

The older makes the effort to lift his head up, reddened cheeks and heart-shaped smile, knocking the air out of Jeongguk’s own lungs, again. “Hey, Kookie.” His voice is all too sweet even when breathless like this.

He wants to say more, ask if he came here walking even though he knows that would be ridiculous; just hear him say that there’s no way he could’ve walked here. To compare just how out of shape he is in comparison to the dancer he was before. Though, in rescue of his quivering self-control, the elevator doors open, and they both step in.

Or well, Hoseok and then Jeongguk. The door is not nearly wide enough for the two of them at once.

As he pushes the button to the fourth floor, Jeongguk can’t help but be glad it’s Hoseok he’s sharing an elevator ride with. Yeah, he is nearly pressed against the wall trying to avoid his arm grazing Hoseok’s fat one, heat emanating from his body enough to make the younger feel like melting, and there’s a distinct smell of sweat that’s being attempted to be covered with cologne, dizzying him.

But he knows if he were to be here with anyone else, they’d exceed the weight limit.

The elevator ride feels endless. He is forcing himself to stare at the wall directly in front of him. Even if he wants to steal glances at Hoseok’s body, admire it, every pound hanging off a frame that used to be so slim.

But he doesn’t. Because he has self-control.

Then a loud gurgle comes from the man next to him.

Jeongguk’s face heats up.

“Hungry already?” He meets Hoseok’s reddening cheeks with a side glance from the corner of his eyes and a smile that is hopefully teasing but friendly enough to not be predatory. Detachment comes off naturally in his voice. No, Joengguk isn’t affected by this at all!

“I barely ate today.” He doubts the legitimacy of that statement. ‘Barely ate’ to any one of them means more food than on Jeongguk’s most gluttonous days. “Got to catch up to them!” He beams so happily. Hoseok is the ‘skinniest’, of the six of them. Though any variable of the word skinny being directed anywhere near Jeongguk’s friends would be laughable.

This is another thing Jeognguk came to realize a little too late. When the first changes started to occur, the others would tease Hoseok. Call him a twig in comparison to their rapidly fattening bodies. At first, Jeongguk thought it was just the other’s way of coping with their sudden weight gain. But then, Hoseok was actively taking measures to gain weight. Even with a body like the one he has now…he still does.

It still isn’t enough for Hoseok.

It baffles him. Just how open they are to both the intentional and accidental aspects of their weight gain, calling one another addicts, yet actively seeking fattening foods with the purpose of being on the same level as the others. It drives him insane.

The elevator dings and the doors open, and Jeongguk lets Hoseok step out first. His eyes were already strictly looking forward so if he got a too-long-to-be-normal glance at Hoseok’s ass, that was the reason, nothing more. And if he stays behind biting at his lip with a reddening face, it was because Hoseok walks so slowly he wanted to give him some advantage. Nothing else.

The older one turns to look at Jeongguk. “Did I sit on something?” He is asking, humored; twisting his torso as much as he can to stare down at his pants.

So many side rolls…

Jeongguk, he asked a question.

“No!” Maybe it comes a bit too jumpy and too loud. He coughs, casual facade coming back seamlessly. “I’m just letting you get some advantage.” And he even dares to say “You’re starting to waddle, hyung.” He begins to walk behind him, long and meaningful strides making Jeongguk reach him easily.

What he doesn’t expect is a dreamy sigh from Hoseok, “Ahhh, you’re the only that thinks that, Jeonggukie.”

They knock on the door; if Hoseok has to rest his palm against the wall to catch his breath, Jeongguk most certainly doesn’t pay attention to it. “Come in! It’s open.” Yoongi’s voice resonates muffled through the door.

Of course, they’d leave it unlocked only if it means not standing up. He lets Hoseok open it, but not because he wants to see just how much more until he brushes through the door frame; Jeongguk does it out of courtesy. He inhales a little shakily before allowing himself inside, closing the door behind him as he steps into the living room alongside Hoseok.

Yoongi was sitting on the couch, taking almost up half of it.

Was it a big couch? No. Did it still make Jeongguk have trouble swallowing down his own spit? Absolutely.

His gut pooled almost over the couch, even when Yoongi was resting his back entirely against the backrest; well, not entirely, he still has the cushiony back rolls serving as a pillow. His arm barely reached the armrest, but that was just Jeongguk assuming, as Yoongi’s hands were neatly placed on the shelf of his belly. One holding a bowl, balancing it on the massive dome, while the other brought food to his greasy lips. Jeongguk wonders for how long has he been eating…

Jeongguk, stop.

He tears his eyes away, but that’s no good, as next to him Namjoon is being pressed against the armrest of the couch. The taunt beer belly he had developed during college, still very much there, barely budging against the pressure; though by the bottom of it, hung thick layers of pillowy fat, molding easily at the small space Yoongi left. But what captured Jeongguk’s eyes more was the hardness that was only left on him in the round taunt spot at the top of his stomach. Namjoon was broad once, strong, girthy. One of those is still true. But there’s something about the fact that the only part of Namjoon that isn’t soft is a beer belly that makes Jeongguk want to…

Shut up. It makes him want to shut up before his self-control goes out the window.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite twigs!” Both Hoseok and Jeongguk groan at Seokjin’s cheerful tone. Squeezed into the one-person couch. Yeah, he is sitting alone, but the width of his body is for two people. His hips are overflowing out, he actually looks stuck. The fat of his entire torso squished and bulging forward; even his moobs looked squished together.

Hoseok is whining, lips in a pout like a child that’s being poked fun at. “Hyung stop the twig thing. Jeonggukie said I’m starting to waddle!” He is taking slow steps towards the bigger couch; for a moment the youngest’s breath stills, thinking about Hoseok possibly trying to squeeze himself in between Yoongi and Namjoon. Though he can breathe again once he sees him plop his weight heavily on the floor; right in between Yoongi’s spread legs, using his gut nearly draping off the couch as a nice neck support. Plastic cups tremble at the impact. Hell, Jeongguk can feel the vibration of the floor beneath his feet.

“To Jeongguk, we all waddle, Seok-ah” Yoongi states almost dramatically. He knows the older would be petting Hoseok’s hair comfortingly if his arms reached below his gut. They all completely dismiss the impact of Hoseok’s weight on the ground… Which is fair, any one of them could do that.

Which only makes Jeongguk more turned on, damn.

He grabs one of the neglected chairs from the dining table, these two haven’t any of them in months at least. And sits down beside Yoongi. Tries not to think about how it’s dusty under his hands when he drags it closer.

“Well, we can’t say Jeongguk knows what waddling even means. “Namjoon comments as if the youngest wasn’t even in the room, only then turning to him. “Kook-ah, was it like a sway of hips, or was it more like….a limp of sorts?”

“I’m basically your human walking stick. I think I know what a waddle looks like.” He crosses his arms over his chest, confidently as he leans back on the chair. That’s right, Jeongguk; just pretend to be comfortable.

“Even if you’re waddling you’re still out scrawny little twig, Hobi.” Seokjin cooes endeared.

“At least Jeonggukie thinks I’m fat.” He mumbles to himself wistfully. Ironically, Jeongguk is making an extra effort to try and not think about how fat everyone in the room is. Everyone, but him.

For a moment he has hope. Hope that the conversation will thrift to something else, anything, anything else. But Jeongguk is soon regretting it as he hears heavy stomps resonate behind the walls in the hallway.

Oh, god.

“Open!” Seokjin says before they even reach the door. Jeongguk doubts they’ll be able to hear it over the loud noise of their own heavy breaths waddling towards the door. He tries not to wince noticeably, though he already knows what he’s about to see.

It looks like Taehyung is literally bursting through the door with the way his sides lightly sink into his hips. Nobody pays him any mind but Jeongguk’s eyes are wide like deer’s, stained on the way Taehyung’s chubby arms pathetically try to reach to untuck his hips form the doorframe; failing miserably. Suddenly he is being pushed and stumbles weakly forward.

Jeongguk doesn’t even think twice before standing up to stop him from falling. Strong hands grip into the pillowy fat of his arms, tree trunk legs trembling and threatening to collapse. Jeongguk can feel the sweat from his armpits even when gripping into his bicep, all his shirts are constantly damp around the area. The younger tries his hardest not to scrunch his face in disgust, or worse, moan.

It’s selfish that Jeongguk stays there, wanting to get as much as he can of the feeling of fat under his fingers; even when Taehyung is panting and his own arms are beginning to strain.

Taehyung is turning his head to the door with a pout “Hey! I had that.” Jeongguk makes the mistake to look up from the sweaty man in his arms to look at the door.

Taehyung flinches an “ouch” at the way the younger’s hands cling with a death grip, eyes wide and strained at Jimin. The fat man shuffling unbothered through the door frame, sideways. Tiny chubby hands attempting to push the bulging fat inwards as he slides into the room.

One of these days he won’t be able to do that.

Jimin’s voice is snapping him out of his thoughts. “No, you didn’t. We would have been there for hours and my legs are giving out.” Jeongguk is snapped out of his trance, but is the reality he is living in anymore merciful?

Jimin is waddling to where they’re all sitting; taking the chair the youngest had brought for himself. Fat overspills in every direction and the chair creaks dangerously but Jimin ignores it. “Thanks for leaving us a spot.” He huffs sarcastically.

“Sounds like something you should have thought about before being late.” Yoongi says, his voice muffled as he swallows down the last crumbs of his bowl. When did he finish it?!

“Some of us have lives, hyung.” Taehyung was still in his arms when he said that, his voice was breathless and Jeongguk turns his attention to him, helping him stand back up. Jeongguk is parting to go look for a chair but the older grips tighter into his forearm. “Floor.” He breathes out and Jeongguk doesn’t need any more instructions as he wraps an arm that grips to Taehyung’s back roll, supporting most of the weight pushed against him. The steps are slow and heavy, but sitting the older down is even more ungraceful.

The thud is louder than Hoseok’s, so is the tremble underneath his feet. Hell, Jeongguk can even swear he sees some of the fat hanging off Namjoon’s belly shake the slightest bit where it rests on the couch.

“And what were you doing that was so important?” Seokjin prompts from his couch with a raised eyebrow.

“Having sex.” Jimin doesn’t even doubt before answering with an ironically cheerful proud smile.

That was also a new addition to whatever fucked up dynamic Jeongguk had gotten himself in. With time, with the gained weight, all of them became much more….close? Jeongguk doesn’t exactly know. More touches, more teases more…openness. He doesn’t know if all of that is just platonic joking, he never got the courage to ask; he is scared of what the answer could possibly be.

Just like Jimin didn’t hesitate, nobody was phased by this answer either. Namjoon scoffs. “Come on. You stopped having energy for sex months ago.” How does he know this? Is he judging from their body? To be fair they can barely walk. Or does he know something else that they keep from Jeongguk?

He tries to push the thought out of his head best he can. And rather takes a seat in front of the other end of the coffee table.

The more distance the better. Detachment.

Self.

Control.

Hoseok’s lips are pursed and his head is cocked to the side as he considers his words. “Could have been a lazy handjob maybe?” The way he offers it so casually, like they aren’t talking about sex; like they aren’t talking about their friends.

“Hobi, they stopped reaching their dicks a while ago, trust me” Seokjin intercepts with a knowing chuckle that in any other circumstance would be reassuring, but now does the opposite to Jeongguk’s spiraling thoughts.

“Right!?” Taehyung exclaims “Who says we even have any dick left!” Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath. It should be concerning the youngest, the way everyone mumbles in agreement. Instead, it just coils arousal at the bottom of his stomach.

“Of course Seok still thinks you can reach your dicks. I mean look at him, he can basically touch his toes.” Yoongi argues unfazed. It’s ridiculous how utterly offended Hoseok looks by these accusations. However, he doesn’t argue. Does Hoseok not fight back because it’s no use, or because he knows, they know? Jeongguk tries his best not to think about how the rest would even know this if they even did.

He is officially giving himself a time out, eyes glued to the coffee table before him.

Jeongguk, get it together.

He is still focusing on his breathing when things finally begin to go, properly, downhill.

“So should we begin to order?” He tenses. Jimin’s voice reeks of innocence, a wide angelic grin adoring his cheeks as his small hands happily tap on the shelf of his belly. The enthusiastic agreements come in quickly.

And just like that, Jeongguk’s torture officially begins.

See? It’s too early for dinner, actually. But ordering is such a prolonged process, they really need all the time they can get before getting properly hungry (even though they are never fully satiated). And with their appetite, Jeongguk can easily say, they’re running against the clock.

It’s dreadful, really, he has to sit there with the six obese men in front of him gushing and discussing different restaurants they want to order. Plural, of course. Because if they were to order enough food for all of them from one single restaurant, the place will probably think they’re being pranked. Once the list is set, they allow each one to pick three dishes from 4 restaurants. Which kinda startles Jeongguk for a bit.

They always do three restaurants… He swallows thickly dreading to know that behind this change, there are six ravenous stomachs.

They are planning on getting stuffed tonight.

Fuck, how is Jeongguk even going to be able to move them afterward?!

When it’s Jeongguk’s turn to choose an order he skims over his options. All the choices are fast food places, which isn’t that surprising; they much rather have the food come quickly than have it be actually good.

They are just that desperate to eat.

He chooses ridiculously quickly in comparison to the rest. And if he wasn’t starving due to the tight knot in his stomach that made him avoid food all day, he’d actually eat the healthiest smallest option he could find; just to get off by the comparison to the other orders.

He doesn’t. Jeongguk still has some self-control left.

The wait for the food feels painfully long, which makes sense, considering the amount of food they just ordered. But it still manages to startle Jeongguk when there’s a ring of the doorbell. The first of many.

“Jeongguk-ah” Yoongi calls pleading, and he doesn’t have to even finish his sentence for the youngest to know what he is going to ask. “Could you go get that, please?” He is asking nicely, but Jeongguk still groans. It’s not like he has a choice. Unless he wants to see one of them struggle to stand up and waddle pathetically to the poor delivery person at the door; who will suddenly understand why they are delivering this inhumane amount of food.

He still has some respect for his sanity.

So he stands and goes to the door, grabbing Seokjin’s wallet on the way there. One convenience about his weight is always leaving stuff in the same spot; none of them can really afford to be waddling around looking for stuff.

When he opens the door this poor delivery girl is struggling under the bags, this is only from one restaurant?! Jeongguk is quickly pulling the bags, paying not before thanking. Something bubbling and trickling down his sides that he has come to recognize as embarrassment. Embarrassment of his six best friends who have lost every ounce of self-control they once had, unapologetically obese and inhumanely gluttonous.

He is more embarrassed that he loves it.

#feedee kim seokjin #·feedeerism #feedee min yoongi #"feedee jung hoseok #feedee park jimin #feedee kim taehyung #feedee kim namjoon #jungkook x everyone #sub jungkook #fat kim seokjin #fat min yoongi #fat jung hoseok #fat kim namjoon #fat park jimin #fat kim taehyung #cramped spaces #mentions of immobility

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azure7539arts · 4 years

Photo

Beacon

Pairing: Q/James Bond (00Q)

Prompt(s): Blaze + Reverse a common trope

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, possession, idiots

Summary: One day, perhaps people will forget that a Flame Alchemist has ever existed, but the same can never be said of his subordinates. And today is not that day anyway.

Or: 00Q but Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood AU

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble… And here we are. Again. If you find this intro familiar, thanks for reading Sword! If you have no idea what Sword is and just know my penchant for biting off more than I can chew, please refer to my previous post. Thanks!

Also, look, @solarmorrigan, pyrokinesis! And @opalescentgold, because you know the fandom and may appreciate some references. Damn, I have been dying for a FMA AU for. so. long. And now I’ve managed to somehow realize it into fruition. Jeez. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this!

Q couldn’t stand. The rush of adrenaline and sheer agony were urging his heart into overdrive, as if in beating a punishing pace right then, it would somehow make up for the gaping hole wedged in his side.

He bit back a sharp cry, alchemy flaring as bright as the pulsing pain invading his system. In what was either an eternity or no time at all, the wound was cauterized in a fit of smoke and sizzling burnt flesh, effectively staunching the intolerable amount of blood loss in a matter of seconds. His head spun.

(For as long as he’d lived, Q had wished for a lot of things. Right then, though, there was only one thought that kept repeating itself in the confines of his mind—)

Footsteps were approaching. Q scrambled to get to his feet with whatever remaining strength he had left and snapped his fingers again. Vicious ropes of flames sprang forth like spiteful cobras, eliciting an intense wall of fire that stood guard between him and his would-be captor.

One steel arm shot out from among the blaze and seized him by the throat.

Q choked.

The rest of that body stepped through quickly enough, like an emerging monster materializing from the depths of hellfire.

“Ultimate shield, remember?”

Q clawed uselessly at the still squeezing hand around his throat. “L–Lieutenant—” he wheezed, bitter reluctance warring with his struggling will to survive. “Bond—”

“Hm?” The steel receded, and Bond looked back at him now, head tilting to the side. “What, the old owner of this body?” He tutted, visibly frustrated despite the good humor gleaming in those too sharp eyes. “I told you: He’s gone—he’s become one with the stone. I’m the one in charge now, and the name is Greed.”

He grinned, and Q’s guts twisted at the sight, eyes watering from the lack of oxygen. (He could still hear the sound of Bond’s screams piercing all the way down the long corridors. The way his body had writhed and bucked in violent pain as it died and regenerated again and again, rejecting the philosopher’s stone that had been wrongfully injected into it. The way he had suddenly gone lax while Q had done his best to burn through the literal living wall of obstacles out of existence to get to him.)

He gathered all his strength to curl up his legs and kick Bond in the stomach.

No, not Bond. (But that was still his face.)

Not anymore. (Still his eyes, his voice, the low gravel of his laughter, chest-deep and oh so warm.)

Just Greed.

(What if he was still in there?)

The momentum of that kick thrusted Q out of the vice-like grip as he landed onto the ground with a dull thud. A twang of stabbing pain in his side knocked the air out of his lungs, distracting him from the stings of having steel claws dug long strips into either side of his throat.

(The thing was that: if he really was still in there…)

“Damn it,” Bond—Greed—hissed, staggering back before steadying himself with an annoyed huff of breath.

Like this, Q recognized that whoever was in front of him then, despite appearing and sounding exactly like him, didn’t have the firm stance that Bond had always maintained, edged into his bones from all the arduous training he’d put himself through.

The red Ouroboros tattoo on the back of his left hand seared into Q’s vision like a brand, as though sealing a death sentence.

(... If he really was still in there, Bond wouldn’t have willingly punched a hole straight through Q.)

Once the thought sank in, Q’s stomach plummeted.

“Could you stop being such a nuisance?” Greed clicked his tongue.

When he tried to reach out again, molten fire engulfed the room at another snap of the fingers.

And in the roaring flames, Q screamed.

He wakes with a startled gasp, cold sweat breaking all over.

It takes a moment, but the familiar ceiling of his office finally shifts into focus once more, and Q lets out a shuddered sigh. The documents he was looking at lie strewn across the littered desk surface right where he left them, and at this very moment, the phone rings, shattering the disquiet that has settled over his foggy mind.

He doesn’t notice the long overcoat that’s, apparently, been laid over his person while he slept until he reaches over to make a grab for the handset. It slides down from over his shoulders and pools in the middle of his lap with a rustling of fabric.

Q purses his lips and picks up, free hand settling over his now healed side to ease the aching phantom pain.

“Yes.”

“Brigadier General, sir,” the operator greets. “Major General Moneypenny is on the line for you.”

“Put her through.”

The line clicks after a final ‘yes, sir,’ and instantly, Eve’s voice filters through from the other side. “Why am I not surprised that you’re still there despite the atrocious hours.” It isn’t a question, and he smiles.

“Hypocrite,” he replies without heat, thumb smoothing along the raised ridges of those scars that he can still feel even through the thick layers of his uniform. “How has Briggs been welcoming you back?”

“Oh, you know, the usual warmth and sunshine,” she says, a joking lilt to her tone, and Q winces just from imagining the howling gales of a normal Briggs snowstorm that must be sweeping through the barracks even as they speak. “Now, enough of your diversion scheme. How are things on your side?”

Q thinks he’s too tired to do much of anything else and chooses the easy way out. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Eve hums, entirely unconvinced, but doesn’t point out that his answer isn’t all that she asked. She knows him too well by now to press. “Sometimes, though, I do wonder if you should’ve just retired and gone to Rush Valley to do whatever it is that you automail enthusiasts do.”

The sentiment sends a soft snort through his nose. Not that he doesn’t wish to be a simple automail mechanic from time to time, especially when the price paid doesn’t seem equivalent to subsequent results, but in life, simple wants and actual needs are two different things.

They’ve all learnt this the hard way.

Even so, Q appreciates Eve looking out for him. Thousands of miles away, she’s still one of the few people who truly know and understand him. One of the few whom he trusts with his life. “Oh, definitely—once I find someone suitable to man the post for me, that is,” he muses, only half-serious. “No promises otherwise.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Sir.”

“Come in,” he calls and straightens up, popping the crick in his neck. “Gotta go now. Send my regards to Captain Tanner, would you? God knows the length that man’s gone to to keep up with you.”

Eve laughs, and he smiles, too, just as Bond walks in and closes the door behind him.

(There’s no Ouroboros tattoo on his hand, Q notes and subconsciously relaxes.)

(He shouldn’t feel bad for it—but he does anyway. Just the same as Bond, who didn’t mean to lose control long enough for Greed to hurt Q the way he did.

Emotions are fickle things.)

Eve has gone quiet for a long second as well, probably considering her words. In a way, Q feels he already knows what they are going to be, and grim satisfaction paints his tongue when what she says next is precisely just that, “How’s First Lieutenant Bond?”

How are things between you two, goes unsaid, but he hears it loud and clear nonetheless.

Bond is patiently waiting for him—hands tucked behind his back, perfect military posture, too proper and formal to bear—and Q squeezes the coat that remains in his lap.

(He misses the casual dynamics, easy tandem they used to have. One not laden with guilt and second-guessing.

It’s just one more hurdle for them to work through, he supposes.

Together.)

“We’re… getting there,” he replies, mildly surprised by his own honesty. “Talk to you later. Goodbye, Major General.”

He hangs up, and Bond has gotten closer, despite maintaining a minimum distance of three steps.

Q crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits, eyes expectant.

Eventually, Bond can’t but break the silence. “Was that Major General Moneypenny, sir?”

Q suppresses a sigh and nods. “Yes. Just one of her usual check-ins.” He pauses. “She did ask about you, about us, and how we were doing. And I said we were getting there—you heard.”

When Bond doesn’t reply, Q narrows his eyes, shrewd. “So, are we, Lieutenant? Getting there?” Most likely, he’s coming off much harsher than he originally planned, but Q doesn’t give a damn about that. Not right now. “You said you were following me to the top. Is this how you intend on doing it? By pretending to be a good little model soldier while keeping me at arm’s length?”

At this, Bond seems to further straighten, if that’s still physically possible. There’s steel in his eyes, but not the lost, abandoned kind given into avarice like that of Greed.

It’s all just sheer solid nerve and hardened integrity. It’s all Bond and so much more.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect and help you reach your goal—”

“Don’t you get it? You can’t protect me for damn if you’re always three steps away from me! That only means we’re no longer the team you seem to think we are.” Q’s mouth twists into a snarl. “Do you understand what I’m getting at, Bond?”

Bond turns his head away, staring out into the endless expanse of the night through the large panel of Q’s windows. Bond has never liked them, these ‘uselessly big windows that Central Command seems to prefer for their offices.’ Makes his job harder than it already is, he said.

Q tears himself away from the sudden memory.

“My only mission is to protect you,” Bond grinds out, hands that have fallen to his sides clenching into fists.

“And you have not failed.” Q’s voice has somewhat softened as he stands and clears his throat. “What happened, back then. It just means that we need to update our measures of counterattacks.”

They stare at each other now, mutual challenge shining in their eyes like a beacon to safety in the middle of a raging storm.

(“Q. I’m sorry.” Bond said, desperation ripping his voice raw and vulnerable. Q had never heard him like this. “I–I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“James, there’s nothing to forgive.”)

“We can discuss that tomorrow, then.” Bond bends down to pick up Q’s coat from the floor and gives it a few perfunctory pats before handing it back over, a tentative smirk on his lips. “Are you ready to go home for the night, sir?”

Q scoffs and takes it, not hiding his own smile. “Just about.”

It’s a long road ahead, but they’re getting there all right.

Bonus art:

#00q #teambondvillains #007 fest #007 fest 2020 #my art #my writing #my drawing

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woulddieforperrytheplatypus · 4 years

Note

Perry being relocated is sad, but it could lead to some bonding moments between Phineas and Heinz should they interact again. Phineas tells Heinz that it really started to sink in that he shouldn't have thrown away the pamphlet; if he had actually heard Perry out, maybe they could've kept the whole thing a secret from OWCA. Heinz comforts him and tells him it's not his fault; in hindsight, he shouldn't have roped some random kids into his scheme, but Phineas tells him it's not his fault either.

in reference to this post

WAIT THAT’S ACTUALLY SO CUTE??? oh man do I have Some Ideas™ for this

First of all, I have a feeling they’d all kinda stay away from each other for a while. I think Phineas would just be too sad to see anyone, and he’d rather spend his time moping with Ferb. Heinz wouldn’t even know where to find them anyway, but he’d probably want to stay away from them because he’d just feel really fucking guilty. I mean, it was Heinz that built the other-dimensionator. It was Heinz that let them come with him. There is no way he wouldn’t feel solely responsible not just for himself losing his nemesis, but these kids losing their pet, and that’s not even getting into the guilt I’m sure he’d feel over letting his doppelganger attempt to have them yeeted across the room or fed to the goozim (until, of course, he was also sentenced to a game of Poke the Goozim With A Stick).

But after a few days of moping around the penthouse and attempting to build things that he gives up on halfway through, there’s a knock on the door. His first thought is that it must be his weekend with Vanessa (already? how did that happen?) and he’s like :/ because he has to explain to her that he accidentally had Perry relocated literally just hours after finding out that the guy had a whole family that he never even knew about. But then he opens the door and it’s Phineas standing there, and heinz.exe stops working for a few seconds because why is this child standing outside his penthouse?

And Phineas has obviously been crying but he’s not right now, and he just looks up at Heinz with the saddest puppy dog eyes and asks, “Can I come in?” and there’s absolutely no way Heinz can say no to him,

Now, Heinz is obviously very confused because there’s really no reason for this kid not to hate his guts, so he has to ask what tf Phineas is doing here. Phineas just kinda shrugs and sniffles real quick, and Heinz has read Perry’s body language enough that he can kind of tell what people are thinking even if they won’t say it, so he sighs and just says something like, “You miss him, too, huh?” and Phineas nods and then starts fucking sobbing, and poor Heinz hasn’t had t comfort a crying child in years, so he has no idea what to do.

So Heinz gestures to the couch, and he’s like, “... you wanna sit?” and Phineas just looks at it for a second and Heinz quickly adds, “it’s not the same one he peed on,” and Phineas doesn’t stop crying but he does crack a smile before he sits down. Heinz sits down, too, and he asks why Phineas is there again, because while his new couch is very comfortable -- perks of not buying new inator parts and new doors every day; he could afford a very luxurious couch -- he is decently sure Phineas did not come here to try out his couch.

And Phineas takes a minute to compose himself, and then he says something like, “I was just starting to get to know this other side of him, and now he’s gone” except like phrased so it’s sadder idk it’s hard to write dialogue if I’m not actually writing something in fanfic form lmao.

Heinz just kinda nods because he doesn’t necessarily relate -- sure, finding out Perry had a family was surprising, but the difference between Agent P with his family and the Perry the Platypus that Heinz knows isn’t anywhere near as stark as the difference between Agent P and the Perry that Heinz can sort of picture at home -- he does relate to wishing he had had the time to learn more about him before he had to leave.

Then Phineas asks, “What was he like?” and it all kinda falls into place. He came here to get to know the side of Perry that he didn’t really get to see; the side that Heinz knows better than anyone, because he’s seen both the friend and foe aspects (often on the same day, when they’d go hang out after work). So Heinz starts talking and talking and talking, and it’s oddly comforting because this is what he used to do with Perry the Platypus and he hasn’t really gotten to monologue since Perry left and he’d forgotten how therapeutic it was. It’s not the same, obviously, but seeing Phineas’s reactions to his stories is heartwarming in a different way.

And then maybe Phineas apologizes, and Heinz is like ??? because if anyone should be apologizing, it should be him -- and he was getting there; he was just a little wrapped up in happier times -- and Phineas explains the whole thing with the pamphlet and the fact that he basically ignored everything Perry tried to tell him (and he doesn’t say it, but hearing Heinz talk about Perry and what he thought and what he felt just makes it worse because it means Heinz (his nemesis!!!) was willing to listen to him and he wasn’t). And Heinz is like “Dude, literally shut the fuck up because this was all my bad” (but, you know, not like that) and they talk about that for a lil bit and Heinz finally says, “You know what? We both messed this up equally. We can share the blame, how ‘bout that?” and again, Phineas doesn’t say it, but that makes him feel better, too, because everyone else has been telling him to stop blaming himself. Even Ferb said it, as if Ferb wasn’t completely level-headed the entire time. If Perry had handed Ferb the pamphlet, he would have read it and he would have figured out what Perry was getting at, and then Phineas wouldn’t have wasted so much of their last few hours together just being angry at him. This is the first time someone has been real with him about it, and it means a lot.

And that, my friends, is the story of the newly-formed unbreakable bond between Phineas Flynn and Heinz Doofenshmirtz :,)

I have a sneaking suspicion that part of the reason you sent this was that you know that I’m a complete sucker for a good Phineas/Heinz (non-romantic) relationship, but I have to admit, the more I think about this, the more I feel like this would work out better with Heinz and Ferb. I know that’s probably really weird from someone who’s literally written a whole tumblr essay about how Phineas and Heinz are basically the same person (casual promo is casual), but I was actually just talking to revenblue on ao3 the other day (I would tag his tumblr instead but a) I don’t want him to feel compelled to read all my bullshit and b) I want to bless any Perryshmirtz fans out there who may not have read his fics yet because he is The Perryshmirtz Writer™) about how Heinz would get along with the boys, and I realized that Ferb and Heinz would actually get along really well in a different sense?

The charm of Phineas and Heinz’s potential friendship has always been that it would be someone to excitedly talk to about building and inventing and that they’d connect through excited conversations that they can’t have with anyone else. Sure, Phineas can talk to Ferb about it and Heinz can talk to Perry about it, but neither of them talk back very much, so putting two excitable blabbermouths together would be fantastic.

But Heinz and Ferb would get along really well because Heinz would actually listen to him. He’s so used to hanging out with Perry that he can pick up on silent cues with no problem -- something that would be really useful when hanging out with a mostly nonverbal kid. As much as it looks like Ferb might get that from Phineas already, it looks more to me like Phineas just assumes they’re on the same page and Ferb just roles with it. I’d go more in depth but a) it’s almost one in the morning and I have an 8:30 class tomorrow and b) this post is already so much longer than it needed to be, but tl;dr: This would be a great way for Heinz and Ferb to bond because it would give Heinz the chance to monologue and infodump about his best friend at the same time it gives Ferb the chance to both learn more about Perry and to talk to someone who’s going to pay attention to his own thoughts and feelings with no prompting.

#anon: so what if --#me: WRITEWRITEWRITEWRITEWRITEWRITEWRITE #im sorry i got a little carried away here #i might actually write this as a one-shot separate from the potential seattle fic just for kicks but idk #im really bad at writing ferb so i would probably attempt it with phineas if i did #anyways its late (early?) and i need to take a shower whoops bai #look i have an ask #pnf

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mini-moongi · 4 years

Text

Notification [REVAMPED] || 1

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Story prompt: What if you got an alert on your phone every time someone thought of you? They tell you their thoughts in the form of text messages.

Summary: Alert!AU, School!AU; A mysterious app appeared on your phone and you can’t get rid of it?? It texts you people’s thoughts. One day, you accidentally send the star basketball player, Min Yoongi, to the nurse’s office.

A/N: I got the sudden urge to revamp this old fic of mine bc it has SO MUCH POTENTIAL I just sucked at writing :,)) Anyways it’s been a good few years since my last written fanfic so--

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 coming soon!

series masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tapped tirelessly on your phone; your eyes so dry you can hear yourself blink. It’s 3 am and you have school tomorrow, but you just have to download this new album you found whilst “studying.” After it finishes loading into your playlist, a notification popped up. You thought that maybe your years of illegally downloading music has finally caught up with you.

“ALERT: Unauthorized app: E C H O downloaded. [ERROR_606_RESET] LOG DELETED.”

You panicked, what if it’s a virus?? Going onto your home screen, you find an app called E C H O. Nothing else was out of the ordinary, except for the cryptid new app. After that fateful night, you’ve learned that it texts you the thoughts that people have about you. You couldn’t delete it, no matter how hard you tried, and you tried for weeks. Not many people think of you anyways, so it’s no biggie.

Thinking that was your first mistake.

Your friend, Byeol, was chasing you down the hallway with a dead roach she found on the floor. “Ew look, it’s guts are oozing out!!” She’s never been afraid of icky things, and will not hesitate in poking a dead organism with her bare hands. She’s a madman, and she knows you’re about to gag when she squeezes the guts of the roach between her fingers.

You’re running away from the horrifically explicit roach Byeol is holding, and as you turn your head to spew out an insult, you crash into another body. It sends you tumbling on top of them with no support to stop the fall. He lets out a deep guttural groan from the impact, and a loud “Fuck!” escapes the stranger’s lips.

Bumping into him was your second mistake.

You don’t even look at them, too scared to make eye contact as you blurt out,” I’m so sorry!!” You hastily try to recollect yourself and offer your hand to the poor victim. When you finally glance at him, you almost freeze up. You just whammed yourself into the school’s best basketball player, Min Yoongi™.

Min Yoongi is one of the seven guys at the top of the High School tier class. Some fan club even started the name, “Bangtan Boys” to address the seven handsome guys. He’s an excellent pianist, a fantastic composer, a basketball star, and unmistakably a bad boy. Guys and girls swoon over him, but he’s given them all the the cold shoulder. You recalled a friend of yours who said that his glare was so piercing, you literally feel your body tense and freeze up. You also happen to remember that he had to sit out on the last basketball game because he sprained his ankle. Ouch.

You look back over your shoulder, and of course, Byeol was pretending not to know who you were. She picked up conversation with a nearby stranger, hoping that they didn’t see the cause of this destruction. You didn’t blame her though, no one wants to get on Yoongi’s bad side. You were sure your phone had a ton of messages from ECHO, even though you’ve put it on “Do Not Disturb.”

Your guilt sinks in and it weighs heavy on your shoulders at the thought of you being the reason he’s in pain. “..Are you alright? Here, let me take you to the nurse.” You help him up and wrap his arm around your shoulder. “You can lean on me, it’s okay.” On the inside, it was definitely not okay. He accepted your offer, but he hasn’t said a single word to you this whole time. The air was thick and the silence was fueling your uneasiness.

You check him into the nurse’s office and explain the incident. Good thing it’s your lunch period, or your teacher would’ve chewed you out for being late. You check ECHO while the lady logs Yoongi into the records.

[11:37pm] Woah!! Did that girl just slam into Min Yoongi? She’s got balls..

[11:37pm] Should I pretend I don’t know her? Y/n will forgive me, right?

[11:38pm] What the fuck was that??? Why am I on the floor? And in pain??

[11:45pm] ...now what am I going to do? Who is she?

The nurse lady sets him up on one of those bed thingies, and you take this opportunity to apologize again. “I’m so sorry Yoongi, I should’ve been paying attention. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know.” The desperation must’ve been obvious in your voice.

“...What’s your name?” Yoongi stares at you. His eyes don’t waver when you look at him in surprise. He stays unmoving, waiting for your answer.

“My name? Oh, uhm... it’s Y/n. L/n Y/n,” You were not expecting a response from him, since he seemed uninterested when you tried conversing earlier. Yoongi asking for someone’s name is considered to be something really honorable; people would pay anything to have him say that to them. But then again, they would also pay Yoongi to step on them...

“I have a request for you then, Y/n.” He lulls his head to the side, thinking his decision over. “I want you to...” He looks at you with a gaze that you just can’t shake. Your breath is caught in your throat at his stare. What is he going to say? “Be my substitute.”

“Like a substitute teacher? I’m sorry but--” You try to quickly intervene. Does he think you’re an old hag?? You didn’t think you looked that old.. or maybe he means something else? “Or did you mean a substitute as in like for your basketball game because I don’t even know how to play basketball I just--”

“No, calm your tits. I meant you’ll act as my replacement for school and go where I usually go. I need you to be my eyes and ears while I’m stuck here and at home.” He draws out a long sigh,” You just need to collect my assignments and give them to me everyday after school until I get better. If you can, fill me in on what that day was like. It’s not that hard to do, right?”

You let out a sigh of relief. Just then, you hear a knock at the door. Three boys shuffle into the clinic, giving a casual greeting to the nursing staff. Your eyes widen, how could you forget? Of course the other Bangtan Boys would come check up on him. Kim Taehyung, Park jimin, and Jung Hoseok smile to acknowledge you and turn their eyes to Yoongi.

“Are you alright?” Hoseok asks him. He’s bubbling with energy as he speaks. “We were wondering where you went. I almost had a heart attack when they said you were here!!” Hoseok grabs at his chest like he’s in more pain than Yoongi.

Jung Hoseok is known for his positive energy and “legendary” hip work. He’s a street dancer who knows everybody, and everybody knows him. He’s also in medical class for vets, and he does charities in his free time. He’s super sweet and will sometimes send flowers to the fan club.

“Are you still eating lunch with us?” Jimin pipes up. He’s leaning on the nursing bed as he drapes himself dramatically across Yoongi’s shoulders. He whines,”What will we do without you? Please tell me you’re eating with us today..”

Park Jimin is also a dancer, but he does contemporary work. When he dances, he’s graceful, like a mythical creature. He’s shy and shorter than the rest of the guys, which makes people want to dote on him. If he dances with Hoseok though, he flips like a coin. He’ll act like a playboy and tease his audience when given the chance.

“Yah, You know I can’t.” Yoongi gestures to his ankle, and his inability to move due to the immense pain. “The nurse said I should stay in here for at least an hour or two.”

You don’t know if you should leave or stay. You were about to excuse yourself because your conversation with Yoongi ended a while ago. You shouldn’t expect them to talk to you when they don’t know who you are or why you’re there. You pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

Taehyung mentions you, stopping you from escaping so easily. “Who is that?” He points to you. Leave it to Taehyung to point out the elephant in the room...

He’s popular for his charming personality and ethereal looks. Taehyung is in agriculture, and he often helps Hoseok out with the animals. He plays the saxophone, which combined with theatre class, drives the fans nuts. Taehyung also seems to be super observant, and he will point out small details other people seem to miss. If he was doing a police report, he’d probably be able to tell you the exact time the incident happened and what colored crocs the perpetrator was wearing.

As if Yoongi just remembered that you were still here, he makes another request.” Oh, as the new Yoongi, can you also keep an eye on these guys? They’ll cause chaos if I’m not there.”

“New Yoongi?” Jimin looks incredulously at you. “What do you mean--”

Yoongi retorts,” She’s my stand in, my understudy, my alternative, my stunt double, ecetera. Need I say more?” His cold demeanor doesn’t hesitate with the response. He talks as if it was a natural request, but what part of this is natural?

"How would I...” You trail off. You find yourself stammering, unable to voice your concerns. All of the guys, attractive ones at that, were staring at you.”..How would I even do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? For starters, we all have the same lunch period, so just eat lunch with them or something.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders,” Do I need to plan everything out for you?”

You’re quick to object,” No!! I’m.. I’m fine. It’s okay.” It’s bad enough that he’s injured, so you shouldn’t worry Yoongi anymore.

Taehyung’s eyes light up. He speaks as if he had a eureka moment. “We have the same forensics class, don’t we? No wonder I recognized you..” You were really hoping he wouldn’t have remembered that. If people see you hanging around these guys, they’ll get the wrong idea.

“Well I guess that settles it. I’ll sit next to you in class, and we can be partners for that new project he’s assigning.” He takes you by the hand. His touch was so sudden and warm that it takes you a minute to realize you’re in the cafeteria already. He looks down at you and smiles. “This is our spot.”

Only when you part from him to grab your bag that you realize he held your hand this entire time. You start to miss his warmth, but you shake out any of those thoughts from your head. What were you thinking? Your heart pounds in your chest, and your cheeks grow hot. You breathe out a shaky breath, trying to calm down. Anyone would feel this way if they were you. You go from being an average joe to suddenly sitting next the the Bangtan Boys? It’s almost like you’re in a fanfiction. You shouldn’t fall in love with one of them, that would be too cliché and very, very dangerous.

You finished settling down your things and find that Taehyung was still waiting for you. Hoseok already rushed to the pizza line, and Jimin was swarmed by girls who made him bento boxes. He smiles politely to them all, unsure of how to decline. His eyes glance at you like a plead for help, but a girl starts to scold him so he looks away.

“What did you want to eat? Noodles?” It was pretty loud in the cafeteria, so Taehyung walked closer. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. “..Or do you want to eat me?” His hot breath tickled your ear. It was a deep and husky voice, one that sent shivers down your spine.

Shocked at his words, you jumped back. “W..What?” You never thought Taehyung was so bold. You’ve heard of him being flirty, but this was cutting it close. It was like dirty talking, but you’ve barely met him!!

He tried to suppress his laugh as he looked at you. “I said: Or do you want to eat meat?” He raises an eyebrow at you. He knows you’re flustered, and feigns innocence. “There’s a rice with two meat deal today. What did you think I said?”

You could’ve sworn he said “me” and not “meat,” but maybe you were thinking into it too much. You decided which one you wanted and Taehyung walks to the line with you. Whilst waiting for your turn, you check ECHO.

It was what you expected. Many of them were like:

[12:03pm] Wtf??? Who is that girl?

[12:03pm] Is she their girlfriend? No-- it has to be a cousin, right? But she’s so plain looking...

[12:04pm] Why is she holding Kim Taehyung’s hand? Don’t tell me--

[12:05pm] Y/n?? What did that girl do now.. ((((゜д゜;))))

Oh yeah, you should probably tell Byeol that you kind of have to sit with Bangtan during lunch now. Good to know that everyone is gawking at you now, I guess. There are hundreds of messages screaming about “who is that girl!1!1!!!!” so you scroll past most of them. One however, catches your eye.

[12:10pm] She’s so cute lol

You don’t think ECHO has ever sent you a compliment like this before. Someone thinks you’re cute? The thought warms your heart. This is the first time you’ve had an admirer.

“Hey, what are you looking at on your phone?” Taehyung rips you to reality. “How do you have so many messages?” He starts to lean over your shoulder to get a glimpse.

Antsy, you turn off your phone and press your hand to his chest to give some distance. “It’s.. It’s my online friends! They wanted to play the new game with me.”

He stands back up, no longer breathing on your neck. “Oh? The one that was released just last week? What was it called...” He ponders for a minute,” Animal Crossing?”

You nod. Conversation starts from there, and you let out that breath you’ve been holding in. You both pay for your meals and head over to the table. You could see Hoseok stuffing his face with pizza and sprite while he scribbles down answers to a worksheet. Jimin is desperately trying to get him to eat some of the bento boxes, but all of his attempts were futile.

“...So I know you’re the New Yoongi or whatever, but what’s your real name?” Hoseok asks you. “If you don’t know me already, I’m Jung Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi!”

Jimin and Taehyung look at each other. You hadn’t even thought to introduce yourself earlier, how much more embarrassing can this day be? Quick, be cool!!

“I’m L/n Y/n, but just Y/n is fine.”

“You probably know us already, but you can call me Tae or any various nickname you can conjure up,” He laughs,” The more creative the better.”

Jimin nudges his shoulder,” Like Spoiled Yogurt Kid?” It’s hard for the smaller one to contain his laughter.

“It was one time!!” Taehyung playfully shoves him away, clearly embarrassed. “It’s not my fault my sleep paralysis demon told me to eat the 3 month old yogurt at like 2 am.” He grumbled,”Ugh, it’s not like I tell everyone about your weird impulses..”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Hobi notices and adds fuel to the fire,”Yeah, get a load of this guy. He’s blaming all of his mistakes on his sleep paralysis demon. Poor demon, honestly.”

Jimin continues to mock Taehyung teasingly, getting him worked up.“You know what??” Taehyung growls as he whips his head around to face you. His soft brown hair falls over his eyes, and his jaw is clenched as he looks at you with an emotion you can’t quite read. His face is flushed, but he tilts his head up in a cool manner. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was serving up some bedroom eyes.

He runs his fingers through his hair and speaks with a voice that oozes sex appeal without meaning to,“If you don’t know what to call me, just say Oppa.” Taehyung’s eyes widen as if he realized what came out of his mouth. He covers his lips with the palm of his hand and instinctively looked at how you’d react.

It was your turn to flush from embarrassment. Before your brain could process what just happened, the words croak out,”..o..okay?”

Hobi is choking on his sprite,”Damn, what the--” He continues to try and suppress his coughs,” Who the hell taught you that? Namjoon? Jin?” Hoseok shakes his head in disappointment. You thought it was because he ruined his drink, but then he said,” Ah, I told them to stop doing stuff like that.. If Yoongi were here he probably wouldn’t even know how to scold you.”

Jimin’s mouth is agape in shock. He suddenly doubles over the table, unable to contain the fit of laughter inside of him. “Wha- that was so smooth!” He’s holding onto his stomach for dear life, and his shoulders shake up and down. He gives suggestive eyebrows to Taehyung, whose ears are scorching red. “I didn’t know Taehyung was such a player.”

Taehyung is trying to hide himself with the sleeves of his hoodie. He’s silent at first, but eventually he speaks barely above a whisper. “...I don’t know what came over me..” His words tremble and tread lighter than a feather so scared it might step on another bomb.

"Was it your sleep paralysis demon?” You make a witty remark despite the blush dusted across your face.

Tae sinks farther into his chair,” Oh my god...” He can’t help but laugh a little at your joke. “..Please forget about what I said today.”

Jimin’s laughter dies down as he looks at you. His smile is soft and reassuring. “Don’t worry, Y/n. He’s usually not like this. I swear, we’re all gentlemen.” The bell suddenly rings, signaling that lunch was over. Jimin starts to clean up his spot, stuffing the unfinished bentos into his bag for later. “Ah, Taehyung, you’re saved by the bell this time, but next time you have got to show me some moves.” He winks before leaving for his next class.

Hoseok waves to you and Taehyung,” I’d walk with you two if I could, but my next class is across campus. I gotta dash, but good luck with Forensics!”

You’d almost forgotten about Forensics with Taehyung. Unfortunately, Tae seems to stay unmoving from his spot. You would be like that too if you were him, but you really can’t be late for class. It’s better if you approach him now rather than later, so it’s not as awkward during class.

“Hey...” You start out. He doesn’t respond as his head is till buried in his arms. You hesitate at first, but you put your hand on his shoulder. “...Taehyung Oppa?”

Immediately he shoots up, his eyes are wide and he’s as stiff as a board. He brushes your hand softly away and grabs his bag. He avoids your gaze as he packs up, but he returned his gaze when you started walking in the hallway. His eye’s remain forward, but he speaks to you,“...I didn’t think you’d actually call me that.” He chuckles.

“Oppa?”

He rubs his hand across his face and he licks his lips,” Yeah, that.” He sneaks a glance at you, but since you were already looking at him, he turns his face away.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-A/N-

oof it’s been AGES since my last bts fic. If y’all are following me bc of my text au, I’m going to try and update that soon too! I... did not expect to have such a flirtatious Taehyung,, but honestly I’m kinda into it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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