#oh and phone ate quality <\3
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i am so in love with him :')
#my fav character <3#well him and avalon#star stable online#sso#star stable#sso evergray#star stable evergray#my art#digital art#oh and phone ate quality <\3
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Incurable Cravings (Chapter Three)
Pairing: Regina George x Reader
Warnings: this chapter has it all, fluff, angst, and explicit smut (18+ MDNI)
Word Count: 2700, Part 3/?
Part 1 / Part 2
Regina and Reader continue their evening after school and get to enjoy some quality time together again after three years of complicated feelings.
Explicit Content Below!
You and Regina ate dinner with Gina’s mom. Regina did her best at eating a standard portion of food and you squeezed her hand reassuringly under the table, hoping to show her that you were proud.
Ms. George asked you some more questions about school and your activities and it felt good to update her after going so long without being around the George house.
Regina got up to clear her plate and asked her mom, “hey, can we have a sleepover? If that’s okay with you, obviously,” Regina added, directed at you.
“Oh, of course honey! Whatever you want, as long as you can get up in time for school tomorrow. Actually, what am I saying? You’re seniors, I don't care if you go to school or not.”
You laughed and said, “I won’t let Gina ditch.”
Regina smiled at you, “so you’ll stay?”
You nod your head, “I just gotta let my mom know.”
You gave your mom a quick phone call on your way back up to Regina’s room and she was fine with you spending the night and grateful that you would have a ride to school in the morning, but was slightly judgemental that you were hanging out with Regina again.
She just said, “be careful.” And you responded, “I know, I’ve got it.”
When you hung up your phone, Regina grabbed your arms and pushed you backwards toward her bed. The backs of your legs hit the edge of the mattress and you fell back into her cushy comforter. She followed your body as you scooched back into the middle of the bed and then crawled on top of you, straddling your stomach.
“Well, hi…” you said, stupidly.
“You’re such a dork… I’m glad you’re staying over tonight. It’ll be just like old times. I’ll do your makeup, dress you up in my clothes, cuddle you while we watch a movie… except now it will be even better.”
“Better, how?”
“Because now I can do this,” Regina leaned down and kissed you passionately, putting her hands on your collarbones and sliding her tongue into your mouth.
You moaned and kissed her back just as needily. You felt Regina begin to grind back and forth on your abdomen and you felt your head spin as you grabbed onto her hips and encouraged her. She continued to build up that heat and then she pulled away from your lips and you opened your eyes. You watched her flips all of her hair over to one side of her face and then she leaned down and kissed along your jawline and neck.
You sighed and writhed underneath her. She whispered into your ear, “you’re mine, now… right, baby?”
You gasped at her words, “fuck… yes, Gina… I’m yours…”
“Just mine?” She kept kissing your neck, dragging her tongue along your skin and making you squirm with need.
“Only yours…”
“Good. You’re my perfect darling… and I’m your princess, just like you’ve always wanted, right?”
“Oh my god…” you breathed, “yes… Regina…”
She grazed her teeth along your pulse point and nipped at you lightly and your body jolted in response.
“God, you’re so needy for me… You’re going to be a good little toy for me, aren’t you? Will you let me mark you up and claim you as my own, baby?”
You couldn’t speak. She knew all the right buttons with you. She knew exactly how to turn the tables and make you into a needy mess for her. You just moaned affirmatively and nodded your head.
“That’s good, baby… if you keep being good, I promise I’ll reward you, okay?” Regina started to bite and suck on your neck now, leaving a trail of red marks and then bruises as she traveled toward your shirt collar. She started to slide your shirt up your body and met your eyes, “can I take this off of you, my sweet baby?”
“Mhmm…” you nodded.
She finished taking your shirt all the way off and took a moment to admire your physique in your white sports bra, “you always had such a nice body…” she leaned down and started making marks all over your collarbones and the exposed areas of your chest. All you could do was make pleased noises and run your fingers through her hair, willingly accepting her treatment of you.
She lowered herself further and marked up even your ribs and your abdomen, sinking her teeth into your skin to leave a painting of bite marks and bruises. She was absolutely intent on claiming you.
After a while, she sat up and spoke gently, “I think you’ve been very good, don’t you?”
You met her eyes and nodded slowly.
“I think you can have a little reward…”
You watched as Regina got off of you and stood at the foot of her bed, “how about you hold yourself up on your elbows for me, baby?”
You nodded and propped yourself up the way she requested. Regina smirked and then started to lift the hem of her shirt up. The blonde then took her time to slowly strip naked in front of you, removing her articles of clothing one by one in a tantalizing manner. Your jaw dropped at the sight and Regina basked in your obvious admiration of her.
She reached around her back and unclasped her bra and let it fall off of her arms onto the floor at her feet. You gazed at her nude torso and sighed happily, saying, “my god… you are so stunning, Regina.”
“I know,” she smirked and hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband of her panties and slowly slid them down her thighs, her eyes following yours the entire time.
Once she was stripped, she climbed back up onto the bed and straddled your thighs as she placed her fingertips against your sternum and slowly pushed you back down to lie flat.
Regina then moved forward until she was straddling your stomach one more and she slowly lowered her weight onto you until her sex landed right on your abdomen.
“You feel that, baby? Feel how wet I am for you?”
You stared at her with wide eyes and then she started to move, rocking her hips and spreading her dripping arousal over your skin. You moaned and reached for her waist but she quickly batted your hands away with a smack to each one, “nuh uh, baby… I’m going to use you to take care of me… you just lie back and enjoy it for me, okay?”
You let your arms settle above your head and Regina leaned forward slightly, arching her back, to grab onto your wrists and hold your arms down, both to trap you and give herself something to hold onto as she began to ride your abs to her completion.
You couldn’t believe what was happening but there she was, Regina Geroge, grinding her wet cunt against you like her life depended on it. She closed her eyes and threw her head back in pleasure as she increased her pace and gave herself exactly what she needed using your body. In nearly no time at all, Regina was a moaning, panting mess and beads of sweat were running down her forehead and temples from her effort, but she still firmly held you in place and didn’t let you take over for her.
You watched in awe as her movements grew more and more erratic until her moans finally drew out into one long moan of pleasure and she came on your stomach with a shaking orgasm. She let your wrists go at that point, leaving behind bright red marks from where she was tightly gripping you, and then moved her hands to your chest to hold herself up while she rode her climax out until she was done.
Her thighs trembled on either side of you. You reached up and gently caressed the sides of her face with your thumbs and she smiled blissfully. Neither of you said anything as Regina slowly dismounted from you and shifted to lay on her side next to you, bringing an arm and leg over you and resting her head on your chest.
You gently kissed the top of her head and wrapped your arms tightly around her and you whispered, “Holy shit, Regina…”
“Mmm… did I do a good job of rewarding you for being so good for me?”
“Yeah… yeah, you did Princess…”
She moaned, “oh that sounds so good coming out of your mouth…”
You smiled and kissed her again. You laid there in bliss together for a while until Regina suddenly sat up, apparently refreshed, and kissed your lips before getting out of the bed and walking over to her vanity to grab her makeup bag.
She turned and playfully jostled the bag around with a giggle and you rolled your eyes, “Oh god…”
“I told you I was gonna make you over… just had to make you mine, first.”
Regina sat on top of you yet again and opened up her makeup bag on the bed. She started to dig through and began pulling things out that she wanted to use on you, getting adorably excited about certain products and saying things like, “ooh I haven’t even tried this one on myself, yet,” and “this is exactly your color oh my gosh it’s like I bought it for you.”
She applied god-knows-what to your face and occasionally tickled your nose with a makeup brush, making you giggle. You watched her get into hyper focus mode working on your face but you mistakenly tried to talk to her, “Wh-“ you began.
Regina grabbed your chin, cutting you off, “shh and stop moving!”
You let her keep doing her work in silence.
“Close your eyes.”
You obliged her command and she started putting eyeliner on you carefully and gently. Regina brushed blush onto your cheeks, highlight onto your cheekbones, and mascara onto your eyelashes. She blew light breaths of air onto your face to disperse some loose powder or dry the setting spray and all of it felt intimate to you. It always had felt special when she had done this for you in the past but now she was literally naked, sitting on you, and putting lipgloss on you by transferring it from her lips to your own through a kiss.
She got off of you and grabbed your hand, pulling you up and bringing you over to the mirror for you to see yourself, “what do you think?”
The makeup was done with an expert hand and you did look very nice. But your smile was clearly forced.
“You hate it…”
“What? No I don’t, Regina. It’s really pretty.”
She frowned and expected you to continue.
“Just… is this what you wish I looked like? Ya know, do you wish I was dolled up all the time like you?”
Regina grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to face her, “No! I think you’re absolutely perfect, I don’t want to change you. That’s not what this is about.”
“What is it about, then?”
She thought for a moment, “lots of things. I enjoy doing it. Make up is one of my primary interests so I like sharing it with you. It’s an excuse to study your incredible face for a long time. And it’s a very sexy thing to do, especially when I’m naked.” She grinned at herself and you laughed.
“I don’t want to change you, baby,” she continued, “it’s only meant to be fun and give you a chance to feel pretty, but if it doesn’t make you feel good then it’s not worth it.”
You looked back in the mirror at yourself, “I do feel pretty, Gina. Thank you. I especially like the eyeliner.”
She bounced excitedly, “see how it makes your eyes so bright?”
You smiled, “mmhmm.”
Regina stood behind you, wrapped her arms around you and planted kisses all over your cheeks and neck, leaving pink lipstick kiss marks all over your skin along with her array of hickeys from before. Your body was a map of where Regina had graced you with her lips, and you were overjoyed for it.
“Now, go into my closet and give me a little fashion show, okay? I demand a three outfit minimum. If you do that, then you get your choice of my hoodies for bed tonight.”
“Okay, Princess.” You agreed, “just, one thing first.”
“Yes?”
You gently reached out and pointed to some of the scars on her body from the bus accident, “can I look at them?”
Regina sighed and frowned slightly, but she nodded her head.
You carefully traced the scars with your fingertips. She turned slightly so that you could see the ones on her back closely. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and you traced the long surgical scar that went down her spine.
“I try to pretend that they’re not there… that nothing has changed… but then I start to hurt everywhere or I pass out from being upright for too long… and I remember…”
“Gina…” you sighed. You didn’t know what you could say. You felt awful that she had to go through that, and that no one really knew the burden she was shouldering every day since the accident. You also felt an unshakeable guilt knowing that she went through her recovery all alone. You hadn’t been there for her.
“I'm so fucking terrified of getting worse…” she whispered.
“You have to do what you can to take care of yourself, but I think you also have to recognize that some things are going to be out of your control… but being in pain, or being ill… it doesn’t make you any less… it doesn’t… I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying…”
Regina had tears in her eyes, “no, what were you going to say?”
“I was going to say… it doesn’t make me love you any less, Gina…”
The blonde sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, tears fell down her cheeks at your confession.
“You love me?” she asked.
“I do… I love you…”
“You almost said it earlier, didn’t you?”
“Yes, almost…”
“Have you always loved me?”
You looked into her eyes and caressed her cheeks, wiping her tears away with your thumbs. You nodded, “always… I just didn’t know how to say it…”
Regina nodded and put her hand over yours, holding your palm against her cheek, “I didn’t know how to say it, either… and maybe I still don’t…”
“It’s okay,” you whispered.
“Am I… am I enough for you? Until I learn how to say it? And how to really show you? Can you feel it?”
You began to cry at that and you nodded emphatically, “you are saying it… and I can feel it…”
“You can feel that my heart is yours?”
You nod again, "I can, Gina..."
She buries her fingers into your hair and pulls your head to her shoulder then embraces you. You hold each other close for a while, both crying tears that had been trapped for a long time.
Regina started to feel weak from standing and she tapped you, “I need to lie down.”
You nodded, “I’ve got you, Princess.”
You bent slightly at your knees and swiftly scooped Regina up into your arms. She gasped in surprise as you held her around her back and under her knees and bridal carried her over to her bed, then carefully laid her down and tucked her under the covers.
She smiled at you, “forget the fashion show, just come here and cuddle me… take your clothes off, though. I want to feel your skin.”
You smiled and started to take your clothes off to the side of the bed in an incredibly over-acted, Magic Mike sort of way, which made Regina burst out laughing, then you got into bed and under the covers with her and spooned her.
You kissed the back of her head and breathed in the smell of her hair. She squeezed your forearm and brought your hand to her lips, kissing your knuckles softly.
“I know you’re scared, Regina… but if it helps at all, you have me now. I’ll always be here to take care of you from now on, because I love you.”
She smiled and kissed the back of your hand, “thank you, baby.”
#regina george x reader#regina george#renee rapp regina george#regina george fanfic#regina george lesbian#18+ content#mdni#mean girls 2024#my fanfiction#my writing#incurable cravings
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Hidden Love - Charles Leclerc One Shot/Request
Read Part 2 Here!
Pairing: Reader x Charles Leclerc
Warnings: smut, language, a Charles quickie cause ya girl's fingers started to fall off by word 7,000...
Rating: Mature
Synopsis: Classic friends with lovers with our soft boy Charles with some smut at the end <3
Word Count: ~7500 words (clearly one shots are not my specialty... I get way too connected to my characters!)
AN: Sorry this took so long anon! I had to prioritize Man's World and work kicked my butt last week but hope you enjoy this and thanks for requesting!!
********
I consider myself to be incredibly lucky to call Pierre my brother; while I knew the world looks at him like a playboy, to me he is the silly, loving and kind brother who always had sage, if not very unsolicited, advice. Growing up as kids we rarely fought. Being so close in age – only 18 months apart – we were bound at the hip practically since birth. Pierre probably knew me almost as much as I knew myself – which is why he was 100% accurate when he confronted me with my feelings for his best friend and Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc.
“Good morning, Pierre,” I hollered as I walked into our Monaco apartment; Pierre had decided he wanted to spend a little more time in Monaco this year. The newest art gallery I was working for was based in Monaco, and with so many of the other drivers living in Monaco, Pierre had asked if I wanted to share an apartment for this race season. I hadn’t lived with my brother in over 5 years, so I was incredibly excited to get the opportunity to share an apartment with my best friend. I figured eventually we would both settle down with someone, so this was likely our last chance as brother and sister to have some quality family time just the two of us. Plus, things with my boyfriend Gerardo had been progressing. While we had only dated for 4 months, I felt like things were starting to get more serious.
“Good morning, (Y/N),” Pierre called back. As I walked into the kitchen, I smelled the sweet, sweet aroma of coffee beans – freshly ground – and bacon with toast. I sat down at the marbled kitchen island and grabbed a cup of coffee that Pierre had already poured for me – black coffee with just a touch of creamer. Pierre and I had both become coffee snobs a few years ago after a lovely trip to Peru; there’s something about black coffee that just screams morning to me.
“Thanks for this. So, what’s the plan for tonight? Your text said you wanted to cook some dinner?” I asked casually, trying to pry out of him what exactly he wanted. We typically ate dinner together, so I it was odd that he had directly asked if I was free tonight and if I wanted to have dinner with him.
“Charles is coming over, he’s back from Italy a day early, and thought it would be nice to have dinner before we all head to Austria.”
“Oh how lovely! Haven’t seen Charles in what feels like an age. Yes, that would be great. I’ll tell Gerardo, I’d love for him to meet Gerardo before he comes to Austria with us.” I clapped my hands and grabbed my phone, crafting a text to Gerardo with the hope that he could make some time to come. Recently he had been spending a lot of time with ‘the boys’, so I felt like we hadn’t seen each other in forever.
As I pulled out my phone, I could feel Pierre grimace, wanting to clearly say something. “Why can’t it just be the three of us?” he asked calmly, but I could see the look of panic in his eyes when I lifted mine to meet his deep blue ones.
“Why do you not like Gerardo?” I responded, slowing standing up from my chair at the kitchen counter. I knew Pierre didn’t like Gerardo; he’d only invited him to Austria because I had begged him to. Pierre had always had this silly thought in his head that Charles and I should be together. I typically shrugged him off when he said things like that. The reality was: Why on earth would Charles want to date me? He had access to beautiful models all throughout Europe. Something I reminded Pierre often – considering he always had a model on his arm, no matter the event.
Pierre was convinced Gerardo was just using me to get free F1 tickets and to get into exclusive events, a comment I thought was incredibly rude. Gerardo couldn’t just like me for me? Pierre said this about a lot of my boyfriends, something I often tried to ignore, but it was starting to truly irk me. I was a catch – and not because my brother was a Formula 1 driver. I worked at one of the most exclusive art galleries in Monaco; I had my own set of events to attend. I didn’t need him to get into a VIP club – although it was arguably easier.
“(Y/N), we’ve discussed this… it’s not that I don’t like the guy, it’s that I don’t think he’s right for you,” he responded coolly, clearly sending my agitation and frustration.
“Is it because you still have this secret plan to get me and Charles together? I know he recently broke up with his last model girlfriend. This better not be one of those games you like to play.” I put an emphasis on model, just to reinstate the reason why Charles and I would never be together.
Pierre just signed. “No plan, no plan,” he said with acceptance. “I just wanted some old friends to hang out together. If it’s important for you to invite Gerardo, then please invite him; there will be plenty of food.”
I nodded and texted Gerardo, who to my surprise, said he would love to join the three of us for dinner this evening.
“Excellent – it’s settled then,” I responded with a grin, getting up from the table with my coffee cup. I hadn’t seen Charles in forever and I was excited to finally the future WDC holder of 2022. Charles had such a fun air about him – he was incredibly charming, funny, but most of all, compassionate. There had been so many late night phone calls throughout the year where Charles would sit endlessly on the phone, listening to my career plans. He’d ask me about my days in classes when I was at Uni and when I got my first job at a gallery, Charles was the first one to send me a beautiful bouquet of daisies, my favorite flower, as a congratulations. Unlike Pierre, he had always seemed supportive of my boyfriends – always made them feel welcome.
******
Charles arrived at half 6, 30 minutes before Pierre had told me Charles was going to arrive. I suspected he had told Charles 6:15, in the hopes that he would come earlier than Gerardo – no doubt part of Pierre’s plan for us to have some alone time without my current boyfriend. Charles was notoriously always late to events – his mother said she knew he’d just be one of those people who were always late, given that he was almost a week late to his expected date of birth.
I opened the door and before I knew it, I was engulfed in the hug of the century. “Charles, it’s so lovely to see you!” I yelled, giving him a second and then a third hug. He chuckled and said the same. As I shuffled him into the living, I noticed a small bouquet of flowers in his bag. He saw me looking and smiled, pulling them out of his bag and handing them to me.
“I saw these at a local market I was at this morning, thought you might like them,” he said with the biggest smile. Truth be told, my heart melted at that moment. I nodded, a little shyly, and took them from him, giving him yet another hug.
“Thanks Charles, these are just lovely. You are too kind! How a woman hasn’t snatched you up yet, I will never know.”
He beamed at me, ever the gentlemen this Monegasque was. “I am looking forward to Austria this weekend. You coming on the jet with us?”
“Yes, Gerardo and I will be flying with Pierre – he’s never been to Austria, so I am excited to go a day earlier and show him around.”
I wasn’t sure what emotion had flashed across Charles’ face, but it almost looked like disappointment. As soon as it had arrived on his face, it was gone and his face resumed the usual smile with those precious dimples. I decided to think nothing of it. I knew both Charles and Pierre were under a ton of stress, especially Charles who was so close to winning the championship.
“Who is Gerardo?” he asked quietly, still smiling directly at me. The smile was looking a little forced, but I let it slide.
“(Y/N)’s new boyfriend,” Pierre responded quickly. “He’s coming with us to Austria,” he added a bit too bluntly.
“… and we’re excited about it,” I snapped back, looking directly at Pierre. “And we’re going to be nice to him, right?”
Pierre rolled his eyes but nodded, looking back at Charles.
“Well, that’s exciting,” Charles replied, clapping his hands together; his smile was starting to look genuine. “I’ll be sure to give him a tour of the Ferrari garage if you’d like. We have some time on Thursday.”
“That would be great,” I explained. “More than Pierre has offered – he’s apparently too busy to give us a tour around the garage.” I rolled my eyes, but playfully batted at my brother’s shoulder.
“You know I would if I could, but we’ve got some big red bull sponsorship events this week,” Pierre gave me a loving shove. I suspected he was over dramatizing his schedule, but I nodded in agreement. No doubt about it, it was a huge event for both Red Bull teams and Pierre was expected to participate.
After another 10 minutes of chit chat, Gerardo knocked at the door. Before I could get to the door, Pierre had beaten me to it. “Gerardo, welcome to our home,” he said. I didn’t like the emphasis on our home, but chalked it up to Pierre just being his usual protective big brother self. He and Gerardo had met a couple other times before, but Gerardo was still very new in Pierre’s eyes.
Charles quickly got up to shake Gerardo’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” Charles said. “I’m an old family friend.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” Gerardo said with what could only be described as the most cringeworthy grin. “Charles Leclerc – great to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard so much about you. Looking forward to seeing Max beat you at the Red Bull ring this weekend,” he joked. Gerardo laughed after his comment, as if he had made a hilarious joke, and then winked at Charles. Charles, ever the gentlemen, let out an awkward, light chuckle. A little rude to someone who had just offered to show us around the Ferrari garage, but I hoped that Charles wasn’t too offended.
The rest of dinner went by fairly smoothly. Gerardo let out a few more awkward comments towards Charles, but overall he was a pleasant conversationalist with the group. I reckoned that it was probably hard to come into a group of well established friends and insert yourself into the conversation, so I thought he did great. As dinner started to whine down, Gerardo excused himself from the group. He apparently had to go back for Austria tomorrow. I was confused, because he told me over the weekend that he was so excited he had already packed, but I nodded and gave him a hug and kiss good-bye.
He glanced back at both my brother and Charles and then gave me a huge kiss, wrapping both of his arms around my waist and lifting me off of the floor. “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, beautiful,” he cooed. I nodded, a little lightheaded from the unexpected hug. I quickly closed the door, only to turn around to see both Charles and Pierre stating at me, a look of disbelief on Pierre’s face.
“Well, now the real party can begin,” Pierre announced as he walked over to the wine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of champagne. I frowned at him for his sassy comment about Gerardo leaving, but resumed my place on the couch, putting out my glass for a refill.
“So, (Y/N), how long have you and Gerardo been dating?” Charles asked me.
“A few months now – almost 4. I feel like in the last month it’s started to get more serious, so I am excited to bring him to the paddock.” Unbeknownst to me, Pierre was standing behind me, rolling his eyes at Charles and gesturing for him to change the subject. Charles ignored him and pressed further.
“That’s great, I’m happy for you. He seems so familiar, like I’ve met him before. Just can’t place where.”
“Well he’s lived in Monaco all his life, so you’ve probably seen him out at a club or something.“ I responded casually. Truthfully, I had no idea where they would have met, but they were both quite active in the night life of Monaco so it was entirely possible that they had some mutual friends.
“Well he seems like a nice guy, and as long as he makes you happy, then I am happy for you,” Charles said lightly. There was a tint of sadness in his voice, but before I could address it Pierre but in.
“As happy as a girlfriend can be when she’s dating a guy who can’t make her come during sex,” he remarked to Charles.
“PIERRE!” I shrieked, throwing the couch cushion at him. “I told you that in confidence! You can’t go around saying that to people.” I was mortified. When I was drunk one night about a month ago I had let that horrifying comment slip to Pierre, who since then, definitely took a strong dislike to Gerardo. He was a believer that a man’s number one focus in bed should be on his girlfriend, something he told me over and over.
I held my hand up, “I am NOT discussing this with my brother and his best friend. Nope. Absolutely not.”
I turned to Charles and noticed his eyes flicker up at me, his face a bit pink – likely from the cringeworthy announcement my brother had just made to the group. I mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’. It was clear Pierre was starting to get quite drunk.
“Well, I think we should call it a night,” I said pointedly to Pierre. “YOU have to be up early tomorrow and you cannot be hungover in Austria. Something about all of those sponsorship meetings… if I remember correctly,” I said with a grin, reminding him of the reason why he couldn’t give me and Gerardo that garage tour.
Charles nodded and started walking towards the door. As we were standing at the door, he leaned in closely, and whispered ever so gently, “Pierre is right, you know.” I raised an eye brow at him. His face was so close to my ear, I could feel his breath on my neck. “A boyfriend’s priority shouldn’t just be ‘how can I make my girlfriend come, but how many times I can make my girlfriend come.’” Before I could even respond to that comment, Charles winked at me and shut the door.
I stood there, slightly baffled. Charles had always been so sweet and well-mannered – I had never seen this side of him before. I retreated back to the living room, grabbed the remaining glass of champagne, and downed it.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Pierre was right. I did have feelings for Charles – feelings that I had to shove deep down because I knew that if I let them out, they’d explode inside of me, and I would end up being incredibly disappointed. I let that little comment from Charles slide, and went to sleep, trying to dream of my boyfriend making me come, and not Charles Leclerc.
*****
Of course the next morning Pierre woke up with a brutal hangover. I told him not to drink too much, but he was not one to listen to me, or anyone, – especially if champagne was involved. Gerardo met us at the airport. He also looked a little worse for wear, which I thought was odd considering he went straight home last night and had only drunk a couple glasses of wine. He gave me some excuse about having allergies, and I just nodded back at, doing my best to not roll my eyes. I didn’t think they looked like allergies, but I also wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight. This was going to be a good weekend, I could feel it in my bones.
That Wednesday went delightfully – Gerardo and I spent the day touring Austria and enjoying the lovely weather. Thursday Charles kept his promise and offered to give Gerardo and I a tour of the Ferrari garage, which was just lovely. I always thought that if Charles wasn’t a formula 1 driver, he would have made a great public speaker. He always had that beautiful smile on his face and his answers to everything were so diplomatic. About half-way thru the tour I got a call from Pierre, asking me to meet me in his drivers room- he had lost something, as usual. I apologized and said that Gerardo and I would have to go, but Charles offered to continue giving Gerardo a tour.
“Go ahead, I’m happy to continue the tour. I mean you’ve already seen all this a bunch of times,” he said with that million dollar smile. I nodded and kissed Gerardo on the check, apologizing again.
“Call me when you’re done, I’ll come get you.” Gerardo nodded and I ran off into the direction of the Alpha Tauri garages, cursing Pierre under my breath.
Charles Leclerc’s POV
As (Y/N) ran off towards the Alpha Tauri garage, my heart sank just a little. I barely got to spend any time with her these days and so I felt like every moment I had with her was precious, even if I had to spend it with her horribly annoying boyfriend. He came across as a nice enough fellow, even if he occasionally insulted me, something I guessed was because he was trying to mark his territory. I understood that on some primal level – (Y/N) Gasly was breathtakingly beautiful. Her laugh could warm up an entire room and her smile could make any person’s walls come down, if they just gave her enough time.
Timing had never seemed to be on our side. Every time I ended a relationship, and built up the courage to ask her out, she was dating someone. It was this vicious cycle where I could never seem to find the right moment to truly tell her how I feel. And now, almost 7 years after I had originally worked up the courage to ask her out, she was once again in another relationship.
I turned back to Gerardo who was just smiling at me with that horrendous grin he had – reminded me of that Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.
“It must be so cool to be a formula 1 driver; surrounded by all those hot models, what a dream,” he said with a smirk and a pat on my back. I was a little taken aback by his comment.
“Actually, it’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. We put a lot of hard work into training and getting the cars ready each race. I find it hard to maintain a constant relationship with a girlfriend,” I said with a sigh.
“Ahh, come on mate, you don’t have to pretend with me,” Gerardo laughed, “I know that’s the selling point. All the women you want, with none of the commitments attached – a true dream. Don’t have to buy her flowers the night after, if you know what I mean. Georgia is always expecting something!”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. No, I didn’t know what he meant. Here he was with the girl of my dreams, the one woman I knew I could manage a relationship with while still trying to win the WDC. (Y/N) understood the pressures we drivers were under. When I was at the Ferrari Driving Academy, she was the one person I could call and talk to – day or night. She was the first person I called to tell her I had been signed on as a Ferrari driver, although she didn’t know that.
I decided to rebuff his comment and and continue on with the tour, hoping he would get the hint.
He didn’t.
“You know you and I have met a few other times,” he said casually. “We met about a month ago at Club W at the opening night.”
I nodded. Now I remember where I had met him. Yes, at the opening of the new Club. “Didn’t you have a date there?” I asked casually, trying not to sound too interested. He took the bate – idiot.
“Oh yeah, hot blonde – Cathy or something. (Y/N) and I weren’t serious then,” he added quickly.
I nodded, and continued to look forward, looking for a way out of this conversation. I knew that wasn’t true, (Y/N) had told me they’d dated for almost 4 months. If I had a girl like (Y/N) Gasly, I wouldn’t even remotely look in another girls’ direction. Fortunately, before I had to endure any more of Gerardo, (Y/N) had texted that she was on her way back. Within a couple of minutes (Y/N) was walking towards the garage, waving at me.
I nodded and waved to her as she entered the garage. “Sorry I have to run, but talk to you later!” I called out to her as I walked back into my drivers room. She looked disappointed as I turned away, but after my talk with Gerardo, I couldn’t bare to face her.
I had a decision to make. Do I tell her about Gerardo’s comments? Maybe he didn’t mean them. Maybe they weren’t that serious a month ago. I highly doubted that, but I couldn’t bare the look on her face as I told her the terrible things that insufferable boyfriend of hers had decided to share with me. I decided to keep it to myself, unless he decided to continue this conversation with me. There was no reason to ruin her happiness by sharing with her some offhanded comments – was there?
*****
Your POV
I was disappointed that Charles had only waved to me from the garage. I knew that he was incredibly busy and he had done me a favor by showing Gerardo around, but still, he had always make time for me in the past. I gave him a quick wave and then grabbed Gerardo’s hand to drag him back to the Alpha Tauri hospitality center where Pierre had set us up.
The rest of Thursday and all of qualifying on Friday went smoothly. I loved getting the head sets and listening to Pierre on the radio, it made me really feel apart of the race which I know was important to Pierre. That Friday evening the drivers were all getting together at a local bar to celebrate – not too much as they all had to race the next day, but it was a tradition to at least go out and chat. Pierre invited Gerardo and I – well mostly me – and we out to the club.
At around 9pm I was beginning to feel exhausted and asked Gerardo to take me home – hoping we could get in some cuddles and chats before the big sprint race tomorrow. We hadn’t spent much time alone together just the two of us, and after Saturday it would be all race prep and then straight to celebrating; we’d have very little time to be alone.
I suggested to my boyfriend that he take me home, but he rebuffed my comment – clearly annoyed that I had asked. Charles, noticing this, offered to take me home as he also wanted to get some proper sleep before the sprint race. The walk home was very quiet, we barely said a word to each other, but the silence was comforting. Charles and I had a that in common – we could both just enjoy each others company without needing to fill the space with words. As we approached my hotel, I leaned in and gave him a big hug, thanking him for taking me home. As I went to pull back, he pulled me closer, deepening the hug. He put his face in the crook of my neck and sighed.
“I am so glad you’re here, (Y/N),” he whispered.
“Me too, Charles. It’s been great to see you – even if you’ve been so busy the last two days.”
“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind with the championship race really heating up. I’m so close to my dream, you know, so close…” he trailed off at the end. I just nodded in response. I knew this was his dream.
“You deserve this, Charles. Good luck tomorrow – I think you’ll be brilliant in the sprint race. Your car is phenomenal.” Charles didn’t respond to me; he just kept staring at me, as if he had something to say but couldn’t possibly utter out the words.
“Everything ok?” I asked politely, trying not to prod, but I could see that he had something he wanted to say.
“You deserve better,” Charles blurted out. I could see the panic in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to say that, but couldn’t help himself.
“What do you mean?” I responded dryly.
“That guy – Gerardo – he’s a dick. He doesn’t treat you like you deserve.”
“And how would you know what I deserve?” I snapped back. “This coming from a guy who has a new model on his arm every week. What do you know about dating? What do you know about love?” I could feel myself getting angrier. Truth be told, a lot of this anger wasn’t directed at Charles. Pierre and I had discussed this so many times, I was over it.
“I know enough to know that he doesn’t deserve your love.” I scoffed at his comment. The audacity of this man.
“Charles, before we both say something we regret, I am going upstairs and to my room to wait for my boyfriend. I don’t know what’s come over you, but I’m not going to stand here and listen to this.”
Before he could utter another word, I stormed off into the elevator, closing it quickly before he could hop in. I felt bad leaving it like that before his race tomorrow, but I wouldn’t let myself hear that. I couldn’t bare the possibility that Charles was going to lecture me on deserving better, but then not offer himself up as a possibility. I loved him too much for that, and I knew that pain would be more than I could handle.
****
I woke up the next morning and reached out to Gerardo’s side of the bed. Odd, I thought to myself, maybe he’s in the shower or went out to get coffee? I checked my phone and I couldn’t see any missed calls from him. There were a few texts from Charles – pathetic apologizes – I ignored those. Charles could stew for now, I decided. I called Gerardo a few times, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I texted Pierre and asked if he had seen him at the club, but he said he left only 10 minutes after Charles and I did and he hadn’t seen him since.
I took a shower and decided if Gerardo didn’t get back in the next 30 minutes, then I would call the hotel security to see if maybe he had gone to another room. As I was finishing getting my hair ready for the day, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to see a very hungover Gerardo, still in last night’s clothes.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I demanded
“Keep your voice down woman, I’m nursing a headache,” he said as he plopped down on the bed. I just stared at him in complete disbelief, motioning for an answer on where he had been. He looked up at me and rolled his eyes.
“Oh come off it, a mate was in town last night so I stayed at his. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, love,” he said with such smooth mockery I thought I was going to faint from anger.
“We have to be at the track in 30 minutes and you aren’t even close to being ready!” I shrieked. I had never been late for ay of Pierre’s races, and there was no way I was going to be start now.
“Then go without me – I need to sleep.” I just rolled my eyes at his comment.
“Sleep!? You should have been doing that last night with me when I came home. You promised me we’d go together. We have barely seen each other in the last month.”
“Stop being so needy, (Y/N). I’ll come out with you later. Who cares about watching your brother anyway? It’s not like he’s going to win.”
No I was livid. You can insult me, but don’t you dare insult Pierre, I thought to myself. “If you can’t make it to today’s qualifying, then don’t be here when I get back.”
“Jesus, (Y/N), Cathy would never be this needy,” he grumbled. I doubt he was expecting to hear that. Cathy was his ex-girlfriend who, in my opinion, spent way too much time hanging around Gerardo for them to be platonic. I often let it slide, but it irked me to no end.
“Well Cathy isn’t your girlfriend, I am, in case you forgot,” I declared.
“I’m sure she’d take the job back if you don’t want it… at least that is what she said in Tuesday,” he sneered. I knew it – I knew he had gone out on Tuesday after dinner with me.
I was fuming. Fuck this, I thought. Maybe Charles is right.
“Fine – then why don’t you give Cathy a call. When I get back from this race, I expect you to be gone.” With that, I picked up my bag and headed out the door, making a point to slam it on the way out. As I got downstairs, I saw Pierre was already waiting for me in his car. I hopped into the front seat and smiled.
“No Gerardo?” He gave me a questioning look. I just shook my head and he sighed. “Then off we go.”
Practice 2 and the Sprint Race went well for Charles; Pierre not so much. I tried to ignore the fact that I was fuming that Gerardo had not come to the Sprint Race and just focused instead on Pierre, who was incredibly upset about his car. By the time the sprint race was over, I had a text from Gerardo on my phone with just a plane emoji. Well, it was good while it lasted I guess, I sighed to myself. Pierre, even if his horrible funk could tell that I was upset. He guessed immediately what was wrong.
“I’m sorry (Y/N), but honestly, it’s the best news I’ve heard all day. That guy was an ass, even Daniel Ricciardo didn’t like him, and he likes everyone.” I lightly giggled at his comment. It was true, if Danny Ric didn’t like him – I was likely better off without him.
At the end of the sprint race, as teams were packing up, I wanted to sneak out and talk to Charles, apologize for yesterday and to tell him that he was right – Gerardo was in fact a dick. But as I searched the paddock for him, I couldn’t find him anywhere. I sent him a quick text, apologizing for last night and congratulating him on his race, but he didn’t respond.
Guess I deserved that.
****
Sunday morning I woke determined to find Charles. We’d never let a fight linger this long, and I wanted to wish him luck before the race. I felt terrible knowing that he was going into the race thinking I was mad at him. I headed straight to the Ferrari garage – I knew he would be there early, he was always one of the first drivers to arrive on race days.
“Carlos, have you seen Charles?” I asked the Spanish driver. He just smiled at me with that warm smile and nodded.
“Ahh, so this is the reason Charles bit my head off yesterday,” he said with a cheeky grin. I quirked an eyebrow and looked at him, unsure what to say. “Charles is in his driver’s room – do lover boy a favor and tell him what we both know to be true.”
I mumbled my thanks and headed towards the room, trying to slightly ignore Carlos’ weird comment and sneaky grin. Carlos was a wonderful friend to Charles, but he was always making comments about Charles and I being together and it was constantly getting on my last nerve.
I knocked on Charles’ drivers room lightly, in case he was having a nap or was in an important meeting. “I don’t want to be bothered,” he shouted back on the other side of the door.
“Tough, cause I want to bother you,” I yelled back, hoping my joke would lighten the mood just a tad. I could hear Charles’ foot steps pad over to the door. He opened it slightly and looked at me, as if he was trying to determine if I was really there and not a figment of his imagination.
“(Y/N), why are you here?”
“I wanted to apologize in person… turns out you were right, and I felt like you deserved an apology. I couldn’t stand the idea of you driving off today mad at me. If something happened… I’d never forgive myself.” It all came out in a tumble.
Charles just nodded and opened the door wider, motioning for me to come into the room. “Thanks,” he said quietly. His eyes were looking at me so intensely, but his voice was soft and relaxed, as if he was trying to ‘play it cool.’
“So does that mean its over between you and Gerardo?”
“Yes, we broke it off Saturday when he refused to come to the sprint race, and then informed me that he was still seeing his ex-girlfriend. He then decided insulting Pierr-“
Before I could finish my sentence, Charles’ lips were on mine and my back was pushed up against the wall of his driver’s room. I could feel one of his hands cup my face while the other went to the small of my back. After a few moments I pushed him back a tad, gasping for air and staring at him. His eyes were wild and full of something that looked like lust. That couldn’t be right. Was my crush, Charles Leclerc, lusting after me? As we stared at each other, both catching our breathes, I went to say something but stopped myself. Truth was, I had no idea what to say at this moment. I was in shock. What did this kiss mean?
It's as if Charles could see the internal conversation I was having with myself. He once again grabbed my waist and pulled me into him, peppering small kisses on my hips and face.
“I have wanted to do that for no less than 7 years,” he whispered, still putting small kisses on my neck and shoulders. “I am so sorry it took this long.” I just stared at him, unable to utter words back to him. He smiled a bit, clearly sensing my shock and inability to register what was happening. Before I could respond, I heard a knock at the door.
“Charles, it’s time to hop in the car.” Charles grabbed my hand, brought it up to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, as if I was a princess and he was a knight going off to battle.
“I’d love to continue this discussion after the race, mon amie, if you would like. In the meantime, wish me luck.” I simply nodded at him.
As he was walking down the hallway all I could think to yell back at him was, “Don’t let Pierre beat you!” He laughed and then walked out of his drivers room, leaving me for the first time in a while, completely speechless. As I exited his room, I saw Carlos standing a little ways up the hallway. He waved at me. His body language was calm, but the grin on his face said he knew exactly what had just happened. I rolled my eyes and trotted towards the Alpha Tauri Garage.
*****
“And there you have it”, the announcer yelled into the microphone, “Charles Leclerc is back on top with a well deserved race win!”
The stands full of people were going wild, even though it was the Red Bull ring, Ferrari flags were waving everywhere. As the paddock and track were opened up, I ran towards the podium, spotting first Pierre. I gave me brother a big hug, whispering better luck next time in his ear. He nodded, clearly disappointed at his P15 finish. As Pierre turned to head back to his garage, I searched the crowd frantically for Charles.
There he was – up by his car, still hugging his team and family. I pushed my way through the crowd and got as close to the front as I could. Fortunately Lorenzo saw me and pulled me forward, dragging me all the way up to where the Leclerc family was congratulating Charles. As I moved to step up next to Lorenzo, I felt someone grab my face. I looked up and there I was, face to face with Charles. Over the last two hours I had contemplated what I wanted to say to Charles, but the moment I saw his face, every thought I had went out the window.
Charles smiled – that million dollar smile – and kissed me. He kissed me hard and with such gusto I felt like the wind was being knocked out of me –honestly, it was a little too passionate for us being in the middle of the pit lane. I grabbed onto his chest and he pulled me closer.
“I love you (Y/N) Gasly,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s always been you. Tell me you feel the same.”
“There’s never been anyone else that’s come close,” I whispered back.
Charles put our foreheads together and kissed my cheek one last time before his team dragged him off to the cool down room. At that moment I was acutely aware that everyone around me, including his family, had now started staring at me. Lorenzo smiled and gave me a big hug. “It’s about time,” he yelled into my ear.
I watched the podium celebration; I had never been more proud, or happier for him. Once the podium celebration ended, Lorenzo snuck me back to Charles’ driver room.
I knocked on the door and it quickly opened. Charles pulled me inside and shut the door, pushing me back up against the wall of his drivers room. Unlike the last time, Charles’ hands were frantically all over me – rubbing up and down my body. He was like a man starved, trying to memorize every curve of my body. I felt like I was on fire, ever nerve ending was burning like a million suns.
Charles picked me up and moved me to the red sofa in the corner of his room. He gently placed me down, before continuing to kiss me with such ferocity and passion – passion that I had never experienced before. I pushed him back just a bit.
“Need some air,” I chuckled, staring straight into his beautiful green-hazel eyes. He smiled at me and then continued to kiss that sweet spot on my neck that he had just discovered, pulling a moan out of me in the process.
“Oh, my love, how I have dreamed of hearing those sounds come out of your lips.” He moved his lips back to mine and kissed me deeply, pushing his tongue gently into my lips. His hands slowly went up my shirt, taking their time going up my body before resting on my boobs, squeezing lightly. I let out a small moan – it felt amazing to have Charles touch me like this. I had dreamed about this; all those times I pulled out my vibrator in the dead of night, pretending it was Charles using it on me, instead of myself.
“Oh Charles,” I sighed as he leaned closer into me, his thighs pressed between my legs. Soon his fingers were moving back down to the waist band of my pants. He slowly unbuttoned my pants and looked at me, quietly asking for permission to move further. I nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, and he smirked, helping me lift my hips as he pulled my pants and underwear off of me. He picked up my red thong and smirked at me. I could tell he felt victorious, and as much as I wanted to snark back and deny his cocky face this victory, I couldn’t manage to get a word out before he said, “Let me show you what it means to put a woman’s pleasure first.”
And show me he did.
Charles spread my legs and held them in place before diving in, licking gentle kitten licks up and down my core. Amazing could not begin to describe how it felt to have Charles between my legs. Slowly he took one finger and pushed it inside me. I was already soaking wet, so his index finger went in with ease. He pumped his finger in and out, all while licking and kissing at my clit. The man clearly had experience, that much was clear. Within an embarrassing amount of time, I could feel my orgasm approaching.
“Charles, I .. uh…” was all I could get out. My moans were getting louder, and I put my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my sounds. Charles quickly grabbed my arm, yanking it down.
“Absolutely not, my love, I want to hear the sounds of my victory.” He pushed a second and then a third finger in, doubling down on the pressure on my clit. Before I knew it, I could feel myself come undone underneath him. I let out a loud scream of his name, and then tried to catch my breath as I came down from my high.
“You taste so good, princess, just like I knew you would.”
I felt like the nickname should not have affected me like it did, but with his beautiful smile looking at me, I felt like the most special girl in the world. I tried to sit up and grab his belt to undo it, but Charles had beaten me to it. Already unbuckling his pants, Charles pushed them down and took off his shirt, getting back ontop of me. I saw him grab a condom from his side table. He slid the condom on and then stared at me, his pupils were blown and I could see the lust on his face.
Charles Leclerc… all mine, I thought to myself.
He grabbed both my hands and put them above my head, kissing my neck tenderly. He inched in closer and soon I could feel him sinking into me. Even with the initial slight burning sensation, he felt incredible inside me. Charles stilled for a moment, looking deep into my eyes, clearly waiting for me to nod that I was okay before proceeding. After about a minute I nodded shyly, giving his plump lips a small peck before gasping as he pushed into me.
“Oh, mon amie, you feel incredible,” he sighed into my neck, pumping in and out slowly, clearly enjoying how much he was teasing me.
“Oh Charles, please.. need more…” I moaned into him, frantically trying to push him forward to get more friction. He smirked at me, but he picked up his pace. Before I could fully register what was happening, I could feel myself heading towards my second orgasm. Charles slid his hand down to my clit and started to stroke gently while pounding into me, hitting the right spot each time.
“I’m-I’m gonna…” was all I could get out before I screamed into his chest, gasping for air as what felt like an electrifying orgasm tore through me. Charles soon followed, his movements turning more into inconsistent ruts as he whispered my name into my ear and told me what a good girl I was.
We both laid there for a moment, catching our breaths. After a few minutes, Charles got up and threw the condom away in the bathroom before coming back over to me, rubbing a hot wash cloth between my thighs. When he was done, he moved me on the sofa and put me on top of him, my head resting on his chest, a blanket now over us.
I heard a quick ding come from my cell phone and I reached over for it, worried that Pierre was looking for me. I opened my phone to a text that simply read: “Told you so.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling slightly. I guess Pierre’s plan had worked after all.
#charles leclerc x reader#f1 imagine#charles leclerc smut#f1 smut#charles leclerc imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 fluff#pierre gasly x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc one shot#f1 fic#f1 imagines#f1 one shot#f1 x you#f1 fanfiction
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Worst Mistake Pt.3
omg i’m so sorry i cut here but i want to know your thoughts on the story so any comment will be appreciated 💖
————
pairing: Jude Bellingham x Y/N
summary: Jude was a close friend of your boyfriend, so you meet him. What’s the worst thing that could happen right?
genre: i think a bit of everything
————
“Hey baby” Zack said as he entered your house with a bouquet of roses in his hands.
After your day with Jude, your conscience never shut up telling you how bad of a girlfriend you are so you decided to spend some quality time with your boyfriend tonight. You prepared a candle lit dinner and dolled up, wearing a mini dress with heels for a romantic evening and Zack brought flowers.
“Oh god, you look amazing.” he said while leaning in to give you a kiss and you just pecked his lips and turned feeling awkward, this was so stupid. You never felt weird kissing Zack.
You ate dinner and it was actually quite nice, after that you tried to put the dishes away but Zack came behind you and placed his hands on your hips.
“The dishes can wait, but I can’t” he said while placing little kisses on your exposed shoulders and neck, you stiffened up for a moment but decided you both needed this and relaxed into his touch.
“You are so hot.” he kept on going until you were feeling the vibes and you placed your hands in his hair. He was now full on sucking on your neck and behind your ear. However as everything was going well, a small voice in the back of your head asked what it’d feel like if Jude’s the one making you feel good right now and you completely lost it. You already had some weird feelings but never really thought about having intimacy with Jude like this, this was going too far.
Zack was taken aback with your sudden neediness, you took him by the wrist and went into your bedroom. You wanted him to fuck you so good that Jude’s name would disappear forever.
“What’s gotten into you?” Zack jokingly asked in between kisses and you laying him down and straddling his hips.
“Nothing, I just want you” you simply answered and he was good with that explanation.
That night, you had intimacy with your boyfriend while someone else was in your mind. You couldn’t feel more disgusted.
The next time you and Jude spent time in the same place was a few days later. He was having a party at his house and you and Zack were of course invited, in fact he texted you to make sure you got his invitation through Zack. You said you were going and thanked him but kept the conversation short.
You arrived ar Jude’s house around 10 and the place looked amazing, you didn’t know if he hired a designer or changed some things himself but it was just like you imagined.
“Everything looks lovely.” you said while giving him a hug. You were adamant about shutting your feelings down and just be civil with him.
“I’m so glad you like it.” he flashed a smile at you and you tried your hardest not to overthink his statement.
You stuck by Zack all night not to find yourself in an awkward situation with Jude and your plan worked for quite a while but Zack got a phone call from his mom to drop something off at their place and had to leave you at the party for a while.
“I can come with” you said getting up from your seat but he motioned you to stay.
“You don’t have to, I’ll just be in and out. Just stay here and enjoy yourself.” he said and left you with a scowl on your face. You tried to occupy yourself with your phone but sooner than later your thirst got the best of you and you walked into the kitchen. Just as you were pouring yourself a drink, you turned your head to the patio to see a girl all over Jude. She was basically trying to dry hump him while he had his eyes closed, you stood there stone faced not knowing how to act but you must’ve been focusing for a while because Jude suddenly opened his eyes as the girl moved onto his neck and chest. He locked eyes with you immediately and you knew you should’ve looked down and let them do whatever they wanted but couldn’t. Your eyes couldn’t leave his and you could almost see them getting darker and darker. His stare was full of lust and emotion but you didn’t know who it was about.
This was good, you thought. At least now you knew he was just being polite and platonic with you, you misread the whole situation and you should relax from now on but why was there a heavy feeling in your chest threatening to burn your eyes then?
Finally, you decided it was creepy and hastily left the kitchen to find a place to sit but your place on the sofa was already taken by now so you walked around and stumbled upon presumably a guest bedroom. It was neutral themed and barely looked slept in, you slowly closed the door behind you to finally breathe for a while but as soon as you sat on the bed the door opened revealing a worried Jude.
“Jude?” you asked
“Y/N” he answered but his tone was much more strained and you thought it was the previous activities that got him riled up. He was also slurring a little, you figured he just had too many drinks.
“Oh, do you need the room? I can just…” you said trying to finish this encounter as fast as possible but he stepped across from you and blocked your body with his.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you asked looking at your feet.
“I don’t know, I mean I just…”
“I should go Jude, Zack should be here any minute.” you tried to walk past him one more time but this time he didn’t physically stop you just scoffed.
“What was that?” you asked
“Nothing” he said clearly overly intoxicated.
“What’s going on Jude?” you pressed.
“You know he doesn’t deserve you, right?”
You were shocked at his response and couldn’t form a coherent sentence at first?”
“What?”
“He doesn’t and you know it, he never did.” he said but refused to explain further.
“You’re drunk and I think you’re saying things you don’t actually think.” you reasoned with him afraid of what his next move would be.
“You fucking don’t deserve it Y/N, do you understand me?” he slammed his hand on the bed sitting next to you. He left nearly no space between you and his scent invaded your senses compelling you.
“I don’t deserve what, Jude?” you cautiously asked. You thought this conversation was going to go a lot more different.
“He cheats on you, he cheated in Mykonos he’s cheating now and I fucking hate him for it. You deserve so much better.”
His confession hit you like a ton of bricks but you reminded yourself that he was drunk and probably didn’t even know what he’s saying.
“Jude, I think you’re confused. I mean, he- he wouldn’t do that.” you said but his sad eyes made you question your whole relationship within seconds. No, no you couldn’t do that.
“Jude you’re being mean.”
“I’m not being mean, believe me I never want to hurt you.” he said leaning in a little and placing his hand on your cheek. You wanted to slap him and kiss him at the same time. Your eyes dropped to his lips for a second and he did the same, you could see his eyes in a new way, you felt like you could stare into his soul with your close proximity.
“So you’re not lying” you asked again and again trying to understand but his closeness calmed you like nothing could. You should’ve been fuming breaking things but you sat there with Jude’s hand caressing your cheek slowly.
He slowly shook his head and you knew. You just believed him and this time, you didn’t run. Instead you leaned into his touch and pressed your lips against his in an instant.
There was no turning back.
#football#football imagine#football x reader#football x y/n#football oneshot#football x you#football blurb#football one shot#football fluff#football angst#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham angst#jude bellingham x yn#jude bellingham oneshot#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham#real madrid
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Lily of the Valley p. #2
"wow y/n, you're just going to cheat after 3 years of relationship huh?"
"I told you, rin! I didn't cheat. why can't you trust me? besides you're the one who left me here in the house home alone for almost 4 months! don't expect me to just clean all fucking day, rindou!"
...
after what you said, silence went all over the room. -- he didn't say anything. he just sat down on the couch while looking down. you're guessing he's guilty because maybe he realized what he did.
but I guess not.
"so you think I'm just playing around all day? fuck this shit, y/n. who said I liked it leaving you here alone? do you know I'm always fucking worried about you at work? sometimes I don't even get the chance to check if you ate already. and yet you're here throwing a tantrum? I thought you'd be more understanding. guess not."
he stood up, took his bag and coat then left you there. crying.
you didn't know what to think, are you going to blame yourself for being not understanding? or are you going to be mad at him for being the biggest red flag you've ever met?
didn't get to think clearly but your hands just quickly took your phone and dialed chifuyu.
-call-
" fuyu?"
"oh, y/n it's already 2:23 am. why are you calling?"
"Can you pick me up? I really need some emotional support"
"Are you crying?? I'll pick you up. wait there 3 minutes"
-call ended-
after the call, you're actually worried.
why?
because rindou might find out again, but maybe he doesn't care anymore.
I mean he did leave you again, right? so maybe he'll find another bitch that he'll fuck, then play with her, then leave.
1 hour later?
-you're in chifuyu's apartment, you told him what happened. he did comfort you but he said you should get some sleep since you told him you couldn't sleep alone.
2 months have passed you and rindou didn't break up but you two don't talk anymore, you have a new apartment. left chifuyu with a great thank you.
one afternoon, lying on the couch, scrolling on instagram, suddenly saw ran's post :
*sorry low quality*
'kinda want to comment or chat him happy birthday..'
' imma just chat ran to say happy birthday rin'
you didn't expect for him to say this but, ran really loves you and treats you like his brothers wife, treats you like his sister.
you know he would not lie on anything when talking about you and rindou.
he's the one who got depressed when he knew that you and rindou don't talk to each other anymore.
but the last time he said 2 months ago is
"you know y/n, you and rindou shouldn't let your prides step over your relationship. if you two really love each other you two would be BOTH understanding. not just you, not just him."
@dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @graythecoffeebean @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman @satsuri3su @aretheea @bluerskiees @bontensbabygirl @gabytodd @astropheia @glubglublabola @boi-bi-ahaha @lenasvoid @aki-ra26 @harueyato @a-toxic-person @inurmom00 @wisteria-aa @interstellar-equilibrium @fffbool @redhoods-baby-boy @penguinlovestowrite
just message me if you guys want to be tagged!
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For the writing prompts! I couldn't think of any good ones so I used a generator:
Wilhelm posts a picture of Simon somewhere and it becomes a meme
You already know what picture I’m gonna use 🙂
Wille was so proud of Simon. It was a rare time when they could actually go out to dinner together and be a normal teenage couple. Malin had tried her best to clear a restaurant and keep people away while they ate. Okay. As normal as the Crown Prince and his boyfriend could be.
Simon was in a magazine for his voice in the choir. It was about time, Simon had been carrying the choir for three years. No offense to Felice of course.
There was a cute picture of Simon on the front, all dressed up in his uniform. A well written article on the inside and most of the inside was dedicated to Simon and the choir. Wille couldn’t tell you how proud he was of his boyfriend, he could stop looking at Simon. He had a white sweater on, he recognized it from his closet. His curls were perfect, they were always perfect but on this day he just glowed.
“Can I take a picture of you älskling?”
”Älskling? Since when do you call me that?”
“Since I get excited about my beautiful, talented, smart, adorable boyfriend winning an award.” Wilhelm gushed, absolutely starstruck by the boy in front of him.
“It’s not an award, Wille, it’s just a recognition.” Simon blushed, obviously being humble.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“A picture?!”
Simon couldn’t help but smile, his teeth, pure white, lit up the entire room.
“Ja, take your picture okay.”
Wille bounced up and down, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket. He pointed at the magazine that laid on their table.
“What?”
“Hold it up.”
“Oh my god Wille, you’re ridiculous.” Once again a giant smile covered his face.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” He marveled at his boy.
He took the picture right as Simon was smiling the widest.
He absentmindedly posted it on his private story, it wasn’t professional like most of their photos lately but who cares. The only people who would be seeing it are a few of their friends and closest family. He spent the rest of the night with Simon. They ended up going back to his dorm and finished their celebration there.
They both woke up to their phones being blown up. Wilhelm woke up first, notifications didn’t mean much to him, even this staggering of an amount. His mom's press team might have posted something with them. Or maybe a person eating at the restaurant snapped a crappy quality picture of the ‘party prince’ and his ‘queer partner’. Whatever opinions anyone had on his and Simon's relationship, they could keep it to themselves. When he opened his phone, there was a bombardment of notifications popping up.
Mama
Be more careful next time gubben. 2 hr ago
Linda 💕
Is Simon okay, he’s not answering my texts. ❤️
3 hr ago
Felice 💛
This stupid shit will blow over soon, Maddie said she’ll tell people to stop reposting it.
3 hr ago
Walter
Rookie mistake bro 🤣 6 hr ago
Instagram
99+ notifications 7 hr ago
Repost what? Why wouldn’t Simon be okay? What stupid shit? Why would he need to be more careful?
Fuck.
He swiped the notifications from Instagram and to Wille’s shock he had more new dm’s than usual.
Fuck.
The picture he had posted. It was posted to his public account. The public account of the Crown Prince of fucking Sweden. Not just Wille, year three at Hillerska. Not his secret account where only a select few people followed him, not on his private story where an even smaller number of people were allowed into a small keyhole into his life. But his public account.
“Fuck!”
“Hm”
Simon hummed, stirring from his sleep. Blinking a few times, lifting himself up to rub the sleep from his eyes.
“What?”
Wille now had his hands over his eyes. He felt stupid. Idiotic. He should have been more careful but he was too wrapped up in his beautiful boyfriend to notice.
“I’m so sorry Simon.” He knew he hated extra attention. He hasn’t even seen the response the picture had gotten but it couldn’t have been good.
Simon jumped up. More alert than a few seconds prior.
“Hey, it’s okay, breath. Just tell me what happened.”
“I accidentally posted your photo on my public story.”
“Oh? That’s it. That’s oka-“
“On my public official account.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah fuck.” Wille said, harshness surrounding his voice.
“Simme. I’m so sorry.” Wille let his head drop to Simon's bare chest, his hand coming to press on his own. Pressing down as if it would make the situation go away. Pressing down as he could compress all his issues away, running down his body.
“It’s- it’s okay, you didn’t know. It’ll die down. How bad could it be anyway.”
It was bad.
Like really bad.
Like trending on Tumblr, Twitter and Instagram type of bad.
The original picture was now lost in a sea of memes, edits and copies that had been badly edited beyond recognition.
Simon started laughing, hysterical laughing.
“These are ridiculous!”
“You aren’t mad?” Wilhelm looked up from his hands, still shading his eyes.
“Of course not, I hate attention but I’m sure no one would bother me over a stupid internet meme. It’s just a little fun.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Do you think I’m going to be on ‘ I accidentally became a meme’?”
Simon popped up, and picked up Willes' face with his hands. His long fingers making his way across his cheeks and down his jaw.
“You’re silly.” Simon whispered in Willes' ear. He pressed his lips into the boy's temple. Trailing down his face.
“Ridiculous even.” Pressing another into his cheek while playing with his hair, twirling it between his fingers.
Wilhelm hummed into Simon touch, cuddling into his side.
Simon's hands brushed Willes hair back, trying to get the bangs out of his face.
“It’ll die down min lilla prins.” Simon hummed again.
“Let’s lay down and look at some of these. I promise some will be funny.”
“Promise, do you?” Wille pushed Simon down, his head still on his chest.
“Absolut!” Simon grabbed his phone and wrapped his other arm around Wille. Stroking his arm back and forth, looking at their most recent embarrassment.
#young royals#simon eriksson#prince wilhelm#it took me longer to make the memes then come up with the story#wilmon#edvin ryding#simon young royals#omar rudberg#crown prince wilhelm
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2, 3, 8, 12, 19, 30!
2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?
Oh god. I think I could do it, but it's actually embarrassing at this point how fast my typing has gotten while my handwriting speed and neatness have degraded. I'd take a phone keyboard over writing by hand tbh, and I am not a fast texter at all. My handwriting's just that bad!
3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?
Recently I've had a hell of a time writing unless it's either right after I ate something, or right after I got out of the shower. I have no clue how or when I started conditioning myself into this. I don't know how to stop. If you see a really good line in any of my fics, just know there's like a 70% chance I wrote it in my pjs. This will probably remain the case for quite some time.
8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?
I've written at least one no-dialogue fic before! ...If a teensy tiny 350-word character study counts. But tbh I wrote that one within my first few months in the TAZ fandom and it's still a headcanon I like a lot, so I totally count it.
12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules
one: the ability to be a fair judge of the quality of my own writing, even when normally my opinion would be clouded by looking at the damn thing for way too long
two: the ability to catch every typo before posting
three: the ability to satisfactorily finish the one specific WIP I started in early 2021 that's 90% done but far too dear to me to post if it's anything less than perfect
19. was already answered!
30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?
I can't think of an example off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure I've taken inspiration from dreams before... it's usually pretty vague though, because my ability to remember dreams is pretty low. More often, my good ideas that actually make their way into writing are things I think of right before I fall asleep!
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Omg i love your work!!! You write so well <3 if your still doing requests can I ask for general annie headcanons? Regular or modern au i just love my girl thank you!!!!!
hi anon! thank u sm im glad u enjoy my stuff hehe :3 this has been sitting in my drafts forever and they’re not that good but they’re something for u to snack on <3
she refuses to drink coffee unless its black. even if theres a tiny bit of milk or flavoring in it, she wont have it. she (lovingly) teases you about your coffee preferences, expressing how she cant imagine how you drink something that sweet or about how youre gonna get a cavity from sipping on that all day. bonus points if you make her order ur coffee for you and she rolls her eyes as she tells the barista she would like a “macchiato”
she plays a lot of games on her phone but theyre all puzzle based or brain teasers. like she has 3 different sudoku apps, a picture puzzle one, a daily riddle one, etc. she plays wordle competitively and sometimes gives you hints if ur struggling. u call her an ipad baby and she doesnt talk to u for the rest of the day
she really likes sour things...like anything w/ a sour flavor is automatically her favorite. she has sour icebreakers in her desk drawer that she uses as motivation for when she studies. she eats green apples as a snack on most days because she likes the “bite back” they have ??? when you guys to go the movies she gets a lemon slushy and sips on it all day. one time when she was younger, she ate so many sour patch kids that her tongue started bleeding
one of her bad habits is that she picks at her nails a lot :/ like she will constantly be digging into her cuticles and all of the skin around her nailbeds. you offer to pay to take her to get her nails done, that way they can clean them professionally! she doesnt let you finish ur sentence (ur not spending ur money on her to be uncomfortable for an hour)
love language (receiving) is quality time….she absolutely thrives off of doing absolute mundane tasks together <3 something about the domesticity of it makes her soft. she’s like brb i have to go get gas and ur like oh ok ill come w you for the ride and she’s in that very moment planning on how to propose to you
#annie leonhart#annie headcanons#annie leonhardt headcanons#annie brainrot#annie leonhart x reader#aot#aot writing#aot x reader
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Roommate Au with Eren. That’s it.
No no no no because I’ve thought about this extensively, and I actually believe he’d be a pretty good roommate (or at the very least, he means well most of the time, even if he is slightly annoying in his methods LMAO).
He… is not the best cook in the world, and he knows that. He can make about 2.5 dishes properly: spaghetti and [frozen] meatballs, a grilled cheese maybe with bacon if he’s feeling up to challenge, and a soup that his mom used to make for him as a kid whenever he got sick.
So, you’re gonna have to handle the majority of the cooking, BUT the good news is that Eren will do the dishes as a thanks for sharing with him and not letting him starve and/or live off of UberEats credits.
His favorite rooms in the house are the living room and your room. Not his room, not the bathroom, not the kitchen—your room. Why? Because you’re in there, duh, and it’s not his so that makes it that much better.
Eats your leftovers in the fridge unless you put a note on them. Sometimes, he’ll still eat it if he’s hungry enough or in a rush, and you’ll come home to an empty fridge, but there’ll be a new note on top of a $20 bill that says “Sorry I ate your pad thai :( you can buy some more tho (and get me some too hehe)”
If you’re just lazing around in your room for an extended amount of time, Eren will just come in and. Flop down on your bed—maybe even on top of you—and whine about how he’s bored and how you’re being boring and how you should entertain and hang out with him instead.
Claims your room is comfier than his room, so of course he’s gonna wanna be in there. He’ll literally lay and sit on the floor and watch a whole ass movie on his phone in your room, just because.
If you have or collect stuffed animals or Squishmallows or anything of the sort, he always giggles at them, but thinks they’re super cute. And when he’s out without you and sees some, he sends you a picture of them and asks if you want any, and he’ll buy them for you.
He gets you very… involved? if that makes sense. He likes to do things with you and hang out with you—he doesn’t wanna live with some stranger, so if you’re rooming with him, prepare to become friends very quickly.
Eren’s a bit of an… outgoing introvert? not-so-social extrovert? something like that in my book lmfao, so he knows what it’s like to just wanna sit in your room for days on end; but he also knows there’s a limit to how good/restorative that can be, and when it can become an issue.
That being said, if you’re having an extended depressive and/or introverty episode, Eren will shake you out of it. Literally. He will burst into your room, and grab you and probably toss you over his shoulder to get you physically moving, all while yelling about plans he made for the two of you.
Drags you with him to the grocery store, under the claim that he needs help “picking out the good apples,” when really he just wants to get you out of the house, and spend some time with you.
Once again, will use the method of flopping on top of you and/or draping himself over you like, “Hey, so what time do you think we should leave for dinner, I’m thinking around 8?” “What—did we have dinner plans, Eren?” “We do now! So, I’m thinking tacos, what do you think!!”
His personal favorite way to get you up and moving is to ask you to do his hair for him. Gives you his best puppy dog eyes, and pulls at your wrist until you comply, then he sits down criss-cross applesauce right in the middle of your bed, and waits for you to work your magic. Purposely acts a bit difficult just to bring out your feisty side and have you fight back against him.
He’ll legit. Build you a whole ass pc and gaming setup just for you to play games with him. He’s dedicated, that’s for sure. (That won’t stop him from absolutely crushing you from time to time).
He likes to bother you (affectionate). Pushes you over when you’re sitting down on the couch, shoves your phone when you’re holding it so it falls on your face, presses his cold water bottle on the back of your neck and then runs away. Like a child.
He always takes out the trash, especially if it’s late at night, except he always forgets about the 239725 water bottles he’s got piled up in his room and around the living room, so you’ve always gotta take out an extra bag of recycling the following morning.
Your skincare is his skincare <2
Makes you go out with him when he makes plans with his friends, but only ever tells you about it maybe an hour beforehand via text.
yeager: hey jean and marco are having a lil kickback thing at their place so i'm coming to pick u up be ready in like 30 mins
yeager: oh also bring the bottle of vodka in the kitchen kirsten is always stingy with the good stuff 🙄
you: ok and who asked ME if i wanna kickback with jean and marco and co?????
yeager: nobody!! i’m just telling u to get dressed!! love u ill be there soon 🥳🥳
He starts doing his laundry whenever you do yours. Partially to annoy you, partially because it’s somewhat more efficient that way, and partially because he’s watching you like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t mess up his own clothes lmfao
He’ll roll weed for you only if you promise to share a joint with him, and don’t flake!! He’ll catch you in your sleep if you flake, he knows where you live.
When you both come home kinda drunk after a night out, he always dramatically tells you goodnight and to “get home safe,” even though “getting home safe” means walking from the living room down the hall to your room.
Tells everyone you’re the best roomie anyone could ask for, and does a not so humble brag about all his favorite roommate qualities that you exude.
If he has a little crush on you, he’ll try not to make it obvious; and truthfully, he doesn’t act all that different, except now maybe he finds more excuses to touch you and tries to up the romance when you two “hang out” together.
He starts looking (staring) at you more, and is always embarrassed if you ever catch him. I don’t think that he would ever tell you unless he was 120% sure you liked him back, because that would lead to a really awkward living situation if you rejected him, or if he made you uncomfortable with his feelings.
But if you do like him back, once again, few things will change: it’s just that now, he’ll sneak into your room in the middle of the night for cuddles, and you’ll get a kiss on the forehead for cooking him dinner <3
#anonymous#ladies and mistakes i love him dearly i do i mean it#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren fluff#aot x reader#alright that's enough#eren.ask#minicanons
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Early Mornings~ Hongseok
Pentagon quickly became a major obsession....and this new album???PHEW QUALITY. Anyway, here’s a fluffy smut I wrote for the wonderful Hongseok. My best friend is in love with him, so I had to write this for her lol
Pairings: Hongseok X Female Reader
Genre: Fluffy smut
Word count: 2,442
Warnings: Oral (slight female, male receiving), soft sex, it’s just sweet cuz he’s really sweet
---
Good love is so hard to find, and yet, Hongseok seemed to find it with you. If this was love; he wasn't quite sure what it was, but he wasn't going to question how he felt about you. He hadn't been with you for very long, but it was long enough to know that this wasn't a feeling he'd had with anyone else before.
The clock read 3:00 AM as Hongseok held you close to him. He had randomly woken up to go get some water, but he didn't want to wake you by moving. At this point, all Hongseok could think about was how perfectly you fit in his arms. You were like the perfect puzzle piece for him; your bodies fit so well together. He kissed your forehead before falling back asleep.
~~~~
The next morning, Hongseok woke up alone. He heard music coming from the kitchen as he gathered his senses. Were you attempting to cook? He chuckled to himself thinking about the time you tried to make him pancakes. They ended up eating cereal because you burned the pancakes.
Hongseok got up from the bed and headed towards the kitchen. He found you bobbing your head to the beat of your favorite song to listen to in the morning. He smiled even though he knew you couldn't see him.
He cleared his throat and you jumped. "Oh, Hongseok! Good morning! I was going to try to cook, but I didn't want to burn anything again so there are waffles in the toaster." You smiled at your man, holding back a slight laugh as you took in his sleepy appearance. His long hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed. He looked so cute to you. The toaster popped and the smell of waffles took over your small kitchen. "Oh, they're ready. Do you want syrup?"
Hongseok nodded before he walked towards you and hugged you. He gave you a quick kiss. "Thanks for making breakfast, baby."
You put your arms around his big shoulders and smiled up at him. "Of course; anything for my man." Hongseok felt himself blushing, so he kissed you again.
You reluctantly wriggled out of his arms so you could finish "making" the waffles. You told him to take a seat as you grabbed a plate and poured syrup on top of the hot waffles. Hongseok couldn’t help but think to himself how lucky he was to have a girl like you. No, you weren't the best cook, but you at least tried.
He smiled at you as you brought the plate to him. He happily ate the food you gave him, while you made some for yourself. Hongseok waited for you to sit in front of him when you were done making your own. He watched you silently as you ate and checked your phone, completely oblivious to the fact that his eyes had never left you. You were beautiful.
You looked up at him and he smiled at you. "What? Is there something on my face?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. You're good; you look so beautiful."
You put your fork and knife down and looked at him. "Hongseok, what are you talking about?"
The smile never left his perfectly plump lips. "I love you so much. More than anything. How did I get so lucky to have you? You're so wonderful and kind. I'm so happy to call you mine and be yours. I love you, Y/N."
You smiled back at him and stared at him in disbelief. Did he really just say all of that to you? Did your man who doesn't really express his feelings just pour his heart out to you? He did and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
You got up from your chair and went straight into his arms, and held him close. You kissed his soft lips. "I love you, too, Hongseok."
Hongseok wrapped his strong arms around you and picked you up, taking you back into the bedroom where he wanted to show you just how much he loved you.
As Hongseok carried you to the bedroom, his lips never left yours. His soft lips felt like pillows and you couldn’t get enough of his kisses. Once you two reached the bedroom, he gently placed you on the bed and hovered his large frame over you.
He began to pepper light kisses all over your skin and you giggled at the sensation. You loved how gentle his kisses were. You put your hands in his dark hair and he raised his head back to kiss your lips. Each kiss sent electricity through your whole body and you couldn’t wait to be with your man. How you got so lucky to have him was beyond you, but you weren’t going to question it.
His hands found themselves under your shirt, and since you were just in your pajamas, you didn’t have a bra on. You moaned into your kiss when you felt his fingers brush over your nipple. He smiled into the kiss at your reaction, then he pulled away from you to lift your shirt off your body.
Once the flimsy fabric was discarded, Hongseok smiled seeing your body. You were so beautiful and he loved that you were all his. His lips were back on your neck, leaving sweet little love bites. He lowered his kisses to the top of your breasts and his lips tickled your skin. You giggled until his tongue flicked over your nipple, hardening the sensitive nub. You gasped and your fingers found their way into his soft hair.
You let out soft moans as his tongue and fingers worked on your nipples, making you become more aroused by the second. You opened your legs a little more so that he could settle between them. You felt his bulge against your center and you moaned a little louder. He was already pretty hard, but you knew he wasn’t fully there yet.
His lips began to travel lower down your body and you started to become wetter with each kiss from him. He kissed your hips before he started to take your shorts off. You raised your hips to help him and he smirked; you were such a good girl. Once your shorts were off, he was able to see just how wet you had become. He looked up at you before planting a soft kiss to your core through your panties. You moaned and your legs almost trapped his head, but he had one hand on your thigh.
He moved your leg and put the other around his shoulder. He kissed your inner thighs, and right above your underwear before moving your panties to the side to kiss your clit. You moaned and he soon started to give your clit little licks. You pulled on his hair, causing him to moan himself. He loved it when you pulled his long, curly hair.
As much as you loved what he was doing to you, you had another idea in mind. “Hongseok, st-stop.” You stumbled out.
He looked up at you, worry on his face. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing.”
You loved it when he went down on you or teased you, but you wanted him to feel as good as you did. You looked down at him, lips glossy with your essence. “I do! I just want to give you as much as you give me.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
You smiled at him as he started to remove himself from between your legs. “Yes, Hongseok. I love you, and I want you to feel good.” He returned the smile to you before kissing you softly.
You put your hands on his broad shoulders and moved so that you were on top of him. You straddled his waist, grinding your hips into his as you put soft kisses on his neck and collarbones. Your hands went to the hemline of his shirt and you took it off of him, revealing his beautifully sculpted body. Even though you’d seen his body many times, it always impressed you how built he was.
Your hands traced his abs and he chuckled; it tickled him. Your lips went down his body, kissing his chest, abs, right under his belly button at the top of his pants. You smiled to yourself as the tent in his pants became bigger; he wasn’t wearing any underwear.
You started to pull his pants down and Hongseok watched you closely, excited to see what you were going to do next. Once his erection was free from its fabric prison, it stood tall and proud.
You placed a soft kiss to his tip and he hissed. After a few more experimental kisses you put your mouth around the head and he moaned. Music to your ears. You began to bob your head as your tongue coated his dick with your saliva.
His breathing was starting to become heavy as you wrapped your fingers around his length, pumping him in time with your sucks. You concentrated on pleasing him, and his hips jerked forward, but he was careful not to choke you.
You moaned onto his cock and he threw his head back. The vibrations of your voice sending him over the edge. This wasn’t the first time you gave him a blowjob, but it wasn’t very often that you did. Hongseok was more of a giver than a receiver, but he’d never turn down a blowjob. He couldn’t believe how good you were making him feel.
You took more of him in your mouth and his tip reached your throat. His large hands were in your hair, guiding you down his cock. You did your best not to gag on his length as his hands pushed you further onto him. You released him with a pop before going back to give his throbbing tip more attention.
He began to squirm underneath you as the pleasure became more intense. The way your lips felt around him was enough for him to come, but he was pretty good at holding off his own orgasm. “B-Baby..oh my god.” He muttered out as you deep throated him one more time.
You looked up at your man; hair sticking to his forehead, his breathing labored, eyes shut and mouth slightly open. You were proud of yourself to see him in this state; usually, it was you.
Hongseok was getting very close to cumming, but he didn’t want to do that in your mouth. He wanted to be inside you instead. As amazing as you were making him feel, he had to stop you. “Y/N…” He whined, and your ears perked up. You’ve never heard him say your name like that. “I..I don’t want to cum yet. I want to be connected to you when I do.” How could you say no to that?
You gave his tip one more light kiss before pulling away from him. He groaned as you crawled back on top of him. You connected your lips back to his and he flipped you over so that he was on top now. As much as he loved watching you ride him, today wasn’t about that.
He looked at your naked body and smiled to himself; you were beautiful. He reached over to the nightstand next to the bed and grabbed a condom. Once the rubber was on his shaft, he teased your opening with his tip. He slid the head in and you gasped at the new feeling. He pulled out and teased you again.
“Hongseok!” You moaned when he slowly eased into you fully. Hongseok couldn’t hold back his own groans as he felt you around him. You felt so good. He was still sensitive from the blowjob you just gave him, so he wanted to go slow this time. His hands were on your hips as he slowly rocked his hips into you.
He started with a slow and gentle pace, wanting you to feel every inch of him. He had barely gotten started and you were already a mess under him. He grabbed one of your legs and wrapped it around his slim waist, making him go deeper.
He moved his hips a little faster in you as he leaned down to kiss you. Hongseok’s plan was to make love to you instead of just fucking you. He wanted you to know how much he loved and cared for you. This was all about you and your pleasure. It was also his way of thanking you for going down on him.
He took both of your hands in his and intertwined your fingers as his he rolled his hips, hitting your spot. You moaned his name and his lips went to your neck. He left hot, loving kisses and nips. He tried to not leave too many marks on your skin, but he couldn’t help himself.
You wrapped your other leg around him and your grip on his hands became tighter as he quickened his pace again. He was getting closer, but he wanted to make sure you were satisfied first. There was no way he was gonna cum before you.
He moved his lips back to yours and kissed you with the same urgency as his hips. His thrusts became a little rougher as he came closer to his orgasm. He removed one of his hands from yours and started to rub your clit in circles. You almost screamed at the new waves of pleasure hitting your entire body. He was making you feel too good.
“Hongseok, I-I’m s-so close!” You cried out. He had you feeling like the only woman in the world and you were so happy. He always knew how to please you properly.
“Me too, baby. Come for me,” and with that, you let loose. Your toes curled, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you held onto him with everything you had. Each time he made you cum it was like a new experience; he knew just how to get you.
When he felt you tighten around him from your orgasm, that triggered his own and he spilled his seed in the condom. He thrust sloppily into you as he milked out both of your highs. With heavy breaths, he looked into your eyes and smiled at you.
“I love you,” He said before pulling out and getting rid of the soiled condom.
He crashed down next to you and you kissed him one more time. “I love you more.”
#Hongseok x reader#Yang Hongseok#Hongseok smut#Hongseok fluff#Hongseok fanfic#Pentagon smut#Pentagon fluff#Pentagon fanfic#kpop smut#kpop fluff#kpop fanfic#smut#fluff#this was so fun to write#hes such a sweetheart#I love Pentagon
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youtuber Sukuna pt2
I wonder what things will happen in this part? I hope there's sparknotes, I don’t feel like reading all these words…
Content warning: *more* mean internet comments, Sukuna doxxing ppl(idk if that needs a warning?? But just in case)
part 1 --- part 3
Being a Youtuber was a lot more work than Sukuna thought it was. When he’d picked you up early in the morning, he wasn’t expecting you to come out with such a fancy camera and microphone. You looked cute as all hell too, hair styled nicely and your outfit was perfect for a day at a countryside cafe.
“Thanks for driving!” You said, climbing into his car and smiling at him. Sukuna could smell your perfume as it wafted off your body and he immediately felt the urge to buy a bottle as well and spray his pillow with it.
“S’no problem.” He muttered, driving off as soon as you were secure. He’d looked up the place beforehand, reading their menu over and over so he’d know what to order. Slowing down at a red light, he glanced over at you taking pictures.
He wished he could ask you to send them to him so he could save them in the never ending folder he had, but he couldn’t. It would be weird, you weren’t exactly close, and it’s not like you shared any pictures anyway.
“Hey Sukuna, what’s my contact photo on your phone?” The question came out of nowhere and he looked at you in confusion.
“Contact photo? You don’t have one.”
“What, really? I’ll send you a picture then! And add a few cute emojis with my name.” Well, that was easy. He wasn’t expecting you to offer to send him a picture, but he wasn’t going to decline it.
“Okay, I will.” Turning his attention back on the road, Sukuna turned the radio on to fill the silence. “Should I...send you a picture of me?” He had the perfect picture in mind to send you, it was a thirst trap he’d snapped post-shower after a really good day at the gym. A towel hung low on his hips and he still had a few droplets of water on his skin and dripping down from his hair.
“Yes!”
The drive to the cafe was quick and easy, not a lot of traffic early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to settle in the sky and the dew on the grass was fading. The cafe you’d chosen was in a small countryside town, barley fields just a few yards away and farmers with their dogs walking by.
“This the place?” Sukuna asked, pulling into the small parking lot in confusion.
“Yup! I’m so excited!” Hopping out of the car, your camera was immediately put to work filming the surrounding area. It was peacefully silent all around you, the only sound the occasional breeze or dog barking in the distance.
Panning the camera to yourself, you took a quick couple breaths and babbled a few times before speaking properly.
“Hi everyone, as you can see we’re in a different place today! Me and Sukuna are at a cafe in the countryside that I saw online and fell in love with. Say hi Sukuna!”
“Hi.” He was standing at the edge of the lot where a field of wispy tall purple grass started. He waved dumbly, feeling like a dumb kid taken to Disneyworld.
“This is the name of the cafe…” Turning your attention elsewhere, you filmed the rest of your intro. Once again, Sukuna was amazed at the proficiency at which you did things and how smoothly he knew the shots would look.
Looking at the cafe on the outside, it didn’t look like anything special. It was a wooden and concrete building with two large windows. He could see the minimalist decor and furniture inside was wooden as well, probably handcrafted by someone in the town.
“All finished, let’s go in.” Waving him on, Sukuna jogged to be the first to the door to open it for you. Filming as you walked in, when Sukuna entered, he still didn’t understand the hype you’d placed around it.
The air smelt like a strong tea and the humidity was definitely higher. He was right in thinking that all the furniture was handcrafted, all the chairs and tables had a rough quality to them only achievable with a human touch.
“Look, this is what I came here for!” You were standing right at the dessert case, pointing your camera at whatever you were looking at.
“Why is it...?” Sukuna looked at it in confusion. There was an airbrushed cake shaped exactly like the peach emoji sitting in the case with a realistic leaf and stem as well and you looked inexplicably happy over it.
“The owner makes these cakes herself, and she’s doing a cute emoji series!” Bouncing on your heels, you tugged on his sleeve. “I’m totally getting a slice, what’re you getting?” Suddenly, the research he’d done the night prior meant nothing as he looked at the cake.
“I have no idea.”
“You’ve got time to think about it, I’m gonna ask the owner a few questions for the video.” Leaving him at the case, Sukuna saw you go up to the owner waiting at the counter from the corner of his eye. Since the two of you were the only ones here, he could hear your excited voice gushing about the cakes and decor.
Fifteen minutes later, you and Sukuna were seated right in the corner of the cafe, where the two windows intersected on the building. Not one for sweets, Sukuna got a plain poppyseed muffin and a hot tea; the cafe didn’t serve coffee.
Setting up the camera on the table next to you, you took a bite of your cake and loved it, immediately singing its praises to the camera. Sukuna ate as well, trying not to be too stiff as you spoke.
“Sukuna, you should try this too!” Holding up your fork filled with cake, you held it out to him.
“Hm, okay.” Grabbing your hand as well, he expected you to let go of the fork. But as he guided it to his mouth, you didn’t, and you were staring right at him as it went into his mouth. “Why ya staring?” He mumbled, feeling his ears burn.
“I need to know if you like it.” Sukuna didn’t let go of your hand as he chewed and you didn’t make a move to remove it either. You were too focused on his reaction to care, waiting on the edge of your seat for him to say something.
“It’s a peach flavored cake.” He nodded, snorting when you motioned him to say more. “It’s too sweet for me, but if you like it then I like it.”
“Good enough for me!” Finally you pulled away from him and put the fork down, turning to the camera and pointing in his direction. “Can you believe Sukuna doesn’t like sweets? He’s like an old man, he only got a muffin.”
“Please, could an old man deadlift almost 300lbs?” Sukuna scoffed, slapping his chest and flexing his arm.
“That’s so much! You have to train me some day Sukuna, I wanna lift that much!” Your shocked face made Sukuna smirk and he flexed the other arm as well. Your wide eyes got even wider, bouncing between both his arms.
“Anytime, (Y/N).” Sukuna felt confident enough to wink at you, and he saw the way your face faltered at it. Ducking your head away, you pretended to fiddle with the camera, the tips of your fingers shaking slightly.
It was afternoon by the time you finished in the cafe, walking out into the warmth of the sun. Looking out, all the land surrounding the cafe was flat, covered in fields of barley or tall grasses.
“Hey Sukuna…” There you were, touching the purple grass with your fingers.
“What?”
“Will you take a few pictures for me? For Instagram?”
“I don’t think I’ll be any good.” Sukuna barely knew how to take pictures of himself let alone another person.
“That’s okay, just try your best!” Putting another camera in his hand, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him to join you deeper in the field. “That camera is pretty simple, just point and click.”
“Alright.” Holding it up, he immediately snapped a picture of you.
“Wait for me to pose!” You laughed. Sukuna chuckled as well, and when you were ready, he took the pictures. He took as many as he could, clicking the button over and over.
“Take a look.” Twenty minutes later he was handing the camera back at you. Looking through the pictures, you instantly burst into laughter.
“Sukuna, why’d you take a picture of the sun? My head is in the corner, it looks like a toe!”
“I told you it’d be bad!” He couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did look like a toe in the corner of the screen.
“Oh my god, I’m taking you to a photography class, some of these are too much.” Giggling your way through the rest of the pictures, you put the camera back in his hand. “Let’s take a couple together!”
Sukunas heart leapt for joy. He would be able to take a picture with you. It felt like he was a fan of yours and not someone you knew on a personal level.
“You’re gonna hold the camera, your arms are longer.” Flipping the viewfinder up, you slided up to Sukunas side. He muttered something unintelligible, too busy looking at the two of you together. He could almost imagine you were a couple.
“Sukuna, hold the camera like this.” His hand had gone limp, casting a bad angle on the two of you.
“Don’t face that way, the light will make you look bad.” In one of the pictures, you’d changed poses.
“I know you only take serious gym pictures but smile for this one!” His face had dropped down to a scowl, his normal resting face. After who knows how long, he was finally free from taking pictures.
Wandering back to the car, it was silent as the both of you settled in. You were busy looking over the photos and Sukuna was busy watching you from the corner of his eye.
“Anything else you wanna do here?” He asked after a while of pretending to look on Twitter.
“Mmmm, we can drive around some more! I don’t really know what else is out here.”
Sukuna drove you through the countryside town, marvelling at the farmers and all their animals. You stopped to get a couple handmade candies from an old man, and Sukuna made sure to pick up some food that wasn’t just sweets for you. Eating at a small restaurant, when you hit the road again it was nearly evening.
Driving back in near silence, somewhere along the way you fell asleep. Your head rested against the window, jostled a few times by the road or a turn. Sukuna couldn’t help but look at you any chance he could, and although he felt like a major creep, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a picture of you.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.” Sukuna groaned as he got closer to the city, coming upon a wall of traffic. Far ahead up the road there was an accident that wasn’t going to be cleared away anytime soon.
“What’s up?” You asked with a loud yawn, stretching out your arms and legs as best you could.
“Traffic.” Leaning his head out the window, he let out another groan. “Might as well put the fucking car in park.” Shifting the gear and sinking low into his seat, Sukuna sighed. It’s not that he hated traffic, but he wanted every moment of this outing to be perfect, and this was seriously hindering it.
“Do you want me to send you some of the pictures we took together for your Instagram as well?”
“Yeah, send ‘em over.” At least Sukuna could stare at the two of you together to pass the time. The amount of pictures you sent him was seemingly endless and included a few he didn’t know you’d taken of him eating and looking out the window.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?” You whined, kicking your feet out in boredom.
“At least an hour.”
It was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of the radio and other cars around you filling the background. Sukuna could see you fiddling with your phone, opening and closing apps. He could see you getting antsy.
“I’m already so bored.” There it was. Your pitiful whine accentuated with your head pushed back. Sukunas fingers itched to reach out and squeeze your cheek, it was glowing from the sun. “I think I’m gonna get on Instagram live or something so I can complain more.”
Laughing at your honesty, as soon as you went live Sukuna got the notification on his phone. Your head was tilted away from him, only your side of the car showed. Waving at the camera a few times, you smiled really big.
“Hi everyone! I’m stuck in traffic!” Your eyes flicked across the screen, reading the many comments coming in. “Hm, what do you mean who’s car am I in? I bought this car!”
“Liar.” Sukuna mumbled with a cheeky grin getting bigger when you tried to hide your own chuckle.
“I swear I bought this car!” You couldn’t keep the lie going, and broke down in giggles the more Sukuna looked at you. “Alright, I’m in Sukunas car.” Panning the phone out, he saw himself on screen.
“Hi.” He waved, reading the comments asking if you were on a date. “Don’t you remember from the last live? We aren’t on a date we’re filming some fucking vlog.”
“It’ll be up soon! You’ll all really enjoy it, Sukuna was a great guest.”
“The best.” He nodded along. You responded to a few more comments, but there were some that kept coming up.
‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’
‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’
‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’
“Stop spamming that fucking message like a weirdo.” Sukuna finally snapped. You had done a great job at ignoring the comment, but it was all Sukuna could see on the screen. “You’re gross to ask us to do that.” But Sukuna did wish he could kiss you. Ever since the first comment came through, he’d taken glances at your lips as you spoke.
“Oof, don’t make Sukuna mad, he’ll kill you.” You teased, and your hand went out to squeeze his arm. “He said he can deadlift almost 300lbs, so watch out.”
“That’s fucking right.” Flexing his arm proudly, Sukuna nearly put it around your shoulder, faltering at the last minute and landing on the center console with a thud.
‘It would be kind of cute to see them kiss…’
‘I bet Sukuna can’t even hug (Y/N)’
‘I bet after today they’ll come out and say they’re dating!’
Now all the comments were talking about the two of you dating, and how cute it would be if you really were. Biting his lip, Sukuna watched your reaction closely. Truly he had no problem with the comments, he wanted them to be true as well, but if you were uncomfortable he was ready to put everyone in their place.
“Gosh you guys ship us so hard.” You seemed okay with it, your face wasn’t tense and you were still making eye contact with Sukuna. “Are you going to subscribe to my channel if I kiss him?”
“What?” Sukunas eyes widened and the comments poured in promising life long dedication to you if you went through with it.
“Alright.” Setting your phone up on the dashboard, you turned to Sukuna. “I’ll be quick, okay?”
“What?” He parroted. His hands were getting clammy just thinking about it and the look in your eyes wasn’t helping. With a nervous lick of his lips Sukuna leant forward and had just begun to pucker his mouth when you loudly kissed your palm and pressed it to his cheek.
“There! I kissed Sukuna!” With a big grin on your face you kissed your hand again and put it on him. “I did it twice! Now go subscribe!”
“What the hell.” Sukuna mumbled to himself, feeling like an idiot for thinking you’d really kiss him. He spent the next fifteen minutes in a stupor, vaguely replying to comments and trying to get over the embarrassment he felt.
Dropping you off nearly an hour past the original time, when Sukuna got home he buried his face into his pillow and let out a short yell. The biting shame he felt at almost making himself a fool in front of thousands of people was still fresh. He knew there’d be fancams of the moment just waiting for him. A buzzing on his phone pulled him out of his thoughts.
(Y/N): you need to send me a picture for your contact photo!
That’s right, the picture. Sukuna didn’t even need to scroll that far to find it, it was in his favorites. Sending it to you without a second thought, he didn’t even have the mind to check your reaction. Leaving his phone on the bed, he rushed to the shower to cool off.
When he returned, there were a flurry of messages from you waiting to be read. Most of them were unreadable keyboard smashes and a few emojis.
(Y/N): SUKUNA!
(Y/N): you can’t just send me a picture like that!!
(Sukuna): why?
(Y/N): you know why!
He could practically hear your flustered little whine.
(Sukuna): enlighten me please
(Y/N): SWSGMLU
(Y/N): you’re such a bully!!
(Sukuna): haha sounds like someone's embarrassed
It was a long few minutes before you replied and Sukuna could see the typing bubbles appear and reappear several times.
(Y/N): I’M GOING TO BED
(Sukuna): you that tired? it’s only 9pm
(Y/N): YES GOODNIGHT
(Y/N): BYE BULLY
(Sukuna): lol goodnight then
In a week, the vlog was up and Sukuna made his debut into the world. He rewatched it several times over, in awe of how well you’d captured the countryside and translated it to video. He even screen recorded some parts, like when he was flexing for you, just to replay your reaction over and over.
In the weeks following, Sukuna watched your channel grow exponentially. Your number of subscribers wasn’t small, but it was nowhere near his, yet you made the leap to over a million and a half practically overnight. And with that new success, came a lot of pressure.
You’d recently taken up streaming, and Sukuna was at every single one. He had made a Twitch account just to watch you and he subscribed immediately, blushing when you read out his name and personally thanked him in a text a few minutes later.
Entering your stream as soon as it started, Sukuna was ready to sit and watch you do whatever. Usually, you played a game like the Sims, but sometimes you’d cook or put makeup on for a stream.
But this time was different. When your face appeared on the screen, you looked down. Almost as if you’d been fighting back tears. Immediately, Sukuna grabbed his phone, ready to call you and ask what was happening.
“Hey guys.” He could hear it in your voice that you were sad. It warbled and broke, and you sniffled a few times.
‘(Y/N) why’re you crying??’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Did something happen? You can tell us, we’re here for you’
“No, don’t worry everyone it’s just…” A stray tear fell down your cheek and you wiped it away with a shaking hand. “I-I- just-” You quickly broke down crying, turning your chair completely away from the screen.
Sukuna was swiftly dialing your number. He had no idea what was wrong, you hadn’t told him anything was wrong, but he needed to know. He was prepared to go to your house if you needed him to.
“I’m okay, I promise.” Feverishly wiping your tears, you turned back to the camera. Taking several deep breaths, you didn’t look at the camera as you spoke. “I’ve just been getting a lot of hate comments recently and you know I always ignore it but-” Your voice caught, and Sukuna was glued to the screen. “It’s just been a lot honestly.”
‘(Y/N) WE LOVE YOU’
‘PLEASE DON’T CRY WE’RE HERE FOR YOU’
‘I bet it’s all of Sukunas fans, they’re so fucking gross’
‘Totally Sukuna fans, all the real fans love (Y/N) and would never do this’
“N-no, don’t blame Sukuna! He can’t control what people say!” It was totally his fans and he fucking knew it. His call had gone unanswered two times, but on the third time you answered. “Hello?”
“Put me on speaker.”
“But-”
“Put me on speaker!” He demanded. Sukunas blood was boiling, rage rolling over him in waves.
“Sukuna’s calling, I guess he has something to say.” Holding the phone close to the microphone, you kept wiping away tears.
“Listen here you insignificant dirtbags, stop leaving shitty little hate comments on (Y/N)s stuff. You’re all fucking piss poor losers who can’t even wipe your own asses, probably jerking each other off in a pathetic circle. Go get a fucking job, worthless pieces of shit. Don’t think this is something you can get away with either, I’m going to make sure you fucking regret the day you were born.” His voice was dripping with so much malice it scared you. While Sukuna was used to talking like this, you’d never heard it in person and you could tell he meant every word.
“Thanks Sukuna, but you don’t have to-”
“Tell me who they are. Where’d they leave the comments?” Angrily setting up a shitty webcam he had, Sukuna was preparing to do a livestream himself.
“I don’t know…”
“(Y/N).” Taking a pause, he stared at the screen. You were worrying your lip as you stared at your phone while the comments begged for you to tell him.
“Alright. Most of them are under the vlog we did together, and there’s a lot under my most recent Instagram pictures.”
“The ones with us together too?”
“Yeah, those are the worst ones.”
“Keep me on the line.” Sukuna had never been this angry in his life before and it showed in his actions. He was slamming things down in a rush to set up his stream and letting out frustrated noises in the back of his throat.
“Sukuna, what’re you doing?” You’d gotten your emotions under control enough to stop crying, your glassy eyes shining in the light of your room.
“I’m setting up my own stream.” Just as he spoke, his face appeared on the screen and he was live. “Tell everyone to send me screenshots of the hate comments, I’m going to teach these assholes a lesson.”
“I think they heard you.” Indeed they had. The phone was still close to the microphone, and now there were comments pouring in telling Sukuna they’d send links through his stream.
Clicking on almost all of the ones that popped up, his screen was bombarded with pictures of people leaving hateful comments on your posts. Many were saying that you didn’t deserve to be alive, to be so close to Sukuna, and many called you ugly or other mean names.
“Let’s see what this fucker looks like.” Going to one of the profiles on Twitter, Sukuna nearly spat on his screen looking at it. “This ugly sack of shit wants to leave some mean comments? Well it’s your lucky day bitch, you’re the first one to go.” It took Sukuna all of five minutes to find the person's Facebook account where they posted more personal information.
“Oh, that’s a pretty high brow uni you’re going to! It would really be a shame if I sent an email to the dean.” Sukuna said mockingly, already typing up a long email. “You’re not gonna be studying to be a doctor any fucking more. Have fun digging ditches bitch.”
Sukuna’s stream easily went from 200 viewers to nearly 40,000 just in the time it took him to dox the first person. The next one was even easier, and it snowballed from there. Sukuna had no qualms about sharing this personal information, from their addresses to their personal phone numbers to where they worked.
“You really don’t have to do all this.” You kept saying over the phone. You’d ended your own stream to calm down, but you didn’t hang up the phone.
“Yes I do.” Sukuna replied instantly. “People have no respect for others, it’s fucking gross. If they think they can get away with this they’re idiots.” So many comments were egging him on as well, with a lot of people promising to harass everyone exposed until they apologized. “I hope every single one of them loses everything.”
“Sukuna…” With a sigh, you sat back and watched him do it. There wasn't anything you could say to stop him, he was on a warpath and intent on causing harm. Eventually, you had to hang up the call as it got well into the night and he was still going.
“Keep sending the fucking links, I can do this all night.” Sukuna repeated several times, fighting off sleep. His eyes burned from staring at the screen for so long and his back had begun to ache but he wasn’t about to stop now. There were still so many people that had to pay.
After nearly eight hours of streaming himself doxing people, he finally stopped after his channel got banned. His manager had emailed as soon as the sun rose, frantically screaming at him to stop what he was doing or he could get sued.
(Sukuna): tell me right away if this happens again I’ll handle it
He texted you right after getting banned. His body hurt from exhaustion, he could truly pass out at any moment.
(Y/N): I will
(Y/N): sukuna...thanks for doing all that. It really meant a lot to know you care about me
(Sukuna): Of course I care about you
Sukuna was about to type out that he liked you, of course he did all of that and risked himself getting sued because he liked you and never wanted to see you cry again. Almost admitting to how he wanted nothing more than to give you a big hug, but stopping himself at the last moment.
(Y/N): you’re such a good friend Sukuna, thank you
(Sukuna): you’re welcome
It hurt to be put into that category, in the friendzone. It made his tongue curl in disgust, a rancid place that he wanted no part of. People that were in the friendzone were spineless and too weak to just confess their feelings - and Sukuna seemed to be one of them.
After that incident, you went on a break from all social media and Sukuna began to patrol your comments sections. He actively posted that he would start doxing people again if they said anything bad, citing all the damage he’d done to the previous victims. Sukuna had gotten what he wanted, all the people he exposed suffered in some way, most losing jobs and friends.
On a run to the grocery store, Sukuna was listening to a podcast you’d been on. He missed the content you posted, and while he did text you sporadically about Youtube stuff, he didn’t feel comfortable messaging you about anything else. His mind always stopped him, questioning him on if what he wanted to say was really worth your time.
“Hi Sukuna.” Standing at the bread section, Sukuna nearly jumped into the air hearing your voice pop up next to him. There you were in a baggy hoodie and sweats, looking every part an unnoticeable member of society.
“(Y/N)? W-what’re you doing here?”
“Hm? I’m shopping.” You chuckled, showing him your handbasket.
“Right.” Nodding slowly, Sukuna eyed you up. Your eyes were still a little puffy and he could see they were red as well. You looked tired and worn down, not your usual happy self. “Hey (Y/N).”
“Yeah?” You were unprepared for the heavy arm that landed around your shoulders and even more at being pulled into an embrace. Sukuna hugged you to his chest tightly, squeezing the back of your hoodie in his hands.
“I…” He could feel you relaxing into his arms, heaving a deep sigh like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “Don’t feel sad anymore.” Sukuna seemed to have a habit of saying the things he wanted to say in the worst way possible. What did that even mean? To tell you not to be sad anymore instead of offering something else, like his friendship, during this time. He wanted to tell you he’d be here for you.
“Thanks Sukuna.” Hugging him back just as tightly, he could hear you sniffle a few times. The hug lasted for a while, just standing in front of bread, and a good two minutes passed before you started to unwind yourself from him.
Keeping a loose arm around you, Sukuna kept you close, searching your face for any hint that you would possibly start crying. Your eyes were a little misty, and your lower lip quivered just a little, but you sent him a smile that made it all better.
“So, what’re you getting?” He asked, attempting to be casual.
“Well, I’m actually done shopping now and I just saw you standing here.” You admitted with a chuckle. “I know it’s been a while since we last spoke properly.” The last message you’d sent to each other was about a sim card two days ago.
“Don’t worry about it, you were going through stuff.” Shrugging his shoulder, Sukuna grabbed the bread he wanted. “I don’t want you to force yourself to talk to me if you don’t want to.”
“Sukuna, I want to talk to you more though! I know we only talk about Youtube stuff but I want us to be better friends.”
“Really?” Nearly crushing the bread in his hands, Sukuna quirked a brow at you.
“Yeah!”
“Well...alright then.” That made him really happy, like really really happy. You wanted to pursue a stronger relationship with him and while it wasn’t a romantic one like he hoped, he was still ecstatic on the inside.
“I have to go, but can we video call later? I have some things I wanna ask you.”
“Okay.” Giving you a brief wave, Sukuna watched you walk out of the aisle and out of sight. A silly smile stretched his cheeks at the thought of your call later, and it stayed on his face the whole way home.
Later that night, Sukuna was diligently waiting for your call. He kept his phone glued to his hand, something he didn’t normally do, just in case you called. At nearly 7pm on the dot, you called and Sukuna answered right away.
“Hi!” You weren’t in the baggy clothes anymore, it looked like you were in pajamas sitting on your couch.
“Hey.” Sukuna was sitting at his computer doing editing, so he didn’t have to worry about you seeing the lack of furniture in his home. All you had to look at was a blank wall behind him. “So, you wanted to ask me something?”
“Mhmm! I was wondering- well first, Sukuna do you watch anime?”
“Anime?” His face twisted up in mild disgust. “No, that shit is fucking lame.”
“Sukuna!”
“What? I’m not that much of a fucking loser to like anime.” Rolling his eyes, he immediately envisioned a man in his mothers basement jerking off to pixelated tits. “Why? Do you watch it?”
“Yeah…” Now you were embarrassed, and it showed on your face.
“Fine, you’re not a fucking loser.” Propping his phone up on his desk, he tipped his chair back and looked at the ceiling. “At least, not a total fucking loser.”
“Sukuna!” Now you were laughing at him, and he smirked at you. “You’re so mean, you know that?”
“Hey, that’s my brand ba-” He was about to call you baby, the word catching thickly in his throat. Luckily, he stopped himself and slammed his chair back down on the ground to cover it up.
“Well, now I don’t know if I want to ask you my question! You’re gonna say no right away.”
“Tell me.”
“No!” Shaking your head hard, you panned the phone up to your ceiling. “You’re definitely gonna bully me!”
“Who knew you were such a baby?” There, he’d called you baby like he wanted to. Not in the context that he desired, but he still got to say it.
“Am not!” Glaring at him, you exhaled shortly. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to this anime convention with me? It’s happening downtown in a few weeks and I’m a guest on a lot of panels this year. I want you to come with to help film stuff for me so I can make it into a highlights reel for my channel? As sort of a comeback video since I’ve been gone for a while.” It was amazing how you’d managed to say all of that so quickly without taking a breath.
“A convention?” Sukuna had only been to fitness conventions and a few that his manager made him go to.
“Yeah! And I wanted to know if you watched anime because I wanted to see if you’d cosplay with me!”
“Cosplay? What the fuck is that?” It sounded stupid.
“We would dress up as characters from an anime! Have you heard of demon slayer?” No, he hadn’t and his silence told you as much. “Look up Nezuko from demon slayer, that’s who I’m dressing up as!”
“Fine, one sec.” Quickly typing it into his computer, Sukuna’s brow rose seeing the character. “You’re gonna dress up as some BDSM girl?”
“It’s not BDSM!”
“Then why does she have that thing in her mouth?” What else could it be for?
“That’s because she’s a demon and they don’t want her to eat people!”
“God that’s lame.” Looking between his phone and the computer, Sukuna tried to imagine you in this outfit. It was cute, a cute pink kimono with a little hair tie and sash. The more Sukuna looked at it, the cuter it got. “But on you it’ll be cute.”
“So will you dress up with me?” You asked immediately, your eyes shining with excitement. “I already know what character you’ll be! There’s a boy named Inosuke that-”
“No way, save your breath. I’m not dressing up.” Doing a quick search of the boy in question, Sukuna let out a snort. “And why do you want me to dress up as someone with a boars head on? You saying I’m ugly?”
“You don’t have to wear the head!” The opportunity was quickly slipping through your fingers at seeing Sukuna cosplay. “It’s ‘cause you’re so fit and so is he! And you’re pretty similar too.”
“I don’t care if he was my twin.” Shaking his head, Sukuna closed the tab and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll tell ya what, I’ll come to this thing and take all the videos and pictures you want and in exchange, I won’t dress up.”
“Wait, how does that logic-”
“Just go with it. Now send me an email about the thing and I’ll clear my schedule.” Waving off any further questions you had, Sukuna quickly got the email for the convention. It was about two weeks from today, and it was going on for the whole weekend.
“So, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” You asked tentatively, worrying your lip.
“Of course.” Sukuna would definitely need to do some serious schedule rearranging. “I’ll pick you up like last time, just let me know the time.”
“You’re the best, Sukuna!” You smiled big at him and Sukuna smiled back. Maybe during the convention, he could show you he was more than just a friend.
When the day of the convention came, Sukuna got ready bright and early to pick you up. The sun had only just settled onto the horizon and he was chugging coffee before leaving.
“Hey.” You yawned loudly as you got in his car, still clearly half asleep.
“Cute.” Sukuna said in response. You looked absolutely adorable. The pink kimono looked good on you, the sash accentuating your waist well. The little green gag he’d seen earlier was hanging around your neck, and you had a cute pink ribbon in your hair.
“Hm? You like it?” Shuffling around, that was when Sukuna saw how high the slit was on your outfit, coming high up on your thigh. His eyes were glued to the skin that showed, unable to look away.
“I do.” He whispered, glancing at you briefly to see your eyes were closed.
“That’s good, I spent a lot of time on it.” Putting your seatbelt on, you yawned again and pointed lazily out the window. “To the convention!”
It was a short drive to the convention, and you were some of the first people there. With a badge around his neck, Sukuna followed you into the hall. You weren’t carrying the bag of camera equipment you’d brought, Sukuna insisted on carrying it so it wouldn’t ruin your costumes aesthetic.
“We’re here really early to get pictures! I booked with a professional photographer, and my pictures are going to be used as promo for a few brands here today.” You explained as Sukuna followed you into a room with a full photoshoot set up.
“Okay.” He was completely lost watching you begin to take pictures. After chugging an energy drink, you hopped straight into it. Sukuna made sure to watch the photographer closely, looking at the computer as the pictures popped up to make sure they weren’t indecent for you.
Nearly an hour and a half later and you were finally done. Sukuna had begun to film some parts of it for you per your request; his job as videographer started now.
“The convention hall is open now to everyone, it might be kind of overwhelming to see all the people out there.” You told him as the photographer was packing up.
“Eh, I’ll be fine.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Sukuna left the room and stepped out into the main hall. Immediately, he knew you were right. There were so many people already milling around dressed in costume, most from shows and games he’d never seen. The only readily identifiable characters for him were from Nintendo.
“Told you it was a lot.” Bumping him with your shoulder, walked out into the convention space. If Sukuna didn’t stand right behind you, he feared he would lose you in the crowd. There were other people dressed up as the same character and he couldn’t trust himself to differentiate between all of them.
Filming a little bit of walking around, Sukuna could hear and see people looking at him in shock. It wasn’t unknown that Sukuna had a distaste for anime and the whole culture surrounding it. Some of his most popular videos were him making fun of people at the very same thing he was at now.
“E-excuse me, (Y/N)?” A young teenage girl approached you, nervously fiddling with her phone.
“Hi!” You waved, immediately seeing her phone. “Do you want a picture?”
“Yes, please!” The girl's nerves quickly dissipated at your question, but she still looked scared of Sukuna.
“How about we take a few selfies?” Sliding next to her, you put an arm around her shoulder and posed. You and the girl took a numerous amount of pictures, and when she left she had a happy blush on her cheeks.
“Is that gonna happen often?” Sukuna asked, watching the girl disappear into the crowd.
“Yeah, sorry! I posted that I’d be going to this for the second and third day and a lot of people said they were gonna ask for pictures.” Rubbing the back of your head nervously, you sized up Sukunas face. “Sorry if it annoys you, I know it can be kind of tedious.”
“I don’t mind. Let's get going.” With a casual shrug, Sukuna walked to where your first panel was. He stayed off to the side as you talked to the organizers and other guests, feeling awkward that he couldn’t hold a conversation on whatever it was you were talking about.
The people soon filed into the panel, filling the seats and whispering excitedly about you and the other people sitting at the front of the room. Some of them noticed Sukuna and whispered about him too.
Ignoring them diligently, Sukuna filmed your panel from the back of the room. He didn’t need to worry about picking up any sound, you were speaking into a microphone. All he had to worry about was capturing good angles for you.
He did this for a few more panels as well, slowly getting more comfortable with people noticing him there. He even waved at a few fangirls that saw him, their faces erupting in a scarlet flush and giggling silly.
“We have almost two hours before my next panel, do you want to grab some food? I’ll pay.” Waiting in the back of an empty room, you tried to reach for your bag that Sukuna had slung over his shoulder.
“No, you don’t have to pay.” Pushing your hand away, Sukuna kept you at arms length.
“C’mon, you have to let me pay! You’re doing so much for me already!”
“Nope.” You tried to struggle past him and grab your bag, but Sukuna was strong enough to keep you at bay with one arm. “Fine! But I’m buying you a plushie later!”
“Whatever.” With the matter settled, the two of you left the room. Almost as soon as you came out, there was a loud gasp from a few people outside the door.
“Oh my god, your Nezuko is so good!” One of them shouted. Sukuna eyed him up, a young man dressed with a strange green and black checkered overcoat.
“Thanks!” You replied, fiddling with the edge of the brown one you were wearing. “I spent ages on getting everything just right!”
“Y-you’re (Y/N)! I didn’t think I was going to see you today!” Another man had on a similar getup to the first, but he was clad in yellow and orange.
“It must be your lucky day!” Laughing a little at his shocked face, you quickly noticed the third man standing there. “Sukuna look, this is what I meant when I said you should dress up as Inosuke!”
“Huh.” He looked at the shirtless man in front of him. The guy was muscular enough, not nearly as much as Sukuna was though. The brown pants he wore were too baggy for Sukunas liking, but he could see the way you were looking at him.
“Can we get a picture please?”
“Of course!” You quickly got in the middle of the three of them and crouched down, throwing up peace signs and smiling brightly as they took the selfies. Sukuna was watching all of their hands, making sure no one touched you or got too close.
“Sukuna, will you take a group picture for us?” You asked, already handing him a phone.
“Yeah.” You didn’t really leave him with a choice and it’s not like he was going to say no to you anyway. It was harder to keep track of just where these men were putting their hands, and every so often Sukuna would look to make sure that the hand placed on your back stayed there and didn’t go any lower.
“Thank you so much!”
“You’re the best, (Y/N)!
“Bye, please tag me in the pictures if you post them!” Waving cutely at them, you walked away. “Ah, that was so much fun! They were so cute!” Gushing about the pictures, you didn’t notice Sukuna had a vein throbbing in his forehead. He seriously wishes he’d dressed up in that dumb costume with you so you could feel the same way about him.
Quickly eating some fast food - much to Sukunas disgust - you were back in the convention hall. There seemed to be even more people here than before milling about. Gripping the back of your top, Sukuna made sure you didn’t get too far from him in the crowd.
“Let’s go check out the merch!” Leading him to a larger space in the convention center, your eyes sparkled looking at all the different vendors spread out. “Sukuna, is there anything you want to check out?”
“Not really.” The only thing he could see that he knew were some overpriced candies. “I’ll just follow you.” And that he did. You stopped at nearly every booth, rejoicing about how cute something was and how much you wanted a certain figure. Sukuna offered to pay for whatever you wanted, but you staunchly refused.
“Sukuna, which one’s your favorite?” Coming upon a booth filled to the brim with different plushies, you crossed your arms and squared your shoulders. “We aren’t leaving here until I buy you a plushie!”
“I don’t need one.” Not only would it ‘ruin’ his tough image, he didn’t like those things to begin with.
“Yes you do!” Stamping your foot childishly, you pointed at them. “Pick one!”
“Who knew you could be so mean?” He teased back with a flick to your forehead.
“Shut up.” Puffing out air, you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the booth. “I’ll even help you decide.”
“O-oh.” You were holding his hand. You were definitely, 100% holding Sukunas hand. Your two hands were squishing his one in your palms, shaking it side to side as you looked at all the choices before you. How was Sukuna supposed to pick something when you were holding his hand so close to your body? He could feel the tips of his fingers graze your sash every couple seconds.
“What about this one?” You pointed your hands to a brown bear with a giant body but a tiny head.
“What’s wrong with the head?” He looked concerned at the doll.
“It’s supposed to be like that!”
“I- okay.”
“Do you like it?” Looking at him hopefully, you squished his hand even more. “It’s so cute, you have to get it.”
“Let me see it.” Picking it up with his other hand, Sukuna stared at the unmoving, smiling face of the bear. Squeezing it in his hand, Sukuna let out a short sigh and put it down. “Alright, I’ll get it.”
“Yes!” Letting go of his hand, you rushed to grab your wallet before he could stop you. “Make sure to send me a picture of you with it!”
Right after you finished paying, Sukuna nearly demanded to buy you stuff as well. He’d seen the way you were eyeballing the figures and some books, and he wasn’t going to be the only one to leave this part of the convention hall with a souvenir.
The bags he was carrying were definitely heavier now when you left to go to your next panel. They put a little strain on Sukunas arms but he wasn’t about to let you carry anything and quickly ducked back to his car to put it all away.
Right in the middle of your next panel, Sukuna ducked out to go to the bathroom. He was keeping well hydrated during this whole day and it was surely catching up with him now. Wandering the halls, he eventually found a bathroom to use and on his exit, he noticed a sign for something called an ‘artists alley’.
“Let’s check it out.” Here, there were people selling things but they were clearly fan made. There were paintings and pins, stickers and fan art everywhere. Wandering between the vendors, his eye caught on a particular booth.
“Sukuna?” The person gaped when he walked up but he wasn’t paying attention to them. On a cork board above them was a moderately sized drawing of you, dressed up in an all red get up.
“How much?” He pointed at the drawing, looking at the red cap you had on that matched with the red jacket.
“The (Y/N) x Cells At Work fan art? It’s $35.”
“I’ll take it.” The artist was clearly surprised, scrambling to grab the drawing and put it in a protective sleeve. “Keep the change.” Sukuna slapped 40 down and turned away. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone I was here.”
“O-okay!” They shouted after him. Sukuna kept the drawing close to his chest and when he got back he quickly hid it in his bag so no one would notice. He started filming again like he’d never left and you didn’t question him on it when it was over.
“Man, I’m so tired!” With the convention over hours later, you all but collapsed into Sukunas car. It had indeed been an eventful day between speaking at panels and taking pictures with countless people.
“Yeah, I’m beat.” Sukuna agreed, taking a moment to sit in silence in the driver's seat. He hadn’t expected to be so tired after today. He’ll have to prepare better for tomorrow.
Driving you home, both of you were like zombies as you departed. Sukuna didn’t even have the heart to properly disrobe when he got home, collapsing into bed with the plush you’d gotten for him still in his hand.
The next day was just as hectic as the day before, the word had gotten out that you really were at the convention and now more people swarmed you in between panels. Sukuna took the pictures for all of them, giving any man that wanted one a harsh glare before he started. He was easier on the younger girls, but he still made sure that they didn’t try to flirt with you or anything. No one could be fully trusted.
“Sukuna, I forgot yesterday but we need to go to the artists alley!” You exclaimed in shock, grabbing his upper arm. “They have such cool stuff!” Oh, Sukuna definitely already knew about it. The drawing he’d bought of you was hanging in his room, by his full length mirror so he could see it whenever he wanted.
He pretended everything was brand new to him, acting as if he’d never seen the pins before or the stickers and tote bags. Coming upon the artist he’d bought from yesterday, he noticed there was more fan art of you there.
“Oh my gosh, that’s me!” You giggled happily, pointing to yourself drawn as a Pokemon trainer. “It looks so good!”
“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” The artist gaped, clearly shocked to see you here. “I-I studied all of your pictures so I could get everything just right!”
“You did a great job!” The two of you went on and on about the drawings and other paintings that were there. Sukuna wished he could chime in and say that he really liked the art he bought yesterday, but there was no way he was explaining to you that he bought a drawing of you as a red blood cell. He would rather die.
The rest of the day went by in a blur, all the panels going by so fast and melting into one another. He didn’t feel the same exhaustion as the other day, but Sukuna was definitely still tired as he walked to the car.
“Sukuna, thank you so for this weekend, it really means a lot!” You were the happiest he’d ever seen you. The footage he’d filmed for your video perfectly captured all the good parts of the convention, with several shots of your smiling face with fans and other panel members. “How can I repay you?”
“Well…” There was something he’d been wanting to ask you for a while, ever since he saw you in costume. Today was the last day of the convention and subsequently the last day you’d be wearing this costume. “Can we get a picture together?”
“What? We never took a picture together?”
“No.” Sukuna chuckled at your surprised face. Rushing to his car, you set up a little stand for your camera on the hood of his car.
“Okay, let’s take some!” As soon as Sukuna was standing next to you, you wrapped your arms around his middle in a tight hug.
“W-what’re you doing?” Immediately, his face began to blush.
“You deserve a hug, Sukuna, you’ve been amazing.” Sukuna could barely breathe. Not because you were holding him firmly, but simply from the fact that you were hugging him of your own accord. His hands were shaking slightly as he moved to hug you back, grinning shyly at the pleased hum you let out when he did so.
The drive home left a bittersweet feeling on Sukunas tongue. He was glad it was over so that he didn’t have to wake up so early and deal with the gross crowds of people. There weren’t potentially disgusting men and perverts trying to take upskirt shots of your costume or grope you that he had to worry about.
Stopping at a light though, he realized how much fun he had as well. Listening to you talk and share your opinions on the panels was interesting and getting to hear others talk to so passionately as well had made him interested in a few shows. He knew you’d be ecstatic to hear that he could potentially get into anime, and Sukuna knew that at the next convention, he’d dress up for you. He also loved the bear you’d bought him even though that was something he’d never admit.
“Thank you again Sukuna, seriously.” You squeezed his arm as he pulled up to your house.
“Don’t mention it. Let me help you with the stuff in the back.” You’d bought even more things today than yesterday, mostly for friends and family that couldn’t make it to the convention. Gathering all the bags, Sukuna walked them to your door and wandered right into your apartment.
“You can put them all near the couch!” Closing the door behind him you quickly jogged over to the couch to help him with the bags.
“Whoa, your place is nice.” It actually looked like someone lived here as opposed to Sukunas place that looked like an upgraded jail cell. There was a fluffy rug on the wall and a few cute figures and small plushies on shelves, you had plants hanging down from the ceiling and it smelled vaguely floral. There was also a space dedicated to fan made art and gifts, with some fresh flowers sitting in a vase.
“Thanks! Maybe we can film a video here someday!”
“Definitely.” Mumbling dumbly, Sukuna was vaguely aware of you staring at him. “What?”
“You’re such a good friend, Sukuna. I can’t thank you enough!” Again, you hugged him. Burying your face into him, you shook his body side to side before quickly letting go. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask!”
“Hey that’s my line.” Patting you on the head, Sukuna let a dumb smile spread his cheeks. He truly had the most fun ever with you, and for a moment he could pretend that you were a couple and that he was going to spend the night here, cuddle up with you and talk about all the dumb little things happened the past few days.
But he wasn’t dating you and his daydream only lived a few seconds before he made his departure. Going back to his own home, as Sukuna stepped inside he got a notification that he’d been tagged in a photo.
It’s one of the ones you’d taken together where you were hugging each other tightly. Your smile was genuine, showing all your teeth. Your eyes were crinkled at the corners, looking at Sukuna’s kind of surprised face with an indescribable warmth.
‘I love my friends’
That was the caption you’d put with a simple heart emoji after. There were people in the comments asking if this meant you were dating now, begging for you to admit it so they could say their ship sailed. Reading the caption over and over, Sukuna bit his lip to contain the feeling spreading in his chest.
‘I love my friends too’
He commented. And one day, he promised himself that he’d get to call you something more than just a friend. Wandering further into his apartment, he smiled like an idiot at his phone, quickly screenshotting the post.
“Ow!” Bumping his shin hard into his plastic foldable dining table, he was faced with the jarring reality of his surroundings. If he wanted to call you his, he needed to get some furniture first.
#jujutsu kaisen#ryomen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen scenarios
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bandaids
synopsis. in the midst of finals season, where routine takes over your lifestyle, you find solace in the voice of your most important person that always seem to know when you’re at your breaking point.
pairing. boyfriend! kim doyoung ✗ student! fem! reader
genre. fluff, angst, slice of life, hurt/comfort, college au, non idol au, established relationship au
word count. 1.8k words
warnings. cursing, mentions of anxiety, depictions of a mental breakdown
song. bandaids by keshi
author’s note. after looking at my calendar, it has come to my attention that it’s that time of the year: finals season. i just want to let all of you know that you are doing a great job. you made it this far and i’m proud of you. i promise you, you will get through this. hopefully this could give comfort in the midst of your studies. love you all.
friends of flowers
fragile silence
stand beside you
stop your crying
If there is one thing that all college students could agree on, it’s that finals seasons are the absolute worst thing to ever go through in college. You’re constantly spending every night at the library with your eyes glued onto your textbooks, your brain rushing to keep up in retaining all the pertinent information needed for your exams. You’re devoting hours onto your laptop with your fingers typing away on your keyboard, internet tabs and pages cluttering your screen as you rush to reach the minimum page count required for your courses.
So many times you have declined all your friends’ requests for study dates or a simple get-together because you just don’t have the luxury to. As much as you’d love to take a break from your studies, you feel like you’re running out of time. It has gotten to the point where your boyfriend has to remind you every now and then to take breaks as he gets concerned for your well-being. And just when you thought you were done with one exam or assignment, you look back on your planner only to find out that there’s more to complete. It’s like your pile just doesn’t seem to lessen with each passing day, your mentality on the brink of collapse.
Just where is the end to all of this?
You are currently perched over your desk, packets of case studies splayed out on top of your corrections textbook. Your laptop screen shines bright at the corner, documents filled with infinitesimal texts and numbers. To your right lies your essential oil diffuser, planted right on your nightstand with fumes of aroma wafting through the air. You took your best friend’s suggestion in purchasing an aromatherapy diffuser to help relieve some stress you’ve accumulated from your studies. Lavender should help out, she said. But to your dismay, you don’t feel a single ounce of it lifting from your shoulders. Forcing your brain to believe its effective properties only puts your head more into a strain.
That’s when you felt a sharp pain rip through your skull. ‘Great,’ you groaned to yourself, ‘another fucking headache.’ You dropped your pen on your notebook and rubbed your fatigued eyes, the pressure from your fingertips massaging away. “God, I can’t wait for this semester to be over with already.”
Crossing your arms, you found your phone lying in the middle of your bed. You forgot that you left it on ‘do not disturb’, finally realizing why you didn’t hear your phone ring in the past few hours. You grabbed your phone off your bed. 2:58 am, it reads. Unlocking your phone, you skimmed through your notifications, your fingers swiftly responding to certain messages cluttered up in your phone until you reached to this one particular conversation:
hey babe (sent by doie <3, 11:01pm)
hope you’re eating your meals and drinking water (sent by doie <3, 11:01pm)
just want to let you know that i’m proud of you (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)
always am and always will (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)
love you (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)
You could feel a smile blooming on your lips. It has been a while since you’ve seen Doyoung, let alone hear his voice. Is it too late to call him? ‘He might be sleeping,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Should I?’ Biting your lip, you mustered up the courage and decided to call him. Placing your phone against your ear, you awaited his call. The sound reverberates through your eardrums, the anticipation of having your call picked up diminishing with each passing ring. And just when you were about to give up, the tune stops short on its last ring.
“Hello?” a deep voice croaks.
You softly smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey,” you whispered. “Did I… wake you up?”
“No, no.” You hear him shuffling on his end, to what you could assume to be from his movements in his bed sheets. “Not at all, baby.” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, touched over the fact he’s easing your guilt of awakening him from his much-needed slumber. “What’s wrong? You need something?”
You shrugged your shoulders, a habit you’ve developed when talking on the phone with someone. “No, not really.” You run your fingers through your hair before rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just missed you, that’s all.”
He lets out a tired chuckle. “I missed you, too.”
You hum a little, “How are your finals?”
He scoffs. “Shit.”
“Not surprised,” you giggled. “You only have one more left, right?”
“Yeah. Chem 4. After that, I’m ready to sleep for a whole week straight.”
“Can I join you in your sleeping session?”
“You most certainly can.”
You both shared a laugh, your mind finally distracted from the strenuous documents that resided on top of your desk. “I call dibs on being the small spoon.”
He chortles. “You’re funny.”
“Hey! It’s only fair.”
“That’s what you said when you ate my share of fries the other week.”
His voice was much livelier than before, fully awakened from his rest now. You missed the jolly feeling you’d get when you talked to him. All those days and nights spent by his side where nothing else mattered in the world except for your boyfriend, whispering loving affirmations to you just like always. You really did miss him, and you can’t wait for this semester to be over to spend quality time with him again.
“Hey, y/n?” he called out.
“Hm?”
“You know that all I ever ask of you is to be honest with me?”
Your smile drops. You know where this is going, and frankly, you’re not sure if you’re ready to have this conversation again. Time after time, he would start a conversation with that question followed by his ongoing concerns wrapped in his mind. Sometimes he would ask for your second opinion, but most of the time they were diverted to you, his forever lover. And you knew this time, this is going to be about you.
Your free hand fiddled with the ends of your finger as you chew on your lip again, your eyes peering down to your lap.
“... yes,” you murmured.
You could hear your heart beating through your ears, the silence deafening the space that encompassed you around. Neither one of you uttered a sound to the other, too afraid to whisper through the thick tension planted in the air. Outside your dorm, there are muffled footsteps fading in and out by your door, most likely from your dorm neighbors coming back from another one of their library sessions. He lets out a soft sigh on his end, not one filled with annoyance, but filled with worry, his attention all focused onto you.
“... are you okay?”
And just like that, you felt the dam inside you crumble to ashes. The mask that you’ve held from the past few weeks is finally dissolving, the facade released from its shackles. Weeks of putting up a front, telling yourself that everything is okay, is now coming to end. ‘I’m fine,’ you would say to yourself. ‘This is nothing, I can handle this myself.’
Oh but darling, there’s only so much you could take in. Not everyone is perfect, and not everyone is indestructible. May we all be human, for we laugh, cry, smile, frown, scream, shout, cheer.
Tears burned through your eyelids, blurring your line of vision as you tried to hold yourself together. You shakily let out a sigh. “.... no,” your voice cracks. Another deep sigh, and you felt a tear drip down your cheek. “I’m… I’m tired, Doyoung.” More tears cascade down your cheeks, bringing your sleeves up to wipe them away with each drop. “I’m exhausted, Doyoung. I’m tired.. of all of this. I’m—”
With the phone still pressed against your ear, you sobbed into the night, finally pouring all your boxed-in emotions out to your lover. You cried out your frustrations, your anger, your desolace. Long have your soul been used to routine that you forgot what warmth felt like. To be cared for, watched for, and loved for.
Your sleeves soaked up all your tears, your eyelids certainly swollen from the sudden rush. You take even breaths, calming yourself down from your breakdown. Throughout your cries, never once did Doyoung strayed away from you, ears firmly pressed against his ear. He took in all, every last drop to mitigate the cold shell you’ve developed over time. He said nothing, only offering his presence as a sort of comfort to you for the time being. Once silence took over, all your tears spent, that’s when he spoke up.
“You did well, y/n.”
You breathing hitches for a moment, heart skipping a beat from his words.
“I’m so, so proud of you, y/n. You made it this far into the semester and for that, I’m proud of you.”
And alas, your smile returns. Minuscule it may be, but it’s more than what you could ask for. The feeling of having your shoulders lifted from your burdens made you feel like you could fly again, soar up in the clouds. Your best friend certainly knows how to cheer you up the most.
“Sorry about all of that,” you chuckled.
“Don’t be sorry.”
You shook your head. “No, I am. You literally just heard me have a breakdown and cry with snots all over the place—”
“I don’t give a damn about all of that, y/n.” There’s a slight shuffle on his end. “I love you for you, and that’s never going to change. I will love you at your lowest, and I will love you at your highest. Even when you feel like there’s no hope left in this world, I will bring you back to earth and hold you and remind you that you are hope.”
Just when you thought you had no more tears left in your system, you could feel the waterworks starting again. You bite down on your lower lip, desperately holding it in as love overcomes you.
“You did well, y/n. Only two more finals to go and you’re finally free.”
You wipe away the stray tear that befallen on your cheek. “Thank you, Doyoung. Really.”
“Now go out there and kick some ass for me, alright? Show those professors who’s the boss around here.”
You giggled. With your two fingers on your temple, you did an informal salute. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s my girl.”
Let this be a reminder to you, to all, that there will always be one person that will love you at your lowest, and will always be there to help pick you back up.
i’m afraid that bandaids
are no good for heartache
not okay, so tell me
when your world is falling down
#doyoung#kim doyoung#doyoung scenarios#doyoung imagines#doyoung fluff#doyoung angst#nct#nct 127#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct 127 scenarios#nct 127 imagines#doyoung smut#kim dongyoung#doyoung x reader#doyoung x oc
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A Social Experience
Characters: GN!MC, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Mammon
Wordcount: 1700
Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Bonding Activities, Humor
(No spoilers for latter lessons, but takes place fairly late in the game.)
***
"--a gross, shut-in otaku like me!" Levi finished, on the all too familiar note.
Usually by this point you would already be launching into reassurances that he certainly wasn't gross, and shouldn't talk about himself like that, but this time there was nothing but a silence that bounced off the walls, damning and louder than any words.
You reached into your bag of chips, removed a single potato chip, and ate it as you tilted your head in thought. Levi took your silence like a slap in the face, and recoiled, his face already wavering. The sound of your chewing was distressingly loud in contrast.
You finished chewing and swallowed. "I mean, is that even true anymore?" you asked after a nerve-wracking length of time.
Levi's expression twisted more into confusion than hurt. "Huh?!"
"Don't you kind of lose your hikikomori credentials if you become popular and people start coming to spend time with you all the time?"
"That's not-- I'm not-- You don't count!" Levi sputtered.
"Oh, I don't count, huh," you repeated, putting a hand to your chest and dramatically feigning heartbreak.
Levi looked abashed now. "Th-that's not what I meant," he rushed to add.
"I know what you meant," you said. "Give it an hour."
Now Levi tilted fully into confusion.
"Give what an hour?"
"My point to be made," you said, and placed your D.D.D. onto the lip of the bathtub, out of your own reach. It was also clearly visible to Levi as you both sat on beanbags in front of his TV, next to the bath tub. "An hour," you repeated in a portentous video game narrator voice.
Levi scowled and picked up his controller again, turning back to his game. But his reactions were off, now. His character moved jerkily around the screen, doubling back and taking wrong turns on the 8-bit map as Levi's mood roiled with the strangeness of the conversation.
You continued eating your chips slowly, savoring the taste of the limited edition novelty flavor that Levi had generously acquired for you. He'd tried to pass it as a coincidence, but he didn't really know anyone else who unironically enjoyed the taste of cream and devilradish chips.
Not even half an hour passed before there was a knock on the door.
Levi asked for the password on reflex. Surprisingly, from the other side of the door came a sigh, and then Asmo's melodious voice reciting the string of nerd trivia that Levi had set as a password for him ever since they became unlikely allies for the Bloody Moon competition.
"Come in, I guess," Levi replied, giving you a long look. Your D.D.D. was still on the edge of the bathtub, untouched as you sat there elbow-deep in greasy chips. You couldn't have called anyone over. And yet, was this what you expected to happen?
"Give it forty more minutes now," you said low.
Asmo fluttered into the room, like a passing breeze bringing in the smell of perfume.
"Oh, there you are, darling, I was wondering where you were," he said, face lit up as he saw you.
He sat uninvited next to you in the beanbag, and you scooted over to make space for him. Levi would have complained, except moving to make room for Asmo meant you shuffled closer to Levi instead, so he ended up biting his tongue.
"What do you want?" Levi grit out.
"Must I want something?" Asmo asked, "Is it not enough that I give my adorable brother the opportunity to entertain me?"
"He's bored," you translated.
"I'm soooo bored," Asmo whined, his shoulders rolling in a full-body sigh. But he perked up as he leaned forward to look at both you and Levi. "But what about all this? Mind if I join the fun~?"
"Let's find a game Asmo can play," you suggested.
"If you'd like," Asmo acquiesced with a shrug, indicating he'd had some other kind of fun in mind.
Levi gave you another sidelong glance, full of suspicion, but his head was out of the game he was playing anyway, so he exited and pulled up his game library instead. Deciding which game to choose was the trickier part, because Asmo had terrible reflexes, and an attention span worse than Mammon's when it came to playing anything. This ruled out anything requiring twitch reflexes or understanding complicated rules.
Asmo, meanwhile, scrunched his nose at your chips.
"All that grease and salt is going to be awful for your complexion, darling," he said, clearly disapproving.
"I'm not rubbing it on my face," you said, and defiantly sucked crumbs off your thumb. Levi nearly choked at the sound, which was borderline obscene. The little sound Asmo made in response did nothing to contradict this impression.
Levi managed to swallow back the wave of envy before it came undammed by concentrating on the list of games on the screen. He still had to make a selection.
A farming sim seemed like a safe enough choice; something bright and frivolous. Just like Asmo.
Levi passed the controller as the title screen came up, and Asmo, to his credit, managed to choose the 'New Game' option without messing anything up. Yet. When the screen went dark as the game loaded, Asmo couldn't resist looking at his reflection and primping his hair a bit. Levi did resist snorting and rolling his eyes, but it was a close thing.
The character creation screen popped up with its myriad of options, and Asmo gasped in delight.
"Oh! This is a good start! Much better than getting shoved into some ugly gray metal suit at the beginning," Asmo remarked cheerfully. He cycled through the hair and clothing options with the speed and deftness of a veteran player.
"Hey, beginner armor in RPGs can be colorful too," Levi protested.
"But not fashionable, apparently," Asmo sniffed.
Asmo had only just barely settled on a hairstyle and color combination he thought was adequately cute, and was scrunching his nose at the shirt options, when another knock came at the door.
"Come in," you called out, before Levi could demand a password.
Mammon's head popped through the door, and he pulled a face when he saw you there, just like he always did when you were in somebody else's company and not his.
"Eh? What're you doing here?" Mammon asked, closing the door behind him and sidling up to the three of you.
He craned his neck and squinted at the screen, like he was verifying that whatever you were doing, it passed his requirements for propriety. Between knowing the kinds of games Levi had in his collection, and seeing Asmo there, maybe he was not completely unjustified in some suspicion, but it still made you want to roll your eyes.
"We're watching Asmo create his character," you explained.
Mammon guffawed. "Betcha been watching him do that for a while!"
"Fifteen minutes, more or less," you said. "But to be fair, Levi takes way longer to create characters."
"It's an important step!" Levi sputtered.
"Especially with the quality of the options," Asmo added. "Look at this. A purple T-shirt with a pink butt on it?"
"That's a peach!" Levi protested, his face turning red.
"I know what a butt looks like, Levi," Asmo replied tartly.
"Wait, wait, Asmo, that black one with the gold design ain't half bad! Go back an' pick that one."
"That gaudy thing! Absolutely not!"
"Mammon, why are you even here?" Levi asked, now completely exasperated with his brothers.
"I was just seein' if we were still on for Devil Kart against those Purgatory Hall guys. We need ta win back our honor, ya know."
"Do we?" Levi asked suspiciously, "or are you running a betting pool again?"
Mammon made a good show of appearing indignant at the very suggestion, but he'd hit you up earlier today about whether you'd be willing to take a dive in the second half of Candy Mountain in exchange for a lump grimm sum, so you knew too much about the subject to defend Mammon without exposing him.
"Can't I be showin' an interest without ya gettin' all suspicious a' me? What makes me so weird, huh? Asmo here doesn't even play games, and I don't see ya hasslin' him!"
"I do too play games," Asmo protested.
"Really? 'Cause only thing I ever saw you play was that stupid matching thing with the gems, and I ain't seen much of even that lately."
You knew which game Mammon meant, because it was the only game app you'd ever seen on Asmo's phone. You'd watch him play in moments of boredom, swiping his screen with a completely blank look of concentration as he matched the colors of the gems in rows and columns, and they burst into sparkles.
"Ugh, of course you haven't seen me play, I finished it. I have to wait until they add new levels."
"Didn't that game have like ten thousand levels already?" you asked. "You mean you passed all of them?"
"Eleven thousand and sixty five," Asmo corrected primly. "And yes, I did them all. I have to wait until they add more now. I asked."
The room fell into shocked silence at this. Even Levi looked mildly dyspeptic at the thought of completing eleven thousand levels of a match-3 game. You'd played it yourself for a while, and past the two hundredth level, the number of complicated mechanics the game introduced had completely broken you.
"Anyway," Mammon said after a few more beats of silence. He gestured to the screen, where Asmo was flicking between two shirt options. "This thing got co-op or somethin'?"
You finished your chips, and folded away the empty bag. When you picked up your D.D.D., fifty five minutes had passed.
"Still five minutes left," you muttered to Levi while Asmo and Mammon bickered over the choice of pants. "Wanna play the long odds and see if the twins show up too?"
"Okay, okay, you've made your point," Levi grumbled. "I let way too many people waltz in here. I'll have to tighten security."
But Levi's heart wasn't really in it, and when he turned to watch Mammon try to swipe Asmo's controller while the latter loudly protested, there was almost a smile threatening to spread over Levi's face.
#obey me shall we date#obey me fanfic#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me asmodeus#obey me mammon
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dolce (sweetly, softly, gently)
* pairing: accompanist/violinist!katsuki bakugou x violinist!reader (gender neutral!) ft kamijirou
* genre: fluff, kinda angst, enemies to lovers, classical musician au hehe
* words: 9.5k (holy crap, this was a rollercoaster to write)
* warnings: swearing bc not only does bakugou exist, he is a prominent character, brief viola/second violinist jokes (reader’s words not mine), poor rosins being dropped :(
* a/n: SO this is very late for @prettysetterbaby‘s v-day collab!! pls check out all the other talented writers involved >< jj is an ANGEL for putting up with me being late T_T there’s some violin terminology in here but it’s fine if you don’t understand it! more notes at the end aha
* playlist (spotify in source link): violin sonata no.9, op.47 in a major “kreutzer” (beethoven) ; liebesfreud (kriesler) ; violin partita no.3 in e major (bach) ; duo concertante for 2 violins no.3 in d-sharp major, op.57 (beriot) ; clair de lune (debussy) ; duo for 2 violins in d-major, op.67, no.2 (spohr) ; 24 caprices op.1, no.24 in a minor (paganini)
* synopsis: being a soloist is not made easy by your new accompanist, bakugou. you step on each other’s toes when playing - but that’s alright, he’s just a pianist. you’re separated in your two worlds of musical instruments, until one day, you’re not. bakugou traverses over realms like a simple string crossing, and there’s a lot more he’s brought with him.
a double stop in violin is a technique in which two notes are played simultaneously. played correctly, one violin playing two notes should sound like two violins playing separate notes. if your life was a violin, you only needed double stops to play it. you'd perfected the art of being alone, playing the parts of two in your sad solo sonata. you were so, so sure you could compose and play for the whole orchestra - a symphony that would surely please the audience.
you were wrong. after all, a double stop has its limits as well, impossible to play with an interval of larger than a tenth. you were content with your double stops and playing by yourself. this was how you won countless competitions - what good would changing anything be?
you were born a soloist, or that's what your parents would say. you never followed the crowd, sticking to your own mind and doing what was true to you. you never worked well in an orchestra setting (and who knew what would become of you if you ever landed in second violin!). thus, you became a soloist, determined to keep the spotlight on you. it was you and your perfection that kept the eyes of the audience transfixed; you were desperate to keep their focus enraptured by every slight movement of your bow, every shift in finger position on the fingerboard. you wanted them to follow every dynamic and tempo change like their life depended on it, feel their emotion spark the moment your bow pressed a string. you were the only one on stage, an entertainer and an artist to the audience. you brought joy and sorrow through key changes and wonder through glissandos and held suspense with every tremolo. the audience was yours for an entire piece, for a story, for a lifetime.
oh, and there was the accompanist. what was his name again? batsugou? bakugou. the last part was a joke, of course. you'd never forget the man who ruined your first recital overseas.
katsuki bakugou was quickly made your accompanist after the previous one quit last minute and schedule clashes between any other potential candidates rendered them unable to travel with you. no one in their right mind would've come along on a plane to play a piano accompaniment for you. indeed, bakugou was not in his right mind. his name was prominent locally, an orchestral prodigy with the gift of perfect pitch since the tender age of thirteen. he never ventured internationally, though given the chance multiple times to do so. you could never understand why he never took any of the opportunities. you'd jump at any chance of expanding your musical horizons and performing for a larger audience, so it frustrated you to see someone with such potential to throw away possibly beneficial opportunities. not that you really paid much attention to him, anyway. bakugou was a pianist, and you were a violinist. you only cared about competition, not those with blessings you could only dream of achieving.
the months leading to your recital, bakugou had gone quiet. well, you didn't know him personally, so it was news of him that had gone practically radio silent. he was no longer featured in news articles or even pinned on bulletin boards for upcoming recitals. there were no updates from him on social media, too. not that you really paid attention, anyway. he was a prodigy, gifted naturally with talent, and you were a violinist.
an ambitious violinist, at that. you had dreams to perform anywhere out of the stifling air of japan. even to fly a short distance to south korea would be amazing, because it meant you'd be outside of japan. you worked towards this goal tirelessly. you dreamed of stepping on a plane, violin case in your right hand and your dreams in another, to fly to another country and perform. you wished to see the talent beyond your own bubble and feel the music resonate in an auditorium in a different way than it did in japan.
one day, that dream was realized. your violin case in one hand and dreams in another, you boarded the plane flying out of japan full of hope and the faith that good days were coming. while yes, you didn't expect to step out of that plane with anyone but your old accompanist, momo, bakugou's presence comforted you in the foreign atmosphere. for the first ten minutes, he said not a word to you but made it a point to speak to everyone else he could in what seemed like very convincingly fluent english.
to which you finally mustered up the courage to say, in japanese, "i thought you didn't travel internationally."
his japanese voice was a comforting sound. "i don't. this is my first time out of japan."
you stared at him like he just said he ate babies for breakfast (which seemed just as astronomically insane as him never stepping foot out of japan).
"but-" you stuttered. "your english is so good?"
"only because you can't understand it."
to be fair, he had a point. you could only say the basics, like, "hi," "how are you?", "i'm fine, and you?," and the ever-so useful, "do you speak japanese? my english is not good." he appeared to never use any of these phrases, so he was a god in english compared to you.
it was a miracle you navigated out of the airport with your luggage in hand and a general idea of how to get to the hotel you'd booked. you're not going to talk about the events in the hotel, though. sharing a bed with bakugou was a whole different story that consisted of him complaining about your phone usage at eleven pm and you complaining about his lack of sufficient english skills to be able to get the right hotel room (which he'd retort by saying "at least i speak english!").
the path to your first international competition was rocky, so understandably by the day of the performance, your metaphorical feet were sore and you only had water on your metaphorical mind. that is to say, you hadn't practiced with bakugou once until the day before the performance. said rehearsal was cut short due to misunderstandings as a result of bakugou's apparent not-so-fluency in english. you felt bad for him at this point.
and then you were up on stage, violin in one hand, bow in the other, and arms full of your childhood aspirations. also, definitely not prepared enough. you glanced once at bakugou before beginning and he looked confident enough. the lesson you learned that day was that looks can be deceiving.
something you could remember quite clearly was the way the spotlight shined on the varnish of your instrument as you held it, propped between your chin and shoulder. you focused on this shine before taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, and praying muscle memory would take over and you'd play the piece faithfully to the score.
you liked to think your playing was accurate. you, the soloist, were the main focus of the piece. the accompaniment made the piece richer and fuller, complementing the violin beautifully while keeping attention on said violin. the thing was, bakugou, like you, played like a soloist.
the performance was like a fight, and sadly not the graceful kind you'd see in a ballet. it was gory and a nuance to the ears, melodic tinkling of the piano becoming tears of a soldier dying in combat. at parts, you clashed by overshadowing the other by playing too loudly. sometimes it was you, and sometimes it was bakugou. it was a merciless game of tag; bakugou would be running to keep up with your playing; once achieving so, you were forced to start chasing after him. you can't exactly remember if he played well, though. for certain, he was not in sync with you, but you were mainly too preoccupied with your own playing to pay attention to his. listening to the recording of the performance, you were unable to evaluate his quality of playing properly, and thus, he remained your accompanist even when you returned to japan.
(actually, the biggest reason he stayed your accompanist was because of your classical musician friends' nagging. they were all in complete awe that the famous soloist, katsuki bakugou, had offered to be your accompanist, and begged for an autograph. of course, you declined.)
you figured that like you, bakugou was a soloist. he wasn't fit to assist your playing, far more suited to his own solos to entrance the audience with only his playing. being a soloist, he played like one too - that's simply how things worked. this understanding of him, though, still couldn't stop you from harbouring a small grudge against him for ruining your international debut.
and then there was the man himself, all standoffish and rough in words and persona. obscenities had no hesitation coming (thrust!) from his mouth. he yelled brashly and frequently and it astonished you that he was a classical musician, as most of your friends of the classical music profession were typically on the quiet, softer spoken side. those that were extroverts were optimistically so, in far contrast to bakugou, who you'd expect from looks alone to be playing in some heavy metal band. it was scary to hear his renditions of debussy's dreamy, serendipitous pieces when over your earbuds, he was yelling at some guy named "shitty hair" on his phone. you were curious how he looked recording the piece.
you didn't typically communicate, though. conversation, which only ever existed during rehearsal, was a question from you and a clipped grunt in response. there was nothing else to your relation; he played his part, and you played yours. sometimes you did this simultaneously, but it was as if you were playing two completely different things. performance, according to your friends, was now stilted. this was partially the reason you stopped listening to recorded performances. it wasn’t even like you’d ever derived pleasure from listening to them - you only nitpicked your mistakes.
your old accompanist, momo, on the other hand, was an absolute angel. she was kind, polite, and skilled on the piano, fingers dancing over the keys like a graceful ballet. you fit well with her; each performance was like a delightful conversation between friends, pleasant on the ears and twinkling with joy and laughter. with her, every performance felt like something resembling victory, even if it wasn’t a competition. to you, winning the audience’s gaze was enough.
then again, you didn't feel that you could judge quite yet. momo was your accompanist for years, and you could barely remember how the two of you sounded when you first started out. bakugou had been your accompanist for mere months (though it did feel much, much longer considering how frustrating he could be). you couldn't understand why he became your accompanist at all.
opposites. it was an accurate representation of your relationship with bakugou. he was a pianist, you weren't. he was a prodigy, you weren't. he was blessed with talent, you weren't. there was nothing to talk to him about, obviously, because of these dividing factors.
the longer you knew him, the more your disdain for the man grew. at rehearsals, it always felt like your performances were about him, him, and him. he was the star piano player, of course. he hadn't volunteered to be your accompanist as a sense of "stepping down"; no, no, rather, he was flaunting his piano playing with a violin playing in the background. he played perfectly. for a soloist.
as time passed, these frustrations with him became more and more apparent. you became acutely aware of how his performance would outshine your own, and it sickened you. slowly, the quality of your own performances took a nosedive. if the piece was originally pianissimo, you'd take it up to piano (then, if bakugou increased his volume, forte). if the tempo was andante and he was playing moderato, you'd play allegro. it was a competition at this point - instigated by him, of course. you were just upping the ante, even if it meant sacrificing your own artistry.
a lot of people warned you of what would happen, but you ignored them. the fierce competition you felt between you and bakugou caused your own downfall as a musician. slowly, gigs stopped trickling in, like a faucet being shut off. you blamed this on bakugou. ("i was international before him. now, i can barely get a gig in musutafu! why does everyone think he's so great?" you had fumed over the phone to jirou, your old roommate from university. she asked you if you had even listened to him play.)
you were scrambling for places to perform at this point. (“fire him,” the very unhelpful hagakure told you. you didn’t know what you were thinking when you asked her, a violist in a local orchestra. it wasn’t like she ever got a solo.) you’d seriously considered doing so, but came up empty when looking for another accompanist. online forums and friends’ connections could only do so much. they were all either unavailable during rehearsal schedules or inadequate in terms of adapting to the music given.
“you need to try working together with him,” jirou advised you one day over the phone.
“yeah, say that to yourself and kaminari,” you muttered bitterly under your breath. kaminari was a guitarist in jirou’s band who hadn’t quite gotten along with jirou well. jirou made fun of the lightning bolt streak in his hair. when you first met them, all they did was bicker day and night; now, according to the other guitarist, tokoyami, they still did this, though on a smaller scale.
she heard you. “well,” jirou said, slightly ticked off, “we get along better now. because of communication. look- i’m not saying you need to be best friends with bakugou or anything, but you need to talk to him about what’s working and what’s not. respect him as another musician, y’know?”
“i’ll… try,” you said begrudgingly.
you heard a muffled yell from the other side of the call. “kaminari, you idiot!” jirou called, voice a bit far. “what did i tell you about plugging in the amp? i said not to-” she cut herself off. “sorry, y/n, i need to go now. kaminari’s back to his normal antics.” she sighed, but it sounded more endeared than irritated. the call ended.
respect bakugou as another musician. you could do that. bakugou was only a pianist. you were a violinist. he was your accompanist. he was to support your playing. you’d forever be separated from him, doing your own thing. he, certainly, couldn’t understand the woes of being a violinist. not the intonation nor the techniques; you were sure that if you handed him a violin on the spot, he wouldn’t be able to even hold the bow properly. the notion of bakugou, piano prodigy, struggling to make a decent sound on the violin with a bow clenched in an ungainly grip deeply amused you.
these thoughts kept your relationship with bakugou afloat and restrained you from strangling him every time he stepped a toe out of line during rehearsals. ploddingly, with as minimal communication as you could manage, you tried to play with bakugou together, as a duet rather than as two soloists playing simultaneously. you swallowed your pride to play accurately to the music, patiently explaining any qualms you had with bakugou’s playing.
eventually, you found yourself building up your performances to the quality they had once been with momo. it was still far from the pristine playing that led you to an international invite - but it was an improvement, and that was all that mattered to you. innately, you were slightly ashamed of the thoughts that allowed you to keep working with bakugou. they were thoughts that told of your superiority to him, because he was playing piano for you. that’s all he was; an accompaniment to you. you told yourself that having these thoughts on the inside was better than fighting with bakugou.
somehow, along the strings of notes slurred together and shifts of fingers from one spot on a string to the next, you found yourself experiencing a strange joy gliding your bow against the strings of your violin. the rich sound of your instrument, withering and blooming with every stroke of vibrato you performed, fulfilled you unlike how it ever had before. up until now, you’d been playing for the audience, rather than yourself. the melody reverberating in the hollow body of your violin was never for your own ears to enjoy, it was for the audience’s satisfaction and listening pleasure. for it was their own enjoyment that won you competition after competition, playing with a blank face. on some occasions, you’d open your eyes during the applause to see some audience members crying, which ultimately confused you. how you were able to draw emotions from them with your playing when the music was unable to render you anything but indifferent?
you knew it in yourself, though, that the happiness you felt was hollow. delightful notes supposed to boast joy and love echoed in the rehearsal room, falling flat on your ears.
you were a soloist, though. you couldn’t let thoughts like these get to you. you could only play, for both your pride and your audience. these woes were for you to shoulder, on top of the violin you held between your chin and collarbone.
“you’re here early,” bakugou commented one day, opening the door to your shared rehearsal room. tucked under one arm was his folder of sheet music. he caught you in the middle of practicing one of the pieces for a gig - liebesfreud, by fritz kreisler.
it was true. the morning sun basked the window sill and laminate flooring, warming the particular spots it shone through. you’d arrived an hour or so early. pleased by the bright nature of the morning, you pulled up the blinds. typically, you ran late, arriving ten minutes after bakugou’s text of “you’re late again, idiot” with a coffee and a bagel in your hands. those mornings, you were really grateful for having a case with backpack straps. if you hadn’t the time to eat your bagel on the way to rehearsal, it was cold and hard by the time you had a lunch break.
thankfully, today was not one of those days. whether it was the sun or the title of the piece (“love’s joy,” how wonderful), you’d woken up and decided that today, you’d have a warm and soft bagel for breakfast. you had a coupon for a free coffee and surprisingly, the commute to rehearsals was more punctual than usual. thus, you arrived an hour early, a smile on your face as you opened the door. you opened your case with extra care and rosined your bow with extra zest, humming a tune you heard playing on the radio. bakugou would’ve had a heart attack had he saw you then.
you ignored his entrance, only peeping one eye open at the man and nodding your head toward the piano as you continued on with the piece. you allowed yourself to become immersed in the music, following the soft pace bakugou set in his playing. closing your eyes, you saw the audience before you and felt your fingers sliding and pressing the strings. time flew while playing the piece; you’d barely noticed that the piece was nearing its end, playing its familiar melody one last time before opening your eyes. a glance at the rosin dusted in between the bridge and fingerboard of your violin satisfied you, like salt on caramel. you surely played just as sweet, smooth and saccharine like the gooey texture of a caramel confection. you relished in the sunlight streaming through into the room, ignoring the shuffling of papers behind you (from bakugou, no doubt). that was how you should play.
“something’s off,” you blearily opened your eyes to the sound of bakugou’s gruff voice. he was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in a not atypical manner.
“what,” you said flatly. “it sounded fine to me. i didn’t mess up or anything.”
“no,” he replied, deep in thought, crimson eyes darkening a shade. “we don’t have proper… emotion in the music.”
“huh?” you felt a comical question mark rising out of your head. “i played it perfectly to score. it conveys the composer’s emotions to a t,” you said, getting annoyed with the pianist. your grip tightened on your violin’s neck.
“well- yeah,” he gritted his teeth. “but what about your emotions?”
“who cares about my emotions?” you said. “all that matters is that my playing is perfect. the audience feels the emotions, not me.” why else had you been plucked into violin lessons when you were five? surely not for your own enjoyment.
“idiot, that’s definitely not how it is.”
“it’s just violin playing!” you snapped. “it’s not complicated with- with emotions! it’s the same as anything else!”
“you’re wrong,” bakugou coldly answered.
“what would you understand?” you seethed. “you’re just a damn pianist. you follow my lead.”
he ignored your remarks. “why do you play a fucking instrument, then? why bother to enter competitions or recitals?”
“to win, like any other normal person!”
he let out a clipped, exasperated breath. “fuckin’ explains it, then.” he didn’t elaborate. dismissing the topic, he said, “whatever. play the piece from the top. actually try to look at me this time, so we can stay together. put more emphasis on the downbeat at the start.”
“it’s not like you even heard me play the beginning,” you retorted, but made sure to accent that note even more during the replay. pianists. they always were on their high horses.
something you looked forward to every year was the valentine’s recital. the organizers, an old couple, had known you since you were a child, and thus developed a soft spot for you. you were a shoo-in for the event, relied on to learn the music on a short deadline. last year, you played preludio, from bach’s partita for violin no. 3. this year, though, the catch was weird.
“the letter says it’s a violin duet?” you said to jirou while video calling her. “i don’t have a violinist on hand, just a pianist. it’s not like bakugou can suddenly master violin.”
jirou looked at you with a surprised expression. “you don’t know?”
you stared back at her. “know what?”
“he plays violin, too.”
“huh?” you must’ve misheard her.
she nodded. “he’s pretty good, too. have you not seen the videos?”
“videos?" your eyes widened as you soon realized the implications of bakugou harbouring an aptitude for violin. "i’ve… i’ve got to go.”
“he’s as good as you, y/n,” jirou said with a knowing smile. you were quick to press the hang up button.
five seconds into teenage bakugou’s rendition of one of paganini’s caprices, you exited youtube.
the next day, you kicked open the door to the practice room.
“you,” you pointed a finger at bakugou, who sat at the piano midway through a piece.
“what is it now, dumbass? you’re late again.”
“shut up,” you grumbled. “that’s beside the point. you- you play violin?!”
he shrugged, not avoiding your piercing gaze. “i’ve dabbled in it, yes.”
you shut the door behind you. “and why did you never tell me?!”
“tch. you never asked, did you?”
“you’re my accompanist, i should know these things!”
“you know i play piano, and that’s enough,” bakugou said stubbornly. “i only play piano with you.”
“not anymore.” setting your violin case down, you shuffled through the pocket that held your sheet music. flipping out a packet of sheet music, you thrust it in bakugou’s direction. “here.”
he grabbed the sheets from you, skimming the title. “duo for two violins in…. fuck,” he muttered. “why didn’t you just say no? who even is this from?”
“valentine’s recital. the pay’s good, bakugou, and we need it.”
“you need it,” he mumbled bitterly, holding the sheets out for you. “i don’t.”
“it’s not like i’m happy about it either. since when were you a violinist?”
“since when was it any of your damn business?”
"you're supposed to be my pianist! not anything else!"
you didn’t understand how he could be so musically inclined. you blinked, and your sight smeared, blurring the sight of your feet with the laminate flooring. this wasn't right, you thought as you felt a telltale heat creeping up you. why were you crying now?
if there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your violin playing. it seemed to be the only thing you were good at as a child when academics and athletics failed you. sure, you hated it at first (as most children did when their parents forced them to do something), but as time went on, the applause of the audience and the title of "winner" rewarded you enough. you were no prodigy, so you worked endlessly every day to prove yourself worthy. you never understood how you'd worked so hard only to be in the shadows of others so naturally gifted who surely would never understand how much you practiced to become better.
when it came to bakugou, he was never supposed to be better. he was your pianist, talented in a completely different musical realm than your own, so he could never be superior to you - and now he wasn't. he never was. here you were for the past year or so, looking like a fool in bakugou's eyes. on the days you struggled so hard with fourth finger vibrato, he was probably laughing at your inadequacy at violin. as easily as he played the violin, katsuki bakugou played you like a fool.
everything collided when you stepped out of the room, leaving a particular golden haired boy alone to stare at the sheet music you tossed him. your head throbbed with the groggy sensation of almost-tears and anger coursed through your veins.
you couldn't back out of the recital now. you couldn't.
you couldn't stand to look back into the vermillion eyes of katsuki bakugou now. even more so now, you couldn't.
your solution?
"hey, what's up?" jirou's collected voice filled your ear, your phone pressed to it.
"hey, kyo, i… kind of did a bad thing," you said, feeling jittery as you sought a commute home. you'd already made up your mind that your sorry-ass wouldn't be able to look bakugou back in the face for the rest of the day.
"...again?" she asked, tone concealing a hint of surprise. "don't tell me it was with bakugou. don't you usually practice now?"
"...usually, yes…" you sheepishly shuffled your feet, standing outside on the sidewalk. "i'll be resuming it again, 'course, when i get home…"
"why aren't you with bakugou right now?"
"that's… that's a long story," you laughed nervously.
"i can wait," jirou coolly replied. "kaminari got his foot stuck in his guitar case - don't ask - so i have time."
you considered asking about kaminari, then thought better of it.
"you know about the valentine's day recital they have every year? well, this year…" you recounted the events that led you to now, standing outside on the phone with jirou.
"where are you going to find a violinist?"
a silence found itself opportune as jirou waited for an answer. "i'm, uh, not…?" you said, deflecting the question back to jirou.
"well, you can't play both parts in the duet, can you? actually, don't answer that. i know you'd try. didn't you try that one time in-"
"what's done in uni stays in uni," you hushed her before she could recall that one time you tried to play a sonata with a recording of yourself. "aren't you going to tell me to try to make amends with bakugou?"
"no," she said thoughtfully after a pause. "you've tried before, and it's not working for you. i don't think you should be forced to do something you obviously don't want to do. i just think," she continued, "you need to find someone to do the duet with, if you don't want to work with bakugou. but objectively, he's your best bet."
as jirou always was, she was right. you thanked her for her advice not before hearing a distraught kaminari shouting for jirou in the background, and then she ended the call.
you repeated her words in your head once you got home, sliding your bow back and forth on your small block of worn rosin. the score for the duet was spread next to you on the floor. it wasn't that you didn't want to work with bakugou. or was it? had you been that selfish all along, sabotaging other performances because you didn't like him? if even jirou had noticed it, had bakugou noticed it too?
your sigh let out a thousand burdens piled up in your mind, blowing air out like dust accumulating on your tribulations. you picked up your violin and bow thoughtlessly, testing out the strings and plucking a couple with your left hand.
was it really only you with the contempt for working with bakugou? you'd assumed mutual hatred with him after your international debut, but had it really been so? had you been the only one picking fights during the time you'd worked together? as you backtracked, your fingers slipped into a familiar position. you began a piece you knew positively by heart, an absolute favorite of yours for years. you played mindlessly, serenading yourself with familiar notes and string fingerings as you thought long and hard about bakugou. how much shit had you given bakugou? he hardly complained, too, but why? why hadn't he quit after you'd been so ceaselessly difficult with him?
why were you so angry at bakugou, a gifted prodigy since childhood? the answer found itself as the composition descended into an array of complicated fingerings and string changes, sounding like an incoherent chaos somehow strung together by the music. you pretended you didn't know the answer.
it was much, much easier to leave bakugou as just a pianist. respectable in his own field, and incomparable to you. it was too good to be true, obviously. all your life, you played to win, and couldn't allow anyone else to surpass you. violin was about winning, winning, winning. how were you supposed to cope when all those hours of practice were easily overcome by someone with innate talent?
the piece eased your tension with a fermata, drawing out your vibrato to think. bakugou's perfection infuriated you, you concluded. knowing this, though, didn't help with anything. you almost screeched the last note as the composition came to an end, unsettled by thoughts of bakugou. you really couldn't stand him.
in an attempt to distract yourself from your dilemma, you decided to start practicing the recital composition. you pulled out an old portable music stand, bending the parts into place and stacking it up. carefully, you placed the sheets on the stand and skimmed over the music, bringing your violin up to your collarbone.
your eyes followed one measure ahead of what you were playing as you sight-read the piece. ahead, ahead, was all you could think as your fingers fumbled the notes, eyes moving from the score to the fingerboard. bakugou was far from your mind as you caught up to the music, too preoccupied with the sharps and flats you'd forgotten and the time you had to keep. you were busied by the shifts and the repeat signs in the music over anything else. your priority lay here for the time being, after all. the sight-reading was almost enough to make you forget you only play one half to a duet. there was still still an emptiness that lurked between the rests and the redundant beats that even your stilted practice couldn't mask. you tried not to worry about that, though.
time floated by as you repeated the piece over and over, playing for accuracy first. it wasn't enough, but you pretended it was. the metronome on your phone ticked away like time, endless and impatient, until you couldn't stand it anymore and packed away your violin.
the proceeding day was filled with more of the same practicing, working on tweaking hesitations and polishing up your playing. it was kind of convenient, practicing at home rather than waking up early to practice with bakugou. you missed the bagel the most.
you were definitely not playing your best, and it was clear by the way your bow occasionally screeched and how you fumbled the fingerings when you were particularly negligent. the piece just didn't sound right without the second part. (bakugou was definitely not the second part missing. not at all.)
by the third day you gave up and admitted to yourself that yes, bakugou was the second part missing. you were only a little bit miserable buying your usual bagel and coffee and rushing to rehearsals fifteen minutes late, aware that you'd be unable to eat it before practice. you were substantially less miserable than how you were the day previous, practicing alone.
you weren't surprised to see bakugou already there, sitting on the piano bench and tightening his bow hairs. he acknowledged you with a grunt as you set down your breakfast and beverage.
"showed up, huh?" he said finally, voice rough. he stood up, setting his sheet music on a stand. you stared at him, awed by his nonchalance. he picked up his violin and bow (which, by the way, looked super expensive) and propped his violin up by his chin. it felt so foreign to see him in position to play violin, fingers already expertly in first position and wrist beautifully curved, yet it inexplicably clicked. the scene in front of you looked like he'd done this everyday, as it was always supposed to have been, his back confidently straight. his fingers arched over the fingerboard and his bow appeared mathematically parallel to the bridge, held delicately between his fingers. you'd never carefully watched him play piano (probably due to your distaste to him and lack of knowledge about the percussion instrument), but he made the violin look like an instrument of the gods. he hesitated, though, bow moving a centimeter then back. he frowned at your idle silence and turned back to you. "well? are we doing this duet or not?"
"oh," you reacted intelligently. "yeah. yeah." it kicked in what you were doing by the time you'd started tuning your violin, first bowing your a string. after tuning your violin (with the help of a tuning fork and none from the perfect-pitched bastard bakugou, who appeared to be watching you with a triumphant gleam in his eyes as you struggled to tune your violin properly), you set your sheet music next to bakugou's.
"ready?" you asked, as if you'd been the one waiting for bakugou all this time.
"ask yourself that," he snorted. "i'll do the count."
you nodded.
"one, two, three, f-"
"wait, wait," you said, squinting at your music. "isn't it supposed to be a bit slower than that?"
"it says allegro," bakugou said, tapping his foot. "need an italian lesson? lively, briskly."
"i know what allegro means," you gritted. "seems too fast, when paired with dolce."
"maybe for you," he smirked.
you narrowed your eyes at him. "and that means what, exactly?"
he opened his mouth to reply some smug, smart-ass answer, but you stopped him.
"nevermind," you said. "do the count again, at the same tempo. i can do it."
you were bluffing, of course. since when was allegro this fast? you wondered as the opening notes sped by you in a musical blur. already familiar with the melody, you messed up dynamics the most. of crescendos and diminuendos? it wasn't like bakugou would notice, too preoccupied with his part.
the ending of the piece took your breath away, storming toward you in a whirlwind. adrenaline filled your veins as you raced to the last measure of the music, overcome by the tempo and the music. this time, full of energy and exhilaration, the piece felt complete. your and bakugou's sound surrounded the two of you, overflowing the room with a saccharine melody. it felt right simply standing beside him playing a two part piece, chest heaving from the piece's energy. you could only hear your breathing, a gentle encore to your playing.
"your playing is sloppy," bakugou said bluntly. he leaned over to your sheet music, starting to point at dynamic markings.
you swatted his hand away before he could say a word. "yeah, well, i just got the music three days ago," you interjected.
"you also had two of the three days off, so i'd say you're not doing enough." he glanced back down at your score. he pointed at a measure. "this is a crescendo, moron, why didn't you get much louder?"
"just- pay attention to your own music!" you said. "besides, it's dolce. i can get away with playing softer."
"that wasn't very dolce to me," he argued. "nothing sweet, soft, or gentle about that," he mumbled.
"i can be sweet, soft, and gentle if i want to!" you retorted.
he raised a brow, as if a challenge, scarlet eyes glinting in the light. "tch. i'm sure you can, but your playing damn can't."
“it can, too! listen,” you said, impetuously raising your violin and bow again. you slowly started to play a d major scale, impatiently scrunching your nose and squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate on making the music soft and gentle, tampering with different degrees of vibrato and bow pressure.
“... that’s just piano,” bakugou said, moving to you as you bowed an a. your bow came to an abrupt halt, making an unpleasant squeal, as bakugou positioned himself behind you. you felt his body warmth radiating behind you as a sweet, homely scent wafted around you. he brought his arms around you, hands overlapping where you held your violin and bow.
“you need to be,” he murmured into your ear, gentle tone almost slurring the words together, "fragile when you play dolce." he angled your bow slightly, moving your hand. "bow closer to the fingerboard." the smooth baritone of his voice resonated within you, becoming lost within the violinist's embrace.
"most of all," he said, dropping an octave to an intimate tone, "you need to feel it. you can attempt to play it, but without feeling, it's fuckin’ meaningless."
"feeling?" you repeated blankly. “the audience’s, you mean.”
he stepped away, a gesture that made you breathless, and shook his head. he crossed his arms over his chest, unintentionally accentuating their volume. “your damn feelings. what do you feel when playing the piece?”
there’s a pause for perhaps a second too long, as you mulled over different answers in your head.
“tch.” his eyes don’t leave you, gaze a laser burning into you. “‘s what i thought. why do you play violin?”
you held your tongue from answering my parents. “to win. i play to win,” you stated.
“and that’s the damn problem,” bakugou said, releasing a breath of frustrated air. “you win to play.”
“that means…?” you were starting to get impatient with the man, who seemed to be stalling and dragging out your limited time.
“you win competitions to play more.”
you almost scoffed, but his words were plausible. “what’s the purpose in playing more if not to win?”
he made a scratching noise in his throat, cool demeanor shifting to that of the bakugou you knew. “l-l-” he coughed, “love.”
“love?” you repeated, the word a surprise to swallow.
he nodded, gagging on his reply. you couldn’t see bakugou as the romantic type - the same bakugou who called all of his friends demeaning nicknames and could barely say the word love out loud. he was explosive, maybe, and talented, sure - but acquainted with love? you pursed your lips at the stuttering man trying to advise you.
“whatever,” he dismissed, voice oddly hoarse. “just play it from the top. fix the dynamics.”
weeks passed in a blur, though bakugou’s advice was left unforgotten. it had, for the most part, faded from your mind but lingered like a ghost in an abandoned attic, stirring up dust in complete silence. it was valid criticism on bakugou’s part, but the problem was that it was criticism you couldn’t digest. it was a ghost that you could not rid of, whispering and lurking until your music played over it.
four weeks before the performance, you had the piece almost entirely memorized other than a few flukes here and there. you managed most of your dynamics, playing in sync with bakugou by your side. three weeks and the piece was mostly smooth, foregoing all sheet music and practicing in the middle of the room with bakugou tapping out the tempo on the honeyed floor. any mistakes were recovered from quickly, and you were pleased to say that the amount of bakugou’s slip-ups equated to yours. at two weeks, though, he brought up the pest bugging your mind.
“play with more emotion,” he sighed exasperatedly, letting out a huff as you played for him. “start on f sharp again.”
you’d tried time and time again, but the longer you’d replayed the same few measures (followed by his criticism for the nth time), the only emotion you felt was frustration. your bow would push too hard or your vibrato would lay on thick, immensely irritating bakugou. you didn’t know why he even tried.
the air felt stale and the lights shone obnoxiously bright. the pads of your left hand fingers had hardened by now, indented with a pair of parallel lines from your unforgiving violin strings. you inhaled rosin dust and occasional bow hairs miserably dropped to the floor. your arms were tired, sore, and sick of playing; your ears painfully endured the same tune again and again, the originally fluid and sweet notes becoming high frequency static.
“i can’t do this.” you were tempted to flop onto the ground, hopelessness pouring over you.
“you can,” bakugou insisted stubbornly. “you just need to try harder.”
“harder?” you would’ve snapped (and you were surprised your e string didn’t already by the repetitive motions on it) if you weren’t so exhausted from rehearsing.
he nodded like it was obvious. “try harder.”
you shakily inhaled, trying to smooth your voice over. “i’m sorry i can’t be a prodigy like you.”
he stiffened, tense to the point of trembling. “whatever,” and it was a strained word pulled from his mouth. it was very atypical for him to give up like this, but you didn't care. you avoided his eyes as you restarted the piece, unable to bloom anything from it.
outside of your rehearsal time, you practiced. arguably, your solo rehearsals were more rigorous. you forced yourself to add emotion to the piece, sometimes playing for jirou. she agreed with bakugou (though was a great deal less irritating), stating that your playing was somewhat hollow. (you restrained yourself from knocking on the instrument and saying that yes, indeed, violins were hollow.)
"how… how do you get any emotions from playing?" you asked jirou at one point, watching one of her band's rehearsals. they were on a break, chatting idly and taking sips from their water bottles.
“well…” jirou started, glancing back at her band members. “i think about the feelings i want the audience to feel because of my songs. i think about how the song makes me feel, then i put that into how i play.”
“how do you…” you shifted uncomfortably, “know what to feel?”
she looked at you, taken aback, but replied easily. “you don’t. it just… happens.”
her response was vastly different than what you’d been taught a child. emotions? sure, there was perhaps a time where playing evoked a feeling in you, plucked something melodical from your heartstrings. it was when you were a child, though, so it was irrational and erratic, an outburst in the middle of your otherwise level playing. your violin teacher didn’t approve when you’d follow how the music made you feel. she said it made you stray too far from the original piece and would make you lose competitions. no matter how you pushed back against her, her advice haunted you over and over every time you got anything other than first place.
your performance is the audience, she’d told you. you didn’t understand what she meant at first, but she made sure you did while practicing for your next rehearsals. the audience, she quipped with thin lips under her sharp eyes, is everything. if the audience wasn’t satisfied, your performance was worthless, no matter how well you played technically. you play for them and you win - it was that plain. there was nothing more than you wanted but to win, at the time. you wanted a trophy, a medal, a certificate stating that you were better than most. it was palpable evidence that you were good enough - for your parents, your peers, anyone. like that, you practiced, a servant for approval. you weren’t a prodigy, but you sure as hell would try to play like one. her advice worked for over a decade, soundly racking you up with countless awards that filled your otherwise desolate self-esteem.
you didn’t say anything else to jirou about it, instead thinking about the bits and pieces of human feeling you could extract in between your piece’s accidentals and eighth notes. perhaps there was a possibility, through the phrases of notes and dynamic markings, you’d find a word that said love. a renewed interest sparked itself when jirou’s band continued their rehearsals, finding yourself to be a normal audience member (maybe even crying at the end. maybe).
you returned home to practice, practice, practice, coercing any hidden message in the music to vibrate in your violin and echo around your room. you watched other renditions of the piece to find something you were missing, but imitating them didn’t seem right. this continued for the following weeks, hiding any potential development from bakugou (or trying to, at least). you knew you’d be disappointing him if you failed after trying so hard. it was only safe to play what you knew, secure in the written parts of the composition and keeping it at that.
by the time the performance came around, you were glad bakugou never found out about your secret efforts. if he had, you knew he’d be sorely dispirited by your lack of tangible progress, your sound just as hollow as the soundbox of your violin. you failed, you knew, and as crestfallen as you were on that cold february morning, the show must go on.
the performances were held in an auditorium, warm compared to the snowy wonderland outside. it was typically couples comprising the audience, all romantic and pepped up in the spirit of valentine's day (white day was no different). some arrived early, finding seats in the empty auditorium and chatting amongst themselves (or sometimes making out, which made you want to throw your violin at them and gag). bakugou’s and your performance was last; it quite the heavy honor to play the finale to the recital.
backstage was a vast contrast to the hushed atmosphere settled over the assemblage. hovering over the staff and performers for the day was a sense of panic, hurry, and hecticness. bits of rosin were scattered on the ground where you prepared for your rehearsal, some belonging to your block and others not. your pack of extra strings lay next to you on the sofa you sat on, arm resting on the side of the seat. similar to your violin's strings, spun tightly over pegs to be kept in place, you felt high-strung. the buzz of energetic excitement flitted in your head, knee bumping up and down and jerking your violin in the same motion. it was hard to calm when you tuned your violin to absolute perfection, relying on bakugou's perfect pitch to do so. the fine tuners on the end of your strings probably hadn't had a harder time in the years you'd owned your violin.
"you're shaking the entire sofa, idiot," bakugou deadpanned next to you. “some of us are trying to rosin our bow, unlike you.” he glanced at the floor, where amber shards of rosin lay amidst white dust (also made of rosin).
“to be fair, most of those aren’t mine,” you pointed out. you reached into your violin case, finding the rectangular case of rosin and opening the top. "mine's only chipped in a couple corners, and the rest is just worn on the edges from my bow."
you leaned over to look at bakugou's rosin, two stubs in its case. "and i'm the one dropping my rosin?"
his ears turned a deep red, matching the velvet curtains on stage. "that's different," he muttered, putting the lid on his rosin and putting it away.
"you ready?" you watched him swallow before speaking, not looking at you. you could hear one of the presenters speaking, introducing the first piece to be played (an ever-so romantic rendition of clair de lune), but the voices felt distant and muffled over the sound of your own nervous heart beating.
"yeah," he replied. he turned to look at you, scarlet eyes meeting your own. "what, you're not scared now, are you, dumbass?"
you gulped. "no… just excited," you said. in truth, you felt disappointed in yourself for being unable to find any emotion in your playing - thinking about the piece, you were devoid of anything but the measures and the notes. what was the piece trying to say in the white space between staff lines? after the clef at the beginning of the music, where did the emotions start and everything else end?
quiet notes, twinkling from the piano on stage, met your ears. you took a deep breath. how did they make you feel?
…not very good, because this pianist was certainly a beat or two off tempo. a large hand on your knee startled you out of your trance. its warmth was surprisingly comforting. you followed the arm connecting to the hand to meet bakugou's concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched.
"don't shake your knee like that. also, why are you so damn cold?" he moved his hand away, leaving an imprint of heat on your knee. you hadn't noticed the physical manifestation of your nerves prior to bakugou's words.
you left his question unanswered, staring at your violin in your lap. you traced the patterns in wood, fingers following the shape of the f-hole and thumbing circles on your chin rest. how were you supposed to be able to pull living, breathing life in the form of emotions from an inanimate object? what sorcery were you supposed to manage to satisfy yourself and the audience?
you thought back to bakugou's words. what was it had he said you were supposed to be playing for? love, the irrational and sentimental flaw of life - somehow expressed from the symbols on a sheet of paper and through strings on hollow wood. what sort of miracle was bakugou creating with his music?
what was violin, if not just a task to do everyday? what was it, out of competitions and tests of skill? what was the sound reverberating within its vacant body, recording every shift of fingers on the fingerboard?
you looked past your violin to the rosin on the floor. friction, your violin teacher had explained to you. you put rosin on your bow so it creates friction with the strings, and thus creates sound. it was strange how friction caused the smooth sound of a violin. too much friction, added by pressure on the bow, made a creaky sound on the strings. without rosin, the bow would be too smooth on the string and make no noise at all. the happy medium of not too much and not too little created the familiar rich tone on the strings.
a happy medium, you mused. in between too much friction and none at all. maybe that was how you were supposed to feel, in between trying too hard and not trying at all. that's what feelings were in the end, right? a natural human instinct, spurred by life. could you breathe life into the music?
the stage seemed almost too big for the two of you, spotlights centering you on the wide, wooden platform. the crowd's eyes were on you and your fellow violinist, some watching with drooping eyelids. they felt far, distant under the shadows. even so, the question still besieged you - would you please them?
you teared your eyes away to bakugou, who started the count. everything was silent until he nodded to you, your cue to start the piece. it felt too fast when you began but it was the same allegro you’d been practicing with. muscle memory took control now, your fingers finding their places easily.
your fingers and bow took all your attention. everything else fell away - the lights, the crowd, the stage - until it was just you, your violin, and the music. you could practically see the score in your head, playing the notes you'd come to know so well.
you heard your music echo and resound off the walls, but that's all it seemed to do. it touched everyone in the room, looking for a place to stay, and diminished in an empty space alone. it frustrated you that it wouldn't resonate - where was the love bakugou had so told you of? this auditorium was no different than your room, where sounds bounced off walls and landed nowhere. you weren't reaching anywhere or anyone, lacking emotion and any true substance.
love - what was love if not a hindrance? how could bakugou expect so much out of you? love - had you ever felt it for the violin? dolce told you to play sweetly, softly, and gently, but what was sweet about the violin? what was so sweet about the imprints of strings on your fingers, fragmented rosin at your feet, and bruises on your neck from long hours of practice? what was gentle about the arduous replaying of the same measure, the ringing in your ears after playing to master a simple phrase? what was soft about the forte that rang in your head, the fortissimo that filled a performance and clouded your senses?
dolce filled you like an epiphany, euphoric in your eyes that finally opened and awakened. dolce was in bakugou's eyes, soft velvet like the crimson curtains onstage, downcast at his violin. dolce was in his sound as his bow skittered near the fingerboard, in his fingers sliding back and forth on his a string. dolce was in his grasp of his bow and violin, in the very essence he played the violin with. dolce contradicted everything you knew, reminding you of bakugou's soft hands over yours, guiding your fingers and bow. dolce was the morning light streaming into the practice room as you argued with bakugou over tempos and notes, the light glinting on shattered shards of rosin as you anxiously rosined your bow. dolce was the curve of your violin scroll, the bend of your fingers over your bow's frog. dolce was the white space in between staff lines on your sheet music and through half and whole notes. dolce was everything in between the rough of your violin experience, the laughter and smiling gone forgotten during sleepless practice sessions and violin evaluations.
what was dolce, if not a rebellion? what was it, if not a rebellion from the years of work and pain you'd endured in the name of musicality? what was it, if not laughing in the face of your violin instructors and the strict score you adhered to?
when you opened your eyes to meet bakugou's, whose carmine eyes dripped with a burning passion and the essence of souls, you finally felt. it was the so-sought over love, scorching every note and stroke of your bow and bursting life in every movement, breath, and echo of your performance. it was exhilarating, living through every slur and chord you played. when you finally met his eyes he understood, a satisfied smile tugging on his lips as his gaze never left yours. this was it - this was dolce, humming sweetly, softly, and gently in your ears and reflecting in the audience's heart. this was dolce, making you realize that you never wanted to play violin alone again.
you picked up a rose that had landed at your feet at the end of your piece, holding it next to bakugou's confused face. in doing so, you reached your second epiphany of the day - perhaps the more important of the two. bakugou's eyes bloomed redder than the rose, deeper than the lowest note on a double bass, and maybe it was he that was the true dolce you were looking for.
notes!!
if you’re reading this, congrats !! this is my longest fic on my account (the record will be broken soon), so i really appreciate you reading this :> (spare a reblog, perhaps?)
first, explaining the playlist:
beethoven’s kreutzer - this was played in the anime, “your lie in april,” and i simply think it fits the “fight” reader and bakugou have. this was played at reader’s first international recital that did not go so well.
kreisler’s liebesfreud (love’s joy) is in the same series as his piece called liebesleid (love’s sorrow), also featured in “your lie in april.” i personally really like the piece. of all of these listed, i think you should listen to this one the most.
beriot’s duo concertante was the other contender for reader and bakugou’s duet piece!
debussy’s clair de lune is simply a favorite of mine. it’s the first piece played at the valentine’s performance (and i like to imagine reader’s listened to bakugou’s recording of the piece)
spohr’s duo for 2 violins is the piece reader and bakugou play! it’s the second part of the duo in allegro, and i once tried to listen to it while following the sheet music. i was so confused every time i did so; i’d get lost and such, and figured my musicality was declining. nope. i was reading the wrong part. so, i started freaking out because oh god the dolce is in the first part, not the second, and thankfully, there’s a bit of dolce in the second part too! however, it did take me a while to decide whether to use the first part instead.
also, spohr invented the chinrest on the violin! crazy :D
paginini’s 24th caprice is considered the hardest out of all 24 caprices. imagine,,, teenage bakugou playing this,,, doing the left hand pizz and all T^T pain
there’s a lot i wish i could cover in this! a lot of reader’s own flaws (ahem, viola jokes) and development were something i couldn’t cover. bakugou’s arc as well! he had an arc a bit before this story takes place :)) tl;dr i’m very tempted to pick my violin up again and start playing
the frog of the bow does not, sadly, go ribbit. it’s the part violinists hold the bow by!
thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this :)
#bakugou x reader#bnha x reader#bakugou fluff#bnha fluff#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha x gender neutral reader#bakugou angst#bnha angst#luna's writing#violinist bakugou
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scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 4
chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3
Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added
This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Not everything is what it seems.
Note: I’m getting this chapter out before I’m clogged up with work. Y’all take care of yourselves and I hope you have a Happy Halloween.
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
Despite your agitation, your isolation slowly reinstilled a sense of stability in you. Even if you were trapped, even if you had little choice in being there, the cabin with the bullet proof windows and advanced security system calmed your wearing nerves. And without a phone, you could not be reminded of, or harassed by the faceless villain who had turned your life on its head.
The first day dragged by as you spent hours pacing in your room and tossing and turning on the mattress. Sure, you were annoyed with Bucky and his demands, his often mercurial moods, but you recalled Steve’s words and they abated your irritation. You could still be in your apartment, still be entirely clueless to your shadowy stalker, still be a sitting duck swimming through dark waters. But you were safe with two super soldiers, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.
Steve brought you a pre-packaged meal and you ate alone at the desk after trading him for your grocery list.
You stared out the window at the shedding trees and the frozen ground, the critters gathering what they could for their nests and burrows. The preserved potatoes were powdery and stuck to your tongue; the gravy lumpy and bland. You tossed the tray in the bin under the desk and rolled yourself in your covers.
That nail in your skull hadn’t quite relented yet and the knot in your stomach only wound tighter. You were still tender between your legs but the levee had yet to break. You laid awake through the night but for the few hours before sunrise. You awoke with stiff muscles and a heavy head. No longer a sharp pain at the top but a dull pulsing just above your neck.
You went back to the desk, wrapped in the quilt formerly folded over the end of the bed and slid open the drawer. You stirred through the hotel quality contents; cheap pens, a notepad, and a handful of mints. Odd but you supposed you weren’t the first occupants of the safe house.
You took out a blue pen and the pad of paper. You looked out the window and etched in ink the scene on the other side of the glass. You weren’t particularly skilled but the points of the tall pines and the sprawling arms of the walnut tree were simple enough. Little scribbles to show the twigs and pinecones at their feet. You blindly scratched the nib against the thin paper until you heard a knock at your door.
“You awake?” Bucky’s voice came clear through the door.
You put the pen down and cloaked yourself once more in the quilt as you stood. “Yeah,” you called back as you leaned against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”
Bucky carefully turned the handle and opened the door. He wore his high collared jacket with its chest pockets and two more lower down. His leather-sheathed knife hung from his belt, its tip poking out from beneath his coat, and he twisted a pair of gloves in his hands. He let the door fall completely open and lingered in the frame.
“I’m going into town. Steve will be here.” He said as his blue eyes bore into you. “You okay?”
You shrugged and pulled the blanket tighter around you.
“You want me to turn the heat up?” He asked. You didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About being so blunt but you have to understand, you panicking isn’t helping anyone.”
“Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about something like that? About the drawings?” You snapped. “I have a right to know.”
He sniffed and let out a long breath. “You really don’t want to know everything. Alright. I was just coming to make sure your list was final. Anything I need to add?”
“Just sweeping it aside? Just like that?”
“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this creep. Me and Steve will. You just need to be patient,” He neared you with decisive steps, “And listen to us. We’re your lifeline, it’s about time you start using it.”
“Don’t.” You huffed. “Don’t call me ‘honey’.”
He tilted his head and his eyes sparked. His lips curved slightly as he considered you.
“Sorry,” he said rigidly. “I guess… I didn’t realise I was doing that.”
You watched him as he pulled on his gloves and bent his fingers, flexing his hands as he pushed his shoulders back.
“So, I don’t need to grab anything else while I’m out?” He prodded. “You got enough clothes--”
“Yeah,” you said sharply, “I should be fine. I’d say that list is the least of my worries.”
He smiled and scoffed. “Alright, h-- You need anything, you let Steve know. He’s downstairs trying to figure out breakfast.”
You nodded as he stared at you. He rubbed his hands together and backed away. He turned and stopped at the door.
“If you really want the truth,” he looked over his shoulder, “He killed again. Two girls in as many nights…” He shook his head and tutted. “He seems pretty desperate. It’s a good thing you’re here. With us.” He stepped out into the hall and you barely heard his last word. “Safe.”
👁️
You found Steve in the kitchen grimacing at a bag of oats. His hair was slightly askew and he wore a sweatshirt which would be loose on any other man but clung to his broad chest and thick arms. His blue eyes bore a semblance of fatigue and he looked up as you neared the other side of the long walnut island.
“There’s coffee,” he smiled. “Do you like oatmeal?”
“It will do,” you climbed up on a stool and bent your arms over the counter. “Bucky gone?”
“Yeah,” Steve set down the bag and turned to the cupboard. He pulled out a metal mug in the military style and filled it with coffee from the pot. He slid it over to you. “You like sugar? Cream? Because we have neither.”
“I’m fine,” you chuckled. “So… is this something you do a lot?”
“What? Make coffee?” He asked as he bent and searched the cupboards.
“No, whatever it is we’re doing here. Hiding?”
“I’ve been sent on protective missions before,” he stood and clunked a pot on the counter. “Can’t say it’s ever been this… intense. Usually political,” he opened the bag of oats and poured them into the pot, “Escort from point A to B. Nothing overly complicated.”
“So why exactly has S.H.I.E.L.D. taken the lead and not the FBI?”
He looked at you and raised his brows. He turned to add water to the pot and placed it on the stove. He turned the dial and spun back to you.
“If I tell you, you can’t let on to Bucky that you know.” He warned as he neared the island. “I mean it. I really shouldn’t. He’s right, you know? The less you know, the better.”
“Tell me. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” You urged. “Please.”
He sighed and pushed back his blonde hair. His short stubble caught the light as he dropped his arms.
“We have reason, strong reason, to believe that this… guy has ties to an association known as HYDRA. An organization which has been working to undermine democratic peace for decades.” Steve lowered his voice as he leaned across the countertop. “The hotel room that was… an unexpected and uncharacteristic slip-up. Before, he was stealthy, smart, we were barely able to string it all together. He was all over the city. But… I’m starting to think that it’s all deliberate on his part. He wants to distract us with the overwhelming evidence so that we make a real mistake.”
“But why-- Why would an operative want anything to do with me?”
“Oh, well, we don’t think he’s with HYDRA anymore and that makes him even more dangerous. He’s taken everything they taught him, all the evil they instilled in him, and now he’s working for his own agenda.”
Steve searched your face, “Why he chose you; who knows? Maybe you said ‘hi’ to him and he liked the way it sounded or maybe it’s entirely at random. The FBI handed this case over because they can’t figure him out and I gotta be honest, we’re not any closer than they were. The only upper hand we have is that Bucky saw him. That’s it. We don’t have a name or anything else. Just a face and there are an awful lot of those in New York.”
You trembled and ran your fingertips down your cheeks. You gulped as you sat up and your eyes threatened to well.
“Thanks for telling me.” You whispered.
“Right, but I need a favour in return.” He said.
“What?”
“Stop snooping around. We’re all stuck in here for a while. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not Bucky. He’s just trying to do his job and he’s already had to call in back-up. He’s feeling beat up right now.” Steve explained. “Besides, you really can’t give him a hard time after he got all bloodied up for you.”
“I… I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” You muttered, “I’ll cool it. Okay?”
He smiled and turned back to the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the oats. He swore under his breath.
“I really hope you’re a good cook because we’re all gonna be miserable if I’m in charge.” He tutted at the steaming pot. “Or at least, half-starved.”
👁️
“So we ended up getting lost on the beach,” Steve hit his empty bowl with his elbow as he talked. “And the bozo says he’s gonna get seasick. On land!”
You laughed as Steve’s eyes twinkled but quickly stopped as you heard the beep from the front door. It opened and closed, followed by the tap of fingertips on the panel. You looked over your shoulder as Bucky entered. You hadn’t realised how long you and Steve had been talking. A couple hours even after finishing the chewy porridge.
“There’s more in the car,” Bucky crossed to the island and plunked two bags on it.
“Oh, I’ll help,” you slid off the stool and Bucky caught your shoulder.
“You should stay inside,” Bucky said, “Steve.”
“Alright.” Steve rolled his eyes.
“I’ll clean up in here,” you offered.
“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned as he rounded the counter. “But since you promised to cook tonight I’ll be more than happy to let you do so then.”
“Deal,” you said and watched him pass into the hallway.
Bucky’s hand slipped from your shoulder and he gripped the lip of the counter. “You two get along.”
“Figure I should try, considering,” you moved so that the stool was between you.
“It’s gonna start snowing soon.” He said awkwardly. “Calling for a storm next week. Could be snowed in here.”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said.
“Maybe,” he reached into one of the bags as he spoke, “I got you this.” He pulled out a bottle of red, “Figured I might as well.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to but… thanks,” you tried to smile. You heard Steve behind you and Bucky’s jaw squared as he looked over your shoulder. “At least let me help unpack.” You insisted as Steve placed the bags beside the others. “I mean, it’ll be something to keep me busy.”
“Twist my arm,” Steve said, “Alright, I’ll get the dishes and you started putting all this away. Bucky, do you mind helping?”
Bucky nodded and blinked slowly. “Any coffee left?” He asked.
“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve said as he gathered up the bowls, “But I wouldn’t recommend my oatmeal. There’s probably something better hidden in those bags.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky muttered, “It was a long ride.”
👁️
You decided that while you weren’t in control, it didn’t mean you were helpless. It only meant that you needed to let those who knew what they were doing take care of it. Bucky and Steve had years of experience in security and combat. You were just a secretary scared for her life. You had no idea what to do or what you were doing.
After the first couple days, it grew easier. You grew comfortable but not complacent. The few times of day you could cook kept you busy enough to distract you. Steve and Bucky were easier to be around as you grew used to them, even just used to having others in your living space. Mostly, you kept to yourself but managed some decent conversation when you ate or stumbled upon each other in the cabin.
It was quiet and you were bored. Again. There were a few books you'd found to read and your doodles had grown frustrating. You decided to take a shower and try to relax. Your isolation made you restless and your restlessness made you think of why you were hidden away in the middle of nowhere.
You locked the door behind you and hung your towel. To your surprise, Bucky had managed to pick out the exact soap you used. You couldn't recall if you'd been finicky enough to have written it on the list. You stretched and undressed. You still didn't sleep very well but it wasn't as if you did very much either.
You stepped under the showerhead as the pipes whined. In the evening, if your keepers were busy, you'd read by the woodstove. The smell was calming and the crackle filled the dead air. Maybe after you would sneak down and try to warm up in front of the fire.
The shower fogged up and you closed your eyes as you scrubbed your body. The smell was reassuring. It reminded you of when your life was normal. It made you think that maybe you could go back to before. That this might end and you might be free to live again.
You let out a breath and cranked the shower off. You pulled back the curtain as the steam cleared and you patted your skin dry before wrapping yourself in the towel. As you picked up your clothes, you froze. You stood and neared the door. Had you not locked it?
It was half-open and let in a draft from the hallway. You poked your head out and peered up and down the hall. Nothing, no one. Well, you were careless, you could've left it unlocked, not pushed it enough for it to catch.
You tiptoed across the hall to your room and pulled the door shut. This time you made sure it was closed though there was no lock on it. You tossed your clothes on the bed and pulled out a new set. Loose sweatpants and a cotton shirt. You needed to do laundry already. Well, another task to keep you occupied.
You pulled on some socks and crept out into the hall. You descended the stairs and listened for any sign of disturbance. Usually the men worked in the dining room or in the small office on the other side of the stairs.
You got to the bottom of the stairs and neared the front door. You looked out at the grey forest. It was supposed to snow that night, that's what Bucky declared at breakfast. You grasped the handle but it would not turn. You reached to the panel just beside you but it rejected your fingerprint with a loud beep.
"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked and you spun to face him, startled.
"No, I just… haven't been outside and I just wanted to… smell the air. I guess that's, uh, weird." You rubbed your hands together.
"It's freezing. You can't go out like that."
You stared at him. "But can I… go out?"
His blue eyes clung to you and his long lashes flicked. He lifted his brow and stepped closer. He stopped and slid your boots over to you with his foot.
"Stay close," he grabbed his coat, "And wear a hat."
He handed you a wool beanie from his coat pocket before he pulled the ends of his hair from beneath his collar. You took your coat, in slight disbelief, and smiled.
"You sure it's okay?"
"Well, you shouldn't be pent up in here for so long and once it snows, you won't wanna go out much at all."
He opened the door as you tucked your hands into your gloves. You stepped out and he followed you closely as the door clicked shut behind him. You tramped down the steps and bounced on your heels at the bottom. It smelled like pine and cold.
Bucky walked evenly across the clearing and you trailed behind him as he neared the trees. He stopped and waited for you to catch up. He waved you ahead of him. "Just follow the path."
He wasn't far behind as you did as he said, the path winding between trees and petering out before a frosty brook that would freeze over with the first snowfall. Your teeth chattered as the looming winter nipped through your layers. You were quiet as you bent to pick up a pinecone and admire its scales.
You felt Bucky watching you as you turned back and walked around the small clearing amidst the trees.
"Hey," you faced him and tossed the pinecone away, "I'm sorry I was so… contrary. I was afraid."
"It's fine," he shooed away your apology with his hand, "I've dealt with worse."
"Sure but… I owe you a thank you, too. You saved me. More than once. And I know I wouldn't be alive without you. So thanks. Really. And… I am trying. I trust you. I know you're going to get this guy."
He gave a small smile and kicked a stone as he came closer. "Well, let me just say, this is one of the only jobs I've been assigned that hasn't been a complete pain in the ass."
You scoffed and resisted your urge to back away from him. "Flattering, really."
"Twenty minutes," he said, "Then we gotta go back… before Steve notices and gets worried. Or worse, he'll think we left him out of some fun."
"Ah," you snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to think that."
👁️
Another day and then another. Time fell as lackadaisical as the snow. At first, it had been a storm but it had slowed to a powdery lull. Neither Steve nor Bucky spoke of the killer and you didn’t dare to ask. What good would it do you to know he had killed another? Or that some other grisly piece of art had been found? Ignorance was bliss or at least solace.
You found yourself moving from room to room. First, your bedroom, then the kitchen for a cup of tea, the living room to feed the stove and watch it burn, and then back upstairs. You ran into Steve on your way up. He seemed distracted if not a bit perturbed. You noticed that in the last day he and Bucky had been quiet. More so than usual.
You continued up to your room and opened your current read; a classic you refused to read in high school and opted for the Sparknotes instead. You laid on your bed, one leg bent under the other as you swayed back and forth. The words didn’t stick in your mind and you found yourself rereading the same page until you clapped the book shut and snarled.
You sat up and tapped your foot on the floor. You heard voices, muffled by your door. You eked it open and slowly approached the top of the stairs. You listened as the argument came clearer.
“Goddamn it, Bucky, after everything I’ve done for you. What the fuck are we here for? Well, what am I here for?” Steve growled.
“Stop yelling, alright.” Bucky snipped. “Have a little fucking patience. You know this hasn’t been easy.” You heard something slam but couldn’t guess at what. “Don’t fucking blow it. Shut up and have a little faith in me.”
There was grumbling but nothing more as a door closed and blocked out the voices entirely. You felt that heat along the back of your neck. The sudden burst of instinctual fear that nestled along your shoulders. The goosebumps that told you that not all was as it seemed. The creeping, inescapable sensation which had lingered for weeks now.
You pushed yourself up to your feet and headed back to your room. It was a stressful mission, you couldn’t blame the two for getting frustrated. That must have been what it was. They were anxious to get this guy and be onto their next mission. You doubted it was their ideal job to be locked away in the snow.
You stopped as your hand fell to your door handle and you peered down the hall into Bucky’s room. The door was mostly open, only a slight angle blocking out part of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hand away from the knob and felt along the wall as you continued down the hall.
His bed was unmade, the pillows strewn about, and a familiar patch of fabric stuck out from beneath one of them. You glanced behind you and took a breath. You took a step inside and waited as if testing it. Would he know? He seemed to know everything.
You placed one foot in front of the other as softly as you could. You leaned a knee against the mattress and reached beneath the pillow. You lifted up your panties and blanched at the little daisies speckles along the cotton. You’d gone all week without a pair, the mystery of their disappearance forgotten as your own carelessness. You mouthed ‘what the fuck’ as you dropped them back to the bed.
You turned around and went to the tall dresser near the closet. You inched the top drawer open; the rest of your panties bunched up with his briefs. The pink pair with the hearts you didn’t dare to touch as dried white strings stained the lacy edge. You slid the drawer shut and gasped as you were suffocated by your shock.
You spun around and peeked out the open door. You heard nothing but the winter gales outside. You rounded the bed and went to the table in the corner; a monitor, a mouse, a keyboard, stacks of folders and papers.
Your fingers shook as you took your wallet from the mess and opened it up. Your cards, your IDs, and even the cash remained within. You put it back and took the envelope that was hidden beneath it. You opened it and flipped through its contents; your college ID from years ago, the one you got replaced after presumably dropping it in the library, your graduation photo, pictures of your family and you… all things you’d thought you lost.
You replaced the envelope and lifted the top of a file. The same drawing as before and several more, each one bloodier, more gruesome than the last until the final one. A metal arm around your neck…
Your hand hit the mouse as you retracted it in disgust and the monitor lit up. The sudden glare stung your eyes. A dozen different frames across the screen; each one a room in the house, including yours and even one in the shower. Bucky and Steve were in the office, deep in conversation.
You let out a shuddered breath as tears pricked.
You moved the mouse slowly and clicked on the file explorer. Folders sorted by date and then another simply labelled with your street name. You hesitated before you selected it. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of video files sorted by date. You bent closer as you clicked on the last day.
You hit double speed as your empty apartment greeted you. Then you came home, poured your wine, then Bucky arrived, you ordered food… You slowed down the footage as you slumped against the arm of the couch. The wine and the terror of that video call had left you senseless.
Bucky stood and pulled you down to lay across the couch. He backed up and watched you for a while then neared you again. You watched in horror as he bent over you and rolled your pants down. He climbed between your legs and buried his head between them. He shoved his metal hand beneath his mouth and your entire body jolted as he fingered.
You gasped as he finished and pulled your pants back up. Then he stood near you and used your hand to pleasure himself. You exited out of the window before your stomach turned entirely. You stood as you looked to the live feed. The office was empty.
You were suddenly pulled back as a rope wrapped around your neck. You kicked out as you were strangled, a figure flush against your back. You flailed and grabbed at the robe as you were shoved towards the bed. The body fell down onto you and the rope tightened.
“Baby girl,” Bucky’s voice slithered in your ear, “It didn’t have to be like this.”
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#dark bucky barnes x reader#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#fic#dark fic#steve rogers#dark!fic#mcu#marvel#captain america#serial killer#serial killer au#series#short series#scopaesthesia
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