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sourwolf-sterek32 · 2 years

Text

10 Things I Hate About You

Summary: Jason Carver cannot date Chrissy until her anti-social sister, Y/N, has a boyfriend. So, Jason pays Eddie Munson to charm her.

Basically an Eddie Munson fic based on the movie 10 Things I Hate About You that nobody asked for.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: language,

Previous Chapter

Chapter 9- Final Chapter

A whole week had past since prom and you've managed to avoid Eddie at school which wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. Eddie seemed to be trying to avoid you too.

Jason had a nasty bruise across his nose that matched your bruised knuckles, but since that night, he had steered clear of Chrissy, so i was worth it. Chrissy and Gareth seemed to be friends now, the two of them still hung out in their own friendship groups during lunch, but after school they hung out together.

A small part of you was almost jealous when you saw them laughing and smiling together. But, at the same time, you were happy for them. Gareth seemed to be treating her right and he wasn't an asshole like Jason, so that was an improvement.

You sat on the porch steps with your English notebook in your lap, trying and failing to write the stupid poem for class that was due tomorrow morning.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't write it. You had tried writing about music. Tried writing about your car. Hell, you even tried writing about dogs, but you just couldn't find the right words and it wasn't working.

You sighed, scribbling out the few words you had written down with a pen before Chrissy came walking out the house with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands.

"Here." She said, holding it out towards you.

"Thanks." You replied, putting the pen down and taking the cup with a small smile.

Ever since prom, Chrissy had been putting in extra effort with you. She knew you were upset, but you refused to talk about it, despite how many times she had asked you to.

"Any luck on your English assignment?" She asked, looking down at your page full of scribble.

You shook your head and took a sip of the drink. How much would your overall grade drop if you didn't do this assignment? At this rate, you were not finishing this by tomorrow, hell, you have been sitting here for hours and haven't gotten a single word.

A car slowly pulled up in front of the house and you looked up from your mug to find Gareth climbing out his car. He was wearing his Hellfire Club shirt under his flannel and your heart sunk at the sight of it.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the movies with us? It'll be fun." Chrissy said,looking away from Gareth and down at you.

"No, I'm fine."

"Look, I don't know if I ever thanked you for what you did at prom... but, it really meant a lot to me."

You smiled softly, "anytime."

"Hey, you ready?" Gareth called out, walking towards the house.

Chrissy nodded, giving you a warm smile before walking past you down the stairs while Gareth waved awkwardly to you before taking Chrissy's hand.

"Is she okay?" You heard him whisper to her.

"I hope so." Chrissy replied, quietly. "How's Eddie?"

"Heartbroken."

You didn't hear the rest of their conversation as they climbed into the car and you watched them drive off down the road.

Eddie was heartbroken? Why would he be heartbroken? You didn't mean anything to him, you were simply a job to him. He didn't care about you. He was in it for the money, right from the very start. Him asking you to Steve Harrington's party had been part of it, it had all been part of it and you were too blind to see it.

You hated Eddie Munson. You hated him so fucking much, you wanted to scream, but instead, you picked up your pen and started to write.

The bell rang for class just as you and Chrissy got out the Challenger, running late after a stupid argument with your mother.

Chrissy hurriedly rushed off to her first class, shouting a quick 'thank you for driving' over her shoulder before you walked in the other direction to English which you had been dreading all morning.

It was the only class you had with Eddie and you saw his van in the parking lot which meant he was probably already seated and you'd have to walk past him to get your seat. That was not something you weren't looking forward to.

Students chatter and laughter came from inside the classroom as you rushed down the corridor before pausing outside the door, giving yourself a moment to prepare before you pushed the door open and walked inside.

Eddie was sitting in his usual seat at the back, his head down resting on his hand which you were silently grateful about. It made it easier to walk past him before you plonked yourself down in your usual seat and pulled your book out your bag.

Jason was in seat behind you and it was a little weird walking in this class without hearing any of his usual sarcastic comments or insults hurdling towards you.

"Alright, I assume everyone has found time to complete their poem." Ms. O'Donnell said, standing up from behind her desk to start the class. "Anyone brave enough to read theirs aloud?"

You instantly lowered your head to avoid the teachers eye, not wanting to read yours outload in the slightest, but the world seemed to hate you, so you should have known better.

"How about you, Y/N?"

"Uh, no. I'm good, thank you." You replied, despite knowing it wasn't a question. She was going to make you read your poem to the class whether you wanted to or not.

"Come out the front and read your poem."

You stared at the teacher for a moment as she crossed her arms over her chest with an impatient expression before you sighed and grabbed your notebook before making your way to the front of the class.

Everyone's eyes were on you as you stood in front of your fellow students with an unamused expression, hating this more than anything. Eddie had now lifted his head from his hands, but you refused to look at him.

"Anytime, Y/N." Ms. O'Donnell impatiently.

You glared at her before looking down at your notepad with a sigh. Here went nothing.

"I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair I hate the way you drive my car I hate it when you stare."

You pause for a moment before continuing to read from the notebook.

"I hate your dumb club shirt and the way you read my mind I hate you so much it makes me sick it even makes me rhyme."

You took a deep breath and spared a quick glance at Eddie, who was now staring at the floor, refusing to look at you.

"I hate it... I hate the way you're always right I hate it when you lie I hate it when you make me laugh even worse when you make me cry..."

Your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, the words on your page blurring as tears began to rise in your eyes, but you forced them back and continued.

"I hate it that you're not around and the fact that you didn't call But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all."

You lifted your head and looked directly at Eddie through your tear filled eyes and this time he was looking back.

The rest of the students were all staring at the two of you, everyone silent as Eddie held your gaze with a sad look in his eye before you marched out the room.

You hid in the girls bathroom and finally let your tears fall. All the emotions you had been holding back for the past week now bubbling to the surface as you leant against the sink and cried.

You wanted to hate him.

You wanted to hate, Eddie. You wanted to, but no matter how hard you tried to hate him, you couldn't.

It was so stupid, you had only known him for a short amount of time, yet you were starting to fall in love with him. While Eddie was being paid to take you out, you had been falling for him. Fuck, how stupid was that?

"That was an emotional poem." Robin suddenly said, walking into the bathroom.

You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes, but knew it didn't do much to hide the fact that you had been crying as Robin looked over at you sadly.

Why had she followed you here?

"I'd ask if you were okay, but I think that would be a stupid question, right?"

You shrugged your shoulders, not really knowing what to say.

"Eddie has been miserable ever since what happened at prom. He still cares about you, Y/N." She said, walking over to you.

"No, he doesn't."

Robin sighed, resting her hand on your shoulder and it took every ounce of self control in your body to not flinch at her touch.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Okay."

"The only reason I never spoke to when you first showed up all those weeks ago was because... well, you were kinda scary. The car, the music, the outfit, the attitude, you were a badass and stood up to Jason freaking Carver. The whole school was kinda intimidated by you. But, Eddie, he wasn't. He saw through your whole facade. The second you walked into Ms. O'Donnell's class and called her out for reading a book by an abusive author, Eddie was already hooked to you. Now, I don't know what exactly happened between you two, but if I were you, I would give him a second chance because that is the biggest sign of love at first sight that I have ever seen. It doesn't happen often."

"Love at first sight? Really?" You asked, not believing her words.

No way Eddie had loved you at first sight. There were so many other girls in school who were prettier, skinnier, smarter and funnier than you. There were so many better girls, no way would he fall for you after sharing one class. No way.

Robin shrugged her shoulders, "I'm just telling you what I saw. I sit at the back of class near him. I've seen the way he looks at you. And Eddie never looked at anyone like that, not until you showed up."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because he has been miserable ever since prom and again, I don't know what happened and I don't want to tell you what to do, but I think you should at least talk to him."

The school bell rang before you had a chance to respond and a few seconds later, other students began walking into the bathroom, halting your conversation. Robin squeezed your shoulder gently before she walked back out, leaving you standing there now unsure of what to do.

Eddie had hurt you. He really hurt you, but what if he had liked you before Jason approached him with money?

With a sigh, you walked out the bathroom and retrieved your school bag from Ms. O'Donnell's now empty classroom before you made your way outside towards the school parking lot.

Most of the cars had left by the time you fished your keys out you backpack and reached for the door handle of the Challenger, but stopped when you noticed something sitting on the drivers seat.

What the fuck?

Cautiously, you opened the car door, but froze when you realised what it was.

It was an electric guitar.

Not just any electric guitar. It was the guitar that you had been looking at in the Music Store in town for the past few months.

Slowly, you reached down and picked it up, inspecting every detail before you heard footsteps walking up behind you and you spun around to find Eddie standing there with his signature smile.

"You bought this?" You asked, carefully placing the guitar back down.

Eddie nodded, "I did."

"Why?"

Eddie shrugged, putting his hands in pockets as he stared at the guitar before his beautiful brown eyes met yours.

"Well, I had some extra cash. Some asshole paid me to take out this really great girl."

You couldn't stop the small smile from spreading across your face as you lowered your head, "is that right?"

"Yeah, but I screwed up. I, um... I fell for her"

"Really?"

"It's not every day you find a girl who shows up to her first day of school blasting a Metallica's Fade to Black while wearing an AC/DC shirt and then spends the first few minutes of class calling out the teacher and putting Jason Carver in his place."

You looked up in surprise. He really remembered all those details from that day?

Eddie smiled before he leant forward and captured your lips with his and you started to kiss him back before pulling away.

"You can't just buy me a guitar every time you screw up, you know."

Eddie grimaced, lifting his hand and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he nodded.

"Yeah, I know. But then there's always drums and base and maybe one day a tambourine."

You rolled your eyes at his response with a laugh causing Eddie to smirk before he pulled you close and started to kiss you, but you pulled away again.

"And don't just think you can-"

Eddie's lips were back on yours, shutting you up instantly and you melted into his kiss.

His free hand found its way to your hip, pulling you closer until you were leaning against him, your hands tangling amongst his long hair before a wolf whistle echoed across the car park.

You and Eddie pulled apart to find Steve and Robin walking towards a BMW parked further down. Both of them were grinning from ear to ear and Robin gave you a big thumbs up causing you to roll your eyes.

Eddie chuckled softly before looking back over at you with a gentle smile.

"Uncle Wayne is having a barbecue tonight, can I pick you up at seven?"

You nodded, "I'd like that."

A few hours later you found yourself standing out the front of the Munson trailer beside the grill where Eddie was flipping burgers.

The sun was starting to set along the horizon, painting the sky various shades of pink while Metallica's newest song Master of Puppets played from the stereo a few metres away.

"Why is my burger the only burnt object on this grill?" You asked, pointing towards it.

"Because I like to torture you." Eddie answered with an amused grin causing you to roll your eyes as you bumped your shoulder into his playfully and he laughed.

"Look what I found! Eddie's freshman yearbook." Wayne suddenly announced, walking out the trailer and holding up the book.

Eddie quickly spun around, the grill long forgotten as he rushed to his uncle to grab the book, but you quickly grabbed it before he had the chance. Eddie glared at you, but there was no real heat behind it and you just grinned causing Wayne to chuckle in clear amusement.

"Don't you even dare..." Eddie started to warn, but you were already flicking through the pages.

"It's not my fault your uncle told me that this was a photo I needed to see, because now I won't be able to sleep until I see it." You said dramatically causing Eddie to groan as he turned back towards the grill.

You continued to flick through the pages of the year book one by one, until you finally found it.

"I'd like to call your attention to Eddie Munson's stunning badass look of 1982-" You stopped midsentence when you finally found Eddie's photo amongst the rest of the students and your jaw dropped.

It was a classic nerdy freshman year picture. His hair was shorter and an absolute mess. His teeth lined with metal braces, but he still sported the same Hellfire Club shirt under an old ripped denim jacket.

"Look at his hands." Wayne instructed.

You frowned in confusion, but shifted your focus onto Eddie's hands that were resting in his lap in the photo and you realised that his finger nails were painted black. Holy shit, he used to paint his finger nails.

"Eddie is that fingernail polish?" You asked in surprise.

"Ask my attorney."

You snorted at his response as he flipped the burgers on the grill before turning back towards the two of you, a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks and you smiled.

"He used to colour his nails in with a permanent marker." Wayne explained causing Eddie to give him a deadpanned look. "What? You used to love doing that."

"I went through a phase. But, thank you for embarrassing me in front of my girl."

His uncle just laughed softly as you put the yearbook down and walked back over to Eddie, snaking your arm around his waist and resting your head against his shoulder.

"I think it's kinda hot." You whispered.

Eddie looked down at you in surprise, "really? You don't think I'm a freak for it?"

"Hell no. I got real black nail polish back home if you ever wanted to do it properly. I could paint them for you."

"You'd do that?"

You tilted your head up towards him to find Eddie already looking down at you with big brown eyes and you smiled softly.

"Of course."

Eddie leant down and kissed your forehead before he went back to flipping the burgers while you leant against his side and watched him before a thought suddenly occurred to you.

"How did you get that guitar in my car? I always lock it."

"Well, while the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man taught me how to picklocks and hotwire." He answered.

Well, that was not what you were expecting.

You reached forward and grabbed your bottle of Coke from the table and lifted it in the air. "Well, here's to shitty fathers."

"Nah, more like, here's to second chances." He said, looking down at you. "Thank you for giving me a second chance."

You smiled softly, "to second chances."

Eddie grabbed his own drink and clinked his bottle against yours and took a sip before he pulled you in closer to his side while the burgers sizzled on the grill in front of you.

Suddenly a camera clicked and you both turned around to find Uncle Wayne holding his polaroid and looking at the two of you with a fond smile.

"Uncle Wayne." Eddie whined dramatically.

"Hey, I needed a new photo for the top of the tv cabinet." He said in defence.

You chuckled, "better this than your naked baby photo, right?"

Eddie and Wayne both burst out laughing and you found yourself smiling as you looked between the two of them.

The music on the stereo flicked over to Falling in Love by Scorpions as you leant your head back down on Eddie's shoulder and for the first time in a long time, you were happy.

A/N-

Well, that's it.

Thank you to everyone who read and interacted with this fic, I hope you enjoyed it and I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

10 Things I Hate About You is a guilty pleasure of mine. I'm not usually into those kinds of movies, but for some reason this one really resonates with me. And also I love Heath Ledger and Eddie Munson gives me such Patrick vibes from the movie so I had to write this!

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction

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caitimetravels · 3 years

Text

she’s insignificant

chapter 2: welcome home

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of drugs and alcohol, poor parenting

masterlist

“number eight! this is serious! if you do not train properly you will not be allowed to join your siblings on missions.”

“number eight! that’s not how you behave!”

“no, number eight! how many times must you do this before you get it right?”

“no! not like that, number eight! you must be quicker, smarter, stronger! you’ll be a liability”

“no! again, number eight!”

“number eight!”

she wished it was stop. the yelling. the shouting. the insults. the pain. the training. all of it. her head hurt. she could feel the anger swirling around, growing. control. she needed control. relax.

she took a deep breath. again. again. she pushed herself over and over until she collapsed. she worked herself to the bone only to always be left with disapproving stares. the scowl. the glare. and then she was alone, forced to pick up the broken pieces and put herself together. she didn’t have her other siblings. their family dynamic wasn’t much of a family dynamic but just once she wished one of them could be there. even just to see what she was going through. it hurt that she was alone. she hated alone.

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“um..” luther slowly stood, unsure. “i guess we should get this started” he looked around at his siblings sitting in parlour. they all sat separately with klaus making drinks at the bar in the back.

“are we having a family meeting?” y/n stepped into the room, confused. she paused as realisation crossed over their faces. “..you forgot me”

“sorry, y/n, we didn’t mean-” allison started, trying to defend them. y/n shook her head.

“no, no, don’t apologise. it’s okay.. let’s just get this over with” she waved off any concern, taking a seat beside vanya. in her lap sat a familiar book.

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“you’ll be okay” ben spoke softly, gently bandaging y/n’s arm. he gave her a small smile. the pair sat in the back of the library, secluded and separate. the others were too wrapped up in themselves to care.

vanya stepped over a moment later. she frowned at the tears on y/n’s cheeks. taking a seat beside her she offered them the cookies she had stolen from the kitchen. they weren’t meant to have any until dessert but ben and vanya found this much more important. y/n sniffled, taking the cookie in her good arm.

“thanks v” she gave a watery smile, eating a big bite of the cookie to stop the sobs about to escape her mouth. ben and vanya shared a frown over her head.

“should we read something?” ben offered, pulling a random book off the shelf behind him. y/n merely nodded, she needed this to calm down her raging emotions. these two were the only two who understood. if her emotions went haywire so would her powers.

“hm, little women? i didn’t think dad would have this” ben smiled at the cover.

“pogo got it for me” y/n murmured softly, listening to her brother’s soothing voice as he read. she smiled, they were always able to calm her down.

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“so, i figured we could have some sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown, say a few words” luther started again, “just at dad’s favourite spot”

“dad had a favourite spot?” allison asked, confused.

“yeah, you know. under the oak tree” luther nodded, eyebrows furrowing. “we used to sit out there all the time.. did none of you ever do that?”

“will there be refreshments? tea, scones” klaus interrupted, walking to join them with a cigarette between his fingers and a glass of alcohol in his other hand. “cucumber sandwiches are always a winner” he waltzed over beside y/n who smiled at his laid-back attitude.

“what? no” luther shook his head, “and put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here”

“is that my skirt?” allison questioned, looking down at klaus’ attire.

“what?” he mumbled distracted. he put his glass down before turning around. “oh, yeah, this. i found it in your room. it’s a little dated but its very breathy on the.. bits” he gestured.

“listen up” luther put on his leader voice, commanding as usual. “there’s still some things we need to discuss, alright?”

“like what?” diego snapped, obviously sick of this.

“like the way he died”

“and here we go” diego rolled his eyes and luther glared at him.

“i don’t understand.. i thought they said it was a heart attack?” vanya spoke up, confused. klaus plopped down onto the couch now, wrapping his arm around y/n.

“what? he had a heart attack?” y/n’s eyebrows furrowed, she hadn’t been told that. they all looked at her, surprised.

“you didn’t know?” allison asked softly,

“no? you did?”

“that’s only according to the coroner” luther chipped in, still pushing his theory.

“well, wouldn’t they know?” vanya raised an eyebrow.

“theoretically”

“theoretically?” allison asked.

“look, i’m just saying at the very least something happened. the last time that i talked to dad he sounded strange”

“oh, tell us please” klaus gurgled through his drink, not at all serious. y/n would have laughed if she didn’t see the real reason luther was bringing this up. he thought one of them did it.

“strange how?” allison continued to push, incredulous.

“he sounded on edge, told me i should be careful who to trust” luther frantically tried to convince them.

“luther” diego sighed, standing “he was a paranoid, bitter old man. he was starting to lose what was left of his marbles”

“no” he quickly shook his head, turning to him. “he must have known something was going to happen. look” he looked over at klaus. “i know you don’t like to do it but i need you to talk to dad”

klaus rolled around, disagreeing, “i can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like dad can you stop playing tennis with hitler for a moment and take a quick call” he waved his cigarette around, sitting up and letting go of y/n.

“since when? that’s your thing”

“i’m not in the right frame of mind!”

“you’re high?” allison looked up,

“yeah, yeah!” klaus laughed, nodding his head, “i mean how are not listening to this nonsense?”

“well, sober up, this is important” klaus merely sighed, “then there’s the issue of the missing monocle”

diego scoffed, “who’s give a shit about a stupid monocle?”

“exactly, it’s worthless” luther was only digging himself a bigger hole, “so, whoever took it i think it was personal. someone close to him, someone with a grudge”

“yes, cause that’s all we need” y/n rolled her eyes, exasperated “more grudges”

“where are you going with this?” klaus narrowed his eyes, confused.

“well, isn’t it obvious, klaus?” diego sneered up at luther, “he thinks one of us killed dad”

luther opened his mouth to deny it but nothing came out. it was true.

“and i bet your top suspect is little y/n” diego pointed a finger right at the said girl. she froze.

“what?”

“you do!” klaus sat back, shocked.

“how could you think that?” vanya stared in disbelief.

y/n stood abruptly and everyone watched as her eyes turned black. the same way they used to when she had trouble controlling her emotions. they watched as she quickly shook her head, storming out.

“great job luther” diego mocked, “way to lead” then he begun to walk away.

“that’s not what i’m saying” he tried to defend himself but nobody listened.

“you’re crazy man, you’re crazy.. crazy” klaus stood too, picking up his drink. vanya went to walk away, following diego.

“i’m not finished” luther attempted to stop them.

“okay well sorry, i’m just gonna go help y/n murder mom, i’ll be right back” he commented sarcastically, walking away.

“that’s not what i’m saying-” it was no use.

y/n curled up beside ben’s statue, book pressed against her chest. she took deep breaths, trying to regain control. her breath came out shaky as she rocked slowly. eventually she relaxed, leaning into the side of the statue. her cheek pressed against the cold concrete. with a final sigh she looked up at him.

“hey..” she spoke softly, “i brought our book” she gave a weak chuckle, showing the statue the book she had been cradling.

“i finished again.. should i start again?”

diego stood in the doorway, watching her talk. he frowned, she was so sweet. it wasn’t her fault she was born with such a horrible curse. he understood why she got along so well with ben, they both hated their powers. it made training unbearable for them. she begun to read aloud, still leaning into the statue as she sat on the gravel covered floor. with a sigh he walked away, she would be okay, she just needed time.

time didn’t heal y/n, no matter how much she wished it would. she didn’t have anybody, everybody left her. she had to get over everything all by herself. her words started to come out stuttered, her voice cracked. slowly she begun to sob, tears wetting the pages of her book. she wiped them from her face, standing up. she had to be calm.

she spared one last glance at the statue before walking away.

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“number eight, you must always keep your emotions in check” reginald scolded, glancing up from his notebook. he scribbled something else, ignoring her watery eyes.

“b-but i can’t” she sobbed out, she was young. her siblings were allowed to show emotion why couldn’t she?

“then you are weak!” reginald snapped his book shut, raising his eyes to glare at her. the words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did. she was never enough, she was always going to be weak. she needed to do better, to be better. to be strong.

“emotions, number eight” the girl supressed her smile at the name her mother had just given her. he wouldn’t even use it. her face fell blank.

“emotions, number eight” the girl took a deep breath, no anger. nothing. you cannot feel. she closed her eyes for a moment, controlling her urge to destroy something. she opened them to see a confused diego. this wasn’t how she was meant to react, he had stolen the ring her mother had given her. she just walked away.

“emotions, number eight” she caught ben’s eye across the table. he nodded softly. she breathed calmly, no dessert. she was weak, she didn’t deserve dessert. five frowned from beside her, looking between her and their father. something was wrong.

“emotions, number eight” reginald turned on her. she stood, hands gripping the table until her knuckles turned pale. how could he let five go? as she raised her head she heard gasps from her siblings. pogo and reginald shared a look as she glared at the latter, taking a moment to calm herself. it wasn’t working. she was struggling to keep her emotions at bay, she couldn’t supress them. “y/n..” vanya whispered as she ran from the table. she couldn’t do it. he was gone and she hadn’t stopped him.

“emotions, number eight” she couldn’t do it. not this time. she shook her head. her eyes filled with tears. she couldn’t. “number eight! emotions!” she shook her head again, all she could feel was pain. it was her fault. she let him die. her siblings must hate her. her father hates her. ben would hate her. she let him die. she watched him die.

“number eight! your emotions!” reginald’s voice got louder and she heard herself scream. everything was crumbling. he was gone, it was her fault. “number one, do it”

it was all.. her fault..

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on her way to the staircase she paused. her eyes lingered on the painting. five’s painting. she felt herself move without wanting to. she stepped into the room, looking up at her brother sadly.

“i’m sorry” she frowned, “i’m so sorry, five. i shouldn’t have let you go. i should have gone after you. i’m sorry, you must be so alone and i lied. i’m sorry for lying.. i should have done better, i should have listened to dad.. i couldn’t bring you back and it’s all my fault. it’s always my fault.. i’m sorry five, i’m so sorry..”

“sweetie?” she looked over to see grace. “who are you apologising to? did something happen to you?” the blonde robot walked over, glancing over her to see if she had hurt herself.

“oh, no, it’s okay mom” she smiled fakely, trying to reassure her mother. “i was just thinking out loud. nothing to worry about”

“oh, alright, sweetie” she smiled again, “how about something to eat?”

“i’m okay, thanks. i think i’m just going to rest” grace nodded, allowing her to leave.

she wouldn’t be okay, not until she could stop blaming herself. she took one last look at five' picture before she closed her eyes, trying to stop her tears. when she opened them she appeared in her bedroom. she quickly shut the door, locking it. at least in here she couldn’t do anymore damage.

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“number eight” reginald’s voice was disappointed but y/n couldn’t find it in herself to care. so what if she was a failure, she had always been one anyways. “you are no longer allowed to go on missions with your siblings”

she didn’t raise her head. he wasn’t done. this is what she deserved. “you will instead be working on locating number five”

she froze, staring up at him in shock.

“what?”

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a flash of blue light outside her window broke her out of her thoughts. she stood from her bed, glancing down at the courtyard. it couldn’t be..

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zeeroweenies · 3 years

Note

can we get some more nerdy!eren and bimbo reader 🥺 i just really love them

im so sorry this is late i suck y’all omg

cw: clinginess, established friends with benefits, unprotected sex, nerdy closet freak eren, whatever the word is for cumming inside

“Ren, come lay with me,” you hug the pillow closer to you, voice whiny in an attempt to sway the brunette sitting at his desk.

He’s not hearing you though, ignoring your request and continuing to study whatever’s in the thick textbook with his pen scribbling away at his notebook paper. “In a minute, I’m working.”

That’s what he said an hour ago, telling you that he ‘needs to study for this test.’ But he’s been holed up in his dorm studying for the last three days, being ignorant to your own needs. And you’ve been patient enough, three days is way too long to go without having sex. “Ren—”

“No.” he cuts you off, immediately shutting down your advances with his eyes still laser focused on his notebook.

You clutch his blanket between your fingers with a pout on your lips, shrinking inside at his insistence. “But I didn’t even ask you anything yet,” you whine.

“I already know what you’re gonna ask, and the answer is no.”

You didn’t like that word. It was never common for anyone to resist you, let alone tell you no. There was never a thing that you wanted that your body couldn’t get for you, so you don’t understand why Eren was being so mean you, telling you no. You didn’t know a lot of words, but that one for sure wasn’t in your vocabulary.

Approaching him from behind, your hands ghost over his chest seductively until they come up to rest on his shoulder and face. “Baby,” you whine, putting on your best voice as your lips trail sweet kisses along his jawline and cheek, a very obvious attempt to try to get him to change his mind.

There was no doubt that Eren was a very studious boy, there was nothing that he took more seriously than his grades and studies. But here you were, sliding into his lap and begging for him to fuck you.

It’s become routine for you to come to his dorm like this, all whiny and dressed up in your slutty clothes with you begging for his cock. And he never says no to you, especially when you look so pretty and call him ‘Ren’ with that sweet voice of yours. You’re a brat if he’s ever known one, so used to getting your way that you throw a fit if he even thinks about saying no to you.

He lets out a slightly annoyed sigh as you lay kisses on the skin of his neck, fingernails trailing across his nape while your hips rock against him. Great, it’s already bad enough that he can barely control himself when you’re around but now you had to go and get him hard.

“Please, Ren. We haven’t fucked in three days,” he feels you grind down on him harder, voice sweet and needy in his ears. “I miss you.”

“I have a test in the morning.”

You pull back to stare at his face, glasses pert over his nose. “Pretty please? I’ll be really quick, promise!”

Eren snorts at your persistence, shaking his head at the fact that you’re so needy. “You’re insufferable, I swear to god.”

Your brows draw together in frustration, a pretty pout falling on your lips. “Ren, you know I don’t know what that word means.” You hated when he used big words around you and he knew that, especially when you didn’t know what they meant. It only made you feel stupider than you already were.

“Of course you don’t, the only thing in that pretty little head of yours is bouncing on my dick, right? Dumb-dumb?” he smirks. “Maybe if you thought about school as much as you think about cock you’d be a straight A student.”

Whining, your clit brushes against his clothed front, still attempting to sway him. “Can I at least put you in my mouth?”

“Your mouth or your pussy? You can’t have both.”

“My... my pussy,” you mumble, embarrassed that you have to go this far. “Please 'Ren, I need it” you beg, not able to put up with his teasing anymore.

A scoff end up falling past his lips as he tugs his sweats down, lifting his hips with you on his lap as his cock springs free, hard and leaking precum at the tip. His glasses are the next to come off, placing them above his head so they’re pushed into his bun.

“Fine, use it. And make it snappy.” he finally gives in, a stern expression upon his features as a giddy sound leaves your lips, hastily moving your panties to the side under Eren’s huge shirt that was draped over your body.

You glide his length along your wet folds, tiny mewls escaping when you tease your clit with the tip, an ‘O’ shape taking form on your slightly glossed lips as you sink down onto his thick cock. “You’re so big,”

He’d never get tired of you saying that. The sounds that fall from your lips, how you cry his name when you’re about to cum, the pretty faces you make when you’re bouncing on his cock, it was all an ego boost.

God, the things you do to him. You’re perfect, a literal fucking peach. With those pretty tits and glossy lips and skimpy outfits that you always wear. You could fuck anyone you wanted, but you choose him? It was almost unbelievable.

And he looks so pretty underneath you, head thrown back and spaced out with his hands on your ass, squeezing the flesh and spreading it apart while you go wild on his cock.

You’re getting louder and louder, practically crying Eren’s name to the top of your lungs each time you sink back down onto him. He was so big and never failed to rock your socks off, especially whenever he hits that one spot that makes you go dumb.

“God, you’re fuckin’ tight.” he groans through his teeth, guiding you up and down his length with his big hands as he looks down to where you two connect.

His tip hits your cervix repeatedly, nails digging into his skin as your arms come to wrap around his neck. “M’gonna cum Ren,” you cry, pussy wetting his length with your cum.

“Kiss me,” you whine before crashing your lips against his, the residue of what was left of your gloss making Eren’s eyes roll back feeling you tighten around him, his orgasm right behind yours.

Chasing your high, your pussy flutters around him as a broken moan escapes your mouth, cries swallowed by Eren’s kiss. His cock twitches inside you as he reaches his peak, nails digging into your hip bones.

“Fuck, you gotta get up” he mumbles against your lips. “Get up or m’gonna—” you feel him fill you up with his head thrown back, breathy moans coming from both of you as you fuck him through his high.

You collapse against him, chest heaving as you trail tiny kisses from his adam’s apple until you reach his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between yours. “I came inside you...” he groans awkwardly.

“Wanted you to.” you smile, feeling him twitch inside you at your admittance.

“Whatever,” he states nonchalantly as he taps your thigh for you to get up. “I better not fail this test, (Name). I’m not fuckin’ around.”

You nod your head furiously with wide eyes as you let out a sound in agreement before skipping giddily back to his bed, a contented smile on your lips as you allow him to go back to his studies.

It gets boring after a while though, and you find yourself pestering Eren yet again with your antics. “Ren, come cuddle with me,” you whine.

Eren lets out an annoyed sound, shutting the huge textbook before removing his thick glasses and switching off his night lamp. Finding his place in the bed next to you as he pulls you close to his chest.

“You’re so damn needy, my god.” he reprimands, but you instead snuggle closer to him, head fitting perfectly under his chin. “Night, Ren.”

Yeah, you always get your way.

🏷 @sunas-cumdump @icyoni @katsukiscow @naoyailoveu @attjmk @juutaa1 <3

#🍓 jess writes #eren yeager x reader #eren icons #eren jaeger smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #eren yeager smut #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #eren x reader #eren smut

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aetheternity · 3 years

Text

Can I have your number?

Synopsis: Armin’s always being asked by shy pretty girls for Eren’s number at parties to the point where when you ask for his number he doesn’t know how to respond. (Italicized words are Armin’s thoughts.)

“Why me?” Armin shrugs his cotton blue hoodie off his shoulders. Fingers grazing over the zipper in earnest contemplation. “Why don’t they ever just go right to him?”

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, Armin.” Connie begins, finger tracing over the rim of his partially empty glass. “Well actually I’m not. You’re the approachable friend because Eren is so tall and sexy; and you’re puppy cute.”

“Puppy cute.” Armin spits, eyes uncharacteristically narrowing.

Sasha plucks the glass from Connie’s hand, “That’s enough outta you.” She huffs pulling the drink far from Connie’s reach. “Sorry Armin, it’s just cause he’s drunk.”

“But he isn’t wrong.” He replies, Sasha sighs transitioning Connie’s glass to her free hand. She tilts her head apologetically. “He isn’t wrong.” Armin repeats, rolling his eyes.

Just as he reaches for the glass he can’t stop nursing tonight; a tap on his shoulder stops him. “Hey um..” The girl in front of him is the same as the rest. Gorgeous. Small build fitted out in a white crop top and blue skirt like she was meant to perfectly match with Armin. Her hair was short barely making it to the nape of her neck. She shifted her weight back and forth as she looked up at Armin with pinked cheeks.

“I really hate to bother you with this..” Then don’t. “Uh..” She steps back so Armin can look out at all the loud party goers and their raucous chatter. “You’re friends with him right?”

Through the sea of people she manages to point right at Jean. His black vest over a brown tee shirt surprisingly easy to pinpoint as he chatted away with a couple of other guys. His black fingers nails lightly tapping the edges of his glass as he laughed away without a care in the world. Loose hairs of his mullet pulled back with two black hair pins while the rest of his hair was perfectly gelled.

“Yeah.” Armin replied with a small roll of his eyes.

“Do you think maybe.. I can have his number?”

Armin suppresses the urge to snort. “Do you have a pen?” He asks

Sasha ends up being the one that hands one to him and he quickly scribbles Jean’s number onto a piece of paper. He hands it over and she responds with a quick, ‘thank you’ taking her leave as quickly as possible.

“Woah.. Forgot how bitchy you can be when you’ve had a few.” Sasha giggles though unlike the girl from before Armin’s glare does nothing to sway her.

“Did I forget to mention sometimes Jean’s girls come to me too?” He sighed

Connie had managed to grab a new glass while Sasha had fallen distracted. He lifted a bottle of vodka over the edge of the counter top, sloppily pouring a bit of it over his hand and onto the table before properly settling into an easy rhythm.

“No more! I’m serious Connie, you’ve had enough and you’re starting to get vulgar.” She snatched the glass just before he could drink from it, pushing it far away from his grasp.

“You bitch I have not!” He argues, it takes a second for him to register from the wide eyed expressions surrounding him just how loud and crass he’d been. “Alright I’m sorry.. please take me home.”

Sasha nods, slapping Connie’s back as she inches him off the stool and to his feet, “Hey I know you’re tired of taking messages tonight but could you maybe..”

“Tell Jean you’re taking Connie home? Sure why the fuck not?”

Armin sighs wrapping his hand around his own glass before it’s snatched from his palm, “You’ve had enough to.” Sasha points “Don’t you dare have another sip tonight.” And with that she’s stumbling through the crowd with Connie’s arm perched over her shoulder.

When Armin stands he almost knocks the chair over. I didn’t think I had that much.. He thinks. He yanks his hoodie from where it’s drooping through the empty back of the chair, pushing the furniture back up when it falls on him. And when he’s properly standing he takes a deep breath, staggering toward the direction the girl from before had pointed in.

Despite how dirty it is and his knowledge of such he rests his pounding skull down on the table upon arrival. The cool wood soothing his overly warm skin.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jean asks as Armin exhales gingerly

“Shut up.” He mutters

‘Too much bourbon I see.” Jean replies

Armin hates it. Hates this party. Hates the noise. Hates how Jean’s nails feel so good running through his sweaty blond hair.

“Come on, talk to me.”

“Girls think I’m the approachable friend.” Armin replies, standing up straight using the table in front of him for support.

“Well yeah.” Jean nods “I know but that’s just cause they don’t understand how cute, nice and charming you actually are. Those girls are missing out going to Eren when the real heartthrob is right in front of them.”

Armin snorts, “You need to stop drinking.”

“I figured right after I called you cute.” Jean slides his glass away turning his attention back to Armin. “ But I wasn’t lying.”

Armin shoots up, finger out towards Jean. “At least eight girls in the three hours we’ve been here have asked about Eren. Two asked about you.”

“Do you know the names of my two?”

“I think it was, I don’t know and the second was I don’t care.”

“Ouch.” Jean pressed a finger to his lip, the black nail polish accented in the strobe lighting. He pressed his chin into his palm leaning in closer to Armin. “Have you ever considered changing your hair? Maybe growing it out or cutting it more?”

“No I-”

The terrible clatter of glasses shook Armin and Jean from their conversation. Three girls all of whom were laughing at nothing now standing in front of them. “Hey!” One greeted

“Hello ladies.” Jean replied back while Armin gritted his teeth.

The girl farthest away snorted, gesturing with her hands to the girl who had spoken up to begin with. “So my friends-” She quickly slapped the third girl on the back who instantly began giggling again. “I’m sorry.”

Jean just nodded glancing at an unamused Armin.

“You know him right?” The first girl tried immediately covering her mouth as though she’d said something completely foul. She pointed across the room at Eren who seemed completely unresponsive to a one sided conversation with a random girl.

“Starting to wish I didn’t..”

“Huh?!” Yelled the third girl

“No, no..” The second girl began “It’s just cause these two like him.” The entire gaggle burst into loud giggles. All three of them pushing their hair away from their eyes and bouncing around like small children.

When the agitating screeching died down the second girl added “We wanna see who he likes best.” She finished

“Is he seeing anyone?” The first girl chimed in

“Not that I know of.” Armin answered

“Do you have his number?” The third girl asked

“I have it.” Jean responded before Armin could even create the sentence in his head.

Jean promptly jotted the number down giving it to the first girl who didn’t hesitate in snatching it from his hand and heading off. The second girl behind her soon followed by the only one from the group that didn’t leave their manners at home. The third girl smiling with an appreciative farewell.

Jean made a small noise in his throat, turning back to Armin with the nail of his thumb pressed under his teeth. “Maybe you should go home?.. You know what I’ll leave with you.”

“Jean, no offense but I don’t want pity.”

“When do you think Eren is gonna wanna leave?”

“I don’t know.” He huffed “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

He didn’t wait for Jean’s reply just grabbed his once discarded hoodie and headed through the mess of drunk partygoers towards the bathroom. He didn’t even need to actually use it. Just wanted to be out of sight of all the stupid drunk girls vying for Eren’s affections. Not even realizing that tissue has touched Eren longer than any of them will.

The bathroom door was closed and maybe that was a good thing because it wasn’t extremely likely that Armin wouldn’t stay in there for a couple hours after the night he’s endured. He lets out a long exhale hunting around for his phone. Blond hair sticking up as he slumps against the wall.

“Um hey.” Armin doesn’t even bother to look up. “Is someone in there?”

“Yup.” He grunts

Armin notes the slight shift in the person in front of him. He looks up completely unsurprised by the fleeting glance, the hands crossed behind their back and head bowed.

“Ok.” The girl begins but by this point Armin’s attention is redirected to his phone “My name is Y/N, I wanted to ask you if maybe I could have your number?”

Armin blinks expression completely unchanged as she hands over her phone. He lets his eyes roll around in his head taking the device and robotically typing in Eren’s number in contacts. When he gives it back to her she lets out a little squeak of excitement.

“I’ll call you!” She calls before running off

Wait.. Gears turn like clockwork in his brain. Slowly but surely the situation dawns on him. His number???? Did a girl? Particularly one as cute as her ask for his number??

Granted he’d only seen her for a couple seconds but she was most certainly the most put together girl that had approached him tonight. Clothes neat and tidy. No flopping around like a fish out of water at any point during the conversation. Hair done in a ponytail that wasn’t begging for release from its confines.

And he’d given her Eren’s number..

Shit!

Safe to say Armin bolted. Back down the hall, leaping up to search over the crowding heads all around. Successfully getting weird stares but that was beyond his problems at the moment. Once he’d decided that she wasn’t anywhere around he sprinted through out the door and towards the stairs.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” He called, hearing the sound of footsteps.

His heart collided with his ribcage, loud stomps ensuing as he sprinted around the bend at the bottom of the staircase. She was in his sights, her head turning and eyes making contact with his and just as soon his foot slipped. Body colliding with the first stair, then the second and so on till he’d successfully finished rolling down the entire flight. Slamming into the wall with a hard thud.

“Oh my god Armin!” She settled onto her knees, reaching out for his face. Delicate palms brushing over his sore cheeks. “Are you ok? Never mind, stupid question, let me call an ambulance.”

Blond lashes slowly fluttered close then open as she moved to pull her phone from her pocket. “Before you do.” Armin panted still working to catch his breath. “Can I give you my number? For real this time?”

Ok so this is unedited because I think writers block is trying to take me and I’m trying my hardest to keep it at bay. I have like 5 things in the works at the moment so I really don’t need that.

#armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #attack on titan #aot x reader #i feel so bad making Armin go through this but like it was really fun to write #unedited work #armin fic #armin fluff #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot fluff

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maybanksslut · 3 years

Text

Truth or Dare || s.b.

Pairing: Sirius black x reader

Requested: yes, by @welcome-here-in-my-world

Word count: 2k

Warnings: explicit language, enemies to lovers, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d despised Sirius Black for as long as you could remember. It was no secret to anyone. You’d never been someone to hate people, but he, oh how he got on your nerves. Never had you met anyone as annoying and irksome as him.

Everything about him made your blood boil. His friends and their stupid pranks they always pulled on you. One day it was dying your hair a bright color, another they’d settle for spilling water all over you. Everything just to see that angered expression on your “cute little face” as Sirius always said.

You also despised his smirk. Oh, how you wished to just wipe it off his face! The way his lips curled up in a mischievous smile each time he’d made a stupid comment or pulled a dumb prank. It made you crazy in the worst way possible. Not to mention that glint in his eyes when he knew he’d got under your skin. You hated how he was able to anger you so easily.

Last, but not least, you hated his popularity. How every girl and boy were his possession, how they all would do anything for him. He had everyone wrapped around his finger and that made you feel threatened. He might have been attractive, but his personality was fucking disgusting.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. Truth be told, what you hated most, was the absolutely awful crush you’d developed on the boy. You had no idea how, why, or when, but somehow you’d fallen for the boy you seemingly despised.

“Y/n?” Lily snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you back to reality.

“Huh?”

“I asked you if you were coming to the quidditch game tonight. ‘S Gryffindor against Slytherin”

“Oh,” you thought for a moment, before frowning. Gryffindor was playing, which meant Sirius would be there. Which also meant that you’d have to pretend you didn’t care about his stupid smile, and that was starting to get on your nerves. Lily was close enough to find out about the crush already, you needn’t make it easier for her. “I don’t think so, I’m really tired”

Lily just nodded in response, continuing to scribble something down in her notebook. You sighed. How long was this going to last? If the crush didn’t vanish soon, you would be sure Lily would sense something and confront you about it. And since no one was able to lie to Lily, you really didn’t want that to happen.

After a moment, you excused yourself, heading for your dorm. Unfortunately, fate didn’t want to let you off the hook that easily. You’d only walked a few steps before harshly colliding with someone’s chest, stumbling backward and dropping your bag.

“Ow!” You exclaimed, rubbing your forehead. You didn’t even bother looking up at the person who’d walked into you, as you already knew that chuckle too well.

“You should be careful not to fall for me, sweetheart,” Sirius laughed, bending down to pick up your books. A smirk was playing on his lips, and he looked quite pleased with himself for bumping into you.

“Right,” you scoffed. “You don’t have to worry about that. ‘S not gonna happen. Can I get my books now?”

“Sure,” he replied, raising them over his head instead of handing them over. You shot him a glare, jumping up to reach them. That was to no use, obviously, since he was taller than you.

You groaned, pushing him away and trying to annoy him, yet he only appeared even more amused, his smirk now a full grin, his pretty teeth showing. God, he was really pretty when he smiled... No! He was not pretty and he was not attractive, he was a prick and you didn’t like him.

Both tired and flustered by his behavior, you turned around to leave him. If he wanted the books, you’d let him have them. Better than anyone realizing you don’t hate him as much as you told everyone you did.

“Hey, wait,” surprised, you turned around to see Sirius jogging up to you.

Without a smirk on his face, he handed you your books. The moment his fingers touched yours, an electric wave shot through you, setting every particle in your body on fire, and suddenly, it was hard to breathe. You seemed to have got lost in his eyes, drowning in the stormy orbs. For a moment, it felt as if you had some sort of connection. A mutual feeling.

Then, he pulled away and the magic was gone, leaving nothing but two people that hated each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re having truth or dare in the common room later, you wanna come?”

Lily’s words make you sigh. Sure, you liked truth or dare, but with the whole Gryffindor house? Way too risky. You could accidentally spill your secret.

Perhaps you were worrying too much. Perhaps letting that dumb crush take over your life was foolish, it wasn’t that much of a big deal. Teens have crushes all the time, how is this any different? The truth was, you didn’t quite know why, but it felt different.

Not to mention that moment in the hall... god, you’d thought about his fingers grazing yours for the whole night. It didn’t exactly help that he was now sitting beside Lily, his gaze lingering on you and a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Yeah, y/n, you’d come,” he said. “There’s gonna be firewhiskey”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you snorted.

“Everyone’s an alcoholic in seventh year”

“Sure,” you turned to your red-headed friend. “I’ll come”

Lily grinned, clasping her hands together. She then left, muttering something about ‘having to prepare the party’, leaving you alone with no other than Sirius Black. You tried to eat your meal silently, keeping your eyes away from his face, but it was nearly impossible when he kept staring at you shamelessly.

You looked up, only to reveal Sirius with his head tilted. There was something in his expression that made him look like he thought you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. The two of you didn’t say a word, letting comfortable silence answer every question for you.

Even though you couldn’t really read him, there was something that told you this silence was more than silence. It was like an agreement between you. What you had agreed on? You weren’t sure, but it felt good. Freeing, almost. And you didn’t want to let it go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The music was sending vibrations through your whole body as it loudly flew out of the speakers. The whole common room was filled with students, there were bodies everywhere. People were dancing, screaming, and singing to celebrate Gryffindor's victory over Slytherin in quidditch.

Someone bumped into you, spilling their drink all over you. You were going to scold him, but the person was already gone. You scoffed to yourself, angrily stomping towards the table you’d previously seen Lily sit at. You were starting to regret coming here at all. Not only did you have to handle Sirius Black, but you also had to dodge all the drunk students that were swaying their bodies in every possible direction.

“This is why I hate parties” you muttered to yourself, spitting down on Lily’s left. She smiled, not even looking at you, bringing her drink up to her lips.

You followed her gaze, only to find her staring at James Potter. Not that you were surprised. The two of them had been pining for each other for god knows how long. You chuckled to yourself as Lily’s gaze met James’. You noticed he was hesitant about coming over when you were there as well, so you quickly fled the scene so they could have some alone time.

You found yourself a new spot, by the tray with firewhiskies, where you quietly drank the alcohol. It was freeing to feel the booze numb your senses and you almost forgot why you didn’t want to come here at all. Almost.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?”

“Piss off, Sirius”

“Ouch,” he jokingly grabbed his chest. “You’ve wounded me”

“Good,” you spat, getting ready to leave the whole party. Your mood was ruined, not because he seemingly annoyed you, but because Sirius had a very irksome way of making you feel things you shouldn’t feel.

He made you feel something for him.

“Leaving already?” He pouted, running a hand through his hair. “We haven’t even had the chance to play truth or dare”

“I don’t care”

“No, wait,” he almost pleaded. “Just one game. For me. Please?”

You really wanted to leave and forget this conversation ever happened, but with Sirius looking at you like that, it was impossible. You sighed in resignation, following your so-called enemy to the middle of the common room.

He was quick to silence everyone and make them sit in a circle on the floor. For some reason, it annoyed you how all the girls sent him flirty looks. Luckily, he didn’t return them, only sent you a small smile, which, completely against your will, turned your legs to jelly. If you weren’t already seated, you’d probably faint.

“Okay, everyone knows the rules, right? The only difference is this time I stole this from Slughorn,” he took out some sort of potion from his pocket. From the triumphant smirk on his face, you guessed it was a truth potion. And you weren’t wrong. “That’s right, folks, veritaserum. Now this game will be more honest than ever”

God, this was taking an awful turn. Yes, now the word truth had a completely different meaning. Before at least you could’ve lied about something you didn’t want to answer, but now? You were forced to actually reveal all your darkest secrets.

But no worries, right? There were at least fifty people here, surely you wouldn’t be chosen in the first few rounds. Right?

Wrong.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” You steered in shock at the bottle Sirius had just spun. How were you the first one to get chosen? Did really life hate you that much?

You could see he was amused. His eyes had that glint of mischief in them, and he was grinning widely. “Uh, dare”

No! No, no, no, what had you done? Yes, if you’d chosen truth, you’d have to tell someone a secret, but now Sirius, of all people, was the one to decide your fate! Oh, how you wished he’d have mercy and dare you to jump on one leg or braid someone’s hair.

But that was just wishful thinking and you knew it, just as you knew Sirius. And his mischievous smirk only made you more certain. He wasn’t going to go easy on you.

“I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in this room”

And that’s when you freaked out. Your hands were full of sweat and you hoped to his no one saw your heated up face. Your lower lip quivered and you were almost sure you’d start crying.

Surprisingly enough, your behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Sirius, whose smile had faded at your reaction. Instead, his eyes filled with worry and he grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the common room. You vaguely heard some people complain, but Sirius ignored them. All he cared about was getting you out.

He stopped in the hall, turning to look at you.

“Okay,” he began. You opened your mouth to apologize, but he put a finger on your lips. “Shhh, you don’t have to say anything. It’s okay, I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to, y’know”

You were taken aback by his words. He didn’t seem much of an apologizing person. Perhaps he didn’t mean it? But his gaze told you that he wasn’t joking, not his time.

In the heat of the moment, you offered him a smile. “It’s okay. I just didn’t want to kiss you in front of everyone”

For once, you were the one to make him flustered and confused. He opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came out. You... thought he was attractive? You, who he’d been so annoying too, like, forever? Realization spread across his face. Perhaps you didn’t hate him after all?

“You can kiss me now”

“Keep dreaming”

The smile you sent him made him feel weak and he could slowly, but surely feel himself falling for you. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he’d do anything to get that kiss from you.

TAGLIST: @rorysreallyrandom @swanimagines @lxncelot @emmacata @i-cant-stfu @sirius-animagus @jupiiiter @captainshazamerica @iamninaanna @amortensie @theravenclawgal

FIC REVIEWERS: @amourtentiaa @slutforsalvatore @acosmis-t @iamninaanna @coffee--writes

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #harry potter reader insert #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #sirius x y/n #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius black smut #harry potter #hp #sirius imagine

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arcademoonlight · 3 years

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i know that look dear (eyes always seeking) || childe x harbinger!reader

i formally apologize,, this was rushed and my heart wasnt fully in it just bleh. i hope you enjoy regardless,,! this will be the last of these childe x harbinger!reader posts because i wanna write other things and nothing in the "series" will top the original in my opinion now that that's out of the way: based off of like real people do by hozier warnings: jealousy, genshin spoilers (kind of??), reader sulks most of the time, the traveler is kept neutral, technically lumine/aether neg?, not proofread great this was not the best thing ever. word count: 938 part one, part two (you are here) content under the cut!

You were a harbinger. Harbingers were meant to be like gods. So why were you intimidated when a traveler came to town? They had playfully kept blonde hair and glimmering amber eyes. The traveler had multiple elements at their disposal and good sword skills. That was more than you could speak for. You could fight, yes. What harbinger couldn’t? You just relied on your healing more than your sword skills. Your delusion was hydro. Still healing. How frustrating. To add to the punch, you weren’t nearly as kind or interesting as them. They did favors for anyone with a smile. They save people they’ve never even met. They had so many odd and daring stories that people couldn’t help but listen to them. They had a shining aura that drew people near and a tragic backstory to get sympathy. As infuriated as you were you couldn’t bring yourself to hate them. You were a harbinger. You were a healer. You never got sick. But then why did you feel so horrible? As your beloved Ajax spoke to the traveler to offer help you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at the sight. Nausea flooded your senses and you had to excuse yourself from the conversation. Maybe Bubu Pharmacy would have something. Nothing given to you helped. You hated this feeling. You resented the traveler. You were a harbinger. People were jealous of you. It was never vice versa until now. Whenever Ajax interacted with the traveler there was a certain light in his eyes. He never looked at you that way… He never laughed with you that way either. When you would ask him about his day he would ramble on and on about this foreigner. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate them, but resentment did being to bubble up inside of you. Whenever you and the traveler would have to interact you would give them sharp glares and constantly ask Ajax- sorry- ‘Childe’ if you could leave yet. “Childe.” You called out softly from where you stood behind the ginger. Your voice fell on deaf ears as he continued to laugh boisterously with the blonde before him about fighting or something. “Childe-!” You call out again. Your voice was more loud and stern, your exclamation followed by a cough to grab his attention further. The harbinger whipped his head around. “Oh, sorry! I forgot you were there!” He chuckled, oblivious to your agitated behavior. You were glaring knives at the traveler with your hands shoved in your pockets. The traveler shuffled away from you a bit. “Childe, don’t you think it’s time we get going?” You spoke sharply, your gaze still angrily fixed on the traveler. “We have to eat dinner, remember?” “Oh, can we bring them with us?” He asked, grinning as he pointed at the traveler. Your face softened at the smile on his face. He looked genuinely happy. There was no way you could say no to making him happy. “Sure.” You agreed bitterly. “Why not.” Childe laughed as he always did, looping his arm around your shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” He gave you a concerned glance as you tensed up. Maybe he wasn’t as oblivious as you thought. You were a harbinger. You suffered through the whole meal. You barely even touched the Fishermen’s toast in front of you. The traveler kept staring at you warily. Childe didn’t even spare you a glance as he continued to rapid-fire talk with them about fighting, something you could hardly relate to. Maybe you just weren’t up to Childe’s speed. Later that night, a familiar journaling habit returned. “Hey,” Childe called from the doorway of your bedroom. “I’m not stupid. What’s gotten into you?” Despite the chuckle in his voice, he was being serious. He noticed that you were acting suspiciously. You tore your eyes away from your frustrating scribbles to halfway meet Childe’s gaze, too guilty to make eye contact. “What do you mean Ajax? I’ve been acting perfectly normal.” You lied through your teeth. Childe sighed and pulled up a chair to sit next to you “I know that look dear.” He chided, referring to your behavior before and during dinner. “Your eyes seeking for something.” You sighed sadly. “Ajax, what are we?” Your eyes looked a bit glassy. Like if

you got a bad answer you’d cry. “Pardon?” He seemed confused. “We kissed and I confessed but you never said anything in response and now you’re flirting with that dumb traveler and if they make you happy good for you but I can’t take not knowing! Are we together, are we just comrades, are you interested in that foreigner? If you are is it because I’m not a fighter? Is it my fault you don’t look at me and laugh with me that way?” You lip quivered “Oh, honey are you jealous?” He laughed “I never put a label on how I felt for you because I thought you forgot about that night because of all the alcohol.” The ginger reached to grab your hand. “I do love you as a real person should. And~ If it makes you feel better I’ll talk to the traveler less, alright?” He chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. You smiled wide. Of course, you felt bad about the whole thing but Childe was yours now. You were quick to pull him into a hug as he laughed at your ‘cuteness’. You would’ve scolded him but at this very moment, it didn’t matter. He was in your arms and he was with you to stay. You were a harbinger. You were finally happy. :)

#childe x reader #childe genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #childe #ajax #ajax x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact spoilers

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minniepetals · 4 years

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a cup of love

— summary: some days they can forget to appreciate you but even then, you’ll never stop to show them that you care

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, angst, mafia!au

— word count: 2.2k

— warnings: koo yells at reader (but apologizes!), the boys aren’t exactly good boys until the end

— a/n: here’s another one hehe

"Are you alright?"

Namjoon grunts with a nod as he proceeds to scribble things down onto the papers in front of him. "Yeah, don't worry about it." His reply is curt, emotionless, with brows that furrows as he refuses to look up when you've walked into his office.

"Perhaps you should take a break," you suggest but the mafia boss only deepens his brows even more.

"I have no time for a break. The newbies have already gotten on my nerves for being stupid and clueless so please, if you could just leave."

You let out a small sigh at his response but understand the stress and pressure is getting to him so you don't blame Namjoon for being short with you. "I'll go but," your brows knits together, "please remember to rest when you can. I'm worried."

There is only a low grunt in response so you place the cup of tea on his desk, careful not to put it near a place where he can accidentally move it and spill the drink. You aren't sure if he sees you doing this, eyes too focused on the things in front of him, so you take out a little post it note and scribble a few words before leaving him be with a quick kiss to his head.

You hope your little treat can help him.

When you leave Namjoon's office, it seems not only is the big boss short and upset today but also the rest of your boyfriends.

They're off for whatever reasons even as you take some time to visit them, realizing you staying with them isn't helping much of the situation so you opt with stirring up some tea (and coffee for the ones who prefer them) and leave little notes of encouragement and love to let them know that you're here for whenever they need it.

It's a little dejecting knowing they wouldn't like to have you around during their stressful times because most times they'll come seeking for your attention, wanting you to hold them, to whisper soft words, to let you and only you see their pouty and true sides of when they aren't being all big and bad for the gang. And if they won't come fetching for you, you'd go to them and things would be less stressful on their ends.

But today isn't a good day.

It isn't good at all.

So you let them have their space, knowing they need it most, and support them from afar with a soft smile and a whisper of "I'm here if you need it."

Even as you find Jungkook in the training room holding a gun and missing almost every time.

He never misses.

Never.

So during the times he does, he throws a fit, slamming the gun down hard onto the cold surface of the floor with a frustrated grunt and allowing it to break into tiny pieces.

You jump at the sudden action, brows knitted with worry. "Jung–"

"God!" He shouts and punches the wall. Your heart breaks at the sight and when he turns at your presence, it hurts you even more seeing how angry he is. "Just leave, will you?"

"You're hurt–"

"Just go!" He demands and you stand there, frozen, because it's the first time he's ever yelled at you. You know Jungkook, he hates shouting at the people he loves because he knows he will regret it later on and he's once told you despite how much he does it to the members of the gang, that he'd never raise his voice at you.

So this surprises you.

And also hurts you.

But you know he isn't in his right mind. He's just angry and annoyed and frustrated. This isn't the Jungkook you know so you take a step back, though slightly afraid because you had just gotten yelled at, and try to steady your breathing. "I'm sorry," you tell him. You aren't sure what exactly you're apologizing for but it feels right. You made him even more angry after all. "I-I'm here for you, alright? Just remember that."

He doesn't say a thing and only turns his back to you. Though it breaks your heart, you know this isn't the Jungkook you know. So you turn around and walk out the door.

Coming back a few minutes later with a herbal tea, some ointment and bandages for his hand, and a little note as quietly as you can.

Though maybe you didn't need to do that because either way, whether he knows you're there or not, Jungkook doesn't acknowledge your presence.

The days passes on. No messages, no visits, no frantically looking for you as they usually do.

You sit in the library, reading, though your mind can't come to comprehend anything you've read because the only thing you're stuck on is worrying about your boys.

They aren't in the right state of mind but you aren't sure how to help so you end up just overthinking everything until eventually your mind gets too tired and your body curls up into a little ball, book hugging against your chest, and your eyes falls shut.

It's only until hours later do they finally find the cup of (now cold) coffee and tea and the little post it notes you've given them all to try and make things better.

"I love you," Taehyung stares at the little heart you drew, "please remember to love and take care of yourself as well! I hate seeing you so stressed." There is a sad little face at the end that tugs at his heart and his eyes look on over at the cup of chamomile tea you've brewed for him.

"God, I've messed up," the man groans as he leans back into his chair and puts his forearm over his eyes.

When Jimin walks into the training room, Jungkook's lying flat on the blue mat shirtless as he stares up at the ceiling, breathing ragged and hard from the continuous training he's forced himself to have.

"Kook," the older one calls as he spots your little gift for Jungkook on a barstool, "Y/N made some–wait, why did she put some ointment and a roll of bandages for you? What the hell did you do?"

He's quick to run over to the younger man and rest his legs on either side of him, sitting right on top of his stomach and letting Jungkook give out a soft "oomph" at the sudden action.

"What the hell, hyung?"

He's still irritated.

"Did you see what Y/N left you?" Jimin asks as he scans the younger one's body to see what exactly made you leave the medicine for him. "I was short with her today but babygirl still made me coffee and left me a little note of encouragement. She–ah, there it is." He sighs at the sight of the maknae's red knuckles and looks back at him with a disapproving stare. "Did you get angry and smash a wall again?"

Jungkook grunts as he moves, forcing his hyung to get off him. "Whatever. Why does it matter anyway?" He sits up and grabs his black shirt from the floor to put it back on as he heads over to the barstool. Eyeing the three things, Jungkook sighs as he takes the ointment to apply it on himself, ignoring the tea that's obviously cold at this point without caring to read the post it note.

"We're about to go home soon," Jimin tells him. "You know where Y/N is?"

"She hasn't gone home?"

"She'll usually text us if she does. Plus you know she isn't allowed to leave by herself."

He rolls his eyes and finishes wrapping the bandage around his hand before taking a moment to read whatever you had to say.

"Hey Kook, I know you aren't exactly yourself at the moment but that's alright, I know you never meant to yell at me."

Crap. He yelled at you.

"It's okay to let it out once in a while, you're human after all. It doesn't matter what anyone else says, you'll always be my sweet Jungkook who never forgets to shower me with love. Don't beat yourself up too much, alright? I love you and will always, always be proud of you no matter what."

"What'd she say?" Jimin asks a few seconds later when Jungkook seems to just be staring at the note for the longest time.

"I yelled at her, hyung," he whispers.

"What?"

"I yelled at our babygirl," he repeats a little louder. "Crap I...I yelled at her when she was just trying to help and-"

"Yeah, I'm not exactly proud of what I did today either."

"We have to find her." He's quick to jump back onto his feet. "God I'm such an idiot."

"Where's Y/N?" Seokjin asks the younger ones minutes later when they find each other in the hall.

Jimin's brows furrow. "You mean she wasn't with you?"

The oldest cringes. "I wasn't exactly...kind to her today."

"You're saying we all messed up today?" Yoongi asks as he emerges from the other end of the hall with Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok right behind him.

"You're saying we all made her feel worthless today?" Jimin raises a brow and Jungkook utters a curse under his breath.

"I yelled at our babygirl."

"Come on," Hoseok urges with a sigh, "let's go find her to make things right again."

It took a while.

A few minutes before someone ended up telling them they'd seen you walk into the library and the big bosses were quick to rush in, shouting for your name.

Only to immediately fall silent when they find your sleeping on an armchair with a book held closely to your chest. Your breathing is long and deep, chest rising and falling in a steady beat and their hearts fall at how innocent you look because they've literally done wrong all of today. Yet despite it all, the post it notes held in their hands and kept in their pockets are nothing but sweet words and reminders that you love them still and wish for them to take care of themselves.

They did you wrong yet you never grew angry at them for it, only more worried and concerned and it breaks their hearts knowing this.

Jungkook falls to his knees in front of you, brows knitting with guilt as he strokes your cheek. "Babygirl," he whispers softly and hesitantly. "Babygirl? Can you wake up, sweetheart?"

You could hardly believe the softness in his tone after being yelled at, almost forgetting about what had happened today until you're blinking awake to find the man staring at you with eyes filled with regret.

"..Kook...?" You call in a croaky tone, still adjusting to waking up.

"Oh babygirl," he sighs and wraps his arms around your waist and place his head down against your lap. "I'm so, so sorry, my love. I didn't mean to take my anger out on you. I was so wrong to yell at you when you had only wanted to help."

"We were all wrong today," Namjoon says as he purses his lips. "You were only trying to help and we shut you out."

"Hey..." you shake your head slowly, eyes still sleepy with a lethargic smile. "It's okay..you weren't yourselves today."

"That's not a valid excuse," Hoseok frowns.

"We were wrong. We shouldn't have shut you out," Taehyung agrees.

"You always manage to make things better," Yoongi says as he takes your hand. "We should have leaned on you instead of lashing out and making you feel worthless."

"It's okay, I promise you," you assure him with a light squeeze of his hand.

"You may have forgiven us but we aren't going to forgive ourselves that easily," Jimin vows and the maknae looks up, nodding.

You catch the small trail of tears brimming along his eyes and your heart softens. "Oh Jungkook, please don't cry."

"But I yelled at you and I promised that I wouldn't but I did." He squeezes you tightly. "You didn't deserve that."

"I understand you, I promise."

"It's not fair," the man pouts, "why are you so forgiving? We don't deserve this."

"You should be angry at us instead," Seokjin agrees.

Yet you shake your head again. "It's okay, I promise. But, are you alright now? Do you wish to talk about it? I'm here to listen, I promise I–"

"We'll deal with it babygirl," Namjoon tells you. "We'll deal with it rationally this time without letting the frustration blind us again."

You giggle and it makes them relieved to hear such beautiful music ringing in their ears. "Are we going home now?" You ask and Jungkook's quick to get up.

But he doesn't let you go, only opening his arms to invite you in. "Let's go home," he says and you let him easily pick you up. "But," the man pauses before he can proceed to walk out the doors. His gaze is serious as he stares at you and give you a kiss on your lips. "This doesn't mean we're done with apologizing, alright?"

You giggle again. "Alright then," you allow, "I guess I deserve that today, hm?"

"More than anything."

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yeojaa · 4 years

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( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded. it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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scarletwidowaf · 3 years

Note

Imagine that no power AU where Natasha falls for this cute artsy girl and slowly finds out (to her horror) that Wanda's not just some random artsy crafts girl who plays guitar, but the (adopted) Granddaughter of the owner of the company Natasha works for. As in oh, oh no, that's Carter's grandbaby, Carter's gonna kill me.

baby carter

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff (scarlet widow \ wandanat)

warnings: cursing? Terrible grammar and writing maybe because my brain's having hard time.

A\N: soft scarlet widow- Natasha being awkward and charming and Wanda being absolutely adorable. also, I honestly don't know what I feel bout it - I think it's kinda messy especially compared to my latest work.

words: idk... a lot?

masterlist

Natasha's been working in carter's Law Firm for almost 3 years now, slowly climbing up the company's hierarchical food chain, yet not enough to get the well-deserved promotion she was aching to get.

Not that she was ungrateful, hell no. not long after she graduated she got the job in carter's, which was one of the best and strongest law firms in the market. This means that not only that she found herself working alongside some of the best lawyers in the world, she truly couldn't complain about the paycheck she was getting every month.

Natasha wasn't ungrateful, but she was driven and she knew she was great at her job, hell, she was the best young lawyer in her class, yet, after 3 years in the firm, she was still working under Coulson. Which naturally means, she did a lot of dirty work instead of representing her own cases. Working with Coulson was great, really, the man was nice, sweet, a bit nerdy at times, and of course, such a great lawyer. Looking back, Natasha should give him credit for many things she achieved in the last 3 years, and one of them was meeting the love of her life- the one and only Wanda Maximoff.

One Thursday evening, as she was just finishing up some paperwork at the firm's office in New York, she got a call from Coulson, who let her know they were cutting the day short following personal constraints.

Instead of going straight home to rest after the brutal week, as she probably should've done, she decided to text Steve and Tony to see if they were free. luckily for her, her two best friends were willing to sacrifice any plans they had for this fine Thursday night, to celebrate the rare occasion of Natasha getting out of the firm before 8 pm.

The bar steve chose was nice, rather quiet and chill. Naturally, tony didn't seem to be a fan of the blonde's choice, but since it was Steve's turn to choose a place there wasn't much he could've done about it.

"We should sit near the stage" Steve said as he spotted an empty table at the other side of the bar, near the stage.

"What's wrong with you rogers? Do you want us to sit near the stage where random people will try to squick their hearts out to a Celine Dion song?" Tony sneered out, his eyes shooting daggers at the blonde as they sat.

"It's not a karaoke bar, tony" Natasha defended steve's choice.

"Yeah, this bar hosts young talented artists, I think it's awesome and refreshing" the blonde explained.

"I still hate it" tony said.

"We don't care" Natasha said as a waitress came to the table.

Over an hour and a half later, 3 performances were over and two bawls of fries as well, the next artist got onto the stage.

The woman was young, probably younger than Natasha, and beautiful.

She was dressed rather simply compared to the other artists, just a plain white T and an old pair of skinny jeans.

Natasha noticed that some strands of her dark brown hair got stuck under her red guitar's strap.

The woman was smiling nervously as she introduced herself to the crowd and Natasha couldn't help but send her an encouraging small smile.

Surprisingly for her, the woman smiled back.

Tony and steve noticed it as well and they exchanged knowing looks.

The singer's voice was almost as beautiful as her.

Her fingers softly strumming on the frets- as almost as it was second nature, while her soft angelic voice filled the room, sending chills through Natasha's body.

Natasha smiled when she noticed how quiet the bar became, everyone seemed to be enchanted by the young singer.

When the singer finished her preference she smiled brightly to the audience, who cheered for her loudly- as she deserved, and got off the stage.

Natasha noticed the poor singer who was supposed to try and top her incredible performance. He seemed miserable.

"Earth to nat!?" Tony waved his hand in front of Natasha. The redhead blinked twice before tearing her attention from the singer and to her friends.

Steve was smiling at her, his eyes glittering in enthusiasm, while tony smirked at her with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, what?" She asked.

Steve laughed and tony sigh.

"We said that she was really good" the blonde explained

"Not that you haven't noticed it, you've been practically drooling," Tony said.

"I was not" she defended herself

"You were," he said. "But we don't judge you Romanoff, its natural, she was pretty and you didn't get laid in a while. Plus- You always had a thing for the innocent looking ones" he explained and Natasha sent him her dirtiest glare.

If a look could kill tony stark would've been dead by now.

"Okay first, I wasn't drooling. Second, fuck you"

"Nice comeback" tony taunted her with a smirk, knowing full well he wasn't completely wrong.

"You should ask her out. You seem to like her"

Steve smiled at her and Natasha knew he meant it- he was was always the sweetest one of the three.

"Fancy her" tony corrected steve.

"She Like her" steve raised his eyebrow at his friend.

"Fancy" tony taunted

"Li-" steve was about to argue again until Natasha cut the stupid argument off.

"Fuck off you too," she said and waved to the waiter, hoping that another beer might make the two less annoying.

When the waiter didn't come, Natasha got frustrated, her two friends started to argue over another idiotic thing: steve's lack of love life and tony's girlfriend's lack of taste In men.

"I'm gonna get a refill," she said as she got up. The two sent her quick okays before getting back to their bickering.

When Natasha approached the bar she noticed a familiar face.

The singer was sitting in front of the bar's counter with a glass of mojito. She seemed to be having a polite conversation with the bartender.

"Hey, I'm sorry to interrupt but can I have a refill?" Natasha asked the bartender. The man smiled at her and nodded before he replaced her empty cup with a new one.

The singer smiled at her softly again- Natasha smiled nervously at her.

"I'm Natasha" Natasha said awkwardly to the girl, her cheeks flushed.

Wanda smiled back at her "hey Natasha, I'm Wanda" Wanda, the singer said as she held out her hand for a handshake.

Natasha took her hand, praying to whatever god exist that her hand wasn't sweaty.

'What's wrong with me?' She thought as she mentally faces palmed herself.

"I liked your performance," Natasha said and Wanda smiled at her.

Natasha smiled back, happy she had the privilege to be the reason the singer smiled.

"Thank you" wanda thanked her.

"I saw you at the front line," Wanda said and Natasha nodded.

"Yeah, my friend likes this place. He chose the table" she admitted.

"That's nice, I'm guessing it's your first time in here"

"Yeah, it is actually. Was I that obvious?" Natasha joked and Wanda laughed.

"Just a little bit," Wanda said with a smile "what do you think about it so far?"

"It's really nice, honestly" Natasha admitted.

"Yeah, I think that as well. I come here often with my cousin and brother but its the first time I was on stage"

"Well, you were great. Seriously. You were" she started before gazing at the stage briefly, catching the sight of the young singer who went up after Wanda. "sorry, are- the best singer" she continued and Wanda blushed.

"Thank you it means a lot"

"Anytime," Natasha said back

"I should really go... It was lovely meeting you Natasha." Wanda said as she checked the time, a small frown on her lips.

"You too," Natasha said.

Wanda nodded at her before getting up and turning around from Natasha to pull her guitar.

when Natasha took a small sip from her beer she catches the bartender's eye.

The guy was giving her the 'are you kidding me?!' look- who was a well-known look she was familiar with from years of friendship with tony.

"Hey Wanda-" Natasha said to Wanda, who was about to walk away. The singer turned back around with a small confused smile.

"Yeah?" She asked

"Would you like to, maybe, I don't know.. go out sometime?" Natasha stuttered.

'Did I just fucking stuttered!?' She mentally kicked herself.

"Yeah.. id like that" Wanda said with a smile. The brunette took a pen out of her jeans pocket and scribble something on Natasha's arm.

"Call me," Wanda said with a smile before she smiled at the bartender, who tried to look busy with anything but them.

"Bye bucky" she laughed at his antics and left.

Natasha looked up from the scrabble on her hand, who was- of course Wanda's number with a small heart at the bottom, and exchange looks with bucky the bartender.

"That went well, right?" She asked him dumbfounded and he laughed before handing her a shot glass with vodka.

"Yeah it did.. friendly advice, don't fuck it up" he said as passed her a slice of lemon.

Natasha downed the shot, nodded at him as she took her beer, and left the lemon on the counter. Her legs taking her back to her table. both of her friends were staring at her with wide eyes.

"Hell yeah Romanoff!" Tony said excitedly.

Natasha smiled at tony before looking at steve with a chuckle "the bartender is your type" she said as she set.

Steve gave her a 'are you kidding me look before his eyes traveled from her to the bartender at the bar.

----------------------ᱬ----------------------

Not long after Natasha and Wanda met again, a few times actually. 10 minutes into their first date, Natasha knew she was in trouble.

Wanda was completing Natasha on almost every level she thought about.

Wanda was carefree and dorky as Natasha was a stressed workaholic.

Wanda liked homemade meals and cooking while Natasha was practically living on boxed mac and cheese or takeout.

Natasha loved to binge movies and random tv shows into the night while Wanda liked getting up early to watch the sunrise.

Wanda loved fruity alcoholic drinks while Natasha preferred it clean.

Wanda was a splash of color in Natasha's black and white life.

Not long after, Natasha asked wanda to be her girlfriend- it happened in a month and a half after their first meeting as the two women laid in Wanda's bed, naked and sweaty with their limbs intertwined.

She could've done it more romantic, but both girls truly couldn't give a damn about it.

Wanda's apartment was incredible.

The studio apartment was big and bright.

The apartment's walls color was cream and the tall window frames were covered with white curtains.

In the beginning, Natasha didn't really understand why wanda even bother to use these curtains since the sun would light the room either way, (she found out about this terrible trait when she first stayed over and found herself awake and cursing under her breath at 7 am) But, luckily for her, Natasha learned rather fast why the younger girl's windows where ALWAYS covered. It was simple, really.

Wanda had this habit to walk around the apartment half-naked, or completely naked on better days, and as much as Natasha was grateful for that (and she was), she truly wasn't the one to share, especially not the image of her naked girlfriend as she walked around the apartment or squirmed under her touch on the bed- or anywhere they chose, really.

"Nat?" Wanda whispered softly as she was playing with her sleepy girlfriend's hair and spread soft kisses on her back.

"Hm?" Natasha hummed, half asleep.

"There's something I need to tell you" Wanda said softly. Her voice barely a whisper.

"Is everything okay, baby?" Natasha asked as she turned around to face the taller woman.

Natasha's eyebrows were tightened together in worry and Wanda couldn't help but kiss her on the nose.

"Yeah" she whispered and Natasha waited patiently for her to continue "it's just that.. there's something I need to tell you... about my family"

"Okay.." Natasha encouraged her to continue.

"My family-" she started, but got cut off by Natasha's phone buzzing on the nightstand.

"Fuck" Natasha cursed before turning around to check who it was- and if she can ignore it.

The name on the screen was definitely a sight she could not ignore.

"Just a second baby, it's my boss" she said as she pulled herself up to answer the phone. by doing so, Natasha missed wanda's guilty lip bite.

----------------------ᱬ----------------------

That's how things went for another month. In this month Natasha got the promotion she wanted which meant she was enthusiastic for days later- and Wanda couldn't bear the thought of ruining it for her.

And that's how it went overtime.

Every time Wanda manage to muster enough courage to tell Natasha whatever she wanted to say, something happened and ruined it.

But jean Racine was indeed right: 'there are no secrets that time does not reveal', and unfortunately for both women, wanda's secret got revealed in a rather unpleasant and awkward situation.

It was a pretty normal day for Natasha.

Or at least it started as one. she spent the night at Wanda's again, which means she had a hard time leaving bed in the morning but she managed it so now, a few hours later, she was having lunch at a deserted meeting room with a few friends from the office

"hey, nat.. is that your girlfriend??" Sam asked, his eyes following a girl who passes near the glass door.

"Wanda?" Natasha asked him confused.

They weren't supposed to meet today for lunch, didn't they?

"Do you have another girlfriend I'm not aware of?" He asked

"Shut up Wilson, why would Wanda be here!?"

"I don't know Romanoff, she's your girlfriend. All I can say is that she seemed to be in a deep conversation with Sharon"

"Carter?"

"the one and only" Carol whispered and Gamora rolled her eyes at the girl.

"Will you stop being weird?" Gamora asked and Carol shook her head.

"Why would she have a conversation with Sharon fucking Carter" Natasha asked confused

"Maybe you should ask her...?” the man asked

"Oh shit I think they're coming over here, pretend to be busy," Carol said as she dived back into her salad.

The others do the same as well.

A few moments later the glass door was pulled open by Sharon.

Her smile wide.

"Hey guys" Sharon said as she opened the door and git into the room, wanda following behind-

Probably unaware of her girlfriend's presence until moments later when their eyes met.

Wanda looked like she was about to die.

"Wanda?" Natasha asked. Her eyebrows knitted together.

"Wait, You know each other?" Sharon asked as she turned to the brunette

"Yeah-" she started

"How do you guys know each other" Natasha cut her girlfriend off. Her eyes were still wide with confusion.

"We're cousins" the blonde explained and Wanda bit her lip.

Natasha stared at her girlfriend, hoping to get an explanation from her.

"Wait how do you to know each other"

"She's my girlfriend," Wanda said softly as Natasha got up from her chair.

Sharon's eyes were wide "didn't see that coming" she muttered

"Tell me about that" Natasha said, more to her girlfriend than to her boss.

"I'm going out for a smoke," she said simply before leaving the room.

"Nat-" Wanda started as she followed her, leaving the other remaining members of the room confused.

"Really?" Sharon asked again.

"Well, that was something," sam said and gamora nodded.

"That's classic," Carol said as she quietly laughed to herself

Meanwhile, at the elevator, things were going less smoothly for the couple.

"You're my boss's niece and you didn't think about telling me this?" Natasha shot at Wanda as the elevator door opened and the two went outside.

"I was trying to tell you, nat. I swear. That was the thing I tried to tell you about this whole month But every time I tried to something happened" Wanda explained as Natasha lit her cigarette.

"Why didn't you say anything when we started dating and got to know each other?" Natasha asked.

The lawyer wasn't sure if she was more hurt by the fact Wanda kept this secret from her or terrified by the fact she was dating her boss's niece

"Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you look at me right now" Wanda defended herself.

"How do I look at you wanda?" Natasha asked hurt.

"Like I'm no longer the same artsy girl you met at the bar" Wanda whispered

Natasha laughed bitterly

"Come on Wanda you know I don't give a shit about it. I love you and the fact you're a carter won't change it. You are the same artsy girl from the bar, who happened to be my boss's nephew. You should've said something."

"You're right, I shouldn't have kept this away from you. It was destined to get out eventually and the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you" Wanda took the cigarette out of Natasha's lips.

"I made a mistake and I can't change it."

Wanda continued and Natasha sigh

"I wanted you to know me, and I was scared you'll judge me or see me as a carter like most people do."

Wanda put her hand on Natasha's cheek and Natasha kissed her palm, encouraging her to continue her speech.

"Fuck, nat, I'm not even in this business- yeah they're my family but that's it. the only other connection I have to this firm is the fact I'm in love with one of its lawyers" Natasha's eyes lit up and Wanda blushed furiously.

"You're in love with me?" Natasha asked as she played pulled her girlfriend closer, A small cocky smile on her lips as Wanda rolled her eyes

"For someone so fucking smart you can be so dense sometimes," Wanda said and Natasha laughed "Of course I do moron."

"I love you too," Natasha said before kissing Wanda softly on the lips.

"Can you forgive me, then?"

"It depends," Natasha said with the best poker straight face she could muster.

"On?" Wanda asked with her eyebrow raised.

"Is there any other relative- who can fire my ass, I need to know about?"

Wanda smiled kissed Natasha's lips deeply.

"No!" She said when they broke away and the two laughed.

Natasha wiped away the younger woman's tears before kissing her lips again. This time softly.

"Good, now if you don't mind maximoff. My break's over and I should really get back before your cousin will fire my ass"

"Well technically.. she's my cousin in law, I'm peggy's grandchild, adopted one, and she's her nephew" Wanda explained

"Can she fire my ass?" Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well.. yeah..?"

"Then my point still stands.

"Shut up Romanoff! you and I both know Sharon won't' fire your ass' because you're the best lawyer in this damn place" wanda argued

"Who fucks her cousin..-"

"You're right.. she might fire you" wanda joked and took her girlfriend's hand in hers.

"Or murder me" Natasha continued as her girlfriend pulled her back into the building and to the elevator.

"Yeah" Wanda laughed when they got into the elevator and the doors closed.

Wanda kissed Natasha's lips softly before pressing the button of their destined floor. "Or murder you"

#Scarlet Witch #Scarlet Widow #scarletwidow #Black Widow #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wanda x natasha #natasha x wanda #Scarlett Johansson #Elizabeth Olsen #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #tony stark #sam wilson #gamora #Carol Danvers #sharon carter #peggy carter

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guileheroine · 3 years

Text

by your hand is the only end i foresee

1.2k of catradora angst written for the pine4pine exchange 💔 / ao3

Aside from her old cadet uniform and a few ration bars she kept tucked away for midnight cravings—items she was very happy to leave behind—Adora’s personal possessions in the Fright Zone were few, enough to fit in a tied-up old pillowcase.

Precious few: her first official commendation (back when those things mattered), a bracelet she had woven from the leather of her old training shoes, and a few folded up pieces of paper, held together with a blackened elastic that would snap any moment. She wanted to leave these behind, too, but it was easier said than done. Much easier, considering Adora had gone out of her way to grab the little pile from the secret place under beneath her bunk, and cram it, running, into her jacket, before she and her new friends stole away from the Horde forever, again.

She knew she shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t even have been thinking about it. It could have cost them dearly, actually. Yet she couldn’t help it then, with their old quarters just a dash down the corridor—and she couldn’t help it now, as she unfolded the creased old notes and read. She pored over each word, like she was five years old again and barely learning how, just to make them last. Crayons from The Horde came in four colours: black, grey, red, and brown. Catra always made the most of them, scrawling like a machine, her hand skidding out of the borders of the paper sometimes. In an instant, Adora could almost smell them again, a memory she could never have imagined relishing. Could never have imagined feeling so complicated.

AdoRA

DO NOT try to steal my bars again EVER .

just ask. i got them for us!

Then there was a crude heart, before Catra signed her name the way she always did, with a claw-groove underscoring the letters. There were a handful like that, short—and sweet, in hindsight, whether they were meant that way or not. And now, more than a little bitter. Adora traced the groove on each one with her fingertip, her brow threatening to crinkle, hating how tender her own touch was, how quickly her stupid eyes welled.

Adora— remember we need a bigger bunk. It’s gonna come quicker if you ask. If you kick me in the face again you won’t sleep for a week.

Adora, Thanks for standing up for me after training today. Let’s be on the same team next week?

Adora. This is gonna be your face after I kick your ass tomorrow. (Accompanied by a pretty scary drawing of Adora frowning furiously and crying puddles, with Catra cackling in the background, flexing biceps she had never had in her life.)

Adora missed her crazy doodles. She regretted that there weren't more of them here.

The messages were actually fewer than she remembered, too; and as she flicked through them she knew that most of them were missing. She had probably just tossed them behind her shoulder without a second thought, because what had it mattered when they had each other right there, forever? She wondered if Catra had kept any of her notes and figured she had probably torn them to shreds the first chance she got.

Why couldn’t Adora do the same?

Maybe it was just that clinging to them felt like a way of holding on to their friendship, even though all signs told Adora that it was beyond hope of repair now. After all, the scribbles they shared had felt like something so private, so special to them. There weren't exactly gifts to give in the Fright Zone, so they sufficed as tokens of friendship in a way little else could, like evidence. They fell into the habit of writing the kind of things that got said aloud much less often—how they would look out for each other, how they worried sometimes about the future. Adora, and only Adora, knew that Catra often found it easier to express those feelings in writing, in a kind of private that could never be overheard or interrupted. So yeah, it was special. It was the last shred of love Adora had from a friendship that seemed to have slipped through her fingers before she knew it was gone, and she treated these notes carefully. Evidence.

Sniffling, she wondered if she could take a page out of Catra’s book. If writing something down might make her feel better. It hurt horribly to feel so far away from Catra, but if Adora focused hard enough on the page and imagined she was talking to her maybe that pain would recede. Adora fetched the journal Glimmer had presented her with when she moved in and found a fresh page, bending the spine over in that way that always seemed to make Bow wince.

Dear Catra,

Then she held the pen frozen to the page for so long that the ink seeped all the way through. She blew on it to make sure it wouldn't smudge easy, and wrote.

You are my enemy now and you always will be.

She read it over like a drill. It was important to get this into her head. And only then did she write out the rest of her feelings, the words—and tears—finally flowing freely.

...I will always miss you.

When she got to that part, it felt like an exhale, even if the admission was guilty. Because it was the other irreversible truth, the other side of the coin to the animosity she was still struggling to understand. She let the pen clatter momentarily before picking it up again, resuming speed as if she had never stopped. By the time she came to the end of the page she found that her head was clearing even if her tears weren’t, because she was being honest with Catra—

I’m sorry things ended up like this, I really am.

—And herself.

But even if we could go back in time, I wouldn’t do things any other way.

Love,

Adora

Adora didn’t read it over when she was done. She just stretched her wrist and folded the page over. Then she wrote a quick note beside it, because she didn’t quite trust Glimmer and Bow not to snoop. No, it wasn’t her intention to give this letter to Catra. What good would it do? Even if she sent it, Catra probably wouldn’t understand. She couldn't trust her to understand: that was still such a strange and new feeling. Adora felt the distance between them like a throb, like a chasm wider than space. She wondered if they would ever be connected again. Forever without her seemed like such a hard bargain, such a slog…

The same forever that she had once been able to promise Catra without blinking twice.

Adora rubbed her eyes and left her head resting in her hands when she was done. Maybe there were other forevers, other universes. In a desperate moment, she wondered if she could send Catra a sign that would survive the end of the world as they knew it, that could bridge the gap between them just by biding time and space for as long as necessary… It felt as impossible as the distance. She rubbed her temples as if to literally ease the pain. She could only hope that it would let up with time.

#catradora #spop #she-ra #catradora fanfic #**

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

You’re going to tickle me first, right?

Kanene’s note: One day I will carefully plan beforehand a title. But that day is noooot today! sdfghjfrgtyujikdfgh.

I consider this the last story from that idea of lers + lees in more different scenarios. I already did all the sides and I am very proud of the results! Thankys for all the support <3333

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Ticklish!Logan with Ler!Patton and Remus. Their relationship can be viewed as romantic or platonic. Around 2.300 words.

* Some fabulous works that inspired me with the idea and the teases (they’re from bnha)

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Take some time to remember about the litol cool things that you saw today! Fanfic, series, movies, a bird or a beautiful flower... anything that maded u happy! Drink water, sleep and eat! Today is another day and I’m proud that we’re both still here.

[~*~]

"Looking good, hot stuff." Arms hugged him from behind and Logan scoffed, as usual when confronted by feelings, behind his cup of coffee, drinking the remains of the liquid in a few gulps as he relaxed on the warm chest behind him. The morning was quiet and Patton’s humming on the kitchen was one of the few sounds that cut the air. Logan let his attention swim back to his book when the other began to nuzzle his neck, a small 'tsk' escaping between a tiny smile when his mustache hit a sweet spot on his shoulder.

They both knew what that meant, after all, Remus wasn’t fond on keeping a subtle demeanor and they already had played this exact game thousands of times before.

"Remus..."

"Tickle me, Logan!" The pout was crystal clear on his voice, discarding the need of the other adult to turn back to notice it. "It’s been almost a week since last time! And. I. Need. My. Daily. Doses of. Tickles."

Logan growled, ignoring the amused crackle behind him and instead focusing on hiding his now complete red face on one of his hands, the other tightly gripping his book and depositing it on the tabletop in front of him. "How can you say this so nonchalantly?" It was his almost inaudible muffled whisper.

"Because watching you become a blushy-blushed mess is sooo fun. ~"

Another nuzzle, Logan scrunched his neck, containing his reactions.

"Now, now, Re. Teasing Logan about how he is the most adorably-adorable bumblebee when he gets all blush-y and soft-y about tickling isn't very nice." Patton chirped from his spot, almost finished from doing the dishes, since the most serious of their group had been responsible for their breakfast and Remus would be making their dinner today. He could even pass as being very serious if it wasn’t for the smirk on his features betraying his words. "You know he can't stand hearing the word tickle. Or tickling. Or tickly."

"Or ticklish, or tiggle, or even tickle, tickle, tickle-"

In a smooth, quick movement, Logan turned his body, now being the one encircling the taller waist with his arms, fingers clawing on his sides, but not moving. Yet.

"That is enough of you, squeaky toy."

And Remus knew that just their previous playful banter had been more than enough to prompt Logan to get some revenge.

However…

Seeing him like this was just too much fun.

His eyes glinted, a grin expanding on his face. "He is sooo flustered. Pat! Look at him! Isn't he adorable?"

"I know, right!" Patton squealed in delight at the tiny, infinitesimal smile showing on the most serious one, ignoring Logan's grunt as he tried to hide his face in Remus' shoulder, grumbling something about teases and stupid, confident friends "But we can't be mean with him, sweetpea. Even if he is so precious and full of such beautiful reactions that makes us want to tease him over and over and over again." He whispered the last part, as if he was sharing a secret and the person they were talking about wasn't dying in the middle of their room.

"Even his ears are red, now!!" Remus also lowered his voice, blowing a light steam of air on them as he talked. "You're the one being mean to me.” Logan more felt than saw Remus pointing a finger accusingly to the other, “telling me I can't tease him even knowing he will be all helpless and shy and cute.”

"I would like to state that I hate you."

"Shhh, Lo-lo! We're whispering! Which means you can't hear us."

Snickers floated freely in the air. Logan’s warning jab at Remus’ side only made part of them evolve to amused crackles.

"I am literally between you two, unless you talk in a language I do not master nor understand I can very much process the exact meaning of what you're pronouncing."

They giggled harder. Logan's scoff deepened, he tried to untangle himself from the hold and walk away to the security of his room and his valorous notebooks where he could carefully think and plan a very special, tickly revenge for both, but a soft kiss on his flaming cheeks placated his impulse, - although not his mostly dramatic scoff and roll of eyes.

"Patton!!!!” The one wearing a green pajama whined as if the world was ending and he was not the one to blame because of that, drops of fake-sadness dripping on his tune. “He is even pouting!”

"FALSEHOOD!"

“That is not fair!! Not. Fair."

"Okay, okay, my dear.” Patton gave in, calm words. Logan looked smugly at Remus, who was now in the hold of the pout.

“You can tease him more, but just a little."

Logan squeaked when Remus triumphally shoved his face on his neck, working his way across the spot, mustache tickling and itching, until he was able to deliver a couple of nibbles right under his chin, drinking up the muffled yelps and snickers that that caused.

Patton's gentle voice hit his ears just as he threw his head back in an attempt to escape the attack. "Just say 'glasses’ and we stop, okay?"

Remus didn't say anything, although he stopped his attack, a hand finding his and squeezing reassuringly. The shorter smiled, a warmth flooding on his chest and pouring out of it in the way softness found the corner of his eyes, immediately hiding any hint of it on Remus' shoulder and nodding. Quiet, mumbled words.

"Green."

“Aw, what is the matter? Not so serious now, are we?” Remus purred, each word vibrating on his skin. “What a shame, what a shame, what a sad end for our rational, professional nerd boy. Just a few tickles here,” he quickly pinched the other’s thigh, making the arms tight around his waist, consequently pulling him closer, “some attention there,” nails found and traced whatevers on the length of his lower back, “a couple of teases and tickles aaand then you’re already all defeated. Aww, my poor, poor, sensitive ler. ~”

His confident tone was broken by a squeal when the fingers resting on his sides squeezed that spot, wiggling for a few seconds before stopping, enough for the taller to try to squirm away, only to find himself well stuck on the arms securing him in the same place. His gaze found danger on Logan’s glare.

“Oh,” shivers ran his spine, “is that so?” Another squeak flew from him when the fingers curled, nails grazing the ticklish skin. “Please, care to elaborate?”

Remus' excitement was written over his entire face. He began to bounce, however his giddy energy was controlled enough for him to be able to lower his head, a shit eating grin plastered on his lips, hands locking behind the other’s neck, exposing even more the spots on his torso.

"Do your worst, my ler. ~"

“Gasp! Lo-lo!” Logan blinked and, oh, when he opened his eyes Patton was on his vision field, with an adorable pout and arms crossed. “I can’t believe you’re going to tickle him first. I thought I was your favorite Gigglebug!”

Another grunt escaped from his lips. That was it. Logan was done.

“Patton…” He warned, mind already running to how to turn the tables before he got caught on their teases again.

“You’re definitely our favorite gigglebug, Pattycake.” Remus nodded, extending one of his arms behind him and pulling Patton swiftly when they locked their hands, succeeding in making them both sandwich the taller in a hug. He danced his fingers on the other’s neck, making his pout disappear in a soft huff. “Buuut, I have the best snorts and squeals here. So, sorry not sorry, it seems like I will be getting all the tickles today.”

“No, no!” Patton quickly jumped in on the playful demeanor, smiling and clinging on Logan from behind, bubbly giggles already escaping from his mouth. “My ler!!” He nuzzled between his shoulder blades, the sudden move leading the coffee-addicted one to arch his back, a silent gasp escaping from his lips.

“You are both being ridicuLOUS-” His voice hitched as Patton focused on a rather… sensitive spot on his back, too much next to his ribs and not away enough from his spine. “P-p-patton. Sssstop!”

Unfortunately, the fact of him holding the wrists of the hands resting peacefully under his armpits, trying to pry Patton away also meant he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to the dangerous gleam surging on Remus’ eyes, nor the way his hands clawed in the air for a few seconds before descending on Logan’s hips, fishing a surprised shriek.

“REMUS!”

The aforementioned only smirked, thumbs digging on the ticklish flesh with ease, batting his eyelashes when Logan's awareness turned back at him, legs trying to kick himself away as his body squirmed in despair with the unexpected ruthless attack. “You’re going to tickle me first, right, nerd?”

“No!!” The adult didn’t even get a chance to answer before kisses were being deposited on the sides of his neck, an index finger tickling that exact spot where it connected with his back, switching between encircling the spot to lightly scribble, scribble, scribble right on the middle on it, being careful to not let a single inch unattended. “I am the first! You’re such an amazing, lovely and good Ler, Logan! I won’t even cover my face this time! All the giggles and laughter and smiles just for you, cutiepants.”

“Well, with me,” he highlighted the word by energetically scratching his others, previous free, fingers on his sides, delighted with the way the shorter’s laughter improved with it, “we can play all the tickle, tickly games he wants to! Hands up, Countdown, Don’t Smile, How Much Minutes Can You Endure… You name it, hot mess.”

And a mess he was, indeed. Especially when Patton decided to pull his shirt up, slowly spidering his hands under the fabric, a tingly sensation following his path, and giggling as he prodded his way up to skitter his long, absurdly, horribly, amazingly long nails on the back of his ribs, sending shivers and tingles non stop on his torso. Both attackers cooing in synchrony as guffaws and squeaks started to paint his frantic laughter.

“Lo-lo, don’t listen to him! I can help you to sing those nice, cute nursery rhymes that you like so much, remember? I love when we sing them together because you’re so great, smart and mean about it! Always doing things like crawling your fingers up, up, up, our ribs…” he punctuated his sentences by doing exactly what he described, “and then running them aaaaaall their way back to the sides!”

“Wait!! Damn! Wait, please, wahahahait!”

“Or when he discovers a new, horrible, unbearable spot,” Remus ignored the series of ‘nonono’s from the ‘victim’ as he focused two fingers on the patch of skin above his bellybutton, poking and pinching there, his free hand holding down the wrist that shoot in order to stop him “and he focuses all his attention on it, being sure to thoroughly tickle it and to remember us that we can wiggle and giggle all we want because we do absolutely nothing to stop it.”

“And also, how much we love all of this! All the attention,” Patton kissed behind his left ear, traveling to the other with small raspberries when Logan clued it on his shoulder, shaking his head, “all the care,” kiss “all the teases,” a big raspberry “all the tickles,” a series of tender, soft pecks along his cheeks and ears “and how much happy that makes us feel!!”

“And the best part? We will go on and on tickling you for hours and hours until we are all satisfied.”

“I can’t! I cahahan’t!”

“Yup!! We will just stay riiight here, giving you all the kitty kitty coo’s and coothie coothie coo’s you could ever want until we ask us to stop, okay? So, you just relax and enjoy it, Logie-bear.”

“Plehehease!”

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, nerd. What with that smile? Can’t take what you like to dish out? Tsk, such a pity, really. You know what is even greater, though? You can beg, you can say you’re sorry, you can promise to do anything we want but that won’t work. Do you know why?” Logan shook his head, a smile plastered on his face. “Because there is no reason for me to be doing this other than see you get tickled to pieces.”

“Oh no, my dear, it seems like the tickle monsters got you! Isn’t that amazing? Having two lovely monsters who knows all your melt, fluff spots giving you exactly what you love? Knowing precisely what to do or what to say to make you a cute, adorable puddle of laughter and giggles that you so much love and crave to be? Huh? You absolutely love this, don’t you, my blushy bear?”

“Enough! Enough!” Logan’s legs gave up, and in between his wheezing laughter, his yelps, squeaks and pleas a breathless ‘glasses’ made itself known, leading the tickling to a stop and to the three of them to lay carefully on the kitchen’s floor. Happy chuckles filling the silence.

Silence.

“So, did you choose which one of us you will tickle first?”

“Actually, Pat-Pat, I think we make a great team.”

Patton flung himself to the other, hugging him with a squeal. Remus couldn’t help but to reciprocate the touch, cooing over his excitement. “We do!!”

“I agree.” Maybe it was how much closer and lower Logan’s voice was, or because of the thousands of memories that tune brought that made both froze so instantly, goosebumps traveling across their bodies with shots of adrenaline. “And I am sure you will make a much more endearing one, with matching helpless laughter and excited smiles, when I catch you. ‘When’ and not ‘if’, because I will find and catch you two, my ticklish lees. And when we are all reunited I am certain you will love all the ideas and experiments I have for you.” They slowly turned back, joyful expressions as their gaze found the malefic, playful glint shining along with the slightly blush on the Logan’s face.

“You have five seconds.”

Patton grabbed Remus’ hand, pulling them up.

“Run.”

#:D #Honestly I saw the idea of tickling the ler until they tickle you back and this is just so mind blow I had to write something #asdfghjdfghjfghj #Logan being a shy ler is my everything #Remus and Patton woke up and choose violence/j #Ler!Patton #Ler!Remus #Lee!Logan #welll.. kind of #Ticklish!Logan #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's fic #one day I will post this idea without feeling silly but that day is not today sdfghjdfrghyuj. I am proud of this tho <3 #mouth tickles #raspberries e tickly kisses #rough and light tickles

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moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown · 3 years

Text

When he loved me....

An: Buckle up y’all I’m feeling sad. So have some unrequited love angst. Wow this came out sadder then I intended. I am sorry.

Recommend to listen to “cloud 9 cover by Pavari das” because that’s the version I listened to writing this out. It adds to the sadness.

Loving Dom was like falling asleep on a long car journey, it happened slowly, very slowly, first your eyes close for a moment, just a second, and then, you were falling, deep, deep down into the spinning web of him.

His accent, his softness, his laugh and smile. His need to make everyone in the room feel seen or heard. He was pure and soft, safe and careful. He held your heart in his hands, not that he knew, you were just a friend to him, a friend he worked with in LA. Only that and nothing more.

Working on an album or four, you were simply, studio help, as you always had been. Though Dom often made sure you knew how important to him you were, you still were just a hand around the studio, helping set mics and amps up, helping by being the unseen side of album work.

The studio was your happy place, you were never good at singing, and had the barest of basic child level when it came to piano, but the studio was still a safe place to sit and think. And it’s where you often found yourself late at night, when Dom and his crew of people were finally taking much deserved rests. You enjoyed the empty studio, the soft buzz in the quiet, normally filled with guitars blaring or Dom screaming into the mic for a song.

This was a place where you could think, relax. Just be. No one else but you and your thoughts.

“But when he loved me....I felt like Floating....when you called me pretty....I felt like....” pausing you scribbled another word out sighing

“Like somebody” looking up your eyes met the soft doe eyes of Jesse, the sweetest women you had met in the industry not that you cared to meet many industry people, parties were never your thing, and clubs even less so.

Smiling at her you scribbled the lyric down

“Thanks. What are you doing in here, figured you’d be either stopping Dom from jumping off the roof or videoing it” laughing she plopped next to you leaning her head back.

She was beautiful, a goddess statue in human form, long and stunning, a voice like honey and eyes of fawns in the morning, she was everything you could ever hope to be. And more, a family that came from the world you were now wrapped in, she was everything you could picture Dom wanting.

“Nah he’s outside taking a smoke with Tom and Gav. Not feeling that today” just nodding to her you put your notebook down looking around

“How long has he held your heart in his hands with out him knowing?”

Wide eyed you looked at her blinking

“What are you talking about? Who?” Her sigh told you she had caught on quicker then you knew to your hurt heart, almost like you held the small crying thing in your hands at all times

“He may not see it, but everyone else does, it’s killing you...as unrequited love does”

You wanted to hate her, for being, so nice, for being so wonderful and caring, for having what you wanted.

“It’s just a crush i’ll be over it soon enough. It’s happened before. It’s normal, part of life ya know. Plus you and him are so....beautiful together he is head over heels for you. It has to feel amazing ya know, being loved like that”

Looking at her you shrugged

“Have you thought of telling him? Maybe it’ll help your heart be okay again. Cause sweet pea, your poor heart is hurting, I can see it clear as day. When you look at him, or he gives you those eyes, the ones where you feel seen and heard, maybe telling him and talking about it will help.” Looking around you nodded

“Yeah. I just gotta work my way up to it, I will. If therapy taught me anything it’s, to be able to talk about very deeply repressed emotions. Thanks Jesse. You are....stunning” standing she brushed a bit of your hair back

“And so are you. You should see how beautiful you are.” With that she walked towards the door the subtle scent of her perfume held in the air

“Why are you so nice? Why can’t I just hate you like they do in movies? Fuck”

It was late when you slipped into the living room, Dom had dragged you to his rented home when it became clear he would be here longer then normal to finish the albums he had written in the covid lockdowns, offering you a guest room and not taking no for an answer.

Sitting at the piano you tested the keys, you knew a few notes and finger placements so it was enough to play basics of songs you worked on. Pressing the keys down you found the melody quicker then expected playing slowly. The noise drowning the gentle socked foot steps of Dom, peeking in from the kitchen.

“I don't wanna seem the way I do But I'm confident when I'm with you Lately all I feel is bad and bruised Tired of tripping on my shoes” you played slowly not seeing Dom slowly slip closer to listen to the lyrics you sang softly.

“But when he loved me I felt like floating When he called me pretty I felt like somebody Even when I fade eventually to nothing You will always be my favorite form of loving

When I started to tumble from the sky You reminded me how to fly Lately, I've been feeling un-alive But you brought me back to life” you could feel the tightness in your throat, the tears in the corners of your eyes

“But when you loved me, I felt like floating

When he called me pretty, I felt like somebody

Even when I fade eventually, I'm nothing

He will always be my favorite form of loving

But if he loved me, I’d feel like floating

If he called me pretty, I’d feel like somebody

Even when i fade eventually, To nothing

Dom, will always be my favorite form of loving”

Finishing the last note you sighed holding the tears back,

“You love me?” Jumping you slammed your hand on the keys turning seeing Dom stood behind you, his eyes sad.

“Dom.....it’s nothing just forget this, it’s just song stuff ya know....song stuff” you could never lie to him, it was impossible.

“How long ‘Ave you been feeling this way?” You shrugged unsure of your own voice not to crack the dam open. Standing you moved past him quick his hand reaching out grabbing your wrist

“Hey....”

“It’s fine Dom, it’s nothing, stupid is what it is, it’s nothing a crush, everyone gets them, it’s fine” turning to him you smiled praying it hit your eyes, knowing though, it never did.

“I....I didn’t.....” smiling at him you shrugged again

“It’s not your fault, how would you know if I didn’t tell you. Just forget it okay. I’m fine. This is fine. I’m gonna go to bed. Night” with that you rushed out of the living room. Forgetting your notebook sat on the piano chair.

“He called me pretty.....my heart reached out for him. I had to pull it back. Again..”

flipping through the pages Dom read each small note you had down, next to scrambled lyrics or dumb things you needed to remember.

“He looks at her like she hung the moon, if only he knew, I’d paint the stars in the sky for him, they are beautiful. I’m...happy for him”

“Dom doesn’t make it subtle mornings after. My heart shattered again. But that’s okay. He’s happy. So I’m happy”

Dom wanted to cry, wanted to scream at himself.

“Tom asked again, if I always had the sad heart broken eyes when I looked at Dom and Jesse. I punched his arm, told him to stuff it unless he wanted to be my therapist. He’s right though. I guess my eyes give everything away”

“He told her he loved her. I wonder what that’s like? That feeling of floating? Does she feel it? I bet. She’s wonderful. I wish I could hate her....but i can’t”

Dom stopped shutting the note book, wiping his face, had he missed it all? Had he missed the look of pure heart ache in your eyes? How? He wasn’t that blind to other people. He made sure he wasn’t. But he had missed everything and hurt someone close to him. And to you it had to seem like he didn’t care at all. And that hurt him down to his core. Did he love you? As a friend, as family, yes. But he didn’t love you like this, the way he loved Jesse or had loved ash.....he couldn’t not hurt you in that reality. Though he wished he could.

It was days later when he finally was able to get you alone. You were sat in the studio, untangling wires to headphones and guitar amps. Busy work, he knew that by now. Work to keep you from running into him or anyone else it seemed

“Hey....” he saw you stiffen at his voice, he didn’t like that, it confirmed you were avoiding him.

“Oh hey Dom, what’s up?” Walking closer to you he sighed

“We gotta talk about what it you know that right?” Standing quick you looked at him

“Talk about what? Nothing to talk about. I gotta go make sure things are set up in-“ he stopped you grabbing you and hugging you to him, one hand moving to your hair keeping you pressed against him

“I wish I could make this not hurt, could make this not be painful for your heart. ‘Cause you and yer heart don’t deserve that, not after me ignoring the signs. I’m so sorry. That I didn’ see you were ‘urting so clearly. Feel like a right dickhead.” He felt you shaking slightly, the tears finally breaking through the wall you had built up.

“I wish I could say this is like the shit romance movies and I love ya, and we’re meant to be and the end of the movie is me and you gettin married but.....” he felt you pull away looking at him

“But you don’t feel that way towards me. I know. I would be a little diluted in thinking you would.” He didn’t like seeing the tears on your face or the sadness in your eyes

“I....I wish I could just snap ma fingers and it’s better and nothin hurts for either of us. But....I can’t and I fookin hate that I can’t” his thumb came up, wiping the tears that still dropped down your face

“I know. But one day it’ll be easier for me. For you. It’ll just take time. And hey who knows maybe my Dom will come along. Though. Don’t think anyone. Could ever hold my heart like you. Even if you didn’t know you did.” Pulling away from him fully he let you walk out of the studio, a small smile as you waved to him, leaving him stood alone.

“If he loved me.....I’d feel like I’m floating....Dom will always be....my favorite form of loving”

#yungblud #dominic harrison #yungblud x reader #dom harrison x reader #dominic harrison x reader #sad #angsty #stuff man

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cappsikle · 4 years

Text

It’ll be ok // fred weasley

Pairing: fred weasley x reader

Summary: the world just seems a little too heavy, but luckily, you have him by your side.

Warnings: it gets just a tad heavy mental health wise / not all of it is proofread so please forgive that

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Hey guys!! Sooo this is my first ever fic on tumblr! I would just like to dedicate this piece to @ickle-ronniekins as it was her and a bunch of talented writers that inspired me to get back to writing, and I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for them!

Also if you like this fic please reblog! It would mean a lot if you did!

This fic is just a huge projection from my own feelings, quarintine has got me in my feels, and I’m sure everyone could do with some Freddie comfort. Enjoy!! <3

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There you were, hunched over various textbooks and pieces of parchment that seemed to cover the whole table. Fred looked up at the clock on the wall above the fireplace and then back down to you. Something in his eyes changed as he walked over to the table, quickly bidding goodnight to George and Lee as they headed up to the dorms.

Fred sat in the chair next to yours and he couldn’t help to just take a minute to admire you. But from glancing at you now, Fred knew that something wasn’t right. From your usually very well-kept hair that now looked as though you ran your fingers through it at least a hundred times throughout the night to your joyless and sunken eyes, eyes that used to hold all the joy and spark Fred loved most about you, but are now just dull and almost... lifeless.

For a while now, Fred had noticed small changes in the way you’ve been acting recently, and it wasn’t even just him, all your other friends had taken notice as well, but no one knew what to do. It wasn’t until this very moment as he watched you tire yourself out with work that he realised just how much had changed, and he felt a pang of guilt for not talking to you about it sooner. So, in the softest voice he could muster, Fred tried to coax you from your work whilst placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Hey, love. ‘S getting a bit late, reckon we should head up to bed?”

Your head snapped up at Fred as he spoke, only now taking notice of his presence, but you then quickly looked back down to continue scribbling mercilessly on the parchment. You needed to get this essay done before tomorrow, otherwise, you’ll slowly but surely fall behind on everything else. You can’t let that happen,

“I’m sorry Fred, I really can’t. I have to finish this stupid essay for potions”

“For potions? Isn’t that due next week?” You looked back up at Fred, your eyes widening as you became more distressed.

“I-I know but if I get this done now then I can use my time to focus on other assignments. I’ve fallen behind and I need to catch up.” Fred slowly nodded his head in understanding. It seemed like a good enough excuse, hell, he’s been in this exact position before, pulling his fair share of all-nighters for assignments due the next day, but when Fred looked deep into your eyes, there was something there that he couldn’t quite place. Desperation? He wasn’t sure.

“Look, love, you’re wearing yourself thin. You need a break”

You don’t know why, but suddenly you’re very irritated. It’s possibly due to how much sleep you’re getting, well, more like lack of sleep. You don’t know why, but suddenly you’re snapping at him “Fred, I don’t need a break so can you just please leave me alone?”

You don’t want to look at him, for the fear of seeing a look of hurt or the resentment that’s bound to be there you’re not sure you can take that sort of thing, so you lower your head and quickly wriggle your arm free from under his hand.

Fred tried not to feel offended, he really tried, but you removing your arm from his touch just nicked him in his chest. He knew you didn’t have a problem with him, he knew this was something that seemed too out of his control, but he just wished he knew what to do to make you feel better. Maybe giving you some space should help.

“Okay... I’ll head to bed then. Try not to stay up too late, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight” Fred placed a quick and gentle kiss to the crown of your head as he stood up and walked towards the stairs. Before ascending, he looked back towards you still slumped in your chair, and an unsettling feeling crawled its way into his stomach. With one final look, he walked up the stairs towards his room.

Once Fred left, you chucked down your quill in frustration and rapidly ran your hands through your hair, pulling at the roots in distress. You hated this. You hated how you get annoyed at things that shouldn’t annoy you, you hated how it was impossible to get a good night’s rest, you hated how your mind just wouldn’t. Shut. Up. And what’s worst of all, you loathed how you keep pushing the one person who seems to give a crap about you. It’s not like there’s a lot of people who do.

A sharp pain nestled in your chest, but you tried to ignore it, you always did. You weren’t even sure what it meant. Anxiety? Guilt? It was probably a mixture of both. You didn’t know how, or when, you allowed it to get so bad. With Umbridge slowly taking over the school alongside her vile punishments (you’ve had your fair share of them), the upcoming N.E.W.Ts that you needed to ace and the stress of keeping up with the DA meetings. But that doesn’t even seem like the half of it. Every little inconvenience had the power to ruin the rest of your day.

You couldn’t deal with it anymore, with any of it. You just wished there was a way to make the world slow down to grab your bearings, to just actually breathe. You released a big sigh and grabbed your quill again, but the tip doesn’t even touch the paper. It’s stuck, just like you. Eventually, you fold your arms on the table and rest your head on them. You know you must finish but maybe... just five minutes won’t hurt. Just five minutes.

---

Fred lay awake on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for merlin knows how long. That weird feeling in his stomach didn’t go away, something just felt extremely off. Fred checked the watch located on the table beside his bed. It was pretty late; he’d been awake for at least a couple hours. Knowing that he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep anytime soon, Fred threw the covers from his body and gently got out of bed, careful to not wake any of his sleeping roommates.

By the time he made it down to the bottom of the stairs, he was already wishing to be back in bed, however, what he saw made him stop in his tracks. You were still there, this time unmoving with your head resting on your arms and your deep and even breathing. Why were you still here and not in bed? As carefully as he could, Fred walked over to your sleeping self and gently laid a hand on your shoulder squeezing just enough to rouse you.

After a few more gentle squeezes you started to stir awake. Fred almost felt bad for waking you, but he knew that you would have a much better time sleeping in an actual bed than a desk. You lifted your head and Fred couldn’t help to admire the sheer adorableness of your sleepy form. Your hair was dishevelled and sticking up in a few places, your cheek was red from where it was resting and the tiny noises that came from you whilst you stretched. However, as much as he’d love to stare, he knew he had to take care of you, or at least get you to bed.

Once you had done stretching, you looked around the table until your eyes landed on an arm, which trailed all the way to Fred’s face. You were taken aback at suddenly seeing his face next to yours, but you quickly calmed down upon looking into his soft eyes, the glow of the fire making his brown orbs look more alive and opening.

“Hey,” Fred said, a small smirk appearing at the corner of his lips.

“Hi,” you smile back. For a moment, when you looked into his eyes, you felt warm, like you were safe, you always did. You loved Fred, you loved him so much but often at times you caught yourself doubting whether or not you deserved to be with him, and each and every time Fred did his absolute best to prove your thoughts wrong. Looking into his eyes, you just get that feeling... the feeling of coming home to a warm bed after a cold day. Sometimes, you feel as if your heart might explode from the amount of love you have for him, you couldn’t even out into words. But that warm and safe feeling was quickly diminished and replaced with dread once you looked down to the mess that was sitting on the table. Darn this stupid assignment.

“Crap, I can’t believe I fell asleep!” you groan as you shuffled through some of the parchment, trying to find the one you needed.

“Hey, hey, hey, slow down there” Fred placed his hand on top of yours, trying to stop your erratic movements. “Don’t you think it’s time to take a bit of a break? It’s nearly two a.m.”

“Fred, I can’t just ‘take a break’, I’ve got too much to do,”

“And it’ll all still be here after you’ve had some sleep,”

You released a groan in frustration and turned to face him, your irritation getting the better of you. “Don’t you get it? That’s the problem!” your voice started to rise with each word, the stress and lack of sleep catching up to you. “If I stop now then I’ll fall behind and I just can’t let that happen, ok? So just back off.”

“Hey,” Fred grabbed your cheeks in both his hands and guided your face, so you were looking at him. Seeing your widened eyes and reddened cheeks concerned him, as this was just so unlike you. What happened to this happy-go-lucky and incredibly bubbly person go? The person who had the purest soul than anyone he knew? You just looked... tired. He knew he had to tread carefully here if we wanted to crack all your walls to understand what the hell is going on.

You moved your hands up to try and remove his from his face, but his grip tightened ever so slightly to make your attempts futile. “Look, I’m worried about you. All this,” he tilted his head to the side to gesture to everything on the table. “it isn’t like you. Please don’t hide away, because you know I’m here for you.”

You both stayed silent for a minute, his hands holding your cheeks and yours resting on his forearms. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you just crumbled. Your face scrunched up and your breathing became erratic as you looked down to hide your face from Fred’s gaze. You leaned forward so your head was resting against his chest, letting out a few silent sobs as you just... broke. At the sight of your crying figure, Fred immediately jumped into action. He removed his hands from your face and wrapped his arms around your waist, carrying you over so you sat in his lap. One of his hands trailed up to stroke your head as his other maneuvered your legs so they wrapped around his torso, your head pushing further into his shoulder.

You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to get as close to him as possible. You just needed the warmth that constantly surrounded him. After a few minutes of tears and whisperings of sweet nothings into your ear along with Fred’s comforting touch, your breathing started to return to normal, and your sobs turned into the occasional hiccup. You weren’t really expecting to have a total breakdown, you honestly thought that you had things under control, but when you looked and Fred and he looked at you, you knew you couldn’t keep everything bottled up anymore.

Fred was the first to break the silence, “d’you wanna move to the couch? It'll be comfier”. The only response he got was a small nod of your head, you not really being able to trust your voice enough to speak. So, Fred stood up with you still wrapped in his arms as he carried you over to the couch in front of the fire, grabbing the spare blanket and wrapping it around you and himself. It was like a nice little cocoon of comfort and warmth.

And for a while, you two stayed like that, basking in the silence and the warmth the fire provided. You knew you needed to say something, you just didn’t know what exactly you could say. Fred was in the same boat. Should he make a joke to try and make you feel better? That always did the trick. But... something about tonight just told him to leave it on the backburner for now. He slid his arm underneath the blanket and stroked up and down the expanse of your back, hoping to relax your tense muscles. Occasionally Fred would turn his head to place delicate kisses on your forehead, cheeks, nose... basically anywhere his lips could find.

God... what did you do to desrve someone like him? Someone so boisterous and loud, but also understanding and gentle when he needed to be. As the minutes ticked by, and Fred’s hands continuously moving across your body, you finally found the courage to speak up.

“Sometimes I just feel like...” you trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“like?”

“like nothing is going to be ok. Like no matter how hard I try, or pretend, I’m not going to be ok,” your voice caught in your throat as you buried your head into his shoulder, a weak attempt to shield yourself from the world threatening to beat you down. A silent tear trailed down the side of your face, but you hadn’t made any attempt to wipe it away.

Fred sighed through his nose, and he swore a piece of his heart cracked when your voice did. He knew you were struggling with something, but he was just never sure of what or how bad it was. He only wished he could just take all your pain away, even force it upon himself if it meant that you’d get the chance to be happy.

“Oh love, I had no idea. I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay...” you half-shrug your shoulder, removing one of your arms from around his neck to quickly wipe the corner of your eye “no one really knew, so it’s fine”

There was a moment of silence as the both of you tried to catch up with your thoughts, until Fred finally spoke up, a strain in his voice, “no, it’s not fine. I hate that you’re feeling like this. Please, is there anything I can do to help you?”

You shrug your shoulder again. To be completely honest, you weren’t even sure if there was anything he could do. You've barely even figured out what you can do for yourself. However, there was one thing you knew you needed, the one thing that could help you through anything. “Just be here, and hold me?”

Fred placed his lips to your forehead, leaving them there for a bit as he gave a gentle kiss. He breathed deeply through his nose and spoke the words against your forehead. “for you, my love, anything.”

With those final words and his fingers slowly tracing up and down your arm, you felt for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, things might turn out ok.

-----

whew and there we go!!! My first fic completed!! I honestly have no self control when it comes to word limits, my teachers hate me for that... oopsies! anyways I hope you all enjoyed that, if you guys liked my work feel free to send in any requests!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

- Mills

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #sad vibes #soft boi #harry potter imagine #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #reader insert

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