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panchambro · 2 years ago

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(cont.)

The other stuff that happened in July was a vacation trip to possibly a remote place…that I can't really talk about. But with this vacation, I took the time to watch The Bad Guys, which to me is a great DreamWorks film rivaling The Prince of Egypt and Kung Fu Panda as my favorites (I haven't seen Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by the time I wrote this however, so you'll just have to assume that I think The Bad Guys is DreamWorks' best film to date). I also watched Everything Everywhere All at Once, and man. What a film! I think its blending of the multiverse idea with family emotions is perfect, and it's enjoyable watching Michelle Yeoh's character take abilities from different universes in order to battle a multiverse threat. I can't indulge details on that either. Please watch Everything Everywhere All at Once if that interests you! For me though, I think this movie does the multiverse better than the MCU's Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness, because spoiler alert, they really don't go to many universes.

Which brings up to August and the rest of the year. August to October were really months that my Persona interests were heavy, especially because Persona 5 Royal would finally come to the Nintendo Switch, in a rather perfect state.

But out of all the Persona games, Persona 5 Strikers was one particular game in this era that was a doozy to witness. What stood out is definitely Sophia, and her fun quirk that she displays during her time with the Phantom Thieves. Zenkichi is also someone of note too, because his English voice actor…also voiced Bunger from Bugsnax. I yearn the day for when I get enough modding experience that I create a mod to replace Zenkichi with Bunger. Overall, I appreciate the semi-"camping trip" semi-"work for the police" story going on with Persona 5 Strikers, but if there was one thing to consider, it's that while the Dynasty Warrior format works for Persona 5 Strikers, the whole concept of towers to disable the power of Jails…not really appealing.

Coming to September however, I had quite a health scare that I won't disclose for personal reasons. And tragically, the month also marked the death of a beloved icon…

Thurston Waffles.

His meme status was definitely deserved, and even if he's gone, he'll never truly disappear forever. I will always remember him as the cat that yelled. I will however, point out that Sans Undertale vs. Arataka Reigen created such a mess, that people believed it caused the death of Queen Elizabeth II. I have no thoughts on the Queen or her untimely death, I just truly do not have any faith for the British monarchy due to their sketchy past. But it was fun to somewhat look back on how the internet, in all of its glory, reacted to the Queen's death.

It was also during this time that I became sold to Jet Lag: The Game, a game involving the use of transportation. While the Connect Four episodes were okay, and the Circumnavigation episodes were alright, it was the Tag Across Europe episodes that make me love this series. The usage of public transportation to get to a certain point, coupled with the tense atmosphere between the runner and the chasers reeks of excitement. I was so devastated when Adam was first caught by a chaser, particularly with how he was trying to get away from them. Regardless, I was cheering Ben and Adam over Sam during this season, due to the latter's intensive knowledge of transportation. The fourth season, Battle For America, is still ongoing at the timing of this video, and I can't wait for episodes of it to come out. It's a good recommendation to watch if you're interested!

Now October was slightly muted, as I contracted COVID-19 for a while, even into my birthday. But I recovered, thanks to the power of vaccines. Now for what actually happened in October…The Super Mario Bros. Movie. I really don't know how to feel about this. On one hand, Jack Black is good at voicing Bowser, and the animation itself…not too bad. On the other hand, Chris Pratt as Mario…worries me. It's not that it's not Charles Martinet, but I just think his take on Mario doesn't sound good. Comparing him to other characters like Toad or Peach, and he really stands out in a very bad way. From what I can tell, he tries to put on an Brooklyn accent, but to me his accent isn't well pronounced and if that's the voice I hear from The Super Mario Bros. Movie, things will go haywire.

It was also around this time that Zelda Wiki actually went independent from Fandom, especially after Fandom acquired more sites like GameFAQs and Metacritic. Zelda Wiki's independence created plenty of publicity for us, and it has helped inspired many wikis to go independent as a result. I for one will miss the awkward days when Zelda Wiki was still part of Fandom or Gamepedia, but I'm fully in support of their independence and would want more wikis to go independent, especially when many Fandom wikis are prone to steal more from an independent wiki rather than writing something on its own. But hey, tell that to the hundred of YouTubers using them instead of Nookipedia.

Later in November, I indulged into my Minecraft interests again, especially when it was announced that Akfamilycord's official Minecraft server was ending. It was sad to see the server go, and I had a limited amount of time to prep up my own place before the server officially ended later that month. On the other hand, this renewed interest came at the perfect time, with Luke TheNotable's 3000 Days in Hardcore Minecraft coming after Thanksgiving. I for one was thankful that Luke TheNotable flexes harder in his hardcore story. Even compared to Legundo, who lost his second world to zombies!

So, to wrap things up, The Game Awards 2022…I don't know how I feel about it. The emphasis on announcements over awards wasn't entirely sweet. There were good games announced around this time, but nothing spoke to me or gave me interest on the level as The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe announcement or Joker's reveal for Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, and rushing through the awards became tiring to say the least. But near the end, musician Pedro Eustache for The Game Awards Orchestra went hard with his flute during the performance. And then after Elden Ring won Game of the Year, we had to have yet another stage incident in the form of a teen praising his "reformed orthodox rabbi Bill Clinton". What a ceremony. While I didn't get a Steam Deck while watching The Game Awards, at least in my opinion I don't have to deal with a soulless ceremony like the Oscars.

And…that's about 2022 in a nutshell. Lots of starts, but some ends. If there was a way to describe this year compared to others, it's the sign of change in full swing. Some changes good, others not as great. It seems like with this hellhole we live in, fascist governments and terrible people are rising in power that there are virtually no way that we can, as a society, stop these freaks. But if we knew how to change ourselves, we can actually change our society for the better. Hell, this year Jair Bolsonaro got fucked thanks to the people of Brazil. Though there were downs, this year has brought change for the better. And I for one have definitely felt that.

Whether it was me talking about Bruno, or farming Qi Fruits, or watching Michelle Yeoh go nuts with her role, or cheering Ben as he travels to Borkdom, the events of 2022 changed me, for better or worse. I'm not entirely excited for 2023 and what will happened from there, but I'm happy to have finishing writing this chapter of my tale. With that said, a new chapter shall begins.

Thank you to everyone who has followed my journey for the past couple of years.

Year in Review 2022

What a wild year...y'know.

With all the stuff that has happened within the past couple of years, I think it's important to highlight the important events that has happened to me in 2022.

Happy New Years!

(My full thoughts on 2022 below)

In my 2021 summary, I mentioned how 2021 was "the end of many eras". Well, if 2021 marked the end of many eras, 2022 was the beginning for many eras, albeit some eras came to a close.

I may also add that 2022 also marked a chaotic fluctuation with my interests. With nothing new for Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, and nothing new from Animal Crossing: New Horizons, and with so many endings last year, the year began without Super Smash Bros. Ultimate or Animal Crossing: New Horizons on my mind.

But January wasn't as uninteresting as it was on the animation side of things. Around this time, Encanto was making the waves across the animation community, and I so happened to have stumbled right into this film right before 2022 even began. I'd argue that it is a good musical at heart, and Lin-Manuel Miranda has done a fantastic job with the score and songs. There are some pacing issues, but overall the movie has class, and I would want to talk more about it…but we don't talk about Encanto (ha ha…Bruno joke).

At the same time however, The Mitchells vs. The Machine also popped into my mind. It was the last movie I saw before the New Year, and I was very excited to watch this on my brand new laptop, while waiting for the midnight clock to occur. I really wished that I saw this way back in April 2021, but nevertheless, the animation of Mitchells is superb. Taking cues from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, the artstyle reeks of a 2D animated film, but set in a 3D environment. And I enjoy 3D animation as it, but there is a magic with 2D animation that I feel has been lost lately. And the emotional impact, don't get me started. This really is the best Sony Pictures Animation film, and I'd be damned if it isn't.

Both Encanto and The Mitchells vs. The Machine dominated film award seasons during this time of year, but while Mitchells managed to snag the Best Animated Feature from the Critics' Choice Awards and the Annie Awards, Encanto, with Disney's bribery and illogical voters, snagged major awards such as the Golden Globes, the British Academy Film Awards, and most importantly the Oscars. But we'll get to the Oscars in a bit.

Also around this time, I fully embraced the short form video content from services like YouTube Shorts and eventually TikTok. It introduced me to content creators like MrGreen (or NileGreen), who makes spoofs of NileRed's YouTube content, and GeoFacts with his country battle royale. Other YouTubers such as Mrwhosetheboss and Marques Brownlee also came up to my mind during this time, as my interest with smartphones generally rose again following my acquisition of my Z Flip 3 last Christmas. It all culminated with me watching the reveal of the Samsung Galaxy S22 Ultra on February 9, 2022, serving as a sequel to the Galaxy Note series.

But even though Animal Crossing: New Horizons wasn't a priority for me after 2021, I turned to the other Animal Crossing games for Nookipedia. In this time, my activity skyrocketed to the point where Nookipedia had reached 1 million edits, thanks to Cephalobot. My main priority however was Animal Crossing: New Leaf and its new spreadsheet data that I had contributed towards in a way. For much of 2022, it was my duty to create item pages for the game. But that didn't happen until the last month of the year. Oops. At least I kept my interest in check and visited TreeckoBro at every opportunity provided for me.

And…it was Olympics season again. In Beijing…in a semi-capitalism and authoritarianism country. The only time it was interesting was the moment that Super Bowl LVI had to broadcast in the middle of the Winter Olympics…and that time when Kamila Valieva was forced into doping by her coach, and subsequently humiliated by the public. Great…

Now unfortunately, I need to address an important event that occurred around this time. On February 24, 2022, Vladimir Putin began an invasion of Ukraine, just days after the Winter Olympics had concluded. This invasion, while proving to be devastating for many Ukrainians in the process, has fortunately not been entirely successfully. Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the comedian turned president, has become a war hero for Ukraine, simply with his country's endurance of the invasion. At one point, Putin was really close to invading Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine and where Zelenskyy was located, but thanks to Zelenskyy's leadership and his bold ass statement of asking for "ammunition, not a ride", it wasn't as successful as Putin thought, and Ukraine managed to push Putin back.

The invasion is still ongoing, and I have no idea where the country or the world itself will go following these events. But I think it's very important, as someone who has talked to some Russians, that it's not the fault of the Russian people that the invasion is happening. Putin, and most importantly Boris Yeltsin, are the sole reasons why Russia is in a dismal state as it is, and while there are some Russians who are eager to support Putin and his cronies, there are Russians that hate Putin and his supporters. Therefore, we should support the Russian people against Putin, and against this war. Because if the invasion escalates further, it's not going to end well for all. Support Ukraine and support Russians to fight back against Putin! Слава Україні!

Alright, serious real-world topic over. With that out of the way, Turning Red.

This movie…just had to become one of the most talked about things in March. From the promotional material, to the actually good art style of this movie and the good emotional impact, to fucking association with a very particular event in human history. I think it's safe to say that this movie is batshit crazy. And I like it for some reason, maybe it's because of how relatable it is, especially as I'm a child of migrants from the Philippines.

And yeah, this movie might be bait again with how Encanto was last year, but who could blame them? Especially when the voters for these awards are run by people who don't have any taste in animation and think it's a "kids thing". I'm sorry, animation is not just for "the kids". If you think The End of Evangelion is a kids movie, you are entirely wrong. That's why I think the Annie Awards get this stuff right, because they are run by people who have knowledge of animation to better pick the ones that are actually really good. It's why Mitchells won Best Animated Feature in that award show. If the award show demonstrates a lack of genuine positivity with animation, it shows how much it fails in my opinions.

And that's how I feel about the Oscars. Now before I address one particular event, yes, Encanto won Best Animated Features. And yes, the presenters balked that animation is "for kids". By giving the feature to Encanto just for being a "Disney family kids movie" and not Mitchells and describing the animation industry as one targeted for kids, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is a fucking joke. Because as I mentioned, animation is for everyone, you don't need to make it something that kids will like. Yeah Encanto was good, but what will it take to actually nominate an animated film with mature themes? I know one person who was upset that Belle, a film by Mamoru Hosoda, was never nominated at all, while Flee, a movie that I have yet to watch, is a Danish film that was nominated for Best Animated Feature. How the fuck did Belle NOT get nominated when other foreign films are eligible for nomination? Heck, Mirai was nominated in 2018! It's evident that the nomination of three Disney films (Encanto, Raya and the Last Dragon, Luca) prevented any nomination by, say, any good non-Disney animated film.

I could go on with how the Oscars treat the animation industry as a joke, but to add insult to injury, we have Will Smith slapping Chris Rock and shouting explicit language on live TV…in the Oscars. Honestly, I don't care much about the actions of Will Smith or Chris Rock for that matter like others have been doing for months now, but this event destroys ANY credibility that the Oscars had before then. If the animation is for kids quote from the presenters was enough to label the Oscars as a joke, the Will Smith slap destroyed any last hopes. And I think I'll still peek my interest every now and then to see what gets nominated and who wins, especially with Everything Everywhere All at Once (but I'll talk about that later), but I don't care! The Oscars are bad! Fuck the Oscars, y'know! Fuck the Oscars! Fuck it! I'm telling you. It's like…this is bullshit!

But with the awards bullshit leaving me in a bad taste, I turned to YouTubers like Mark Rober and JimmyHere. Mark Rober was interesting, from glitter bombs on package thieves to pranks set against Indian scam call centers, his content was fascinating to watch. I would definitely like him more…if only he wasn't in colludes with Autism Speaks. JimmyHere on the other hand, responsible for the "It's Wednesday, My Dudes" meme grew more in prominence with his "You Laugh You Lose" series. For a while I was trying to get JimmyHere to laugh during one of his "You Laugh You Lose" series, but so far I haven't been successful. Maybe if I find something that is really funny, I hope he'll finally chuckle a bit. The peak of my interest with Jimmy was when JimmyHere released a song called "Maid Outfit", a song that I was highly into during this period.

Other stuff that happened in March was my first time experiences with Baba Is You, which I obtained from purchasing the Bundle for Ukraine on itch.io. As a cool puzzle solving game, it was enjoyable, and it's no wonder why I chose to feature it at the start of the video. April 1st was also the time Nookipedia unveiled Cephalopedia, and you know the bot is still wanting to take over the site sometime soon.

Playing Baba Is You was foreshadowing my gaming interests around April to August. I started April off with old games released on Steam like Portal, Portal 2, The Henry Stickmin Collection, and The Stanley Parable, in order to build up anticipation for the upcoming Ultra Deluxe version of The Stanley Parable released on April 27. I appreciate the meta-commentary with how Ultra Deluxe's existence was to poke fun on publishers who make sequels of games with no rhyme or reason. But I wish besides the funny bucket, that it was easier to experience these events again without resorting to deleting my user data of the game.

While April had a couple of highs, it was also unfortunately the same month that Gilbert Gottfried passed away, a tragedy for many, especially because of his role as Iago in Aladdin and Digit in Cyberchase, including a cameo in one episode of the Angry Video Game Nerd. His voice will fortunately never be forgotten for years to come.

It was during this time too that I became an collector for Nintendo Switch Online icons. I was so desperate to have at least every weekly icon before they disappeared that I wasn't aware that Nintendo could bring those icons back anyways. I did unfortunately lost my streak into collecting as many Nintendo Switch Online icons, but from the numerous icons costing 10 Platinum Points to the Expansion Pass-exclusives, it became harder for me to continue this pursuit. Regardless, my desperation to collect Platinum Points for icons led me to do various tasks, including playing game trial with my Nintendo Switch Online subscription.

One of these games was Stardew Valley, which was added to the game trials list in June, and hoo boy I was so hooked I brought the game officially on Switch and on Steam. Although my time with the game started off slow, it started off quickly with how I was trying to collect and catch every single material in the game. I ultimately didn't go the Joja route, and took my time to finish all the Bundles (I wasn't a hungry capitalist after all). And while the game has some tedious moments, such as traversal, this was a good game. There are plenty of fun moments too, such as using the Lucky Purple Shorts to prank Mayor Lewis, or the Darts minigame in the late-game. I also turned to Stardew Valley YouTubers like Waligug, whose video on random monster spawns per five seconds definitely had me laughing at certain points. Overall my experience in the Stardew Valley community was enjoyable.

Sadly, June was not a perfect month. That month saw Billy Kametz and Technoblade tragically lose their fight to cancer. I'm under the belief that Technoblade never truly dies and his legacy as a Minecraft YouTuber will live on. I express my condolences to his family for his loss, especially for someone at a young age to deal with this disease.

Billy Kametz's death however hurt me more. As the person behind the dub voice of Josuke Higashikata, Ferdinand von Aegir, and Takuto Maruki, the loss of a voice actor means that their voices may never truly be replacable, even if they technically are. His performance as Takuto Maruki from Persona 5 Royal is what brought me to tears. His calm demeaner fits the role of a counselor turned maniac for the world, and the quotes that he leaves behind are but an unfortunate implication. Even if his seiyu is still around for future appearances in the Persona series, it will be tough to find a dub voice actor for Takuto Maruki that can match the excellence of Kametz. It's very fitting too that around this month, Persona 5 Royal, Persona 4 Golden, and Persona 3 Portable were announced to be releasing on PC, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox Series X|S, and Nintendo Switch. A hope that his voice will still be remembered. Even though both him and Technoblade are long since gone, their impact will be remembered for years. Thank you Technoblade. Thank you Kametz.

The last major video game that I played this year was Bugsnax, which came out on other platforms in April roughly around the same time as The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe. I didn't play it until July, after I acquired the game during the Steam Summer Sale. And my golly is this game a joy and also a shock to play. I really enjoy capturing the snack-like bugs that infest Snaktooth Island with all the tools that I was given, and I was particularly surprised during certain points in my gameplay, including the DLC content of which I wasn't aware had been added in this version of the game! The LGBT representation in this game is also top nothc, with Snorpy and Chandlo, who are best bros in love, and Lizbert and Eggabell, also in love. I won't indulge any more details however, so if you want to learn more, buy Bugsnax! Also Bunger.

#panchambro #year in review #recap #new years

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lilmissuncreative · 2 years ago

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Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better.

Tagged By: @astarkey & @alwaysupatnight

Name: 🤐 🤐 🤐 🤐 🤐 🤐 🤐 🤐

Star Sign: Sagittarius

Height: 5'7″

Time: 7:56 AM (I would be working but the power is out and my laptop won’t function on battery power alone anymore)

Birthday: 6 December

Favorite Bands/Favorite Solo Artists: The Killers, Adele, Billie Eilish, FOB, Aaliyah, Lorde, Rihanna, Paramore, Halsey, Frank Ocean, Goldfish, Linkin Park (I feel like a liar listing favourite artists because I generally only like specific songs. So, no one quiz me. I will fail.)

Last Movie: Labyrinth

Last Show: Golden Girls

When did I create this blog: haha. I have NO idea how to check this. It’s been a few years.

What I post: Reblogging based on vibes and mood. Who even knows (not me!)

Last thing I googled: how to spell “Labyrinth”. I cannot spell.

Other Blogs: I’m sure I have another tumblr somewhere.

Do I Get Asks?: Nope. Apparently, I turned it off?!?!?!

Why I chose my url: Don’t really remember - tried a bunch of things and this was the first one that was unique.

Following: 136

Followers: 37

Average hours of sleep: I aim to sleep 8 hours, but it’s normally between 6 &7.

Instruments: lol, I can technically play the recorder at a very basic level, but it’s been years and I’m not sure I remember. My gran tried to teach me piano once upon a time.

What am I wearing: track pants and zip up hoodie (& a blanket because it’s cold)

Dream job(s): “I have no dream job. I do not dream of labour.” But seriously - every job works you too hard and doesn’t pay you enough. In THIS ECONOMY?! OUTRAGEOUS.

Favourite Food: pizza, nachos, mom’s chicken curry, my gran’s crayfish curry, ANYTHING WITH MUSHROOMS, waffles, brownies, chili poppers, sushi, dim sum, cheesecake, chocolate eclairs, POPCORN!

Nationality: South African

Favorite Song(s): errr... I’ll randomly listen to these on repeat the most

Mr Brightside, Jenny Was a Friend, Somebody Told Me, Human - The Killers

Hum Hallelujah, Golden, Thnks Fr Th Mmrs, Sugar We’re Going Down - FOB

Love on the Brain - Rihanna

Melodrama - Lorde

All I Wanted - Paramore

On A Night Like This - Kylie

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish

Fire For You - Cannon

Wicked Games - The Weeknd

Maybe Tomorrow - Stereophonics

Better With You - Michl

The Night is Still Young - Nicki Minaj

Try Again, We Need A Resolution - Aaliyah

Currently playing on repeat: Currently have my whole playlist on shuffle and trying to decide what I don’t want anymore.

Last book I read: Finally finished Future Shock by Toffler. My brain is still processing.

Top 3 fictional universes I'd like to live in: Middle Earth (I WOULD BE AN AMAZING HOBBIT!), Hogwarts (Hufflepuff benches!) and can I pick Star Wars without the wars? I just wanna space travel.

No idea who to tag. Please just play.

#tag games

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achillestiel · 4 years ago

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the parent trap only works if you’re identical | part five (if this get’s any longer I’m putting it on ao3)

Tag List: @littlerachelbee @imthedoctorlove @deancas-handprint @castiel-loves-dean @wanderermatthews @thelahatiel @priscillahc @mridzyp @multi-fandom-dark-lord @thefantasyfiend @harmonyhelms @imlivingliferightnow @kara-merlin @still-clowning-in-this-house @never-forever-more @continuezmesfilserrants @2musiclover2 @castiels-bitch @stjimmie @cmths5

“Well thank you for dinner but we should probably be heading out.” Dean said towards the end of one of, if not the most, awkward dinner of his life.

“Dad what about dessert?”

“Claire, we need to get going. It’s a long drive back to Kansas.” Dean said, sighing internally because he knew getting Claire out the damn house was going to be hard.

“Dean, don't be ridiculous. You’ve been driving for most of the day.” Cas said. “We have the spare bedroom-”

“That’s my room!” Gabriel interrupted.

“It’s not your room Gabriel. It’s the guest room. You have your own house with your own bedroom.” Cas said, giving Gabriel the bitchiest look Dean had ever seen. That was saying a lot seeing as he’d grown up with Sam. “Dean, why don’t you and Claire stay here for the night? Claire can sleep in Jack’s room and you can sleep in the guest room.” Cas suggested. Claire and Jack grinned at each other and Dean just knew they'd stay up half the night whispering to each other. Or plotting. Most likely plotting.

No. Nope, Absolutely not going to happen in a million goddamn years.

“Cas, we can just grab a motel if I get tired.”

“Dad, I’m not staying in a motel if we can stay here.” Claire said stubbornly. “Plus Jack and I were already planning on making waffles in the morning!” Oh, Jesus Christ. These kids were going to be the death of Dean. And damn if both Claire and Jack weren’t giving him the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. Fine. But we’re heading out in the morning Claire, I mean it.”

“After waffles.” Claire and Jack said in unison. When the hell did those two learn how to do that?

“Excellent, now that’s all sorted I’m going to head home as Winchester’s stolen my room. All the wine is gone anyways.” Gabriel asked, slapping his hand on his thighs as he got out of his seat

“See you in the morning Uncle Gabriel.” Claire said with a grin as Gabriel patted her on the head, ruffled Jack’s hair and gave both Dean and Cas pointed looks.

“Good night Gabriel.” Cas said, giving his brother a stern look Dean didn’t understand.

“Same to you bro. Good to see you Winchester, try not to keep this madam a stranger.” Gabriel said, nodding towards Claire.

“I’ll try.” Dean said, mainly to placate Gabriel. Gabriel gave them all a salute before heading out. “Nice to see Gabriel hasn’t changed at all.” Dean said once Gabriel had left.

“No, he’s still the same annoying ass he’s always been.” Cas said.

“I like him! He’s invited us to Thanksgiving this year.” Claire said. Yeah that’s not happening. Dean thought.

“I’m going to teach Claire my secret yam recipe.” Jack said cheerfully.

“Ah yes, Jack Novak’s secret yam recipe. Involving two whole bags of miniature marshmallows and a ruined casserole dish.” Cas said, shaking his head but giving Jack a fond look.

“Sounds about as successful as when Claire tried to make apple pie on for Father’s Day.”

“What did you set on fire that time?” Jack asked Claire. Claire could stick her tongue out all she wanted but there were still scorch marks in their kitchen.

“Yes well, Jack why don’t you and Claire clear up while Dean and I have a quick chat. After that, you can show Claire where she’s sleeping for the night. You two can watch a movie in your room.”

“Cool, how’d you feel about The Avengers?”

“Black Widow is a badass.” Claire said. “Rock, paper, scissors for who washes and who dries?” she then asked.

“Oh Jesus.” Dean muttered as Cas motioned for him to follow him. Instead of going into the warm looking living room, Cas took Dean upstairs and into a spacious guest room. The walls were painted a deep, honey colour that matched the wooden furniture perfectly. Unlike Dean’s guest room, which was really a junk room, it was immaculately clean. Dean was about to make a quip about the cleanliness of the room before he stopped. In the corner of the room was the very turntable he had brought Cas for the first Christmas they had been together. Without saying a word, Dean walked over and glanced at the records neatly stored in their storage box. Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac and even the rare Otis Reading record that Dean had found at a vinyl fair. Cas had kept all of them. For a fleeting moment, Dean wondered if the note he’d hidden in the Bob Dylan record was still there. A hastily scribbled note saying I wasn't born to lose you. Oh, the irony.

Cas watched with cautious eyes as Dean ran a hand over the box of records. Each one Dean had carefully picked out for Cas in another life. He had battled over getting rid of them for years. Gabriel had always said it was strange to keep hold of them but Cas could have never parted with them. When Jack was a toddler Cas had played all of them for him, smiling to himself at how Knocking On Heaven’s Door would always send Jack to sleep.

“I think we need to have a talk.” Cas said, trying to ease the tension that had enveloped the room.

“Um yeah.” Dean said with a cough as he straightened up, looking away from the records. “Cause apparently I’m cancelling my Thanksgiving plans with Sam to spend the day with my ex-brother-in-law, eating my body weight in mini marshmallows.” Dean said. “Cas...what are we going to do about this?”

“And by this you mean…”

“The kids. There’s no way Claire’s going to just go back to how it was before. Plus, Jack is an awesome kid. There’s no way I want to go back to how it was before. I mean, maybe Jack could stay with me during the summer?”

“And what? I get Claire during Easter? Christmas?” Cas asked, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “We came up with this arrangement so the kids could live a normal life. What’s going to happen next, I have them for one year and you have them for the other? That won’t work.”

“No shit Cas but...did you see those two at dinner? They’ve only known each other for a few weeks but it’s clear they adore each other. Claire’s gonna be an even bigger pain in my ass after this. I don’t want to break my...our daughter’s heart when we separate them again and I’m sure you dont want that for Jack.”

“Of course I don’t! What do you honestly suggest then because not only did we come to this agreement to have the kids lead normal lives but it was also so we didn’t have to see each other.” Cas said because even though neither of them would say it, they both knew that seeing each other again would end in a huge fight and a lot of sex.

"Then why did you ask me to stay?" Dean asked. Good question Dean, very good question.

"Because it's late and you can't drive throughout the night when you've been driving all day." Cas said. Liar a small voice inside Cas said. As much as he annoys you, you still love him.

"Oh." Dean said in a small voice.

"Why? What do you expect me to say?"

"Nothing...forget it." Dean said. “You know, now that we’re here and I’ll probably never be here again. About that day you packed, why'd you do it? Why did you just hop on a train and leave?”

“Dean.” Cas groaned. “We were so young. We both had tempers, we said stupid things so I packed. Got on the train and you didn't come after me.”

“I wanted to but I didn’t think you’d want me to follow.” Dean said in a small voice. “Dammit Cas, you just had to send Jack to the exact same camp as Claire didn’t you? ”

“We haven’t spoken in twelve years, how on earth was I supposed to know where you were sending Claire for the summer? It might shock you to hear this but I can’t read your damn mind Dean. I didn’t send Jack there because a little voice in my head said ‘Oh Dean is sending Claire to this camp! Send Jack so he can meet the twin sister he never knew he had.’” Cas said. "You are so infuriating, you know that right?”

"I'm infuriating?” Dean asked, looking highly offended. “What about the time you recorded over my Star Trek episode with a documentary on the life of Tomas Jefferson?"

"You have the whole series on DVD! Why did you need to record it off the SyFy channel?"

"You know why! It was the Trouble With Tribbles episode and that was on the DVD that Sam scratched when I let him borrow it!" Dean shot back.

"Well, you set fire to the patio furniture! Don't even say you didn't because Eileen told me it was you and Sam the next morning." Cas said.

"You scratched the Impala!"

"That wasn't me, it was Gabriel. I lied and said it was me because he was already on his last warning from when he spilt red wine on the couch."

"Yeah well, you did break my Captain Kirk mug."

"No Dean, the asinine way you stacked kitchen items broke your Captain Kirk mug."

"Yeah well, you...you…" Dean said and something inside Cas just broke. This man, this irritating and stubborn man had been the love of his life, his husband and the man he wanted to spend this rest of his life with. Twelve years hadn’t changed a damn thing.

"Oh for god sake Dean, shut up." Cas said and even though he knew this was the worst plan in the world, even worse than his non-identical twins switching places, Cas pulled Dean in close, their lips crashing against one another. Oh god, it was like going home after a long trip. Cas knew this, knew it better than breathing. Cas still loved Dean more than anyone else in the history of the universe.

"Cas this is the dumbest-" Dean tried to say between kisses. Frantic kisses that set Cas’ skin ablaze.

"Just shut up and take off your pants." Cas said before his brain could come up with a million reasons why this was a stupid idea.

“What?”

“Dean, shut up and take off your pants.” Cas said before crashing their lips together again in a kiss that was more like a battle for dominance than anything else.

“I can’t take off my pants if you keep kissing me.” Dean said as he pulled away and Cas just groaned because this man drove him so insane but all Cas wanted to do was kiss every inch of his body. "This is the worst idea ever."

"Worse than when you let Jo pierce your lip?" Cas asked. He could still the slight scar on Dean’s bottom lip.

"That was not as bad as the time you wanted to make your own honey."

"One bee flew in the house Dean, one."

"Bees don't belong in a house Cas, they belong in a beehive."

"Are you really trying to start an argument when we're about to have sex?" Cas asked. Thankfully Dean shook his head. "Good, now take off your clothes and get on the bed."

With The Avengers to mask the sound, Claire and Jack sat in Jack’s room as they called their Uncle Sam. After a few rings, he accepted the video call. Grinning at the pair of them with a warm smile.

"Hey kids...man it's weird seeing you two together. How's it going?" Sam asked.

"Awesome. We made chilli and got them to sit in the same room." Claire said.

Well, that's something Eileen signed. So what's the plan?

Plan?

Yeah, the plan. You two are definitely up to something because Claire's involved.

Why do you always think I'm up to something? Claire asked.

Intuition

"Past experience." Sam intoned. "Where’re your dads now?”

“Guest room we think, we heard shouting in there about ten minutes ago.”Jack said. “Something about tribbles.”

“Is he still on about that?” Sam groaned. Just out of view on the screen, Eileen signed something to Sam. He groaned and signed back.

“Hey! Winchester family rule, no covert signing.” Claire said. Sam looked back at her with a classic Uncle Sam Bitchy Face. “What did you say?”

“Ugh.” Sam said. “Fine, your aunt said that if they’re fighting there’s good chance they’ll end up having sex.”

“Ew! Gross!” Jack and Claire said at the same time. “Those are our dads.” Claire said, wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah? And how do you think you two were made?”

“With a turkey baster and a very patient surrogate.” Claire shot back. “Wait...if they do...you know...do gross stuff, does that mean they’ll get back together?”

Going from past experience, no. They’ll just fight and make noises that, according to your uncle, only dogs can hear.

“That’s really gross Aunt Eileen.” Jack said. “As far as a plan goes, we don’t really have one. Come on, we’re twelve. We need help and Uncle Gabriel has gone home.”

“Good, his plan would have been awful.” Sam said. “Look kids, I know damn well that Dean still loves Cas and judging from what you’ve told us, Cas probably still loves Dean. Just let them fight it out, turn whatever movie you’re watching way up and see how things are in the morning. I know these two idiots pretty well, you can’t force them into anything.”

“We can’t play the long game here Uncle Sam. Dad’s making us leave in the morning.”

“After waffles.”

“Yeah, after waffles I’ll be shoved in the car and grounded until graduate.” Claire said. The four of them sat in silence for a moment before Eileen’s face lit up.

Ok I have a plan but if it backfires then you do not get it from me. Claire, do you remember how to disable the battery on the Impala?

“Yeah, I remember...oh...no car means not having to leave.” Claire said with a grin. “Aunt Eileen, you are a genius and never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“I want no part in this part of the plan.” Sam said hastily.

“Too late Uncle Sam, welcome to Team Parent Trap.” Jack said happily.

#deancas parent trap #deancas fic #destiel fic #castielsbeeslippers #wanderingcas #fic #seriously this is getting longer than i thought it would #i'm probably putting it up on ao3 #deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel

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philliamwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)

Pairing: Neil/Andrew

Tags: #math nerd neil, #neil with glasses, #no exy

Summary: In which Neil hates his new prescribed glasses until they attract the interest of a certain Andrew Minyard.

Commissioner: Ziegenkind

Notes: Title taken from Billie Eilish’s ‘Ocean Eyes.’

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Dude, it’s just a frat party. Who doesn’t go to frat parties?

The message flashes Neil’s screen white, its sender none other than his roommate Nicky who is supposed to study for an upcoming test in Public Policy in exactly nineteen hours. That’s what Neil writes him. Nicky’s reply comes instantly.

Those who study tend not to party. You know. Like you.

Neil leaves him on read. If he wants to party, he’ll lock himself inside his room, two bottles of Jack Daniel’s by his side while watching every existing compilation of cats attacking people on the small screen of his phone. He knows how to have a good time, alright. Not everyone has to set their scale like Nicky: More than once Neil has been the spectator of him coming back to the dormitory completely wasted, but still eager enough to get frozen waffles from the fridge. Being too drunk to put them in the toaster, he usually just climbs up to his top bunk and puts them between his thighs to eat them partially defrosted. It’s this fragile line between genius and stupidity that has Neil doubting if he should fill in a request for changing roommates or just live with the fact that Nicky Hemmick is one special kind of man.

So instead of spending his night curled into himself, wall against his back and eyes on every stranger distributing awful shots, Neil sits at the Math Tutoring Centre on the west side of the campus and gives group tutoring sessions.

Math comes to Neil like breathing. Like Bertrand Russel said, not only does Mathematics possess truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of a sculpture. It is sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. It is poetry—elegant and deep—of logical ideas to create harmony in a written line. Once he tried to explain that to Nicky over microwaved Mac n Cheese with Girls running in the background, clearly overestimating him, because Nicky only stared into space for a few seconds, and replied, “You really need to get laid, man.”

Reluctant at the beginning, Neil only agreed to join the Tutor Program because his math professor promised to throw in some extra cash. Something about raising the graduate numbers in order to get the board of education off his back. That’s where Neil’s jurisdiction of interest ends, but he has enjoyed it more than expected—the empty hallways, the harsh light of the ceiling lamps, the smell of chalk, the faint echoes of students still lingering in classrooms. There’s this magic about the Palmetto State University at night—a vulnerability that can only live once the sun sets behind the horizon. When else would he find a kid sleeping under a table in the library, or seniors breaking down in tears for exact 10 minutes before continuing their studies as if nothing has happened.

There’s another reason he’d rather spend his evening on campus, one Nicky doesn’t need to know because then Neil won’t hear the end of it. That reason being 5’0’’ tall chemistry prodigy Andrew Minyard, sitting in the last row of Neil’s math sessions each Friday. He only knows about him thanks to Nicky’s never-ending complaints, but that never really stopped him from throwing a few or more glances in Andrew’s direction. Just curiosity, of course.

So when he stands in front of the blackboard now, putting away his lesson papers which are full of numbers and equations—the kind that has enough letters to look like sentences—he feels dozens eyes burn holes in the back of his neck, and one pair belongs to Andrew. No one asks why he’s here, but everyone knows he doesn’t need to be.

In his one year of giving tutoring sessions, Neil has learnt that exactly three types of students exist: Students who are really good, certainly not in need of the extra lessons, but going anyway for some extra ego-buff and unnecessary brain-flexing. The second type is students who are okay, doing their tasks, following the lesson, not really attracting any attention safe for some crude jokes. The last type has Neil questioning his belief in the educational system of the whole state because he doesn’t understand how they are allowed inside the sacred halls of PSU.

Andrew is a special type on his own—the enigma that keeps Neil awake at two in the morning because he’s desperate to solve it, but without knowing where to start, he’s just running in circles. His fingers itch to solve an equation with multiple variables, to find the solution to a problem and get it off his mind.

He doubts it will be this easy with Andrew.

“Before we continue to look at scalar products in R- and C-vector spaces, we’ll consider bilinear and semi-bilinear forms in general, and link them to matrices for their representation to chosen bases.” Neil’s hand flies across the board, leaving letters and parenthesizes that look like bizarre drawings—art in its most complex form. Once he’s finished, he takes a step away, wipes the chalk on his fingers off on his jeans, and turns to his audience. “What happens to this equation with the semi-bilinear form σ?”

Two hands shoot up immediately. He ignores them; no need to feed their ego, and instead picks a freshman who’s been staring at his phone for the last ten minutes. Making way, Neil moves back to the student’s seats and leans against a desk.

Is it the farthest place away from the board? It is.

Is it the closest that will get him to Andrew? Might be so.

It certainly gives him a good look at what Andrew’s been doing since Neil started—and that is not solving a single task on the paper Neil has handed out at the beginning of the session. Andrew, apparently bored before it even started, has taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and is solving it against his leg, completely linked out of the instruction.

Neil tries not to stare too much at Andrew’s bare arms, and instead looks back at the board.

“Does that look right?” the freshman—Rhys or Rheeze or something like that—asks, turning around.

Neil narrows his eyes and squints at the board. He can’t make out a single thing, and that’s bad, yes, but his feet betray him, staying rooted where they are instead of reducing the distance until he can distinguish σ from a.

“Where does the l come from,” he asks. Multiple heads snap in his direction.

“That’s a j, Josten,” someone says from the other side of the room.

Neil squints harder. “And the u?”

“A μ.”

“No, it’s a v,” a girl next to Neil says, and that’s when the everyone starts shouting about what’s on the board and what isn’t.

Neil bears it for a solid minute before he surrenders. He pulls a small case from his pocket, opens it. Puts his glasses on.

The whole room goes silent.

Neil checks the equation, nods. “Correct. Who’s next?”

Multiple people stir, one manages to get up, and walks straight into a table leg. Neil questions that ‘straight’, because only then the freshman guy stops staring at Neil and steers his attention to the equation on the blackboard.

It was a bad idea, and Neil still hates Allison for forcing him to go. She’d dragged him to the doctor last week to get his eyes tested, annoyed by his never-ending questions of ‘What’s written there?’ or ‘Is that a six or an eight?’.

“They’re my eyes,” Neil had said, arms crossed as he sat in the office and waited for his turn.

“And it’s me who has to see your ugly squinting face,” Allison had replied.

Two hours later Neil had finally his prescriptions but that didn’t mean he was free from Allison’s clutches. He would have been fine with some glasses from the dollar store, but she insisted that if he’s going to wear them more than once a day, he should get designer glasses—thin frames and a color that matches his copper hair. She suggested gold. Neil picked black. The look of disappointment on Allison’s face was something that deserved its own painting to commemorate it. But once they’d finally chosen the right pair, she’d given him the very same look most of the students are giving him now—a mix between slight awe and disbelief as if he’s grown a second head. Or owes them all a month’s worth of lunch money.

“Well,” had Allison said at least, turning away to pack up and go home. “Tigers have their stripes. I have my eyeliner.” She threw him another scrutinizing look over her shoulder. “You have your glasses.” If it was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t work, and right now he regrets nothing more than allowing Allison to drag him around.

Neil’s eyes land on Andrew’s sudoku puzzle, now half-hidden under his papers, and he sees now that he isn’t even solving the thing, but simply coloring in the empty squares.

He takes a second too long and meets Andrew’s eyes staring back at him.

“Problem, Josten?” Andrew asks with a blank expression, tapping the end of his pen against his monochrome picture of black and white squares.

Neil wants to see how far he can push until he walks against a brick wall and breaks something. He returns his gaze to the board but feels Andrew’s eyes like a solid touch on the back of his neck.

After the session, the students hurry outside, still throwing curious glances over their shoulders at Neil and if he could merge with the back of his chair and disappear forever, that would be totally okay. It isn’t until a shadow looms above him that he looks up from his own homework and draws in a careful breath when Andrew towers above him.

Neil raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Minyard?”

Andrew’s face gives nothing away, and when he stretches out a hand, Neil doesn’t flinch. His glasses slip off easily, held between Andrew’s thumb and index finger.

“Nicky told me he’s trying to convince you to join him tomorrow,” Andrew says. Neil needs a second, because that is the most words he’s heard out of Andrew’s mouth.

“I have no reason to go,” Neil says, his eyes jumping up and down, from the equation that makes his sight blur to Andrew leaning his slender waist against the table.

“You have one now.” It’s barely neutral enough to not sound like a threat, but Neil stares at Andrew nonetheless, and when he puts Neil’s glasses on, Neil’s heart does a weird stutter. He’s still starring at Andrew when he leaves the room, and no, his eyes don’t stray, they stay on Andrew’s broad back, and if they dip lower it’s because of the light.

Once he’s alone, Neil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Puts his head in his arms and counts to ten in French first, then again in German. His heart still does this weird thing, trying to bruise his ribs from the inside.

He gets his phone, texts Nicky he’ll go to the frat party tomorrow and puts it away, not interested in his roommate’s reply. There’s still the equation he needs to solve, but for the first time Neil’s heart isn’t really into math, and he is quite alright with it.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #andrew x neil #neil x andrew #andrew/neil #neil/andrew

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maastrash · 4 years ago

Note

"Just pretend to be my date "for nessian please and what did you mean by the fluff before the storm?Are you planning on breaking my heart?

The Truth Is ...

HEHE this got longer than expected! and omg dw I’ll only break it for a lil ;) Shoutout to my bff @verryberriess for helping me with this ily

Masterlist // Submit a prompt // Prompts 1 + 2 - pls write the prompt out it helps me out greatly!

Today was not Cassian’s day. All he had wanted was his favorite Starbucks cold brew so he could have the energy to study for his calculus midterm tomorrow. Math was his absolute worst subject. He could write an A worthy essay in less than an hour, but when it came to numbers he was absolutely clueless. He wanted to be in and out to give himself as much study time as possible. The gods knew he needed it, but that didn’t seem like a possibility anymore. It was just his luck that he would run into the one person he’d been trying to avoid all day - Daisy Anderson. She had been talking his ear off for the past 15 minutes, despite him saying that he had somewhere to be. She was a member of the most popular sorority at university, Alpha Phi, and had been pretty much obsessed with Cassian for the past week. He had met her at his frat party and it was clear she wanted him to ask her to be his date to the spring formal. Alpha Phi and his frat Sigma Chi were always paired for events so he was doing his best to turn her down easy. He really didn’t need awkward encounters with her at every greek life gathering.

After another 5 minutes passed Cassian seriously didn’t know if she truly wasn’t getting the hint that he wasn’t interested or if she just didn’t care. He gave the minimum responses necessary, avoided eye contact, and kept trying to leave, unsuccessfully of course. Every time he tried, Daisy would grab his arm or suddenly step in front of him. Apparently, there was another party tonight and she was desperately trying to convince him to go. Even if he had been free, Cassian didn’t really feel like getting to know Daisy. There was someone else who occupied his thoughts. Someone who would never like him back, but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

Cassian was really starting to lose his patience. Just as he about to firmly tell her he was not interested, he saw her. Nesta Archeron. Her honey brown hair was loose, flowing just past her shoulders. She was wearing a navy cropped hoodie and black jeans that hugged her body perfectly. Damn. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Before Cassian even knew what he was doing, he was up, moving, and blocking her path.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said, pulling her into a hug.

Nesta tensed for a second before relaxing into the embrace. She hesitantly wrapped her small arms around his waist. She seemed confused, he couldn’t blame her.

“I need you to pretend to be my date,” he whispered into her ear, as subtly as he could manage.

“What?” she asked, pulling away.

Before she could get too far, he pulled her back in gently. “Please go along with this.” He was practically begging at this point.

Nesta nodded slightly, probably due to the pure desperation in his voice. They separated and Cassian put his arm around Nesta’s waist. “I’m so sorry Daisy, but this is my lovely date, Nesta. We’ve been seeing each other recently and it seems she came to find me after I didn’t show up.”

Daisy looked Nesta up and down, looking almost unimpressed. Cassian did not like that one bit. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize - ”

“It’s fine, but we should be going,” he said, cutting off her insincere apology. Cassian led Nesta out of the cafe with his hand on the small of her back. Once out the door, he grasped her hand gently. He told himself it was because Daisy could still see them, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

After walking to the end of the street Nesta pulled her hand from his. “We can stop pretending now, she can’t see us anymore.”

He nodded as he let his hand awkwardly fall to his side. “Thank you, Nesta,” he said, trying not to get lost in her piercing blue-grey eyes. “I owe you one.”

“Whatever,” she snapped breaking eye contact and walking off.

“Wait, hold up,” Cassian ran a few steps to catch up to her. He grabbed her arm gently to keep her from running off again. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course I’m mad you idiot,” she pulled away from his grip again. Cassian hated to admit her rejection hurt worse than he thought it would. “I wanted to read my book in Starbucks in peace, and now I can’t.”

Cassian put his hands in his pockets, avoiding her hardened gaze. “I’m sorry Nes I’ll take you to another coffee shop and buy you a drink,” he said the words sheepishly. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t call me Nes,” she grumbled. “And I think I’ll pass.”

“Ok, what’s wrong? Cassian asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “Be honest.” Nesta was never this cold to him. Maybe she was when they first met, but he thought they were past that. She had finally started to trust him enough to show him the real Nesta. The Nesta that smiled every time she saw a dog. The Nesta that saved a seat for him every Wednesday when they had chem lectures together. The Nesta that blushed when he told her how beautiful she was while making her “thinking” face.

“Nothing,” she said, avoiding eye contact yet again.

“I know you’re lying Nes and I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“What do you want me to say Cassian?!” she asked, the frustration clear in her voice. “Fine. You really wanna know why I’m so upset? You used me. You played with my feelings. Are you happy? You finally hurt the ice queen,”

“Nesta I-”

“No. I’m not done,” she said holding her finger up, instantly shutting him up. “I thought we were friends, maybe even more than friends,” she mumbled the last part. “But I guess I was wrong. I thought you were different. I thought you meant the things you said to me. But I guess you really are just another frat boy. A frat boy who would use me to get out of some stupid failed date with a popular sorority girl.”

Cassian was silent as Nesta caught her breath after her sudden outburst. “Can I talk now?” he asked hesitantly. She nodded, her jaw tight.

“Nesta I ran into Daisy and had been trying to get away from her so I could study for my midterm tomorrow. You came at just the right time. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I haven’t been playing you,” he paused, reading her reaction. She didn’t seem convinced.

Before he could regret it, Cassian laid it all out on the table. “The truth is, I am utterly captivated by you, Nesta Archeron. I haven’t thought about another girl since I met you. You are the smartest, fiercest, and strongest girl I have ever met and I can’t get you out of my head. I never thought you’d like me back so I settled for just being friends. I thought it was better than nothing. I asked you to pretend to be my date so I could hold your hand and hug you just once, even if it was pretending,” his voice tapered off at the end. He was suddenly self-conscious. What if he just ruined everything? Before he could think about it too long, Nesta interrupted his thoughts.

“You really are an idiot,” she whispered softly, “because I’ve liked you this whole time too.

This had Cassian gaping. Nesta liked him. She actually liked him. “Can I buy you a coffee?” he asked, offering his hand. “Let me take you on a real date Nes.”

Nesta took his hand offering a small smile. “Let’s take the coffee to go so I can help you study. We can go on a real date after your midterm.”

Cassian was practically beaming as he squeezed her hand gently. “Sounds like a plan.”

After Cassian aced his midterm, he and Nesta did just that. And it was the best date either of them had ever been on.

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @aelinninielelain // @julesherondalex // @rosehallshadowsinger // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5// @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // @abraxos // @perseusannabeth // @acourtofmarauders // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlove // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @flourishandblottsx // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit //

#nessian #request #car writes #car answers #nesta x cassian

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, tabbytabbytabby!

For @tabbytabbytabby, who wanted alive Hale pack and anything alternative universe. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!!!! I decided to go with a rock band AU because let's face it, they're all stupid hot and would look so good doing it. My headcanon for alive Laura Hale is the incomparable Katie McGrath if you want a visual. Those eyes, man. They make my little bisexual heart very happy.

Also everyone here is somewhere in the Kinsey Scale :)))) There will be smut and idiocy. Idiots in love has become one of my favourite tags!

The underage occurs when Derek and Stiles are in high school. Derek is a senior and Stiles is a sophomore.

Band line up is as follows:

Laura - lead vocals Derek - lead guitar Boyd - bass Erica - acoustic guitar and backing vocals Isaac - keyboard and backing vocals Cora - drums and backing vocals

Read On AO3

*****

Edge Of Seventeen

Chapter 1 - Say What Now?

‘Do you want to?’

It took Stiles a few moments to focus on the words, electricity buzzing under his skin and his mouth bruised and still wet with Derek’s spit. Two warm broad hands settled either side of his face and gently redirected his attention. In the dark of the Camaro’s back seat, Derek’s pale eyes glittered.

‘We can.’ His voice was low and rough, his breathing out of kilter. ‘If you want to.’

Stiles looked at him, his heart racing a thousand miles a minute.

I want to.’ he said and fell into another kiss.

The alarm woke Stiles with a start. He swore and leaned over to slide a finger across the screen and turn it off. He’d forgotten when he’d arrived the night before, still a little jet lagged and not quite with everything when he’d collapsed into bed and been asleep in what was probably a record time.

He lay still, looking up at the ceiling and getting his breath back. He hadn’t had a dream about Derek Hale in a very long time and he was chalking it up to being back in his childhood bed. Independence Day had been the one holiday he’d won in the field office lottery, and so Stiles had packed up and gone home for the long weekend, four blissful days off. He’d known going into the FBI would be hard, but he’d had no idea just how hard it would be. Noah was delighted. The last time they’d seen each other had been Christmas and Stiles had been morose after yet another break up. He’d spent an afternoon wandering around the preserve, ending up staring at the Hale house, still closed up and looking a little worse for wear, with nary a Hale in sight.

This time it was summer, the heat already making his room uncomfortable. Stiles grimaced and plucked his damp t-shirt away from his skin, sitting up and dragging a hand over his face as he tried to wake up properly, manfully ignoring his dream-induced erection that made him feel like he was a teenager all over again.

‘Stiles?’ Noah yelled from downstairs. ‘You up, kiddo?’

‘I’m twenty-six, Dad,’ Stiles muttered, standing up and stretching. ‘Not a kid anymore.’

He was feeling it too, the crashing realisation that those carefree days were far behind him. He had a job and an apartment in Sacramento, cacti that he had managed not to kill. All the cool stuff. It wasn’t hard to feel like something was missing but Stiles would never admit that the string of failed relationships he had accumulated were anything to do with what Lydia referred to as ‘the one who got away’.

Noah was in the kitchen as he predicted, sleep rumpled and unshaven in sweat pants and an old BHPD t-shirt. He’d been taking it a bit easier, giving Parrish more and more responsibility. Stiles was pleased and Parrish was both smart and sensible, a combination that Lydia had found irresistible. Their senior year fling had evolved into a long term relationship until Lydia had come home to buy them a small clapboard Victorian near the preserve and commute to the research lab every day where she had her associate professorship. Parrish had presented her with a simple solitaire ring at Christmas and she was very happy.

‘Are you going to see Mom?’ he asked and Stiles nodded, grabbing the orange juice from the ridge and pouring himself a glass, sniffing hopefully at the eggs Noah was scrambling. He noticed Stiles’ meaningful look and grinned.

‘I thought I would go after breakfast,’ He beamed at his father when he was presented with a plate full of eggs and bacon.

‘It’s turkey before you get on your high horse,’ Noah told him. ‘Get your own coffee if you want some.’

‘Not yet.’ Stiles made space for him to sit down and they ate in comfortable silence. Once finished, he did get up to make two cups. Noah accepted his gratefully and smiled at his son, grey eyes twinkling.

‘So…,’ he started and Stiles held up a finger.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t care who it is you want to set me up with, it’s not happening.’ His parents had a terrible habit of matchmaking.

Noah held up both hands in supplication.

‘Not setting you up,’ he protested. ‘Just thought I’d mention that when your mother went into the shop yesterday, she saw a ghost from the past. Several, actually.’

Stiles cursed internally. His dad knew he couldn’t resist a good mystery.

‘Okay, I’ll bite,’ he replied, starting to get up.

‘The Hales.’ Noah replied with all the smugness of a man who knew he had the scoop of the year.

‘Oh fuck.’ Stiles blurted and tripped over his chair.

It was the sneezing that woke Derek up.

‘Jesus fuck!’ Laura roared a floor below him. ‘How much fucking shit is in this place?’

‘Oh good, she’s awake.’ Cora muttered and turned over. They were in what had been the twins’ bedroom, each of them crammed into a single that was a little on the small side. The top storey of the house was still a burned out wreck and the furniture had been largely taken away over the years and so the pickings had been slim, with their merry threesome taking the scorched master bedroom and Laura camping out on the sagging couch downstairs. As Alpha, she always preferred to be on watch as it were.

‘This was such a bad idea.’ Derek borrowed deeper into his comforter. ‘We should have brought the bus.’

‘That would have given the game away.’ Laura replied, hearing them both perfectly even though she was now in the kitchen. ‘Which part of low profile are you two having trouble with?’

‘We could have always stayed in a hotel. Sleeping int the burned out remains of our family home is precisely the opposite of low profile. Lo.’ Derek pointed out, sitting up. There was no way he’d be going back to sleep. Not with his alpha on a mission.

‘Discretion is our watchword, Derek.’ Laura hissed and started banging pots and pans around with a maximum of noise. Derek looked over at Cora. Her dark eyes were just visible under the pillow she had over her head.

‘You’re her second.’ She bared her teeth at him. ‘You go deal with her.’

‘I hate you.’ Derek said flatly, rolling out of bed and onto his feet. He stumbled a little on the stairs, still half asleep. Laura had her head buried in a blackened cupboard when he got to the kitchen. It hadn’t been as badly affected as the rest of the house but it was still a health hazard as far as he was concerned.

‘Where the hell is the waffle iron?’ she demanded. ‘Mom said she left it here.’

‘Who the fuck knows?’ Derek yawned and went to the fridge. There was nothing inside except for a gallon of milk and the leftover Chinese take out from the night before. He sniffed a carton of lemon chicken, grabbing some disposable chopsticks from the small pile on the kitchen table, and started eating. Laura eyed him, one fang just visible.

‘We need proper food.’ She glared at the ceiling. ‘Everybody up! We’re going grocery shopping!’

‘Christ.’ Derek grumbled. ‘You think that’s low profile too?’

‘Shut up.’ Laura swept past him, nose in the air. ‘I’m the Alpha now.’

Derek sniggered and let her go, enjoying his leftovers while he listened to her rouse the threesome. There was a lot of complaining, and he couldn’t really blame them. Their schedule had been hectic, even for wolves, and they were all tired and the house wasn’t exactly welcoming. Laura’s plans to come home and reclaim their territory now she was an Alpha in her own right had seen them finish the final leg of their international tour in New York, a quick catch up with their pack and then flying down to Sacramento and driving the three hours to Beacon Hills all in twenty-four hours. They had barely had time to stop in at the small coffee shop near the Sheriff's station before coming out to the house, which had been shut up for the past ten years. Peter had intended to join them, but had been delayed in New York. As their manager, he was the one who took care of all the dealings with their record company. If it was left to him and Laura, they probably would have eaten every executive by now. He was worth every penny they paid him, even if the meeting had probably been manufactured as a way to get out of cleaning up the house.

Stiles pulled up at the cemetery, parking the Jeep behind the old truck that had parked off centre and across two spaces. Grinning, he got out and made his way through the iron gates, remembering Isaac Lahey, who’d been a couple of years above him at school. His father had been the groundskeeper before there had been an incident at their house and Coach Lahey had been found dead. He remembered Isaac being taken in by social services and a whole sordid story of child abuse and alcoholicism coming out. Isaac had stayed off school for a week and then simply vanished off the face of the earth. There had been a lot of theories as to where he’d gone, but the truth was he wasn’t the first person to do that in 2011.

Stiles got lost in thought as he meandered between the headstones, finally coming to a stop in front of one made of white marble and embossed with angels.

‘That’s new.’ he remarked. ‘Not sure about the daffodils.’

‘They’re so gaudy.’ The dark haired woman kneeling at the grave grinned over her shoulder at him, her eyes the same warm whiskey brown as her son’s. ‘I’m glad to see you made it out of bed. I was starting to think you’d spend the whole weekend hibernating.’

‘Funny.’ Stiles helped Claudia up and gave her a long hug. When she let him go, she stepped back and looked him up and down.

‘You look good.’ she said. ‘Dare I say, professional.’

‘Mom.’ Stiles settled his hands on her shoulders. ‘Dad said you saw the Hales yesterday.’

‘Oh.’ Claudia’s look of faux innocence was belied by the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘Is that why you came to see me. No ‘I’ve missed you terribly Mother’, but ‘You saw the fucking Hales’.’

‘Mom.’ Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Did you see him?’

‘Who?’ Claudia crinkled her nose in amusement. ‘The boy you’ve been literally pining for, for almost a decade?’

‘I’m sure he’s not a boy anymore.’ Stiles snorted. ‘And yes. Stop playing dumb.’

‘I might have.’ Claudia tilted her head. ‘What’s it worth?’

‘A double chocolate muffin and all the lattes you can drink.’ Stiles replied and she cackled and linked her arm through his.

‘Done.’ she declared. ‘And you’re right. He’s definitely not a boy anymore.’

Derek leaned heavily on the cart, eyelids at half mast and his senses muted. The store was fairly empty, the early hour on a Saturday meaning that most shoppers were yet to make an appearance. Next to him Boyd yawned and shifted on his feet, hands sunk deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

They’d been best friends a long time, playing basketball and baseball and getting into shit when they were teenagers and when things had turned bad and they’d had to leave, Boyd had been dogged in his refusal to cut ties and turned up at the pack house in New York a week after graduation with Erica in tow. They had walked right in and asked Talia for the bite and she’d given it gladly. Derek knew she was going to do it for Erica even before they had had to flee their territory and they’d settled in like they’d always been pack. Isaac had, of course, already joined them earlier and his delight at having them back had turned into a deep and abiding love that saw them forming their triad and becoming mates.

Erica was leaning on Isaac, her blond curls dragged into a messy ponytail and Cora was trailing Laura a few feet ahead. It always grated that she had inherited their mother’s early rising nature while the rest of them would have happily slept in and threw her weight around to get them out of bed when they most definitely didn’t want to. Even the fact that Derek was her twin didn’t let him get out of doing what she wanted.

‘Toilet paper.’ Laura turned and they all tried to avoid her eyes. ‘Derek. Take Boyd and grab some.’

‘But I’m minding the cart,’ he whined, clinging to it like a drowning man to a life preserver.

‘Go!’ Laura’s eyes flared red for just a second and Derek had to resist the urge to snarl back at her like he’d always used to. The whole alpha thing was new, the result of an overambitious alpha that had come into their territory planning to challenge Talia and ending up facing her daughter instead when they tried to take Cora with the intention of forcibly mating her and claiming rights. Talia had always taught them to solve their problems with diplomacy but Laura was headstrong and fiercely protective of her siblings, ever since Kate Argent had tried to use her to get close enough to kill them all. She’d almost succeeded too, that night of the party to celebrate the basketball teams’ victory for nationals providing the perfect distraction for them to be off their guard. Kate had struck in the early hours of the morning and she’d had them trapped, the beginnings of an arson that would have killed them all if Derek hadn’t come back and caught her. He’d ripped her throat out with his teeth, calling Deaton in a panic to come and break the circle of mountain ash that kept them trapped and they’d all watched their family home burn until the police and emergency services had arrived.

Talia had decided that it was too dangerous to stay, knowing the Argents would come for Derek, getting them all packed in a matter of twenty-four hours and away from what was left of their home. They’d gone to their father’s pack in New York State, leaving no sign of them behind. It was the way with wolves, always having a back-up in case something went wrong. The Argents were a large and powerful hunting clan and there would be retribution for the death of Gerard’s golden child, but when they came for the Hales they would find the place empty. Deaton stayed, both to protect the territory and report back to Talia about hunters coming in and not a month after it had happened, they had come. Thankfully the wards on the Hale land had kept the territory claim in place and the hunters had left with no satisfaction.

The rest had been a long and bloody fight between their respective Councils. Gerard had wanted Derek’s head for killing Kate and Talia had countered with the evidence that Kate had planned to kill a pack of law-abiding wolves along with their children. The matter had finally been settled when Gerard died of cancer and his granddaughter, by all accounts a level headed and honourable young woman about the same age as Derek, had taken over.

The music had started as a way to keep them all sane while this was happening, Talia more or less forcing them into music therapy as a way to deal with what had happened. It had been a bit of a shock to realise they were actually very good at it and they’d formed the band. Some minor success saw them moving steadily up the indie charts until it became their lives. Laura had named them Hale Pack 2.0 and Talia had laughed so hard when they’d told her that she’d shifted and clawed right through the cushion she was holding, feathers flying around them like a small snowstorm.

Derek hadn’t minded at first. The music was what he loved, the fame and money secondary. The Hales were already rich, but Peter had jumped at the chance to do something different and he drove their commercial success. They were in that comfortable zone of being middle of the road, not so successful enough that they were household names but it became hard in New York to go anywhere without being recognised.

Derek didn’t enjoy that part much. He was solitary and quietly sarcastic by nature, but unfortunately that just seemed to translate into brooding and mysterious in interviews and so he was plagued by a long line of would-be groupies that tagged along after him like a cloud of midges. Laura found it hilarious and basked in her own popularity. As an out lesbian, she had her choice of pretty girls to shack up with. Cora kept her asexuality to herself, just as surly as Derek was. The other three were not exactly open about their polyamorous arrangegment, but they didn’t hide it either. They were lucky, having found each other and being able to keep each other.

He often thought about that night, the one where the reason he’d been able to save his family was because he’d been in the back seat of his father’s illicitly borrowed Camaro with the boy he’d loved pretty much forever and indulging in a bit of mutual deflowering. Then he’d had to pack up and leave said boy without even saying goodbye or telling him where he was going. It had hurt more than he’d thought possible and if part of why Derek was so keen to come back to Beacon Hills was to try and track down that boy, then who was to know. The only people who knew what he’d been up to were Boyd (because Derek told him everything) and Laura (because she’d sat on him and tickled him until he’d confessed and then had to hold her while she cried, guilt and shame coming off her in waves). Derek hadn’t had the heart to complain when their very survival had been at stake because he’d killed Kate Argent, no matter whose fault it had been. Talia had said to make a clean break with the town and while she’d made allowances for their friends who were already in the know, that was as far as she was willing to push her luck.

Derek and Laura had finished out their schooling at home, Cora had gone to boarding school in South America with her Argentinian grandmother’s pack and the twins were still too young to be a problem so that was, as they said, that. Then had come college, followed by the band and the success and the travelling and before Derek knew it, it had been almost ten years and he was twenty-eight and still hung up on Stiles fucking Stilinski.

‘Hey.’ Boyd bumped him with his shoulder. ‘You alive in there?’

‘Not really.’ Derek surveyed the toilet paper and grabbed a couple of twenty-four packs. ‘Just thinking.’

‘Yeah.’ Boyd grinned, lighting up his usually serious face. ‘I can guess what about too.’

‘Not a goddamned word.’ Derek growled and then froze, his nose twitching madly.

It wasn’t exactly the same, a little deeper and a little thicker but he’d recognise that scent anywhere with his nose stuffed up and people throwing peppermint oil in his face. He shoved the toilet paper at Boyd and charged through the aisle, needing to find the source and skidding to a halt in the aisle with the candy and stared at the Sheriff, who looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In fact, as it was he had cookies in his hands which he quickly put back.

‘Derek?’ He looked pleasantly surprised. ‘Claudia said she’d seen you.’ He came over and Derek couldn’t help taking in a deep breath. The scent of Stiles was all over the Sheriff and it made his heart start thumping like a drum.

‘Sheriff Stilinski.’ He took the offered hand and shook it, gleeful when he could smell a little bit of Stiles on his own skin. ‘Yeah, we’re back. Laura said she was going to stop by and talk to you about the house. She’s actually around here somewhere.’ He couldn’t stop smiling. ‘I’m glad you’re still here.’

‘Where else would we be?’ The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at him. ‘To be honest, we never thought you’d come back. Any of you. The last we heard, you mom and dad had skipped town and taken you all with them after the fire and then five years later, you and your sisters pop up playing gigs in New York with the Lahey kid, Vernon Boyd’s son and Erica Reyes and since you hit the big times, you’ve been entirely responsible for provisioning this town with 90% of its salacious gossip.’

‘How did you know that? I mean, New York.’ Derek was completely bemused. They had started out small, playing tiny venues, still wary of being recognised. It had only been in the last couple of years that they’d made it big enough to be known internationally.

‘I kept track.’ The Sheriff replied. ‘The fact that you all pretty much disappeared overnight hit this town like a slap in the face. I called in a lot of favours.’ There was something in his voice though that had Derek frowning. ‘I had my reasons, son.’

Derek was about to ask him what those were exactly when Laura came barreling down the aisle.

‘There you are.’ She came up short when she saw who he was talking to. ‘Sheriff Stilinski?’

‘The one and only.’ The Sheriff tipped an invisible hat at her. ‘It’s good to see you, Laura. Derek and I were just catching up.’

‘Well, I have to steal him. Excuse us.’ Laura gave him a toothy grin that was not her usual smile and Derek wondered just what was happening. She caught his arm and practically dragged him away.

‘What the hell?’ he protested, trying to wriggle out of her iron grip.

‘Hunters.’ she hissed and Derek’s blood ran cold.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked and she nodded, her face grim.

‘The others are doing the check out.’ she said. ‘We need to go.’

Stiles parked on the kerb and got out. Claudia already had the front door open and was looking down the street.

‘Visitor.’ she announced and went inside, leaving him to stand and wait for the car to stop. He bounced in excitement, barely waiting for the driver to get out before grabbing her and squeezing her hard enough to make her squeak.

‘Lydia, my strawberry blonde goddess.’ He kissed her cheek soundly. ‘I was wondering when you’d show up.’

‘Stiles.’ Lydia had softened since high school, growing into her intellect and losing the hard veneer of extreme fashion that had been her armour in high school. She was still elegant, but the tan leather boots she wore under her long floral skirt were flat and her face was less determinedly made up, her hair a mass of loose fronds that framed her face. She was also as beautiful as she had always been but Stiles loved her for more than that. They had grown close in junior year when Jackson had moved to the UK and she’d been left bereft. Scott had been dating Kira that year and he’d had little time for Stiles so they’d drifted together and never really drifted apart, in spite of their physical distance. Now Scott and Kira were engaged, with Scott working for Deaton full time and Kira teaching martial arts with their first baby on the way and Stiles felt even more like he was lagging behind. Lydia kept him tied to Beacon Hills as much as his parents did.

‘So what are you doing here?’ He escorted her to the house. Lydia went in first, saying hello to Claudia as they went into the kitchen.

‘I have some news you might want to hear.’ she said, her eyes dancing.

‘’If it’s that the Hales are back, I already know.’ Stiles was smug when she pouted. He so seldom got one over on her so it was fun when he did.

‘Sorry.’ Claudia grinned at Lydia. ‘That was my fault.’

‘Dammit.’ Lydia folded her arms. ‘Well that may be, but I bet you don’t know that they’re going to be playing the Jungle tonight.’

‘No, that I did not know.’ Stiles was immediately hooked. He’d always wanted to go watch them, ever since they’d first popped back up on his radar after years of radio silence, courtesy of a discarded music magazine in the field office. He’d fantasised about meeting Derek’s eyes across a crowded venue but he knew that in reality, Derek probably didn’t even remember the boy he fucked in the back of his sister’s car and probably also had his pick of beautiful people to spend his time with. It hadn’t stopped him from following the band’s progress almost obsessively though.

He’d been distraught when Derek had gone, trying to find any trace of him online, but there had been nothing at all in the years just after the fire. Noah had been cagey about what he’d known and Stiles had been at a loose end, trying to fill in the gaps. When he’d rediscovered them, Stiles had followed them on every form of social media he could and tracked down every article about them. Derek still didn’t have any online presence apart from that and the music videos his band put out. Stiles had jealously hoarded every single tiny piece of information and downloaded every picture and video of him, seeing how handsome Derek had become, growing into himself in a way Stiles envied. He’d jerked off many a night, watching the stylised black and white videos that the Hale Pack 2.0 preferred. Derek was always dressed in black jeans and tight white t-shirts, the sleeves of his trademark leather jacket pushed up to his elbows and his broad hands drawing Stiles’ gaze in as he played his guitar, all precision and power that had Stiles breath coming short at the thought of them on him.

‘Danny told me this morning. He’s practically beside himself at getting them on his books at such short notice.’ Lydia smirked, knowing she had his full attention. Danny had made a ton of money in apps and bought his old stomping ground. It had had a makeover and was now a very stylish LGBTQ+ venue that he ruled along with Jackson as his partner in business and life, once he’d had his gay crisis while he was gone. Stiles knew from the Hales’ publicity that Laura was a lesbian and he was pretty sure Isaac, Erica and Boyd were involved in something that looked pretty polyamorous but Derek and Cora were notoriously private and there was never any suggestion as to who they might be seeing. It seemed the kind of place they would be playing.

‘Okay.’ He moved to the coffee maker, preparing for a long sit down. ‘Tell me everything.’

TBC on AO3!

#tabbytabbytabby #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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ddaenggtan · 5 years ago

Text

chasing butterflies | jjk

you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.

pairing | jeon jungkook x reader

genre/warnings | fluff, college au, coffee shop au, pining, somewhat idiots to lovers, jock!reader, nerd/weeb/otaku!kook, swimmer!kook, jock!jimin, kook smiles a lot, reader is a dumbass, jungkook is a dumbass, everyone’s a dumbass tbh, love confessions, profanity, like a lot of profanity, smut: oral (f receiving), face riding, grinding, hickies, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy before things get silly kids!), creampie, soft!kook except when horny, this is somewhat crack-y, there’s also a very fair amount of secondhand embarrassment in this just fair warning i cringed a lot while writing it

word count | 12.8k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | i busted literally all of this in one day because i couldn’t sleep and had the idea for a coffeeshop au with pining nerd/jock, but i didn’t want to do the trope of pining nerd and i also kept seeing @strawbxxymilk‘s tags saying she was going to fight jungkook, so you can partially blame her for his (love u reni xx) i’m honestly REALLY in love with this fic, it was so much fun to write and even edit, like i honestly have never been happier with how a fic turned out.

If asked, you don’t think you’d be able to point to one exact moment that led to this. You aren’t sure why anything about your college life has been the way it is. You went through almost all middle school and part of high school intending on coasting through under the radar. You didn’t have many friends and you didn’t mind that, citing quality over quantity, and you definitely expected that to continue into your extended school career.

Somehow, though, you ended up on the volleyball team - the captain had seen you playing in a gym class and recruited you. She was adamant that with practice and training, you’d be great, and also they needed at least one more person if they were going to have any chance at competing that year. So you agreed, started practicing, got good, and…kept doing it. You were a talented player, and you made several close friends through the game, ones that had lasted you until even now.

You only got better and better, too, earning you more than one offer from various universities. It was exciting when you finally chose one, and even more exciting that your friend group almost tripled overnight. University teams were large, you discovered, and while that meant more competition, it also meant more friends. More friends that had more connections to people on other teams, in other sports, who were also fun and extroverted and threw really good parties.

You like to think you’re still that little nobody from middle school. You enjoy your readings and your coursework, and a lot of nights you choose to stay behind in your shared apartment instead of going out. As much as you like to think that, though, you can’t help but face the truth every time you look in the mirror after practice or a game or a workout.

You’re a jock.

You don’t even know why. The labels were supposed to end when high school did, and yet here you were. You pretty much only hang out with other sporty people, since no one has much time to make friends with anyone they didn’t see five times a week and every other weekend. You have a strict workout regimen that you run through with other girls from the team. Your class schedule is built around your volleyball schedule. You call yourself an athlete. You get looks sometimes, from the smart kids who think they’re better because you’re ‘only’ an athlete and they’re not. It reminds you of the people who look down on other sports because theirs is the only ‘true’ sport. Those people used to piss you off, but you’ve grown used to them now; there would always be people who thought they were better because of some imagined divide.

Realistically, there is no divide. People are free to associate with whoever they want, fuck the social norms that become ingrained in high school to contrast class differences. Okay, your Societal Influences class may have skewed your thinking a bit, but your point stands. You had no good reason to conform to the antiquated ideas of high schoolers.

So why, why, are you still standing by a waffle maker and staring helplessly at him?

Jisoo nudges you and you move to let her at the waffle, not looking away from him. She follows your line of sight and laughs when she sees him. “Seriously?” She asks, shaking her head.

“Shut up,” You groan, popping part of a roll into your mouth.

“It’s been almost three years,” She teases. “How have you not worked up the nerve to talk to him?”

“Two years, three months,” You correct as you follow her to where the chocolate syrup and fruit await for her waffle monstrosity. You can’t even look at it anymore, sickened by the mere sight of all the sugar stacked atop it.

“That is not helping your case the way you think it is.”

“I can’t just…talk to him, he’s gonna think I’m weird. Who just walks up to someone and says ‘hi, I saw you in my friend’s orientation group two years ago and thought you were the most beautiful man in existence, and still think that in fact, would you mind going out with me?’” Jisoo levels you with a look that could make cacti wilt.

“Uh, plenty of people do that every day. That’s how relationships happen. I know you’ve got this big hard-on for this whole…pining, lovesick idiot look,” She barrels on, ignoring the squawk of defiance you let loose, “But it’s getting kind of hopeless. That one guy asked you out, like, last month, and you literally laughed at him.”

“In my defense, he was like way older than us! I don’t want to go out with a grandpa!”

“I cannot believe you just called Kim Seokjin a grandpa, the entire team is going to revolt against you for this.”

You huff and lead her to the table you picked out, which she very kindly does not mention gives you a perfect view of him while you pick at your food. She continues to rant at you about your hopeless crush, but you don’t even hear her anymore, because he’s laughing at something across the dining hall and it makes your chest tighten.

God damn, you don’t know how in the hell someone so fucking nerdy can make you so fucking weak in the knees.

Across the room, Jungkook adjusts the round lenses that have been sliding down his nose, and it makes your heart flutter. He laughs again at something someone beside him said. His nose scrunches as he does it, and the cute bunny teeth are obvious, and it makes you want to die a little inside but also throw him off a bridge a little bit. He starts talking, animated and excited, and you wonder what it is he’s talking about. You can almost pretend that he’s talking about you for a second, until he pulls something out of his bag and sets it on the table, covering it with his hands before pulling them back in a dramatic effort to reveal–

God, it’s a fucking Hatsune Miku figurine.

You feel like sobbing at the sight. “God, he’s such a fucking weeb,” You say, hatred for yourself rolling off the words in absolute waves. Jisoo huffs, probably annoyed that you haven’t been listening to her rant, and waves a hand.

“You knew this,” She tells you bluntly. The issue is that she’s 100% correct; the first time you ever remember seeing Jungkook, he was in a God damn Naruto cosplay, dumbass wig in his hands while he adjusted his ninja headband, and he was still the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid your eyes on.

His eyes dart over like he could hear your thoughts and he makes eye contact; you get whiplash, you look away so fast. Your face is burning, you can feel it, and you’re actually in danger of staring a hole into the table with how hard you’re looking at it.

“You’re safe, he isn’t looking anymore,” Jisoo eventually says. You chance a glance to see that Jungkook is focused on whatever conversation he’s having, Hatsune Miku nowhere to be seen and replaced with a very pretty red flush across his cheeks. You audibly coo over the sight and Jisoo pretends to gag.

“Don’t you have class?” She says. It’s obviously an attempt to distract you, she’s always so transparent about those things. Jungkook looks over again and suddenly your phone becomes the most fascinating thing in the entire world. You balk at the time, because fuck, you really do have class in two minutes.

“Bye Jisoo, love you, don’t gorge yourself on waffles, or Rose will kill you at practice!” You shout over your shoulder as you bolt from the dining hall.

You don’t see nor feel the eyes on your back as you go, too focused on making the five-minute walk into a sixty-second sprint.

Work is boring. It always is. You work the overnight shift, 9 pm to 4 am, so that you can balance your volleyball schedule and your classes and your bills. If there were less 24-hour coffee shops around, it may be busier, but alas, the trend of having spaces for haggard and exhausted college students to roll into at all hours of the day had caught on, and thus, you work at one of four all-night coffee shops. And that’s only on this side of campus. There were even more on the other side, where the dorms were, and they see much more traffic than yours. Kids never want to go very far to get caffeine, so the ones across the way were always bustling and packed full of people writing last-minute papers and emailing for sources and who knows what else.

Which meant that only the stray customer wandered in after dark, usually people getting off work and wanting to unwind for a second before heading home. You got a lot of homeless people, camping out in corners away from other people and sipping on one coffee for hours at a time. Some of the other workers complained about them, but you didn’t really care one way or another. If it kept them off the street and out of the cold, then you’d let them sit there as long as you could. It wasn’t like there were many people around to complain, anyway.

Of course, the few customers meant that there were fewer interruptions to the daily tasks you had to do, so it only takes an hour or two, max, every night to get everything clean, stocked, polished, and counted. Which left another five for you to fill.

You sigh, staring at a blank page of your notebook. You’re lucky your boss doesn’t care if the workers do schoolwork on the job, so long as the work gets done and the customers are happy, but just this once you curse him for being so kind. You’ve been procrastinating this essay for a week and it was due next class, but you had absolutely no idea where to even start. You sigh again and straighten as the bell over the door rings, the customary 'Welcome to Brew’d Awakening, what can I get for you today?’ already halfway out before you actually look up.

You choke on air as Jungkook smiles at you, small and shy and sweet, and you can actually feel part of your soul shrivel up and die along with every single one of your brain cells. You stare at him for a solid six seconds as he peruses the menu hanging above your head, and you’re so focused on memorizing the way he looks this close up that you nearly miss his order.

“A large iced black, please?” He phrases it like a question and it’s adorable, despite the countless times you’ve bitched to Jisoo about people doing the exact same thing in the past. You tack on your customer service smile as best you can and ring him up.

It’s a relief to turn away from him to actually make his drink. He’s gorgeous, even with the dumbass hoodie with some naked anatomy model on it that has to be from some anime, that it makes it hard for you to breathe. He’s not even wearing the nerd glasses and it just makes his eyes so much more obviously beautiful, and you know Jisoo is going to whine about hearing you wax poetic over them for weeks after this. Your hands shake as you pour the coffee into the cup and click the lid into place, but you force yourself to steady them as you hand it to him.

He’s blushing again, and you want to kiss it so badly, and he waves. “Thanks,” He says as he starts to leave. Your brain is torn between responses, one half reverting to your generic response and the other wanting to assure it him it was absolutely not anything he needed to thank you for, and you can feel the stupidity coming, but you cannot stop the words as they claw up your throat and you nearly shout–

“Your problem!”

He falters in his steps, turning to give you a confused look, and you’re honestly disappointed the earth doesn’t quake and part to drag you directly to the pits of hell, because even that would be less painful than having to maintain your professional demeanor like you didn’t just say the absolute stupidest thing you’ve ever said in your entire fucking life.

Jungkook just nods and strides out of the coffee shop, bell dinging in his wake.

The screech you unleash in the break room a few seconds later is inhuman and chilling, and yet Rose doesn’t seem at all fazed.

“I would say you should just talk to him, but clearly you can’t even do that like a normal person.” She pats your arm as you bang your head into the table, and you consider the option of getting new friends.

You’re no stranger to wild Jungkook sightings. You both go to the same university, you both have similar classes, you both take full advantage of the dining hall at every opportunity, you both use the library. It’s hard to go ten feet on campus without seeing someone you know, and it’s even harder when you’re actively looking for that person everywhere you go.

So you’ve already seen him a couple of times after the Your Problem Incident - and you may have turned around and completely avoided even thinking about it, but who’s going to judge you for that, really - when you walk into an extra-credit lecture for one of your science classes to immediately zero in on the familiar grin.

You’d foolishly believed this would be a popular lecture and as such would be held in one of the big lecture halls, the ones that seat 100+ people, but no. Of course not. This was in a regular ass classroom, with regular tables and regular students and regular everything, including the dumbass that regularly stars in every single one of your daydreams. The impulse to turn and run jolts through you, but before you can do exactly that, Nayun is calling your name and waving you over to the seat she saved just for you.

Right in front of him.

Several people turn at her call, but you focus your gaze on the chair and refuse to look to see if he’s looking at you. You refuse, you will not be that girl, you have standards, dammit, and grades to keep up, and immense public humiliation to pretend never happened.

You have to pass him to sit at your chair since Satan himself designed the classroom and put the door at the back of the room, as only a literal demon would do. You focus on not falling flat on your face, as you’ve been prone to do when Jungkook is in your range of vision, and as such you’re wholly unprepared for the way his scent floods through your brain.

You’re able to sit before you collapse entirely, legs shaking because he smells so fucking good. You’ve become accustomed to the boys’ volleyball team, who’re known for always wanting to hang out right after practices but not ever wanting to shower after practices. You’ve been friends with guys before. You are very close with several of the guys on the volleyball team. You’ve been around college dudes for three entire years. You know how guys smell, you know they all tend to get wrapped up in whatever boys think about and neglect their own hygiene unless gently reminded that no, Taehyung, girls do not like it when a guy is sweaty.

Apparently, one dude didn’t get the memo, because Jungkook smells like fucking heaven. Clean linens and summer flowers and rainstorms, with a lingering and faint whisper of chlorine that shoves you into the nostalgia of high school summers at the pool with your friends. It’s glorious and wonderful and you’ve never been close enough to smell him before, which you also never thought would ever go through your brain.

You wish you could say you’ve never thought of how he might smell, you really do. But the truth is you are a girl in love, with an overactive imagination and a lot of time spent not writing essays. You’ve imagined a lot of things. And yet. Even in your wildest daydreams, there is no possible way you ever could have expected it to floor you the way it did.

Nayun is saying something and you’re nodding along, but she could be telling you the secret to life itself and you would never know. You’re too focused on him. You can’t look at him - a blessing and a curse, because now you may be able to pay attention to the lecture, but you’ll also be too distracted to think about anything but if he’s looking at you - but you can hear him. You’ve heard him speak before, you’ve built up somewhat of a resistance to his voice and the way it slides along the air, which is such a sappy romantic thing to think but here you fucking are.

You have not, however, heard him speak for such a long period of time about the continuity errors in Boku No Hero Academia. You don’t even know what the fuck that is, never heard the phrase in your entire life, but he’s so passionate about it that you can’t help but listen. He’s making all sorts of points and giving all kinds of examples and you want to nod along just to encourage him. For all you know he could be wrong about every single instance he mentions but fuck, he just sounds so sure of himself and so absolute that it has you wanting to agree.

The sheer confidence in what he’s saying has you getting weak in the knees. He’s such an absolute fucking weeb, and yet it’s always been so sexy to you when someone knows their shit and can prove it. You could have gone your entire life without knowing that that particular kink extended to fucking anime.

The professor walks in shortly after and you are blessedly saved from more of Jungkook’s rants about anime inconsistencies. You’re impossibly wet and you curse yourself for the millionth time for somehow falling for the biggest dork the planet has possibly ever seen. You focus all of your attention on the lecture, doing your best to take notes even as you find yourself doodling the best (read: atrocious) representations of Jungkook in the margins of your notebook.

You groan on the way out. You’d spent the full hour and a half taking sporadic notes between doodles of Jungkook as a prince. You still couldn’t decide if you were imagining the feeling of someone watching you, either. Nayun just laughs and leads you to the dining hall for dinner before you both had to head to practice.

You are blessedly free of Jungkook for exactly four days. It is, in fact, a new record, since the first time you saw him.

It’s turned your life into a hellscape and you hate it.

You look for him around every corner and past every door, and more than once you’ve caught yourself expecting him to walk through the door at the coffee shop for absolutely no reason. You’ve only ever seen him there the one time. There was literally no reason to expect him to show up ever again, and yet each time someone walked in, you responded as if it was the 1500s and the king himself had entered the building.

If you’re being honest, though, your biggest issue with not seeing Jungkook’s dumb ass for four entire days is that it is just long enough for you to start to expect not to see him. It’s just enough time for you to get so accustomed to not seeing him around that you stop turning corners and looking for him immediately. You don’t immediately think 'this is it’ when the bell above the shop door rings. It takes a second to kick in, a delayed response that is still habit but one on its way out.

You miss him, that is definite. You find yourself wishing that he would show up out of the blue one day, spouting some nonsense, just for the sake of hearing it again. His rants about which Bleach character would actually win a fight because 'well, according to the manga,’ his tirades about how the revamp of Voltron is nowhere near as genuine as the original and is clearly pandering, you just…miss it. You never understand a goddamn thing he’s saying but it’s so fucking attractive. He’s so passionate about all of it and he’s so knowledgeable that even the discussion you overheard in the library about the top ten most powerful moves in the entirety of YuYuHakusho had you dripping and running for your apartment, and you miss that.

At this point, though, you should know the universe fucking hates you.

It’s late, close to 2 am, you haven’t slept in too long because you had an away game that afternoon that you lost on a fucking bullshit call and then had to stay to watch the boys’ team play. They, of course, crushed their opponents, which you were proud of, but it only made your defeat that much more bitter. You were still pissed about it when you rolled into work that night, Rose lagging behind to talk to the coach and Jimin glowing beside you with how well his team had done.

You’re tired, you’re pissed, you’re starving, you have a test in six hours that you haven’t studied for, the cafe is mercilessly dead, there’s a guy in the corner building an actual literal scale model of a castle, and all you can think about is the bullshit ref insisting that the ball touched Jisoo’s elbow after she made contact and completely fucking over the last serve of the game in favor of your opponents.

Jimin, the light of your life and angel among men, had gotten your food before your break. It isn’t fancy, two quick drive-thru burgers with fries and a drink, but it may as well be the nectar of the gods with the way you’re inhaling it. The angel and future father of your immaculate conception babies sits on one of the stools against the counter, chin in his hand as he watches you eat. He looks torn between horror and fascination and you can’t blame him for it. It must be a sight to behold: you, behind the shop counter, elbows planted for maximum efficiency, mouth stuffed full of French fries, ripping viciously into a burger as you continue to go off about the bullshit that was your match that day.

Really, you wouldn’t be this mad any other day. But the combination of so many shitty things - hunger, exhaustion, stress, frustration, not having seen the love of your life Jeon Jungkook in y e a r s - has you absolutely livid. You’re well past the end of your break by now, but Rose knows all too well how you are and is graciously letting you vent until you’re less ready to rip the head off the next person that comes in the door.

You express the sentiment to Jimin, who laughs, the fucker, and fail to realize that someone has, actually, just walked into the coffee shop. You’re halfway through your sentence - “I swear to God, Park, if I see that fucking ref again, I’m gonna rip his balls off and shove them so far up his ass that he starts to digest them, what kind of bullshit even was that, her elbow was nowhere near the ball, that foul never would’ve stood if we had been on our court,” - when it registers that Rose is taking an order. You glance over, out of habit more than anything, and proceed to attempt to inhale the food crammed into your mouth as you gasp.

Of course, of fucking course, Jungkook would show up while you’re like this. Your hair is a mess, still damp from the post-game shower, you’ve got some kind of stain on your shirt from the food that’s absolutely smashed into your mouth, and you’ve just been basically shouting expletives all over your workplace, which he definitely heard. It’s made worse because he’s staring at you, eyes wide behind his stupid round glasses, and his striped shirt with fucking ridiculous overalls. You’re torn between planting one on him since he looks so fucking cute and bewildered, decking him straight in the face because where the fuck has he been, and just bolting straight out of the shop because the guy you’ve liked for two fucking years witnessed all of that and you want to die.

You stare at him and he stares at you, looking as shocked as you feel. Jimin is just looking between the two of you, a shit-eating grin overtaking his face as he starts to connect dots you never ever wanted him to connect, because-

“Jungkook-ah, I didn’t know you came here!” Jimin says, grinning at the younger boy and one of his very best friends. He’s got a glint in his eye that you recognize and you contemplate not for the first time if you could actually impale him with a coffee stirrer.

“Oh, yeah, well…” Jungkook stutters and you hate that it’s so cute. “The others close to my dorm are all really busy at this time of night, y'know, so I like to get coffee on this side of campus so it’s still coffee and not watered down when I get back to my dorm.”

“Why don’t you just drink it here?” Jimin asks as he stirs his own coffee that had long since gone cold, as if he had every right in the world to offer up your coffee shop to a literal God among men. “It’s quiet, you could probably get more work done here than in your dorm. I remember you said your neighbors have been keeping you up.”

Jungkook turns red and looks away. Rose takes the opportunity to slide his iced coffee across to him and he takes it with a smile that makes your heart melt. You watch the exchange with more focus than you probably should, and the food is forgotten in lieu of your future husband right there in front of you for the first time in days.

“I guess I could,” Jungkook eventually says, eyes darting all over. They rest on you every few minutes before quickly flying away, and it makes you even more self-conscious of the stain on your shirt and the way grease has no doubt pooled around your mouth. You grab a napkin to try to clean yourself up as Jungkook continues. “I just don’t know if I could focus here, y'know, there’re a lot of…distractions.”

The silence that follows the statement is deafening, only broken by the quiet huffs of the guy building a castle in the corner.

Jungkook turns even redder and ruffles the back of his hair. It’s impossibly cute and you’re halfway to offering to ruffle it for him, either between his sheets or in the alley out back, when Jimin cuts you off.

“Well, you should consider it, at least. I always have the best times here, even with all the distractions.” Jimin sips at his coffee as he speaks and you get the very distinct sense that he’s teasing Jungkook about something you don’t know. The younger boy just smiles and gives a quick bye to Jimin and Rose. You like to think his smile softens as he looks at you, and the way he says your name as he waves will forever be embedded into your mind.

He’s gone before you can respond and you’re glad, sure you must be at least as red as the strawberry syrup. Jimin whirls on you the second Jungkook is out of sight, Rose doing her best to pretend she isn’t mortified for you.

“I cannot believe that you didn’t tell me - me - that the guy you’ve been pining after all these years is Jungkook.” Jimin sounds scandalized and betrayed and his face just makes you think of- “Top Ten Anime Betrayals, really.”

“Fuck, this is exactly why I didn’t want you to know! I used his codename for a reason.” You whine, dropping your head to the countertop with a resounding thud.

“Oh, yes, because Dumb DumbDook is oh-so-subtle,” Rose mutters. You ignore her.

“I could have been doing wingman work this whole time, though! Imagine how much further along you’d be if I’d been able to hype you up every time I hang out with him. You’d be able to talk to him, five words at least.” You smack Rose when she laughs.

“No, absolutely not. There’s no way it’s gonna happen, Jimin, I can’t set myself up for that failure.” You shake your head and go back to your food, though you’re much less angry after seeing your weeb. “Besides, we’ve got like…nothing in common, what would we even talk about?”

“Are you serious?” The deadpan is what catches your attention, and when you glance up, the look Jimin is giving is scathing. “I’ve heard you gush about his nerd rants, alright, you said yourself you could listen to him talk for weeks without getting bored of hearing his voice.”

“Conversations are a two-way street, Jimin. What the fuck could I contribute to that?”

“Uh…you’re kidding me, right? You didn’t see that face he made while you were doing your whole 'I’m gonna shit talk the ref because he made a call I didn’t like’ thing.”

“It was bullshit and you know it, he never would’ve done that shit for the other side.”

“Point stands, dude. Kook could listen to you go off about your sports shit for just as long as you could with his anime shit. I’d put money on it.”

“You’re delusional, Park, but I’m gonna let you live in this fantasy world because it’s nice to have company here.” He scoffs but doesn’t press the topic, which you’re thankful for. Instead, you fish your study guide out of your bag and hand it to him so he can quiz you about the test you have in four hours.

It seems that Jungkook takes Jimin’s word as law because he starts to show up more and more often. At first, it was just the coffee shop, where he would order his iced black and then leave with a shy smile that had you melting. Then he was at the library at the same time you were, one table over and typing furiously away at his laptop. You assumed it was for a class until he disappeared and returned with a printed copy and you caught the “Neon Genesis Evangelion: A New Order, Chapter Five” at the top.

You won’t lie, you did judge him just a bit for that because you don’t even know anything about the show but no way in hell would you be caught dead printing your fanfic on wireless school computers when cloud hacks are a thing.

He appears at your favorite takeout place, too; not that he saw you since you dove behind a fish tank to avoid getting caught. You’d watched carefully through the water as he waited, looking around in the meantime as if in search of something. He almost looked dejected when he left, though you didn’t know why until you got your food and found out they were out of crab rangoon like you hadn’t just been playing peekaboo with one in the fish tank for twenty minutes.

The thing that really gets you, though, the one that grinds your gears, is how he makes the coffee shop his thing. He just keeps showing up, night after night, and while at first he just left with his coffee, he apparently decided that wasn’t enough, because now he stays. He parks himself at the corner table near the outlet and taps away at his laptop while you try to do any semblance of work. He’s so distracting. He makes the most adorable faces - the brow furrow and slight frown when he’s focused and trying to figure something out, the clenched jaw with tongue in cheek when he’s irritated or frustrated, the cute ass bunny smile that makes you want to jump off a bridge and/or push him off a bridge.

Honestly, if you’re being truthful, you could’ve gotten used to that. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk much and even though you can feel him nearby like a sunflower to the sun, you could’ve managed eventually.

The issue is that his nerd friends start joining him, and they are not quiet. They are loud and argumentative and enjoy debating their dweeb things and they especially enjoy dragging Jungkook into said dweebates, if you will. Which in and of itself is not terrible. You’ve had a literal debate team in here practicing, you’re accustomed to that kind of thing.

No, the issue is that Jungkook is like the king weeb. He seems to know everything about everything complete with sources to back it up and even if he doesn’t know something he can either find out in ten seconds or he can bullshit his way to being right. And it’s so goddamn sexy. He just fucking…owns the other nerds, no matter what the subject is, and he’s so confident and sure and he gets sassy with them when he knows he’s right and they’re wrong. The body language, the expression on his face, the way he just stomps them into the dirt…it gets you hot and bothered every fucking time, and it’s a problem, because you’re at work. It is not socially acceptable to kidnap someone into the break room to fuck their brains out because they just won an argument about whether Yu Gi Oh or Pokemon was a more successful trading card game.

It’s made even even worse because Jungkook has started to pay attention to your rants. Every time you have a game or watch one with the team, you and Rose spend at least part of your shift talking about the ups and downs, what can be improved, what you specifically need to work on and how you can do it. One night the two of you spent upwards of an hour debating whether Lang Ping or Mireya was a better overall player and why, and when you finally stopped to restock the coffee beans, Jungkook was staring at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

Of course, that was when you turned and hid in the storage room for the rest of your shift, but the point fucking stands.

Jeon Jungkook is a menace and he is taking over your life and you really should be more mad about it. It almost comes to a head when Jimin drags you to a swim meet, which you have attended exactly zero times in your entire life because who the fuck cares about swim meets.

“Trust me,” He had pleaded. “I want to go to support some friends, but I’m gonna be bored if I have to sit alone on the bleachers.” You’d eventually caved when he promised to buy you food, and now your ass was planted on the most uncomfortable stand seats you’ve ever been on and you were about to pop a blood vessel because Jimin was being so fucking infuriating about everything. He’d pulled you straight from practice, not letting you change or shower or anything, and he’d been trying to goad you into a debate the entire time you’d been waiting for the meet to start. It was legitimately starting to get you riled up, even as you stretched your legs out, thighs spread wide as your fingers massaged the muscles in your familiar post-game routine.

“For the last fucking time, Jimin, no, the Canada/Mexico save was not better than the fucking Italy/France save!” He rolls his eyes, but he opened this can of worms so now he has to suffer with you. “It was flashier, sure, with the sliding and the moving of the barriers, but the Italy/France save was more technically sound and less likely to result in any kind of ref interference. They were both good, sure, but there is no way you can truly believe that the flashier and less technically sound and less safe of the two is actually better.”

“Oh, your boyfriend’s waving,” Jimin says as he smiles and waves, eyes turning into crescents as he does.

“What? I don’t have a-” You stop when you look. You really should have expected this because life is a cruel mistress and the universe itself is even crueler, but here you were. Rendered speechless by the sight of Jungkook. In swim pants. Shirtless.

“You’re drooling,” Jimin comments dryly.

“Fuck off, it’s not my fault he’s sculpted by the gods.” You don’t even bother to look at Jimin, too focused on the way Jungkook’s back flexes as he pulls himself out of the water. Time legitimately slows, water falling off of him and trailing down abs you did not know were there, and your heart honest to God stops beating. “What the fuck is he even doing here?”

“He’s on the swim team,” Jimin smirks and calls Jungkook over before you can shove your hand over his mouth. “Kook-ah, good luck! You’re gonna do great!”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook says with an excited grin as he jogs over. You don’t think you take a single breath in the five minutes they chat. Your chest may actually explode, and you’re tempted to dive into the pool not two feet away to cool off. Jungkook steps back like he’s going to leave, giving you a small smile as he does.

“Wait, Jungkook, remind me, how did you get into swimming? Someone was curious,” Jimin nods ever so subtly to you but you can’t even find the strength to be upset because Jungkook’s chest is right there and you want to run your tongue along his muscles.

“Oh, there’s actually this anime called Free! I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, it’s really good, but it’s about these swimmers. They complete and a lot of it is them learning how to get better at their techniques so I thought, 'well, that can’t be that hard can it?’“ You let out a quiet sob. He’s just…you clench your fist in your lap and sigh. He’s just such a fucking nerd. Jungkook shoots you a somewhat worried look but continues. “It’s how I learned archery and boxing, too. I saw them in manga and got really interested and figured if the characters can do it, why can’t I?”

“God, that’s so fucking nerdy,” You mutter. It doesn’t register that you spoke out loud until you see Jungkook’s reddening face and hear Jimin’s soft choke. “In a good way! I mean, I think it’s…it’s really awesome that you just saw it and did it, that’s really…” Don’t say sexy. “…cool.”

Jungkook stares at you, cheeks reddened, and you struggle not to start digging your own grave here and now in the middle of this indoor pool area. You’re about to stand and do exactly that when Jungkook’s face brightens and his nose crinkles and the most blinding grin you’ve ever seen in your life takes over his face as his shoulders bunch up. Your eyes are probably actual fucking hearts now, it’s easily the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen on a human male as tall and buff as he is, and it kind of makes you want to shove him in the pool.

You really don’t have to, though, because he just shakes his head and turns to go back to the swimmer’s benches or whatever they’re called in swimming. He’s ruffling the back of his hair again and watching the ground, but he keeps turning back to beam at you and Jimin. You see it before Jimin does, and both of you start to call for him when his heel slips and he falls completely back into the water.

Every face in the area turns to look at where Jungkook is surfacing, wiping his face and slicking his hair back out of his face. The sight of it nearly sends you into heart palpitations because you honestly didn’t think he could get more fucking attractive but you were wrong. You force yourself to calm down because Jimin is too busy rolling on the ground beside you to be of any use in resuscitating you if your heart actually gave out.

“Ah, nani,” You hear Jungkook mutter as he climbs out of the pool and you wish you had a brick to hit yourself with because of course, of fucking course, he looks so fucking good and is so fucking bone-meltingly hot and still says weeb shit like ‘ah, nani’ when he falls into a goddamn pool.

You’re honestly legitimately fucked and the fact that you don’t even care anymore says a lot more about you than you want it to.

It all actually comes to a head nearly a week after the swim meet. The sight of a wet and dripping and half-naked Jungkook doesn’t leave your mind, forever burned into your retinas, but even more wonderful is the shy, bashful Jungkook that greets you the next day at the coffee shop. It’s almost like he thinks you’re going to tease him, as if he didn’t see you shoving your whole mouth full of junk while cursing out a ref, as if he didn’t fully hear you tell him ‘your problem!’ with a happy grin and death in your eyes the first time he came into the shop.

It’s just…it’s so fucking cute that you physically cannot contain it anymore, and you find yourself bemoaning your state of perpetual adoration with Jisoo and Rose while you all shower after the latest match.

“I’m just going to suffer for the rest of my life aren’t I?” You say, speaking louder than you typically would in order to be heard over the several showerheads currently running. “It’s too much for my heart to take, absolutely too much, he’s too fucking…ugh, clenches fist, he’s too fucking cute.”

“Did you just verbalize the ‘clenches fist’ meme?” Rose shoots from her own stall. You shoot a face at the wall separating you, not that she can see it. “Listen, you know how I feel about this. You need to make a move because that boy never will. He’s a mess.”

“Wow, who else do we know that’s also a mess at all times for the guy they’ve liked for years?” Jisoo comments from her own shower across the way. You groan and kick your stall door, which only results in a muffled curse and you cradling your toe as you balance precariously on one foot.

“Do not injure yourself, we have a tournament next weekend,” Rose says offhandedly. You huff.

“Why would I even make a move? He’s got…Hatsune Miku and anime girls and shit.”

“Oh, of course,” Rose says. “I forgot, every guy would willingly give up a gorgeous, real-life girl willing to fuck him senseless for a pretty cartoon. Silly me.”

“What I don’t get,” Nayun calls from the locker room proper. “Is why you think he isn’t interested. He gets a chub every time he so much as looks at you, and don’t think Jimin didn’t tell me about the swim meet. The boy fell into a pool.”

“Yeah, because he’s a goddamn idiot.” You shake your head and wash the conditioner from your hair.

“What if we dare you to do it?” Rose’s voice echoes from too close. You turn and see her silhouette against the plastic shower curtain. She takes your confused silence as permission to continue. “Seriously, if we dare you to ask him out, will you?”

“What the fuck,” You say, sticking your head out of the curtain to level a glare at her. “I’m not ten years old, why the fuck would I do something just because you dare me to?”

“Bet, then,” Jisoo says as she wraps her hair in a towel. Your eyes must be wide as saucers because she laughs. “Bet on it. If the boys lose this game, you have to ask him out.”

“No no,” Rose says, and a familiar and all-too-dangerous grin spreads on her face. “If the boys lose this game, you have to confess. Do the gift and the letter and the whole fucking anime thing for him. If they win, we’ll drop it, and listen to your moaning and groaning for the rest of forever without complaint or comment.” Jisoo and Nayun look much too excited at the prospect, but you’ve been watching the boys play all season.

“What kind of bet is that? The boys haven’t lost a game all season.”

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?” Rose says, grinning as she saunters over to put her street clothes on. “Five minutes before game start.” You curse and rush to finish your shower, determined not to run laps for being late again.

As fate would have it, you do have reason to worry, because apparently, the rival university recruited some fucking professional athlete super mutants or some shit. It’s a close game, the boys only losing by one, but with the level of skill they’ve been playing with all season, it should’ve been an easy win.

And yet.

You’re standing outside the boys’ locker room, waiting patiently for Jimin. It’s a routine you got into when you first met, just after you’d both joined the respective teams. He would wait for you and you would wait for him, as long as it took, especially after a loss. You’re still in shock, still reeling from the game itself. You would almost think Jimin had found out about the bet and thrown the game, just to get you to shut the fuck up about Jungkook, if you didn’t know him.

If you didn’t see the dedication he put into the game, the perfection he expected of himself and his team. It rivals even Rose’s, and you can hear him yelling from where you stand, slamming what is probably his fist into a locker several times before he falls silent. As much as you had riding on this game, as pissed as you are that you lost the bet, you know it’s minuscule in comparison to the way Jimin feels, and you can’t even summon up enough energy to fool yourself otherwise. You’ve known him too long.

When he finally does emerge, you help wrap his knuckles with a clean bandage and ruffle his hair. “It’ll be alright, Park,” You tell him, quiet. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you sling your arm around his shoulder to lead him to your car. He’s quiet the rest of the night, even as you eat shitty fast food burgers in your car, even as he sits at the counter at the coffee shop, textbook open in front of him but not reading it.

“So I bet the girls that I would do an anime confession for Jungkook if you lost, you wanna help me plan it?” You ask him towards the end of your shift, long after said dork is gone from the shop. It’s the only time you see Jimin smile all night, but it’s worth it for the way his eyes crinkle and he starts outlining ideas.

“Did you even sleep last night?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Jimin responds as he chugs the rest of his coffee. Calling it coffee is generous, if you’re honest because it smells like he put twenty espresso shots in a cup and added some sugar. You force back a gag and shudder at the thought. “Everything’s in place?”

“This isn’t a bank heist, Jimin, I’m giving him a fucking box and a letter.” Even behind sunglasses you can tell the look he’s giving you is withering. “Whatever, yes, everything’s in place.”

“Good. Target sighted. Commence mission.”

You huff, grumbling as you move forward to the door. Of the cafe. Where you work. Where Jungkook is sitting, surrounded by his dork friends and heatedly arguing about something you no doubt have no clue about. Looking absolutely delectable, despite just being in a regular ass fucking jacket and a beanie that almost matches his skin and his hair looks so soft that you want to rub your face in it and also maybe bury your fingers in it while he’s between your legs.

You open the door and are immediately hit with the sound of Rose choking on her drink, the sudden conversation about which dps character is better - what the fuck that means, you don’t know - screeching to a halt, and every single person in the shop staring at you. Which is only like three people that aren’t Rose, Jungkook, Jimin, or the six people around Jungkook, but still. You force yourself not to throw up and move, cursing the itchy and uncomfortable dress the entire way.

Really, it was Jimin’s fault. You’d been brainstorming ways to confess and how to make it so perfectly Jungkook that he at least had to respond. He’d been the one to suggest dressing up as Hatsune Miku, which you, of course, nixed immediately. You weren’t about to spend who knows how much on a fucking wig and costume of one of the most popular cartoon characters of the modern age, not when you were only going to use it one fucking time.

So here you fucking are, dressed up like god damn Haruhi Fujioka, in an itchy yellow dress that doesn’t move where it should and feels like fucking sandpaper against your skin, that Jimin just happened to have on hand, like that wasn’t super fucking weird, and now everyone at your place of employment is staring at you and the small white box in your hands with a little pink envelope on top of it and you can hear Rose’s muffled laughter as you step further into the shop.

You stare at the ground as you walk, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before you’re staring down at Jungkook’s Timbs. You take a deep breath, and then another, and then another before you look up. He’s openly gawking, jaw nearly on the floor as he looks you up and down. Not a single soul is making a noise in the shop, so your voice rings out loud clear as you say–

“My chest hurts when I think about this person. When this person is happy, I am happy. When he smiles, I feel like crying. I distinguish his voice better than other people’s. I think this person is respectable. I want to become this person’s strength. I have scored more than 80 points, and it’s official. I-” You stop, cursing the fact that you’re doing this at three in the fucking morning on your day off in your workplace all because of a fucking bet and the fact that you couldn’t shut up about Jungkook’s stupid fucking face for more than two minutes without being in danger of combustion. “I like him, and I hope that he feels the same.”

You shove the white box into his hands and turn on your heel. Without looking back, you march out the door, grabbing Jimin on the way even as Jungkook calls after you. You keep going, walking quicker than you ever have to get to your apartment as fast as possible. Jimin just laughs as he follows you.

“I can’t believe you actually did it, holy shit. I hope he likes the chocolates, you worked really hard on them.”

“This is going to end up on the internet, I just know it, and I’m stating right now that this was not how I ever wanted to fucking tell him.” Jimin laughs again and hands you the coffee Rose had made you. When you finally make it back to your apartment, he helps you take the dress off and gets the pint of ice cream out of the freezer so you can wallow in peace.

“You don’t even know what he’s going to say,” Jimin protests, though he heaps his own spoon with ice cream in the process.

“I walked up to him in a jank cosplay of a shojo manga character and confessed my fucking love for him, Jimin.” He balks at the look you give him. “I don’t care how much of an otaku he is, he’s gonna think I’m fucking weird.”

“Well, don’t count yourself out just yet, alright?” Jimin ruffles your hair and you swat at him. “You never know. Maybe he’s really into Ouran and you just don’t know it.” You groan and bury your face in a pillow in an attempt to smother yourself. It doesn’t work.

It still hasn’t worked the next day when you wake up around noon to find Jimin gone and your dishes done for you. You grumble about it since you had every intention of doing your own dishes, but you send him a quick ‘thanks for washing my grime bitch’ because no matter how capable you are, you never want to do them.

It’s later that night when you’re fresh out of the shower and getting ready to head to your practice except for the fact that you can’t find your fucking keys that there’s a knock on your door. You open it without looking and dive back into the couch, bent nearly in half while you dig through the cushions. “Hey, Nayun, I’m almost ready, I just have to find my keys. I think Jimin threw them somewhere last night, after that fucking debacle at the shop-” A choked noise that definitely does not sound like Nayun reaches your eyes and you bolt upright, eyes wide.

Jungkook stands in the doorway to your apartment, wide eyes darting up from where he most definitely was staring at your ass and his face bright red. “Jimin gave me your address. Um…can we talk?”

You really want to say no. You want to tell him that no, you can’t, because you have volleyball practice, as he can tell from your uniform, and you absolutely cannot be late because Rose will literally use your entrails to make a new net.

Instead what comes out is, “Sure!”

You wave him in and close the door behind him, shooting off a quick text to Rose to let her know you might be late or may not show up at all, you’re not really sure because motherfucking Jeon Jungkook just showed up at your door. All you get back is a string of the cry-laughing emojis, and you curse whatever deity decided she should walk this earth with mortals.

“So,” Jungkook says. It’s long and drawn out, like he doesn’t really know where to go from here, but you’re distracted because he looks so good. Matching grey hoodie and sweats that are just the right side of baggy, standard Timbs, hair pushed to the side slightly to show off a bit of forehead. God, what is the world coming to that you’re this worked up over some fucking forehead?

“So,” You echo.

“Did you mean those things you said yesterday?” You hesitate and he takes it as an answer in itself. “Listen, I…I get it, y’know? You’re this super cool volleyball star, and I’m a big nerd who swims, haha, let’s tease the kid about his crush, but…it didn’t really seem like you were teasing. And now I’m confused because I can’t tell if you actually meant any of that or if you were just…dared to do it.”

“I was. Kind of. It was a bet, actually.” Jungkook’s face falls and you wince. “No, not like that, it wasn’t. Fuck, okay, it wasn’t a mean bet. I made a bet with the girls on the team that if the boys lost their game, then I would confess my feelings to you in some big dramatic anime way, like all that shit you like, right, and then the boys actually lost their game, so I had to do it, and then, wait.” Your brain catches up. “Did you say you have a crush on me?”

Jungkook’s face is still slightly pink, but he’s got the most tentative bunny smile on and he looks so unbearably fond that your heart is breaking. “I did,” He says softly. “So you really have feelings for me?”

“I’ve been in love with you for more than two years,” You blurt. You immediately want to take it back, want to suck the words back in before they can escape and embarrass you further, but it’s too late. “I mean…I was an orientation leader with Jimin right before my second year and you were in his group, and I saw you talking to some people and you were just really super cute and you have a really nice smile and I was kind of hooked and then later that year we were both at the dining hall and I was sitting near you and this guy said something about some anime and you were all, ‘really, because if you’d bothered to watch the show then you’d know blah blah blah’ and it was the single hottest anime takedown I’ve ever seen.”

Jungkook is silent through your babble, though his smile just grows and he fluffs the back of his hair. He looks around your apartment briefly, like he’s looking for words, and he’s got the prettiest flush on his face and you want to kiss it but he hasn’t said anything.

“I went to your first volleyball match that year, and you spiked a ball into a girl’s face,” He admits. You remember that match, mostly because- “And then you argued with the ref for almost ten minutes about whether or not you deserved a penalty for it because technically she was the one that tried to hit the ball with her face, you hadn’t tried to hit her in the face. I’ve never been so turned on by sports in my entire life.”

“I once spat water out my nose because you said hi to me in the dining hall.”

“I fell into that pool because you looked really fucking hot in your uniform and I couldn’t process the fact that you thought my anime shit was cool.”

“I want to lick your abs.”

He stops at that, and for a second, for a single second you think maybe you went too far, but then he’s glancing around at the apartment as if he’s actually looking for something now. “Is there anyone else here?” He eventually asks. You can’t even finish shaking your head before he’s on you, pressing his mouth to yours in a feverish kiss.

You want to say that it was soft and sweet and gentle at first, but it wasn’t, at all. The two of you had too much pent up sexual frustration for that. Instead, his lips move against yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect, and his hand on the back of your neck is unforgiving as he tilts your jaw to get deeper into your mouth.

“Fuck, Kook,” You moan, hands already roaming along his sweatshirt. “Please take it off, I’m begging you.” He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling against your lips and it sends a wave of arousal crashing through you even as he strips his hoodie off to reveal nothing underneath. You feast your eyes on the muscles he keeps hidden away, hands hesitating as they start to run along the skin. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, seems to actually bask in it, and he chuckles again as he lets his hands fall to your hips.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” He whispers in your ear, and you find yourself shaking at the way it feels. Erotic and sensual and hot as fuck, you want to return the favor, but you find yourself at a loss.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” You ask, pushing against his chest and walking back with him until his knees hit the couch. “Do you know how often I’ve thought of this?” You push again and he falls back onto it, hands coming to grip your thighs as you straddle him, and you make sure to grind your hips against his as you move to whisper into his ear. “How often I’ve touched myself thinking of you?”

Jungkook moans, and you want to etch the sound into your fucking skin, it’s absolutely glorious. He says your name like it’s a curse and you’ve never wanted someone more. You grind yourself against the stiffness you can feel through his sweats, your own volleyball shorts leaving little to the imagination. You’re absolutely soaked, and you know it’s going to be a bitch to wash but you could not give less of a fuck right now.

He rolls his hips up to meet yours and it’s your turn to moan, hands coming up to brace on his shoulders as your tongue slides along his neck and down to his throat. His breath hitches when you graze the skin there with your teeth, so you repeat the action. His hands tighten at your hips and slide to palm your ass; you never thought a guy’s hand on your ass would feel as good as it does, but you also never thought you’d be making out with Jeon Jungkook on your couch instead of going to practice.

“Fuck, Kook,” You moan into his mouth as he slides his right hand up your shirt to cup your breast. It’s more difficult than it usually would be, as you wear your sports bras to practice, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. “Need you.”

“Don’t wanna fuck you on your couch yet,” He replies between the slide of his tongue against yours. “Your room, wanna make you come in your bed first.” Your legs tremble at the thought and you push yourself up. It’s hard to stand, your legs are wobbly, but Jungkook doesn’t even seem to notice it as you turn. His chest is pressed against your back immediately, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady while the other gropes your ass. His mouth is harsh on your neck and you can feel the bruises forming but at this point, you don’t even care.

You press yourself into him, and you can feel him. He curves, you can already tell; the heat radiating from the hardness pressed into the swell of your ass is delicious, and another wave of wetness seeps into your shorts as you think about what it’s gonna be like with him inside.

“You have no idea what these shorts do to me,” He whispers, nipping at the skin of your neck one last time before he slaps your ass - hard. You yelp, more in surprise than anything, but before you can say anything he’s pushing at your hips to force you through the apartment.

You’ve only made it to your bed faster once before this, when you thought you were being chased by an ax murderer that turned out to be a coat rack.

Jungkook isn’t gentle when you get to your room. He doesn’t even pause, just flips you around and shoves you onto the bed. It shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is, and you’re quivering a little because of it. He slides between your legs, hands running slowly up your thighs, and it seems that now he’s decided to take his time.

His touch is feather-light against your skin. You can barely feel his hands as they slide up your thighs and over your hips, around your waist, and between your breasts, but you can’t ever deny where they are. You’re hyperaware of him, and the smirk on his face tells you that he knows it. The competitive side of you, the one that makes you so fucking vicious during games, swells; he needs to know you’re not one to take it lying down, and he needs to know now.

Your legs move up around his waist and you push, using all your weight to flip the two of you so he straddles you once more. He’s rock solid against your ass and you grind back into it. His hands slide along your waist again and he pouts a little.

“Wanted to taste you,” He whines, fingers dipping just below the waistband of your shorts. You hook your thumbs in alongside his and pull, letting the material slide down just enough to tease.

“So do it,” You tell him. He looks confused for a second before recognition washes over him. His dick twitches behind you, but you pay it no mind. You rise up enough to slide your shorts off, a true feat of excellence considering how tight they are, and when you settle back down on your knees, his tongue runs across your slit. You gasp at the feeling and he takes this as permission to continue.

Whatever you expected him to be like in bed, every sexual fantasy you’ve ever had about him, none could ever live up to the reality of Jungkook’s tongue sliding between your folds to flick your clit. You moan, nails digging into your thighs.

“You like that, princess?” He asks, muffled by your thighs and pussy. You nod before realizing that he may not be able to see you.

“Yes, I do,” You tell him, and your nails dig in harder when he flicks it again. He continues, tongue darting out to tease you but not giving you enough to get you where you want to go. You growl, and he laughs.

“Maybe you should be kitten instead if you’re going to growl at me.” You shudder at the name, and when you look down with red cheeks, he has one brow raised. “Really? Kitten?”

“Shut up, I know you have a Hatsune Miku body pillow,” You tell him. He looks ready to protest but you lower yourself so his lips brush your folds. He takes the hint, thankfully, and lets his hands curl up to grip your hips. “Put that fucking mouth to work, Jungkook, or so help me-” You’re cut off by an unexpected moan. He slides his tongue along you once more, from clit to hole, and you whimper.

You can literally feel the smirk against your pussy and you rock down onto him. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your clit and back down to your hole. You grind your hips down into his mouth, desperate for more friction, and you feel soft breaths against you as he chuckles. You whine and he takes pity, angling himself better before sliding his tongue tantalizingly slow into you. You clench around him and are left unsatisfied. As wonderful and skilled as it is, it’s not nearly big enough to do what you need it to. Still, it feels damn good as he thrusts it in and out of you, good enough that when he starts to pull away, your hands dart down and tangle in his hair to keep him right where he is. You can feel your orgasm coming, it’s so close you can taste it, and when he slides a finger over your clit, you break.

Your hips stutter in their rhythm and you slide yourself to the side so he can breathe properly once more. He’s got a grin on his face and looks entirely too pleased with himself. He moves to lay between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your torso and thighs with every breath, and the fondness in your chest swells.

You can see him straining his sweats, it has to hurt, and yet here he is, showering you with kisses and sweet nothings instead of immediately trying to get off himself. What a refreshing change of pace.

“Thank you,” He mutters with a laugh, and you realize you’d been talking out loud. “I do really, really want to fuck you, though.” He trails kisses up your neck to your ear and you shiver. “Would you like that, kitten?” You whine and arousal courses through you once more. He trails kisses back down and unsnaps your bra; you would have to remember to thank Jisoo for suggesting you get a clasped sports bra, because it’s never been helpful before but thank God you don’t have to try to peel yourself out of a regular one now.

Jungkook presses his lips against your nipple lightly, fingers ghosting over the other to stiffen it. “You didn’t answer me, kitten. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to slide into that pretty pussy?” You whimper, doing your damndest to pull him far enough that you can grind against something that isn’t air, but he holds his body just far enough away that you can’t. He gives your nipple little kitten licks, his saliva making the air that much colder and your nipples that much harder.

“You’re so wet for me, kitten,” He mutters as he lets his free hand rest on your thigh, thumb swiping lazily over your hipbone. “Can you feel it? Because I can, even from here. You’re absolutely soaked, I could probably just slide right in. Do you want that, kitten? You want me to pound that little pussy of yours until you can’t walk straight?”

“Fuck, Kook, please,” You moan. Your hands slide along his body, looking for any kind of purchase and finding none. He’s enjoying himself too much, and you’re too desperate right now to do anything about it. “Please, Kook, please fuck me already. I swear to god, I’m gonna send your fucking Evangelion fanfic to your professors if you don’t get in me soon.”

“How do you even know about that?” He asks, momentarily stunned out of character. You give him a satisfied grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You lift your hips off the bed completely, letting them brush lightly against him. He stifles a moan and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, your entire body shivers with delight; he’s still that dumbass weeb but fuck, he looks like he’s going to absolutely wreck you.

“I’m gonna fuck this slut pussy of yours until you’re gushing, you hear me, kitten?” He says, kicking his sweats off. You don’t even get a chance to appreciate the sight of his dick before he’s lining up with your hole, the tip brushing against your clit in the process and making you moan. “I’m gonna fucking pound your pussy until it’s so fucking full you can’t remember your own name, let alone random shit about me. You’re gonna be begging for my cock, all day every day.”

“Fuck, Kook, yes, please, I want that,” You grind your hips up again and he moves, sliding inside of you in one easy movement. The stretch burns at first; he’s fucking huge, and he does curve, and it presses against every inch of you in such a phenomenal way that you never want him to stop. Your eyes must have rolled back in your head because when you open them, Jungkook has one hand stroking your cheek as the other supports his weight.

“Are you good?” He asks, soft and gentle. You nod, rolling your hips in a quick circle to let him know how good. He lets out another groan, soft and muffled, as if he’s containing himself. “You’ll let me know if you need me to stop?” You nod again. “Fuck, kitten, you’re so good for me.”

He starts to move then, dick dragging against your walls as he pulls back out slowly before slamming back in. Your moan echoes through the apartment, but all you hear is the soft call of your name from his lips as he repeats the motion. You raise your hips to meet his thrusts and it only takes a couple of minutes before you’re both panting. Your legs lock around his hips to bring him in deeper and he moans at the contact. He sits back on his knees and brings you up with him.

You’ve wanted to ride his dick for years, and it’s so much better than you ever thought. Every drag of his cock has you clenching, every thrust with this new angle has him hitting your g-spot and you’re seeing stars. He’s got one hand on the small of your back to keep you steady and the other on the back of your neck so he can bring you in close and kiss you deeply, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when he has to breathe.

The two of you move in tandem, hips gyrating against each other’s as you chase that high together. Having him inside of you feels like heaven and you never want it to stop. He starts to pull out and you shake your head, slamming your hips down onto his with renewed vigor.

“Gonna cum,” He huffs, and you press a kiss to his cheek.

“Good,” You tell him. His grip on you tightens and he slams into you harder. “Fucking cum inside me, Kook, please.” He moans, loud and unashamed, as he hits deeper inside of you with more force than you expect. You’re bouncing on his dick now, there’s no other word for it, and you fucking love it.

“Fuck, kitten, gonna fill you up so good,” He mutters. You nod, feeling the pressure inside of you tighten. “Gonna paint you with it gonna cover your pussy with my cum, want you to feel me inside you for days. Fuck, take it, kitten, take my cum inside, all of it, don’t let a single drop fall out.” He slams into you, again and again and again. Your throat is raw from the screams, you’re pretty sure he has scratch marks on his back, but you can’t bring yourself to care because, fuck, he feels so good.

He slams into your g-spot again, at the same time he kisses you deep and moves his hand to rub against your clit, and your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. You can’t even say anything, moans swallowed up by Jungkook’s mouth, but he knows by the way you clench and spasm around his cock, you can tell, because it only takes a few more shallow thrusts and he’s over that edge with you. You can feel his hot seed settling inside, spreading to fill you completely.

He lays you back on your bed, gentle, and slides out. His cum starts to seep out of you, you can feel it on your thighs, and when you open your eyes, he’s staring at the sight.

“Is this…something to be worried about?” He eventually asks. You shake your head and tap your bicep.

“Implant,” You tell him. “We’re good.” He nods and leans forward, and you feel his finger slide up your slit once more, gathering all of his cum before he pushes it back inside of you. When he’s satisfied that you’re as full as can be, he lays down next to you and tugs you into a lazy embrace. You take his hand and lick it clean, surprised at the fresh wave of arousal that hits despite your exhaustion. He smiles, cute and bunny-like, with the nose scrunch and everything, and you let yourself get lost in it.

He traces invisible shapes on your skin with his hands, all over your thighs and belly and arms and chest, and it’s an intimacy you’ve never had before. You watch him, eyes following each curve he makes, and trying to figure out what he’s drawing.

“It’s not Hatsune Miku,” He eventually says. You raise your brows at him and he grins. “I don’t have a Hatsune Miku body pillow.”

“Oh,” is all you can say. “Well, then, I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

“It’s Nami from One Piece,” He admits. You roll your eyes and grab a pillow to smack him.

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Kook.”

“I disagree.”

“What do you mean, you disagree?”

“I’ve got you, don’t I?”

The blush on your face gives you away even as you suppress the smile, but Jungkook lets you pretend, content to continue drawing on you with his fingertips. It’s the first time you’ve felt content and at peace in two years, and - you can’t believe you’re about to think this - you’re glad you put on that fucking cosplay.

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yeojaa · 5 years ago

Text

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.

tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy, fluff, slow burn, smut, pining, unrequited love.

rating. ... 18+

word count. ~4000

chapter 9.

FLASHBACK September 1, 2018

"Just post it," you're chiding, indignant and exasperated and still, so incredibly soft. You're prone against his shoulder, bone of your chin digging into the muscle that lines his back and undulates with every breath. He moves forward, not to dislodge you from your position, but enough to shift the sharp turn of your jaw. You say nothing further and settle into the warmth that radiates off him, nose lost to the hood of his sweatshirt.

The mouse sits heavy in his palm, an anchor rather than 67 grams of nothingness. There's too much power in the little black device. It makes his jaw ache and his brow furrow. You can feel the uncertainty radiating off him in waves, invading your senses in an unwelcome assault.

"Kook, come on." Again, softer this time, laced with tenderness and belief. It spills off your lips, buttery and sweet like carnival kettle corn. Your arms find a home around the slant of his frame, fingers locking neatly over his chest, right where his heart lies beneath flesh and bone. The steady thud of it is a reminder of his humanity. "You've worked so hard for this."

This, being his portfolio. His life's work made reality, brushed with the most utmost care and so much talent you're not sure where it all goes.

Gouache portraits, vivid blues and greens splashed over cream; wondrous proportions laid out bare, rendered to perfection with a keen eye and careful hand. Production of stories you'd never be able to express, painted with the most glorious skill and cut to maximize impact. Melodies woven in between and above; the sweetest sound you'd ever hear, awash with the light and shadow.

His finger hovers over the button on his mouse as if it's a Doomsday device. You want to scoff but bite it back, pressing your face into the freshly-washed powder puff that is his hair. It smells of peaches and honey, mingling with the distinctly Jungkook scent that lingers on his skin.

"I can't do it." He whispers the words like they're shameful, yanking his hand away and stuffing his hand into the kangaroo pouch bundled around his waist. You sigh. It's quiet but with your close proximity, he hears it and it's an echo that repeats over and over in his ears. Eyes squeeze shut, dent forming between his brows as he exhales a shallow breath. "I heard that."

"You were meant to," you return easily. Because while you'd always be in his corner, supporting him when he needed it most, you also weren't about to let him rest on his laurels.

Before he can stop it, you've got the mouse in your hand. Click - like it's the easiest motion in the world.

"Did you just—" You're retreating as soon as he's speaking, skittering back five steps and out of reach when he whirls around in his stupid red and black gaming chair. The fury is immediately apparent in the baring of his teeth, the tension in his jaw. It propels him forward and he's so much taller, his strides so much longer, that he's upon you in a second.

"You needed a push!" It's a meagre excuse, squeaked out in indignation as you anticipate death by asphyxiation.

Instead, he's crushing you against him so tightly you really do feel like you can't breathe, though it’s different. Still, it's better than what you'd anticipated and you pat his back where you can reach, arms locked to your side by the intensity of his hug. You think he might squeeze the life out of you but you don't move to untangle yourself from him, instead mumbling soft reassurances against his chest. "There, there."

"Thank you." It's so hushed you think he might've meant it only for his ears, but you feel the way the words ghost over the shell of your own. It sends a shock straight to your toes, rousing an adoring smile along the way.

"You're welcome," you hum in a voice thick with satisfaction. You loved being right. It didn't happen often - at least, not with Jungkook - so you revelled in it at every opportunity, allowing your ego to triple in size and engulf everyone in the immediate vicinity.

Not one to let his defeat go so easily, he huffs. The way he rolls his eyes makes you worry he'll sever an optic nerve. "Still a brat, though."

"Yeah, well—" You're returning his childish petulance tenfold, tongue sticking out from between lips that taste like too-sweet plum wine and Sprite. "—takes one to know one." And boy, did you know one. Had, for the better part of three years. Sometimes you loved it; sometimes, you didn't quite hate it. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The boy snorts from above you, withdrawing just enough that you can breathe and wiggle your arms. He really was a muscle pig - your shoulders thrum with a dull ache. "Shut up."

"Don't think I will," you answer, watching the way his eyes glint and his jaw ticks. He tongues the inside of his cheek as he glares down at you, silent. You know what that means. You brace for the feeling, feet planting into the hardwood like you're an oak taking up root. It's futile.

In a second, you're upside down, suspended over his shoulder like a toddler. Well, not a toddler, because that would be incredibly bad parenting. It's something funnier - a six year old playing airplane. Except you're in your twenties and you've got much longer limbs than a child and they flail wildly, elbow knocking into the back of his head with a painful sounding thud.

"Watch it!" He exclaims, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. He doesn't sound too bothered, though, the words dropping off into a laugh that bounces around the room and pitches higher. "I wouldn't want to drop my precious cargo."

It's a threat that has you stilling, if only for a minute. The last thing you want is to have your face make friends with the floor. That'd happened once - on concrete, even - and you'd felt awful for days after. Of course, he'd felt terrible, too, leaving an enormous fruit tart from Maybell Bakery outside your dorm the next day.

"Go ahead. I've been craving some fresh bread."

"That was one time."

You can tell you've struck a nerve by the way he tenses beneath you, forearm flexing over the small of your back. You can't help but snicker, swatting his sweatpant-covered ass just enough to jostle him.

"I was kidding, Mr. Sensitive."

He doesn't dignify that with an answer, instead shifting into action. His bare feet carry him in a tight circle before he deposits you onto his bed and not a minute too soon. You'd started to feel a strain in your neck, blood rushing to your head the longer you were hung like a rag doll.

"You're a pain in my ass sometimes." Though the words are unkind, his delivery is not. There's far too much tenderness in his eyes, the way they crease and nearly disappear when he offers you one of his trademark bunny smiles.

You return the expression with ease, wiggling your thin, piano-honed fingers at him. "Literally."

"Yeah, literally." With another exaggerated roll of his eyes, he flops face-down on the bed beside you, arms curling around a pillow and dragging it under his cheek. His knees hang off the edge before he's dragging one up, locking it over your legs in some contortionist cuddle. He peeks at you from beneath his fringe - it's just the right side of too long, curling prettily over his doe eyes and obscuring his eyebrows. Despite the eye contact you carefully maintain, he says nothing, merely peering up at you like he's trying to read his future or see the stars.

Finally, you speak, turning your gaze back to his popcorn ceiling as your hands find comfort in the weight of his leg, the tendons flexing in the joint of his knee. Your neck was beginning to kink. "What?"

"Thank you, again." Because once isn't enough. Never will be, when it comes to the two of you. You've always pushed him to do what he needed, even when he wasn't so sure himself. He can't thank you enough for that - or for the fact that you're always there, right at the edge with him.

You smile then and meet his stare again. "You're welcome, Kook. Happy birthday."

"What is this?"

You're half-asleep and groggy, struggling to push past the awful clutches of Sandman and his dreams. They linger in every crevice, coating your lashes in dust and your tongue in cotton. Luckily, there's no ache behind the fatigue, no lurking monkey about to crash its cymbals in defiance of you and God.

Through the frame of lethargy, you make out the familiar slope of shoulders, of a delicate pair of hands. Past that comes his adorable smile, all squishable cheeks and barely there eyes, mouth contorted into that peculiar shape. He's not where he should be - in bed beside you, fast asleep. Instead, he's statuesque, barely dressed in a pair of soft cotton shorts and nothing else with your breakfast tray held aloft. There's a pile of waffles - they look surprisingly good - and two mugs. Somehow, there's also an assortment of flowers thrown into what looks like a water glass.

Had you died and gone to heaven? Surely not.

"Happy birthday," your - yes, your, you remind yourself - golden Adonis sings in a voice so rich, so tender, you immediately feel a lump forming in your throat. He's looking at you like a kid on Christmas morning,0 hopeful and filled with childish wonderment. It stokes the warmth that spreads through your veins, lava in place of platelets. It burns from the inside out but it's pleasant - sitting too close to a fireplace on a chilly winter evening rather than an open flame.

Nails bite into the fleshy underside of your palm in a belated attempt to rouse yourself from the very pleasant daydream. It stings but nothing comes further. You're not imagining things.

You have to applaud your past self for whatever she'd done to deserve this.

"You really didn't have to." A moment after it slips off your tongue, you wish it hadn't. The last thing you want to seem is ungrateful. Luckily, Taehyung is steadfast and unbothered, dropping forward onto a knee to slide the tray over your clean white linens. He looks so good, all honey skin and tousled bedhead, that you can't focus when he catches your lips in a lingering kiss.

His laughter crowds your mouth, along with the taste of peppermint toothpaste and, just behind it, honey and what tastes like tea, floral and earthy. "I wanted to."

A sound most similar to a sigh - maybe a bit needier, filled with adoration - meets the air when he withdraws, settling himself on the edge of the bed with that same heartbreaking grin. He pushes your birthday breakfast toward you, earnest and lovely. He even unceremoniously shoves your utensils between your fingers, forcing them into your grip like a toddler.

"Eat," he commands, though his tone is too light to really elicit any movement from you. It's only the way he looks that prompts you to dig in, cutting a generation portion of waffle loaded with what looks like whipped cream and strawberries. You raise your fork aloft, gesturing for him to take the first taste. He simply shakes his head and with gentle pressure, redirects the forkful back to you. His loss.

The strawberries are surprisingly sweet yet incredibly tart, their freshness breaking up the honey glaze. The fact that you haven't even brushed your teeth isn't lost on you; you can't bring yourself to care when you're melting into the flavours and humming delightedly.

"Is it good?"

"If you'd just try some, you'd know." You answer with hearts in your eyes and affection blooming like roses across your cheeks, sparkling shades of warmth springing across fields of baby's breath. Another forkful is raised and this time you won't allow him to redirect, holding the mouthful aloft and meeting his stare with purpose.

A moment passes, then another. The edge of his mouth ticks higher. Your eyes burn from your refusal to blink.

When he accepts the bite, you allow an exaggerated breath, the sound expelling from pursed lips with triumph. "Yum?" You question, giddy and grateful. You sneak another bite while he chews, tongue feathering across his bottom lip to catch some residual cream from the corner.

"I did good." He sounds so proud, chest puffed like a baby bird that's learnt to fly. You're torn between the intense desire to squish his cheeks or kiss him silly and you stare at him for a long moment as you swallow, the intoxicating flavour of honey and strawberries sitting like a spring picnic on your tongue. It sinks into the spaces between your teeth - a shot of loved-up sugar right into the veins - and you set your fork down.

Free hands find the slope of his jaw and act as a cradle, thumbs smoothing over the soft dry petal of his bottom lip. He peers at you curiously, strands of silk brushing over his gaze as he works to meet your stare.

"What?"

You want to pass all of your affection into the smile you offer and the kiss you press, chaste and light. "Thank you." The emotion in your voice rings true, echoes heavily in the breath you pair it with. "You really, really didn't have to." But I'm really glad you did, are the words you don't say, allowing them to hang between you like a gossamer thin thread - a spider's web interconnecting all the different ways you adore him.

"I know," he hums as he moves in for another kiss - one that lingers and pulls and draws you deeper into the abyss that is him. Careful hands slide the breakfast tray to the farthest corner of the bed, far away from wandering limbs, and then he's dragging you closer, over the soft white duvet. Fingers find a home in the small of your back as you find the same nearly in his lap, knees caught against the line of his side. Like this, he envelopes you, all sharply angled shoulders and imposing, but you don't mind. It feels nice being wrapped in his embrace.

FLASHBACK April 24, 2019

You need to get this done. You can't stop until you've finished because you've been losing steam the entire week and now you're running on fumes, halfway to the finish line and about to collapse. The strain behind your eyes feels miserable, like hot coals have replaced your usual organs, and you've nearly chewed a hole through your bottom lip. It feels like a punishment in and of itself to feel the constant throb and the metallic tang on your tongue.

Why did you always do this? You'd had all semester to work on this and yet, here you were, stark raving mad and exhausted on a random Friday.

No, Saturday now. It was almost five in the morning.

Frustration colours your complexion, marks the tired skin in patchy shades of red, and you blow a sharp breath out under your breath. You know you have no one to blame but yourself but you try to ignore the guilt that licks up the column of your spine and settles like a heavy collar around your neck. You can't linger on it too much - you're too busy trying to hack this artist's block to dust.

Lids squeeze shut of their own accord and the heels of your palms dig into the sockets, as if that'll help drive the emptiness from your thoughts or, at the very least, alleviate some of the mind-numbing pressure that's been building since you started this futile task six hours ago. The consistent press helps a little - draws blossoms of light against the back of your eyelids - and you exhale a beleaguered sigh, head dropping ever so slightly. Between the headache that's settled in like an unwelcome house guest and the general tiredness of being up for nearly twenty-four hours straight, you're not sure which is worse.

You also don't have much time to think about it when your phone starts going off, vibrating madly across the flat top of your desk. It's face-down - you'd wanted as few distractions as possible - and you consider ignoring it for a moment.

Only when you consider the time do you decide to answer it. After all, nobody just called at this hour. It might be important.

You hardly hazard a glance at the screen before you're swiping across, dimly noting the familiar silly photo of your classmate and friend plastered across the pixels. "What's up, Jeon?" The words come out scratchy and for the first time, you realize how parched you are. You're not quite sure when you'd last drank or stood up or anything. God, you were a poor excuse for an adult.

"Open the door."

It's equal parts impressive and irritating how chipper he somehow sounds, as if he's just woken up from the best sleep in the world and powered his way through a strongman's breakfast. Chapped lips twist, descending into a pout you know he can't see, and you force yourself to focus on what he's said and not how you'd give anything in the world to trade places with him and his sunny disposition.

Wait— what? Open the what?

"What did you say?"

You can practically imagine the lines at his nose and around his eyes, the dimples that you're sure are carved into those cheeks of his. "I said open the door!"

Before you can think anything of it, you're rising from your chair - nearly knocking over your neglected glass of water with the movement - and allowing your slipper-wearing feet to carry you out of your bedroom and to the front door. You bump into the table in your hallway, earning a grunt and sharp inhale of breath as your fingers soothe what you know will be a bruise in the morning. Maybe you should've turned on the light. Maybe you should've stopped at the washroom to make sure didn't frighten him with your insane hair and sleepless pallor. Maybe you should've done a lot of things.

Instead, you slide the lock, open the door, and nearly shriek when Jungkook’s upon you faster than you can react.

"Happy birthday!" A single solid arm is crushing you to his chest, his breath warm against your temple, before he engulfs you fully. You feel your feet leave the ground momentarily, fuzzy slippers clattering to the floor as he squeezes you with just enough force to steal your breath away. It might be why you're not reciprocating - you physically cannot - or it’s the fact that your brain is playing catch-up and your limbs are already a little boneless from lack of sleep.

"What are you doing here?" You manage to squeak against the smooth fabric of his jacket. It's the same one he always wears - black with Yohji Yamamoto embossed across the left-side of his chest - and it smells intoxicating, a familiar blend of his cologne and laundry detergent. You inhale the scent like it'll sooth your half-asleep, ragged nerves. It does, a little, and you're grateful for that. You don't even pull away when he finally releases you, stepping back just enough to let you slide back into your slippers and peer up into his face.

He really had no business looking so good. Despite the early hour, his dark hair is neatly styled or at the very least, freshly washed. It's fully dry and surprisingly fluffy, falling over those big doe eyes in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. It's a little longer than usual, too, and you reach a hand out to smooth strands behind a silver-adorned ear.

"It's your birthday," comes his response, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

A brow quirks - tries to, at least - and you regard him with something not quite suspicious but definitely confused. It plays across your features in shadows, peeking around the fan of your lashes and the frame of your mouth. "It's also... four in the morning."

"Five, actually." There's that stupid adorable smile of his, presented like a gift and topped with squeaky laughter. "And I told you I was coming over."

"No, you didn't." You'd have remembered that - right?

"I did." As if to drive his point home, the glaringly bright screen of his phone is all but shoved into your line of sight, artificial light burning your retinas. You shift away, swatting at his wrist as he watches in barely concealed amusement. He thinks you're frustrated by his very 'I told you so' smile that fits snug over his mouth and wrinkles the delicate skin around his eyes; he's surprised when you take the device back in your hands and peer at it like it's the strangest thing you've ever seen.

Well, he certainly hadn't lied. A handful of texts - maybe more than that - mock you, text bubbles indicating he had indeed sent you messages all throughout the night. Little one-liners asking what you were doing, followed by a gentle head's up much later that he'd see you soon. Of course, you'd ignored them all, far too engrossed in making near zero progress on your semester-end project. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth - equal parts tentative embarrassment and residual fatigue. Lips purse, straighten into a firm line, and arms fold over your chest. It's reminiscent of a spoiled child and frankly, beneath the burnout, you know it's not a good look. Unfortunately, you can’t find it in yourself to rearrange your expression into something more socially acceptable.

Luckily, he's seen you like this enough times to not mind - you always fell into ruts like this when your procrastination met a hard deadline - the irritation seemingly unable to penetrate the sunny turn of his mouth and slope of his wide, open shoulders. "So, are you ready?"

"Ready for..." You trail off, partially out of confusion and partially out of a lack of capacity to consider the question.

"We're going on an adventure."

Again, so simple and yet so cryptic. It draws your eyebrows into a little knot, consternation setting into every thread. "I have a project to do, you know." Despite this, there's a pearl of longing that dangles from your syllables.

He zeroes in on it without hesitation, drawing you easily against him. "I'll help you with it later," he says, as if that's a good enough excuse. You suppose it is. "In the meantime, go get ready? You look like you have a rat living in your hair and I don't want you getting mistaken for a homeless vagrant on the train." Despite the mockery, his expression is soft, smile sweet and playful as it always is.

It's impossible to deny him when he's like this, cherubic and enticing.

With a sigh that blows past chapped lips and disappears into his chest, you relent. "Fine." You're careful to keep your tone just a little grating, as if you're somehow doing him the huge favour. You know he can see right through it but neither of you mind; it's all a part of your silly routine. "Come in and wait for me and don't eat my cereal."

"No promises."

notes. here, take my weird birthday-centric chapter. i wanted to add more to this but my brain hasn’t been cooperating with me lately.

i swear the next chapter will be better - with more exploration of the present! - but thanks for reading. :)

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peaceisadirtyword · 5 years ago

Text

Just friends (Alex Høgh Andersen/Reader)

A/N: This is pure drama. Angst, tears and awful things. I wrote it because I needed some drama, and I wasn’t feeling good, so it was the only thing I could write. I cried a bit writing it. Hope you like it though♥️

Warnings: Angst, drama, Alex is a sweetheart, I want to hug and protect him forever.

Words: 1650

gif belongs to @whenimaunicorn

It could seem childish. It could be stupid, and you might have been acting like a spoiled child. But it hurt a lot.

And you dealt with it the only way you knew. Eating the chocolate chip cookies you had baked on your own and watching really bad Christmas movies in your couch with a warm blanket and tears on your eyes.

It was your day, the day you had been waiting for since the summer ended. The day when you and Alex would cancel all of your plans and spend the day listening to Christmas carols, decorating the entire apartment with lights and garlands, putting on your matching reindeer pajamas and bake cookies, order pizza (Alex always ordered one with extra cheese for you) and watch awful movies the whole day. The best plan ever.

You were sure he didn't even like Christmas as much as you, very few people did. But he knew it made you happy, so he never complained. His only condition was that you left him take photos of you as you decorated everything. It was the only time you would let him mess around with his camera and not cover your face.

But this year was different.

When you arrived home, after waking up early to go to the store and buy the ingredients for the cookies and some beers for Alex, he was already dressed... And taking his coat.

Your smiled had faded a bit, while looking at him in confusion.

"Where are you going?" You giggled "Hurry up, these cookies aren't going to bake themselves"

"What?" He had frowned in confusion, and then groaned, rubbing his face "Fuck, it's today, I forgot"

You stopped smiling then.

"Yeah, do you have to work today? I can wait for you" you tried to smile again, but it didn't work.

"No it's something else..." He bit his lip "Remember the girl I photographed a few weeks ago?" His beautiful eyes lit up and you felt your heart break a bit. Again "Well, I gave her my number, and we've been talking and... Wow, Y/N, she's..." He smiled widely "She's an actress too, and an amazing model, and she sings too, and is funny, talented... She goes to university too, it's amazing" his eyes lightened up while talking about her, and his lips were curved in a stupid smile "We're meeting today, for lunch and then a walk around the Christmas market and... I got tickets for the theatre"

"Oh" you were trying your best to hold back the tears "Okay... Well, I..." You shrugged, not really knowing what to say "Have fun, then"

You hurried to the kitchen, careful so he wouldn't see your eyes full of tears.

"Hey" Alex softened his tone "I'm really sorry, I forgot, it's my fault, don't be mad at me, okay?"

Then he decided to make it even worse by hugging you from behind while you put the bags on the kitchen counter.

"It's fine, I... I understand" you managed to make your voice sound like you only were a bit upset.

"You can still decorate and bake the cookies, don't you? Call Marco!" he proposed, you could hear the smile on his excited voice "He loves Christmas, or maybe Ava, I'm sure she'd love to spend the day with you"

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do" you muttered.

Alex kissed your temple and got away from you, walking to the door and picking up his coat, whistling excitedly.

"See you tonight, have fun!"

________________________________________

You had to pause the movie when the main characters started kissing, in a too romantic setting with mistletoe and people cheering around them.

Your head hurt from crying, and the cookies weren't as delicious as they were when Alex baked them and the both of you shared them.

Rubbing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down. It had been like that for years, and it was worse when you moved in with him. Alex was your best friend since you could remember, and you had been in love with him since you both were teenagers. And never said anything.

When the both of you were all alone, it was easier. You could cuddle him, kiss his cheek, tease him and joke around with him and it wasn't weird, because you were friends. But then he'd meet a beautiful girl, one of those you only can admire and gasp as they pass next to you on the street. And he'd leave, have a couple of dates, although it never worked out. And your best friend was back and you could have him all for yourself, you could pretend that he knew about your feelings and that he felt the same.

You had tried moving on, maybe not hard enough but you had tried. It seemed impossible, you couldn't even look at other person in that way. Yeah, you had met nice people, you had made out with some of them while partying. You even had a couple of dates, but it wasn't the same. Not even a romantic dinner in a beautiful restaurant or a nice walk under the Christmas lights could make you feel what Alex made you feel with only looking at him.

And, in some way, you hoped he returned your feelings.

Obviously, he didn't.

You unlocked your phone. Your best friend, Ava, had messaged you, sending you a couple of photos of her dog -you were in love with that animal- and some meme she had found on the internet.

You entered Instagram, immediately searching Alex's username and entering his profile. He had posted a photo of that last shoot with that model, and you remembered you thought she was beautiful.

Her profile was one of those that made you bit your lip and frown. Your profile was full of photos Alex took of you, and though they were absolutely stunning, her photos looked much better.

Well, Y/N, she's a model and you're an stressed student, it's normal.

Though you knew you'd start crying again if you kept looking at her Instagram, you scrolled down, careful not to accidentally like any photo.

She was more than beautiful, and you could understand Alex being so excited about a date with her that he forgot your Christmas decoration day. They made a lovely couple, both being ridiculously good-looking.

Just when you were about to start crying again, Alex interrupted your self-pity stalking moment by calling you.

Quickly, you dried your tears and cleared your throat, drinking some of the water you had in a glass next to the burnt cookies. He would know that you had been crying. He always knew.

"Hi" you answered, your voice sounding almost like you were completely fine.

"Hey" you could hear the smile in his voice. That big smile that nearly made you sob into the phone "How are you?"

"I'm... Fine" you sighed "How's...." You weren't capable of saying the word 'date' "How's everything going?"

You could hear some noise, so he was still in the street.

"Amazing, Y/N" he giggled into the phone "It's amazing, she's amazing I... I think I really like her"

You bit your lip, closing your eyes and nodding softly.

"I'm glad" you whispered "I'm really happy for you, Alex, you deserve this"

You meant that. You were happy he had found someone, you were happy if he was happy, just a bit heartbroken.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" He asked, and you just knew he was frowning worried "Are you too upset with me? I'm sorry I left..."

"It's okay, I'm not mad" your lips curved in a small, sad smile "I understand, it's not like it's the last Christmas we spend together"

"Yeah but still... I should have remembered, you were so excited... I'm really sorry"

"Well, you can fix it by bringing me pizza for dinner"

"About that..." He sighed, and your smile faded "I might have to bring you breakfast, not dinner"

Oh, god, please, no.

"She invited me to her apartment" he added, quickly "To have dinner, maybe watch a movie... I said yes because I really want to spend more time with her, but I promise I will bring you waffles in the morning, with a lot of chocolate and I have bought you a gift" he said excitedly "It's not a Christmas present, it's more of a forgive-me-for-being-the-worst-friend-ever kind of present"

You stood silent for a few more seconds, until you were sure you wouldn't start crying as soon as you opened your mouth.

"Okay"

"I called Ava, too" he insisted "Told her to go and spend the night with you, I know you hate sleeping all alone... She told me I'm an idiot"

You couldn't help but giggle at his words.

"Okay, thank you" you muttered.

"Come on, don't give me that lost puppy voice, I'm feeling like the worst person here" he whined "I'm really sorry, Y/N, I will make it up for you, okay? I'll cook breakfast for two weeks, and I'll clean your room and I promise I'll let you choose the movies every night for one month"

You smiled sadly.

"Alex, you don't have to do that" you sighed "Just go, have fun and get to know her, I'll be here waiting for you to tell me all the details... Well, not all of them"

"Alright" he chuckled, and you could hear the relief on his voice "Hey, she's coming, I'll text you, okay? Ava should arrive in a few minutes, call me if you need anything"

"Okay mom" you chuckled, though you were drying some tears that were already falling down your cheek.

"Bye, Y/N, love you"

He hung up, just when the doorbell rang.

"Bye Alex" you muttered to the silent line "Love you too"

_____________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @credulouskhaleesi @gruffle1 @justacripple @heartbeats-wildly @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @tgrrose @jadelynlace @flokidottirsstuff

#alex høgh andersen #alex høgh imagine #alex høgh x reader #vikings #vikings imagine #vikings cast #vikings cast imagine

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ficsxreaderr · 5 years ago

Text

Music to my eyes [5]

Pairing: Single dad!Bucky Barnes x reader. (Modern day AU)

Summary: As a simple worker at a record store, there’s so much you want to do in life yet, which doesn’t involve a serious relationship and much less a relationship with a guy who’s a father. Once you meet Bucky Barnes you’re not sure you can live up to that anymore.

Warnings: None? Fluff?

Requests are open. Tagging for a permanent list and this fic are open.

Reblogging and feeback are welcome and appreciated!

Series masterlist | Masterlist

Going to work on Monday knowing there was one call you had to make was beyond annoying, you spent all day dreading the moment when you finally decided to dial his number. Of course, Sam heard the whole situation and gave you a gentle slap on the head to “check if your brain was working” and it was, more than ever before. You knew this was the right thing to do and Sam knew how you felt about Bucky, and even worse, how Bucky felt about you. Bucky had called Sam on Sunday, they had a very long talk about how Bucky thought you were the most special girl he’s ever met, how you connect with him and Sarah, how his heart races every time you stare at him for a little longer. Bucky never said he was in love with you but Sam could hear the smile he was holding every time he said your name, or mentioned you and Sarah in the same sentence. Sam didn’t want you to hurt Bucky, but he knew you were doing this just in time to walk away with the least harm done.

“Alright, I’m calling him.”

“What exactly are you going to say?” Sam quirks up an eyebrow, knowing whatever you say is going to break his friend’s heart.

“I’m telling him I can’t get off work tomorrow, it’s easier that way.” You shrug, already looking for his contact in your phone.

“Y/N,” Sam puts his hand over your phone. “Don’t lie to him.” He shakes his head. “If you don’t want to be with him, just tell him that.”

“I can’t tell him that because that’s not true either and I’m not brave enough.” You take a deep breath and finally dial his number, closing your eyes for a moment as it rings.

“Hello?” He picks up.

“Bucky, hi.”

“Y/N! How are you?” You can hear his smile through the phone which only makes it more painful.

“I’m…good. Listen, I asked and…I-I can’t get off work tomorrow, there’s no one to cover for me.” You squeeze your eyes shut in disgust at the lie you’re telling, but you really hope he believes it.

“Oh,” His smile has clearly faded. “That’s okay, don’t worry.” His voice is lower and so is your heart in your chest as it sinks in anguish.

“I’m really sorry.” You finally say, swallowing to gain composure. You feel your whole body shaking, you’re doing something you really don’t want to.

“No, please, it’s fine. I’ll see you some other day.”

It’s been two weeks and four days since you called Bucky that day and blew him off, because, let’s face it, there’s no other words to explain what you did. You asked Sam not to talk about it, or him, for a while, you didn’t want to know how he was moving on with his life while you remained fascinated by him and his great personality, his glistening eyes and his loving heart.

Bucky spent his free time playing with Sarah and, for some moments, staring at his phone waiting for a text or call from you, and waiting to grab the courage to call you again and take you on a date. He didn’t want to intrude, especially when Sam wasn’t talking about you when he has around.

“Daddy, where’s your friend Y/N? I haven’t seen her these days.” Sarah asks as she paints with her wax crayons.

“I don’t know, sweetheart, I haven’t seen her either.” Bucky leans over to take a look at what she’s painting, smiling as he sees how she tries really hard not to color outside the lines and succeeds.

“But she’ll come soon, right?” Sarah looks up at him and smiles, confident that you’ll be back soon.

“I’m sure she will.” He frowns and nods, kissing her hair and he stands up from the couch. He walks to the window and stares for a moment, thinking where you could be and why you suddenly walked away.

Putting together some CD’s that you’re definitely intending to buy, you’re finally distracted from the thing you’ve been wanted to be distracted from all this time, you even got headphones on in case Sam decides to ask something that he shouldn’t, even if he wouldn’t do it on purpose. It doesn’t seem enough for him to understand that you need some time, as he pokes your shoulder to make you turn to him and take off your headphones.

“Yes, Sam?” You tilt your head to one side, waiting for a joke or a random thought he just had.

“Hey, how about we have breakfast tomorrow? It’s been a while since the last time.” He proposes out of nowhere, and you’re relieved that’s what he’s asking.

“Oh, sure, I love having breakfast with you, love seeing how you’re not a morning person.”

“Who the hell has a good attitude before coffee? That’s not natural.” He shakes his head, making you laugh.

Sam and you agreed to meet at 8 AM for breakfast at this little coffee house near your place, it’s one of your favorite places in the city and you’re happy you and Sam are doing this after a while. Stepping inside, the bell rings and you take off your coat instantly, welcoming the warmth of the place and already having your mouth watering from the smell of freshly-baked muffins and coffee. You look around searching for Sam, who texted you five minutes ago that he was already waiting. Your heart sinks in your chest and you swallow at the sight of Sam accompanied by his beloved friend and little Sarah. You freeze at the door, unable to take one step further, and in that moment, Sam notices you and waves, clearly not noticing the shock on your face. With a small smile, you slowly force your body to move and make your way to the table they’ve picked. Clenching your hands around your coat you see how Sarah jumps down the booth and runs to you, screaming your name loudly enough for some costumers to turn around. Your doubts fade when you see her little teeth smiling at you and her arms wide open for you to pick her up and hug her.

“Hey there, princess!” You exclaim, squeezing her gently and kissing her hair. She leans back and faces you, with her cheeks blushed and a now-disheveled hair. Bucky’s glad you’re not seeing how his face lights up and how his heart just stopped beating for a bit too long, it’s like there’s no one else in the Universe but you holding his daughter and him watching you with hearts in his eyes.

“I’m so happy to see you!” She says, with her little arms around your neck.

“Aw, me too, Sarah. Now I have to say hello to your dad.” You tilt your head to one side and smile at her even wider, finally getting to the table. Sam’s already looking up at you with a teasing smile that you’d be glad to punch right off his face, but for now you got to be civil.

“Hey, Sam.” You narrow your eyes at him quickly and shift your glance to Bucky. “Hi, Bucky.”

“Hi, Y/N.” The toothy grin he was holding before, and you luckily didn’t see, has changed to a soft smirk, but that’s enough for you, you’ve missed him so much. You put Sarah down and she slides to sit by Bucky, grabbing his arm so she can have his attention. He leans over so she can whisper in his ear, She looks pretty today, tell her. Bucky chuckles. You sit beside Sarah, taking the menu so you avoid looking at them talk.

Bucky clears his throat, making you look up, which he didn’t expect given the blush on his cheeks, but he talks anyways, “You look great, Y/N.” He speaks simply with a slightly wider smile on his face.

“Oh, thanks.” You look down for a second. “You look good too.” You pause for a moment. “You know, we should order some coffee, I’m dying for a cup.” You shift your glance between him and Sam so it doesn’t seem like you’re too upset at him.

“Sam told me you come here often, what do you recommend?”

“I want waffles! Are waffles good here?” Sarah says, making both of you smile at her.

“Yes, they’re the best!” You reply. “You should order them with extra whipped cream and strawberries.” You whisper, leaning closer to her, glancing at Bucky, making sure he listened. He smiles at you, risking all his feelings to be exposed in one look, but he can’t help it, he’s crazy about you.

“Can I do that, daddy?!” Sarah looks up at him excitedly, and he chuckles.

“Of course you can, sweetie.” He strokes her hair and glances at you again, and you respond with a smile before noticing that the waitress has arrived. The three of you order coffee, Sarah, Bucky and you all settle for waffles and Sam decides to go for a classic eggs and bacon breakfast.

“You’re so boring, man, these waffles are great.” Bucky says with a mouthful of whipped cream, making you chuckle and almost choke on your coffee.

“I keep telling him he acts like an old man sometimes, but seems like at his age he doesn’t listen anymore.” You shrug, making both of them laugh, but Bucky’s a lot louder.

“Alright, next time I will order some waffles, you clowns.”

Bucky and you freeze, him with his mouth still full with whipped cream and you, about to take a piece of waffle. Instinctively, both of you look at each other and you want to laugh at his blushed cheeks but the thought of keeping these gatherings is a bit overwhelming. You clear your throat and decide not to make a big deal out of this, and Bucky taking a sip of his coffee indicates he’s done the same.

“Yeah, next time you should.” Bucky says, quickly shifting his glance from Sam to you. All you can do is nod, giving out a silent message that you definitely want to do this again, and he smiles, getting such message.

“Can we come again tomorrow? I want to have more of these waffles already!” Sarah says, with the corners of her mouth covered in whipped cream.

“Maybe we will, honey.” Bucky responds as he wipes her face with a napkin.

“Yeah! We should all come!” Sam exclaims, fixing his gaze on yours and you raise a questioning eyebrow hoping Bucky doesn’t notice.

“We should, Sam.” You smirk at him and glance at Bucky to look for an answer in his expression. He doesn’t look nervous or hesitant, he smiles at you.

“If you’re all free, I’d be happy to.” He draws a hand to his chest and glances at both of you.

“Yes, please Y/N??” Sarah looks at you and pouts, making you chuckle and totally vulnerable to the look in her eyes.

“Okay, sweetie, we’ll come.” You nod and smile to her, seeing how she throws her arms in the air and exclaims a very happy Yes! , making Bucky laugh at her.

“Finish your food, Sarah.” Bucky tells her softly, handing her the fork so she can continue eating her previously cut waffles.

For four weeks, breakfasts became a regular thing on Saturday and Sunday for the five of you, Steve joined too. You didn’t know how to feel, you kind of hated that Sam had started this but it also felt great that Bucky wanted it to continue. You were pretty sure he had feelings for you, too, and Sam saying it all the time was a bit of a hint. It was harder, though, knowing he reciprocated, because you wished you could do something about it. Sarah would talk a lot to you, she would tell you how school went and how she was one of the best in her class, she would tell you how she wants to be an astronaut when she grows up and that Bucky has bought her all these astronomy books already. Bucky says he likes Space too, but it seems like she is much more passionate about it. It is so natural to be around them, it’s like all of you have known each other for years. Bucky’s become your friend and you want to keep it that way; being around Sarah only reminds you that you can’t become something more with Bucky and have her think you’re her new mommy, especially when you still don’t know what happened to her mother. You’re not going to ask either Steve or Sam about that, it’s not your place and if Bucky wanted you to know, he would’ve told you already.

Steve keeps telling you to give it time and that it will all work out someday, but that’s the thing, you’re not sure you want it to work. And, obviously, he tells Bucky the same thing.

“Just act on it already, man, she’s not going to wait forever.” Steve tells him as the three of them are out for drinks on Friday night. Sam told you to come, but you decided to give them some boys’ time since you’re seeing them for the next two days anyways.

“I can’t! She never talks about us, we have fun talking and we have all these things in common and she’s…like no other girl I’ve met. She loves Sarah. But she’s never said anything about feeling anything for me, it’s a long shot.”

“Man, she obviously has feelings for you. She’s just scared.” Sam adds.

“Has she told you?” Bucky frowns, knowing what he wants the answer to be.

“Not explicitly but it’s obvious.” Sam shrugs, keeping your conversations with him private.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. How’s the wedding planning coming along, Steve?”

“Well, clearly, Peggy has more control over than me, I just give my opinions whenever I’m asked.” Steve holds his hands up and chuckles. “But it’s great, it’s all she’s ever dreamed of.”

“What really concerns me is that you haven’t picked a best man.” Bucky says, narrowing his eyes at him.

“And I’m not doing it, you guys are.” Steve points at them, making them widen their eyes at each other.

“What the hell are you saying? There’s no such thing as us picking who it’ll be.” Sam says with the most outraged tone ever.

“Well, it’s a horrible decision and I’m not going to make it.” Steve shrugs.

| Tagging some members of the fam I think might enjoy this (feel free to ask me to remove your tag)

@sebbbystaaan @chloerinebarnes @stuckonjbbarnes @mushyjellybeans @honeyvbarnes @babblingbonky @mrwinterr @valkyriesryde @mypassionsarenysins @livyourextralife

Permanent taglist: @imma-new-soul

Fic taglist: @eliza5616 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @93generation

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #single dad bucky #single dad bucky x reader #sam wilson #steve rogers #peggy carter #captain america #marvel #mcu #the falcon #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan

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blurrypetals · 4 years ago

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Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo - blurrypetals review

originally posted feb. 13, 2018 - ★★★★★

[read for my book club, My Idea of Therapy] I've been struggling to write the intro to this review for about fifteen whole minutes now, watching the cursor wink at me as I try to gather my thoughts, so I'm figuring telling you I'm having a hard time getting started with this review is as good of a beginning to this review as we're going to get here. For Six of Crows I ended up structuring things on a character by character basis so I think that's going to be the only way I'll be getting through this review, too. Last time, I ranked them in order of enjoyment but this time I won't be doing that, especially since the team became one cohesive unit by the end. Matthias - I liked Matthias a whole hell of a lot more than I did in the first book and I was more used to his narrator. It was actually kind of funny, seeing as how he was one of my least favorite parts from the first book because it seemed like Leigh Bardugo knew that and went, "You want less Matthias? Then I'll do less Matthias." It actually made him a more appealing character all-around because he isn't meant to take up so much time as he did in Six of Crows. [I think having him be a little less abrasive made his death more endearing to me, too, even though I don't think Leigh earned his death. It was just fine and it helped resolve a lot of his and Nina's arcs but I didn't feel like it was executed as well as it could have been. I don't even think I know how he got shot, to be perfectly honest. (hide spoiler)] Other than the little issue addressed in my spoiler tag, he was much more enjoyable. Nina - Just like with Matthias, there is a lot less Nina in this book than there was in book one, but I actually found myself missing a little bit of her insight on certain things. Other than that, I really enjoyed the arc she went through, the struggle with addiction, her banter with Matthias - "You're better than waffles."..."Let's not say things we don't mean, my love." - was delightful, and she was altogether much more enjoyable this book, too. Jesper - This guy's character arc, tho. The way his mind worked, his memories of his mother and his childhood in general, his relationship with his father, his inner conflicts...just damn so good. Molto bene. I'm so proud of my lovely boy. Almost as proud of him as I am of... Wylan!! - When I was reading Six of Crows I kept wondering why Wylan didn't narrate any chapters (and still continue to wonder about it, honestly) so when the book opened with him narrating, I was excited and very quickly delighted by his character's inner voice. He very easily became tied with Inej and Kaz for Best Character because he was so interesting, his past was so interesting and sad, and I loved to see all the other characters through his eyes because he admired them so much. It was lovely. I love Wylan. He is my new son. [My son who has a boyfriend whom I'm very very very proud of, too. Also I am SO GLAD that the fact that Jesper accidentally kissed Kuwei (because he thought he was Wylan) didn't cause all this dumb drama between Wylan and Jesper. IT WAS SO HEALTHY AND SO SWEET THEY ARE THE SWEETEST (hide spoiler)] Inej and Kaz - I'm lumping them together again, just like I did in the last review. How can I be so simultaneously exultant and disappointed? I just wanted more from them and I didn't get my fill; I think that's why I'm having trouble sorting out my feelings. I just felt like I needed a tiny bit more. I wanted a bit of a flash forward maybe or, if not that, then maybe a spinoff or even just a short story? Other than the fact that I felt a little shortchanged, these two are still what made the book for me. Shifting the focus on what we didn't get, what we did get was great. Their voices were so good, just as they were in book one, and every chapter we got to spend with them was an absolute treat. I love these two and I would do just about anything to read a "5 Years Later" epilogue about them...and for everyone else, too. I'm glad Leigh Bardugo is writing another book in this universe because it is so much fun and there is room for so many possibilities, as we've seen. The Grisha Trilogy was a war epic that followed the hero's journey with a twisted edge to it. The Six of Crows Duology was a character study that took place alongside multiple awesome, bigass epic heists. Because of that versatility, I'll be finishing things up for now with The Language of Thorns and then I'll be waiting with bated breath for King of Scars to come out.

#crooked kingdom #six of scars #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #2018 #goodreads mirror #blurrypetals

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luciana-galvez · 6 years ago

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A Night Of Surprises

Fandom: The Dirt

Words: 3.2k (i got carried away oops)

Pairing: nikki sixx x reader

Warnings: none i think

Notes: this doesn’t quite fulfill the last request but i hope you like it anyway anon. also if you want to be added to the taglist or be taken down for specific stories (because i get confused about who wants to be tagged in what haha) just let me know!

Request: Anonymous Could you write an imagine for Nikki sixx where he falls in love with a girl who wears a lot of pink and is really girly and maybe not into the same scene that he’s into!? I like the soft-hard dynamic😂 I love your writing by the way and I’m so glad you’re writing for the dirt😭😭💖

@miserablecunt Can you write an imagine for Nikki?! Literally anything!! I just need more of him and I have no ideas😂

Anonymous can u write something about nikki being with a girl who is actually quite girly and everyones like ?????? why ????? 💞

Backstage at a heavy metal concert was the last place you had pictured yourself ending up in. The more you thought about the, the more unlikely it became, but here you were, part of the team to get Mötley Crüe ready for their first American tour on a daily basis.

“Vince, where’s your choker?” you asked pointedly.

“What choker?” he retorted with a confused look.

“There’s a choker that goes with your outfit,” you said, already mentally going through the last hour to see where it might have become lost in the process.

The whole band was about to go on stage, and Vince had showed up late already, and now a piece of his outfit was missing, and the perfectionist in you was suffering. This whole rock and roll business really wasn’t for you.

“Give me two minutes,” you said as you already turned around and jogged back down the hallway, trying to check all the dressing rooms before they had to go up on stage.

When you had studied fashion and costume design, this really wasn’t what you thought you’d end up doing. You had pictured yourself working for a big designer, or even played with the idea of working for Hollywood, but designing costumes for a metal band hadn’t occurred to you even in your wildest dreams.

But then Tommy had offered for you to give it a try. You two had gone to high school together and kind of lost touch afterwards when you went off to university and he did whatever allowed him to rock and roll. His words, not yours.

And then a few months ago you had run into him again, and he had told you about this band he was in, and you had told him about finishing your degree, and he had ecstatically told you about how his band was looking for over-the-top costumes. You had laughed it off at first, but Tommy had been so persistent that you eventually agreed to at least meet the band.

You went into the meeting expecting to meet a rowdy bunch of guys that deemed themselves too cool for school and that you would part ways acknowledging on both sides that it wasn’t the right fit, but when you did meet them, things turned out differently.

Yes, it might not have been the right fit, especially when you showed up to the meeting in an outfit that was the exact opposite of what was considered metal. But when Mick and Nikki doubted your ability to make costumes for them so vehemently (“We’re not going to perform in pink fucking ruffles” you remembered Nikki saying), you were determined to prove them wrong.

And that’s how you ended up as Mötley Crüe’s official costume designer.

Now, you were desperately rummaging through each of the dressing rooms in order to find Vince’s choker. Luckily, you eventually found it in Vince’s dressing room and cursed him out under your breath for being a slob. At some point they really had to start making your job easier.

You hurried back out of the room and jogged down the hallway until you found the band. They were standing at the stairs to the stage, ready to start their show any minute now.

“Okay, got it,” you announced and walked up to Vince, easily attaching the choker as he craned his neck.

“Let me have a look at you,” you said when you had finished, and the whole band stood up a bit straighter for you to inspect the outfits.

You tweaked at Tommy’s outfit, readjusted Mick’s harness, and eventually stopped in front of Nikki, searching your pockets for the black paint you knew you had in there somewhere.

“Your paint is smudged. Hold still,” you said and carefully held on to his chin so he wouldn’t move. “Hold still.”

You used your thumb to try to wipe away the smudged edges of the lines, but the paint didn’t come off. You sighed. “How did you already smudge this before the show even started?”

Nikki simply shrugged.

“Lick this,” you said, holding out your thumb to him.

“What?”

“I’d do it myself, but that’d be weird,” you said, and when he didn’t move, added “Just do it.”

He eventually licked your thumb hesitantly, and when you tried to get the smudges of this time, it worked without a problem.

“There we go,” you said more to yourself than to him. All that was left to do was reapply another layer of paint, and Nikki patiently let you.

“Alright,” you said, letting go of his chin and taking a step back to look at your finished work. “Try not to ruin your outfits tonight, will you, boys?”

“We don’t make promises we can’t keep,” Vince shrugged, and you rolled your eyes, but your gaze stuck to Nikki, who was looking at you with a peculiar expression.

“What?” you asked.

It looked like you had startled him out of his train of thought, because he simply shook his head in confusion and mumbled “Nothing.”

And then it was time for them to go onstage. You stayed long enough to watch them play Shout At The Devil and then retreated to one of the crew’s backstage rooms, which was now peacefully empty as most people were watching the concert.

You found your backpack in the corner, pulled out your sketchbook, and made yourself comfortable on the couch. You spend the next forty minutes playing with new ideas for costumes until the noise level outside started rising up again, which told you the show was over.

You went out into the hallway just in time for the band to turn the corner, and your eyes started scanning their outfits for damage.

“You guys listened to me,” you said in surprise as you noticed that they were, except for a few tears here and there, mostly intact.

“We have our moments,” Vince shrugged.

It was your job to make sure all the costumes were ready for every show, and on particularity bad nights it had happened that that you stay almost all night after a concert in order to fix the damage. Sure, they had multiple costumes and could afford to lose one or two, but if you wouldn’t spend so much time cleaning up after them, they would run out of outfits two weeks from now.

You waited until they had all changed out of the costumes and collected them to bring them to the bus. Seeing as they were in pretty good shape, you could take the night off and fix them up on the bus ride to the next stop tomorrow.

You knocked on Nikki’s door last and waited for him to let you in. Instead of his glamorous black costume, he was now in black leather pants, a white-and-black striped shirt, and a leather jacket. The paint on his face was still there, and you smiled as you saw that, naturally, it was smudged again.

“You’re staying to watch Ozzy?” he asked as he handed you his stage outfit and you threw it over your arm with the others.

“If I don’t watch your show, what makes you think I’d watch the prince of darkness?” you grinned.

“You don’t watch our show?”

You laughed. “Sorry. I watch bits of it, but it’s not quite my scene.”

He sat back down on his couch and gave you an inquiring look. “So, what kind of music do you listen to?”

You shrugged. “I like ABBA, Fleetwood Mac—”

“Evidently,” Nikki smirked and gestured towards your outfit. You were wearing your flowery jumpsuit with a pink belt that made you look particularly hippie.

“Evidently,” you agreed and pointed at it.

“So, what are you up to instead?”

“Now?”

“Mhhmh.”

“I’m gonna drop these,” you held up their outfits, “on the bus and then I’ll find a quiet diner and work on my sketches. And I’m starving, so I’ll head out now.” You started walking back to the door and added, “Enjoy the concert and your afterparty. Or strip club. Or wherever you end up today. Just don’t let it be jail,” you turned back around for a moment and gave him a playful wink.

“Actually,” Nikki started as you were halfway through the door. You stopped and looked back at him, and he looked like he was still contemplating what he was about to say.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he added after a moment.

You leaned your head to one side and narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out if he was fucking with you. The band was notorious for their wild afterparties, so that Nikki wanted to skip it and instead accompany you to a diner seemed entirely out of character.

“Okay,” you said, but it sounded more like a question.

He didn’t seem to notice. “Cool,” he said, took another swig from the whisky bottle that was standing on the coffee table in front of him, and then got up. “Ready.”

You lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. When you left his dressing room, Tommy was excitedly jumping towards the two of you from the other side of the hallway.

“Dude Ozzy is about to start, let’s rock and roll!”

“We’re actually gonna head out to dinner,” Nikki said simply and Tommy’s expression turned to confusion for a moment. His gaze wandered from Nikki to you and back again, and then he broke out into a big grin and clapped Nikki on the shoulder. “Alright man, make sure to use protection.”

“Jesus Christ Tommy,” you uttered exasperatedly and he laughed, already skipping further down the hallway to get the others.

Nikki and you walked to the crew bus in silence, and he stood back and waited while you handled the outfits. Then, you were on your way. It didn’t take you long to find a diner that wasn’t too busy, and you sat down in a corner booth and ordered waffles while Nikki simply opted for a drink.

“Go ahead,” Nikki said as the waitress disappeared.

You simply looked at him questioningly.

“You said you’d come here to sketch,” he explained.

“You came with me to….watch me sketch?” you asked.

Nikki shrugged. “I’m curious to see what you have in store for us.”

You looked at him for a moment longer, trying to gauge what had gotten into him today, but then decided to go with it and pulled out your sketchbook.

“I don’t have anything finished but I’ve been playing with a few ideas,” you started as you flipped through the pages until you found the one you were looking for. “Like here,” you said and pushed the notebook over to Nikki, “I’ve been wanting to introduce a bit more color, so I thought something like this for Tommy. You’ve seen him sport leopard print pants, so I’m thinking to get a bit more pattern into his look.”

“And here,” you said and flipped the page over for him, “I really like Vince’s look with only the harness and no shirt, but I want to mix up the pants a bit. So instead of having him in plain black leather pants, I want to experiment with introducing the color scheme from the harness into the pants as well and get some red patches in there.”

You paused for a moment, but Nikki remained silent. “Like I said, none of these is finished and they’re just ideas I’ve been playing with…” you trailed off and looked up at him. He had a concentrated look on his face as he studied your sketches. You watched him start to flip through the pages and realized you were anxious to know what he was thinking. The longer he remained silent, the more you thought he hated them.

“What do you have in mind for me?” he asked eventually, looking up at you for the first time.

“I haven’t gotten to it yet, but I was thinking of puffy shoulder pieces.”

You could see that he was about to protest, so you quickly added, “No, not like you think!” You laughed. “Something like this,” you trailed off and pulled the notebook back to yourself and flipped to an empty page. You rummaged in your bag for a pencil and started sketching what you were thinking off.

“See, not like housewife-puffy-shoulders,” you continued while sketching, “but more like ‘Sydney-opera-house puffy. And then add some chains or studding.”

Nikki craned his neck to watch you sketch and nodded, contemplating. “Yeah, I like that.”

You smiled. “Good.”

It was another fifteen minutes before your food arrived, and you spent it in silence as you continued sketching and Nikki watched. When he had announced that he wanted to join, you had expected it to be awkward, but you were surprised how comfortable silence was with him.

When the waitress brought your food and his drink, you put your sketchbook away and hungrily started digging into your waffles.

“So, do you do this every night?” Nikki asked. “Go to a diner after the show and sketch?”

“Mostly,” you said between bites. “When I’m not stuck fixing your costumes I tend to look for a quiet place to be alone.”

“Why?” he asked, but there was genuine interest behind the question.

You thought for a moment. “Your lifestyle can be quite overwhelming,” you shrugged eventually, “sometimes I just need to get away from it for a while.”

“My lifestyle?”

“You know, sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll,” you smiled.

“It really isn’t your scene, is it?”

“Nope.”

“Then why did you agree to do it?”

“To prove that I could,” you replied honestly. “You were so disbelieving that a girl that likes pink can design costumes for you that I made it my mission to prove you wrong. I like a good challenge.”

Nikki grinned. “I can appreciate that.”

“So,” you leaned forward, “what turned you into the badass rockstar that you are?”

“An unfit mother, a non-existent father, and a revolving door of asshole stepfathers,” he shrugged it off, but you could tell there was real pain behind his act of not caring.

“Ah, the classic story,” you replied, not unkindly. “So you fill that hole with sex and drugs?”

“And I assume you are the cheerful girl that you are because you had a rosy childhood with a picket-fence garden and Sunday night family dinners,” he challenged you, but there was no hostility in his voice.

“Well, we didn’t have a picket-fence, but our Sunday night dinners were lovely,” you grinned and he laughed.

“No wonder everyone in your family is a saint.”

“Well, my bother used to live the rockstar life,” you said. “He wasn’t unlike you. Lots of alcohol. Lots of drugs. Lots of getting arrested.”

“Oh, and he didn’t manage to influence you and pull you to the dark side?” Nikki smirked.

“No,” you replied matter-of-factly, and your expression turned serious. “Because he overdosed and died.”

Nikki’s face fell. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Shit indeed.”

Nikki thought for a moment. “Then why would you agree to come on tour with us? And spend all day every day around people that constantly do drugs and party?”

You shrugged. “I stayed away from it for a long time, and cut everyone that did drugs out of my life. But to be honest,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “I don’t know, it just became easier to be around it? I know the warning signs of when it turns from normal partying into an actual issue. I couldn’t save him, but maybe I can save the next one.”

You were silent for a moment, contemplating on how to formulate your thoughts. “Listen, I know you think I’m this naïve, gold-hearted girl from the Valley without a worry in the world, but I know how dark life can get. I’ve been in a really fucking dark place after he died, and it took everything I had to crawl back out of it. I’m kind to people because I know what it’s like to wish you were dead every day.”

Nikki stared at you for a long time after that, with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “You really have your shit together, don’t you?”

And with that, the tension was broken. “Not really,” you laughed.

You ended up spending five hours in the diner, talking about anything and everything. Nikki told you about trying to get his mother arrested, about running away from home without a place to go, about coming to LA and unsuccessfully trying to make it with a bunch of bands before he finally found Tommy, Mick, and Vince, and you told him about your family, about working two jobs when you were in college because you were determined to pay it off by yourself, and about your high-school prom where you ended up having to take care of your drunk date all night.

When you walked back to the hotel, Nikki gave you his jacket, and you gratefully wrapped yourself up in it. You could see that a bunch of people that passed you gave you curious looks, surprised by the miss-matched pair of a mean-looking rocker next to the girl in the flowery jump suit, and you had to smile at their irritation.

Nikki accompanied you all the way to your room, and when you got there, he was visibly unsure about what to do. If you were honest, you were absolutely enjoying seeing Nikki Sixx, who was usually so smooth with women, be nervous.

Apparently, when you didn’t make a move, Nikki decided not to push it and awkwardly took a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You couldn’t supress a smile as you told him he would, and then you turned around, opened your door, and leaned against the doorway. Nikki had already turned around and was heading back to his room, you assumed. So he really was going to just leave, huh.

“Nikki,” you called after him and he turned around. You rolled your eyes playfully, pushed the door behind you open further, and made a gesture with your head towards your room. “Get in here,” you laughed.

Nikki was clearly surprised, and he dropped his head and smiled before making his way back to you. He stopped when he was opposite you in the doorway, and the proximity of your bodies made your heart beat a little faster. He was close enough that you had to glace up to look at him.

“Are you always that smooth with the ladies?” you grinned.

“Shut up,” he said and didn’t wait before pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was intense and sloppy and wild, and you enjoyed it more that you had enjoyed anything in a long time. You were so entangled in each other that you stumbled into your room and almost took out a small side table and two lamps, and when you took of his shirt, you were grinning to both ears.

This night really was full of surprises.

tags: @supernaturalvikingwhore @miserablecunt @sighsophiia @fandomshit6000 @flizaa @hi-my-name-is-riley @electradestiny @starlalove @kingbouji3 @sweetshutter @baiabouk

#the dirt #the dirt fanfiction #the dirt imagine #nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx x reader #fanfiction #imagine

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Internal Disputes ch.4 (baon)

Summary: Something strange is afoot. Edge isn’t sure what, but he can guess he isn’t going to like it.

Notes: Handy Andy’s turn to step up

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Whatever Jeff had been expecting when he agreed to check on Stretch while Edge was gone got thrown out of a four-story window the second he got to their house. He heard raised voices before he hit the mailbox and right after, he saw Asgore walking away from their back fence.

The king offered him a hesitant smile and a wave, but hurried off in the other direction which was weird right there. Usually Asgore loved to chat, he’d eagerly corner anyone in the Embassy to ask about their home life, the kids, pets, anything. Give him credit, Asgore knew everyone by name and plenty about them, probably down to the birthday of their goldfish. Jeff was lucky not to stumble over the names of the people he worked with daily.

That Asgore was headed in the opposite direction at a good clip made Jeff a little worried. Stretch made no bones (heh) about the fact that he didn’t really like Asgore. That made it pretty unlikely that they were having a nice cup of tea and scones together in the backyard while chatting about the latest shows on Netflix.

So what was going on?

Rather than hitting up the front door, Jeff rounded the corner to the gate. Stretch was back there but the scene wasn’t anything Jeff could have dreamed up. He was sitting on the ground, his face covered by bony hands that were stained purple at the fingertips. Surrounding him were bowls filled with...grapes? That explained the purple anyway. Plus three chickens gabbling about and the little black one seemed particularly interested in the fruity largess around her, neatly plucking one of the grapes free with her beak and gobbling it down.

Well, whatever happened, Stretch was obviously upset about it. Time to earn those friendship creds, “Hey, Stretch...uh...are you okay?”

Stretch jerked, his hands dropping and even from here Jeff could see more purple stains on his cheekbones and fingerprinted around sockets that were rimmed a watery orange. Probably not the time to mention them, so instead he opened the gate and slipped in, closing it quickly as the chickens descended upon him.

“Woah, hey,” he laughed as they clucked eagerly. “Hi, gals, good to see you, too.” He crouched down to pet them, giving Stretch a minute to gather himself and wipe at his face.

“hey, andy,” Stretch sighed out finally, still faintly sniffling, “when did edge call you?”

“Last night.” Jeff admitted. Hey, Edge hadn’t asked him to lie for him, and Jeff wouldn’t’ve done it even if he had. Better to confess and beg forgiveness.

Stretch only nodded, his mouth twisting sourly, “edge has only been gone for like twelve hours. it’s nice to know everyone thinks I'm so incapable of acting like an actual adult that i’m getting fresh offers from babysitters.”

“No one thinks that,” Jeff soothed. He abandoned the chickens despite their dismayed clucks and went over to crouch by Stretch instead. Stretch probably didn’t even really believe that, but he got where he was coming from. Living with Blue was giving him a little bit of perspective, especially when it came to the way he looked at Stretch’s low HP. What he hadn’t quite figured out was why that same low-key panic didn’t extend to Red or Sans. From what he understood, they both had the same HP as Stretch, and they both worked in the Security department, not exactly known for being the epitome of safety. Asking Blue about that got him a lot of sputtering and waffling, but no real answers.

“you so sure of that?” Stretch slanted him a knowing look.

Actually, he couldn’t vouch for Asgore. It seemed safer to go with what he knew to be true, “Edge doesn't think that.”

Stretch groaned and climbed to his feet, grimacing a little at the wet patch on the seat of his pants. He held out a purple-stained hand to help Jeff back to his feet. “i know what you're trying to do and i appreciate it, really. but i don't really want to talk about edge right now.”

“Okay,” Jeff said agreeably and he didn’t so much as show a flicker of a smile as Stretch instantly launched into a rant.

“i’m not a complete asshole, you know,” he snapped, “i do actually get it, this ambassador shit is really important. but everything edge does is important and he was supposed to hop off this wagon train and only go if i could come along. i only wanted to be important, too, on my anniversary of all days.”

“It’s your anniversary?” Jeff winced. He wasn’t great at dates, but he should’ve added that one to his calendar.

“not until tomorrow,” Stretch grumbled, “which i’m going to spend alone, without my husband, who should be here.” A tear trickled down from his socket but before Jeff could offer any of his welling sympathy, Stretch laughed ruefully, swiping it away, “you know what pisses me off the most? i’m still mad at him, but already miss him. can you be homesick for a person? because it’s really not home without him in it.”

Jeff wasn’t exactly an expert in what to say when people were hurting. His tongue tended to get gluey and coming up with the right thing was a struggle. But if there was anything he’d learned from staying with Julia, it was if the words weren’t there, the emotions were, and Stretch was never one to turn down a free hug.

They were like mismatched chess pieces, Stretch so much taller than him and sort of bonily awkward besides. It didn’t stop him from leaning down into Jeff’s embrace, holding on tightly. His breath hitched a little with a watery little sigh, mumbling next to Jeff’s head, “i’m not pissed at Edge. i mean, i am. but asgore takes so much of him. he needs to stop leaning on edge and work at getting other people who can step up!”

“He does,” Jeff agreed immediately. He ran a soothing hand up Stretch’s back and through the thin padding of his shirt, he could feel every knobbly bump of his spine. “Maybe it’s something I can bring up? Not about Edge specifically, but training programs? It is Public Relations if you look at it slantwise, we do need that kind of thing.”

“yeah, if you could?” Stretch gave him a last hard squeeze and then let go, swiping at his face again with his sleeve. “okay, i’ve had about all the angst and sulking i can take for the day. wanna help me pick grapes and talk about something else?”

Jeff considered that, looking over at the many, many bunches of grapes still hanging heavily from the vines, “Do I get to pick the topic with the grapes?”

“sure, handy andy, you’ve got questions, i got answers,” Stretch spread his arms theatrically and bowed, “hit me, ask away, wanna know my shoe size? it’s a twelve, i got small paws for a guy my height. don’t have a birthday, but blue thinks he’s funny and makes me a cake on april first--”

“Explain to me about the whole ‘this universe’ thing?” Jeff asked, tentatively. “You all say it, but you’ve never told me what it means?”

Stretch went still, face falling as he blinked hard and his hands dropped down to his sides, “seriously? you wanna talk about that now? that ain’t gonna help with the whole angst thing.”

“I’ve got time, you’ve got time, and it’s something else to talk about,” Jeff pointed out, but he couldn’t lie, he was nervous. Even Blue avoided the subject when he tried to ask and Stretch might cheerfully lie when it suited his purposes, but Jeff didn’t think he would, not this time. “And it’d be better than bringing you down on another day, right?”

“guess i can’t argue with you there,” Stretch groaned. He flopped down into one of the chairs. “may as well kick me while i’m down. fuck, i need a cig…”

He trailed away as Jeff silently pulled a still-sealed pack from his back pocket, along with a disposable lighter. Yeah, he was supposed to be quitting, but Jeff had had a feeling. He waited while Stretch went through the whole ritual of tamping the pack against his bony palm, the crackle of cellophane as he opened it and his gratified sigh as he finally lit one and inhaled deeply. Smoke wreathed his face as he finally said, “welp, pull up a bowl and some grapes, and i’ll try to explain.”

Jeff grabbed one of the empty bowls and started in. It was half full before Stretch spoke again, slowly, “what you have to understand is that none of this is more than theories, because how could we prove anything?

“the underground is different, you know. magic isn't just something we use, it IS us.” Stretch lifted a hand and his slender fingers lit with a soft, orange glow. It shifted to blue, then green, before he closed his fist and the light vanished. “so you cram a bunch of monsters underground for a few centuries, all that magic in one place. it..leaks from us, sort of. out here, it disperses,” he waved up at the sky. “but i bet even here if we stay for a few centuries you’ll see some effect. that’s why the underground has places like snowden and waterfall, it’s why it can snow beneath a mountain. magic makes things happen and not always in predictable ways.”

Stretch tamped out the butt into a suspiciously clean ashtray and lit another, taking a long drag before adding, “we think that’s why there were different universes.”

Jeff set down his filled bowl as he considered that, popping a grape into his mouth and chewing it thoughtfully while he grabbed an empty, “Like…Marvel?”

“yeah, that works,” Stretch laughed, but it was short-lived. “like marvel, only very localized, only underneath the mountain. so there was my version of the underground, where me and my little brother sans lived in snowdin, and he wanted to be in the royal guard and i wanted to relax and smoke and sell hot cats. then there was another version of the underground, this world, earth-616 where papyrus was the younger brother who wanted to be in the guard. and in another universe it was pretty similar to the second with the brothers, big brother sans and little brother papyrus, except everything was a hell of a lot more game of thrones and that’s where edge was from. all these universes sitting right next to each other.”

That was boggling to think about. “So…your name is Papyrus. And Edge’s name used to be Papyrus.”

“yeah, and red and blue used to be sans. we changed it up when we got here, mostly, to make it less confusing. edge dropped papyrus completely but i kept it, at least a little,” Stretch picked up the lighter again but he didn’t pull out another cigarette, only flipped it through his fingers, the metal tip flashing in the sunlight as it wove in and out through his phalanges. “i don't mind a nickname but..it's my name. i didn't want to give it up completely.”

The implications of that, holy shit, this wasn’t anything like what Jeff’s curious, idle ponderings came up with. “That means you're kind of the same person from different worlds.”

“yeah, kinda,” Stretch looked suddenly wary, almost fearful. He shifted in his seat and hunched over, his eye lights flicking to anything but Jeff, “i mean, we’re not actually related, we’re completely different people, it’s not like that, it’s not...it’s not bad or anything--”

“No, no, I mean,” Jeff blurted out. He set down the bowl of grapes out of the reach of greedy chickens and took Stretch’s hand in his own, stilling the agitated flip of the lighter. He swallowed hard, and managed to say teasingly, “It’s just, Star Trek taught me that one of you should have a goatee.”

Stretch blinked, then burst out laughing and if there was a note of relief there, Jeff pretended not to hear it. Yeah, there was something there, a bad memory maybe, but it wasn’t like Jeff didn’t understand what it felt like to be judged for who you loved.

He resolutely didn’t think about his parents.

A last squeeze and Stretch let go, but he dropped the lighter. “okay, so now you’ve got these different universes.” Stretch snagged three grapes from one of the bowls and set them on the table. “none of us knowing the other existed. and then, there came the anomaly. that’s when the resets started.”

Stretch let out a shaky breath, his magic paling enough in his bones that Jeff noticed it with concern, “i don’t...i can’t really talk about that right now. not all of it, not what happened during it. things got really bad in my world for a while. but. you ever seen the movie groundhog’s day?”

“Yes,” Jeff said cautiously. He didn’t like the implications of that, not at all, not for his friend, and almost wanted to ask him to stop, tell Stretch that he didn’t have to talk about this, not ever if he didn’t want to.

But Stretch only rolled those three little grapes around on the table with his fingertips meditatively, his voice so soft Jeff had to strain to hear him, “it was like that, like being stuck in a revolving door. i don't know how many resets we went through. only reason i knew they were happening at all was because at some point, i figured out how to leave myself notes.” he smiled then, grimly. “it wasn't until later that I started to remember.

“anyway, while i was going through my resets, they started up in edge’s universe, too, and sans’s. near as we can figure, all those resets started to break down the walls between our universes.” He picked up one of the grapes, studying the purple-black skin, “like throwing a pebble in a pond. every reset made ripples and with enough, the ripples started hitting each other, weakening the borders.” He squeezed the grape suddenly, crushing it, juice bursting through the skin and dribbling down his fingers. “my world tore first, right into edge’s world, but it collapsed almost instantly.” A second grape crushed alongside the first, leaving a mess of pulp between his fingers, “from pond ripples to dominoes falling until we ended up here.”

Jeff watched in silence as Stretch opened his hand, looking impassively at the pulpy mess. “we weren’t here long before frisk fell into the mountain, but that’s a story all humans already know. now we’re here in the aboveground. we can’t know for sure, but we think maybe we all would have ended up in the same aboveground anyway, if we’d gone through the shield like we were supposed to, but who knows.”

Despite the sticky juice and pulp, Jeff took Stretch’s hand anyway, squeezed it gently, “Okay, so your universes collided and you guys ended up here. You think there are more universes still out there?”

“good question, bruce banner,” Stretch grimaced and withdrew his hand, but only to shake away the grape remnants. “maybe. there's no way to know. but if a billion monkeys with eternity ahead of them can write the hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy? who knows?” Stretch shivered then, even though it wasn’t particularly cold. “not sure i want to know. the odds of landing in a nasty version aren’t any worse than a good one, and edge’s world...it was bad.”

“He was a soldier,” Jeff murmured. A soldier with LV, which meant he’d killed people, other Monsters.

“he was,” Stretch agreed, softly. He visibly shook himself and stood, snagging another cigarette on his way. “okay, i think i’ve had enough reminiscing and definitely enough angst for the day. you wanna finish helping me with these grapes?”

“What are we doing with them?” Jeff was fine with shelving the conversation, even with questions still burning. Like, if there were alternates of the skeleton brothers from the other universes, why hadn’t he ever seen any others? Like Asgore or Undyne or that nice Bun lady who ran the bakery? He’d never noticed anyone else with a twin and Asgore’s would probably be pretty distinct.

That was a question for another day, because Stretch had definitely smoked enough and color was only just starting to come back into his joints.

“for now, can you take a couple bowls home and stick them in your fridge?” Stretch asked, his eye lights widening in mock pleading, “edge has plans for them when he gets back and i didn’t want ‘em going bad while he was gone.”

“Aww, you sweetheart.” Jeff grinned. Not that he didn’t believe Stretch was going to forgive Edge, but just the thought of his favorite lovebirds fighting was enough to make him tear up a little. If they ever separated, he was going to need a support group, yeesh.

“yeah, he’s gonna see how sweet i am when he lands on the sofa for a few nights,” Stretch grumbled, amicably. He helped Jeff balance a couple of bowls and grabbed up a couple of his own. “this is probably enough for right now, i’m gonna take a coffee break until you get back.”

“So sure I’m coming back for free labor?”

“there’s tapenade in the fridge.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

Stretch opened the gate for him, waving cheerily as Jeff made his way down the street to Blue’s house, balancing the bowls the best he could. If he dropped them, he guessed Edge would have to use those grapes for winemaking or something. His thoughts were still a whirlwind of other universes and alternates and the strangeness of magic beneath the mountain, so he didn’t notice the shadow coming up behind him.

He was almost to the driveway when something caught his arm and Jeff yelped, fumbling with the bowls and barely catching them before they hit the ground. He wobbled back upright, a couple of solo grapes rolling out, sacrificed to save the others.

“What the he--Red?” Jeff blinked down at the other skeleton, who still had a hold on his elbow. He looked disturbingly grim, his normal grin instead a frozen grimace and his red eye lights shrunken, but piercingly bright. His voice, always gravely, was harsh and grating as he spoke.

“i need you to come with me.”

~~*~~

TBC

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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