#I have a quiz on Friday I’m gonna die

[oldschool-analog]

Bro is ZOOTED!!!!

(digitalized a Jared I doodled on my math worksheet)

[latenightsearlymorns]

Sugar Bear

The needle pierced stubbornly, reminding Josef of some other prick he’d met before. The ‘prick’ in his arm had been more courteous, but he still thought about calling that other lad up and maybe trying him out for a drink once…, if, this was all over. Josef, for sure, would appreciate that moon-lit beau of a man compared to the intern currently fumbling through his medical records, double-checking the footnotes the resident doctor would no-doubt quiz him on later. It was his acne that really held him back, Josef thought, otherwise he could do well on a Friday night at Jo’s. ‘Aren’t you like 25?’ he thought.

Beep. Beep.

The EKG machine droned on the same as it had for the 2 weeks he had been arrested to the hospital bed, his own body turning against him. He had fair warning over the years, and the medication helped. Unfortunately it was still in the trial run, and he wasn’t sure if fate had given him the placebo or not. ‘Just my luck to get the motherfucker that hates workin’. Making another mental note to call the lad, Josef sighed, deeply. It was the loudest thing in the room, followed by the machine and the rustling of papers.

“Okayyyy… Mr. Royce?” the intern questioned.

“Guilty,” Josef replied, saluting the newbie doc with a wave of his hand from his diminishing hip.

“Right on, okay sooo…” He trailed off. ‘Bonus points for being cute,’ Josef thought.

 “It seems the targeted therapy didn’t quite pan out as well as we had hoped,” the Intern continued, putting emphasis on the word hoped only. ”The targets in your liver unfortunately did not respond to the treatment, and the Gemcitabine doesn’t seem to be having a strong effect anymore either.” 

‘Bummer’, Josef thought.

“We can continue attempting to limit the spread as much as we can, but the cancer has already reached your lymph nodes, and we’re running out of effective treatment. At this point in time we may have to consider transitioning to hospice care to help alleviate any symptoms and pain, go over any end-of-life treatments with loved ones, begin getting your affairs in order…” The intern waved his hand in the air unintentionally dismissive, the entire time his eyes glued to the pages. Contained in those sheets, the science spoke of no miracles. The intern was very aware of that. “Etcetera.” He raised his head to meet Josef’s. ”The choice is ultimately up to you. I am very sorry.” He then bowed his head, holding his papers in his hand and taking them to his waist, one fist over the other, a move no doubt practiced in the mirror likely before he entered the room. Josef was appalled.

“Did you literally just bow your head? Is this your first time throwing the ‘you’re dying’ bomb or something?”

“Well no-,”

“I’m just kidding, doc. I gave my last doctor a bunch of shit too. He was an asshole though.”

“Doctor Lund?” Josef continued the joke and nodded. “Ha! He’d get a kick out of that.” The intern looked at his papers, seemingly pleased. I may be dying but I still got it, Josef thought.

“Anyways, I did want to mention that we do have one more alternative, if you would like to continue treatment.” All business, this guy. Josef nodded, a sign to continue which wasted minimum effort. “There is a new drug being developed which is seeing higher than average success rates in animal trials. They just opened trials for human treatment, and I think it could potentially be a good match, you do qualify.” He checked his papers again. “The biggest issue is, of course, there is no guarantee.”

Josef thought for a moment and then responded. ”So basically it could prolong my life a little, but I’ll probably just be sick the entire time, and there’s a high probability I’ll die anyways?”

“There are no guarantees, unfortunately.”

“I’m gonna need the opinion of my trusty advisor then if you don’t mind.” 

“Sure sure! I completely understand, I can give you some time.” 

“No need, she’s right outside.” Josef cupped his hands and pointed his mouth at the door. 

“HEY SUGAR BEAR, BABY, COME IN HERE FOR A MINUTE.”

There was an audible scratching at the door as the doctor turned and stared perplexed. The door opened, and a tiny hand waved through the door, announcing her welcome. This was followed promptly by a tiny head, and the young girl walked timidly into view. Her grandfather behind her opened the door wide enough for her to slip in, then waved them away as he awkwardly dismissed himself from view. No doubt they were both eavesdropping. 

The doctor stared at the young girl, then looked at Josef. “Your advisor I’m assuming?”

Josef nodded. It was easy to nod, just a shake of the head.

 “My daughter.” Josef motioned to the tiny creature and the girl ran up to his bed with both arms raised. Once she got to his side she realized her father wouldn’t be much help in getting her up, instead backing up two steps to run and hop her upper half onto the bed. Josef moaned quite playfully and the young girl gingerly clambered up to his chest, where she pushed herself onto his ear and whispered into it. Josef nodded again, and the girl carefully placed herself on his hip.

“There you go. Anyways, can you explain what you just said to me again, doc?”

The doctor cautiously glanced at the girl as if she secretly held the cure for cancer herself. “You- do you want me to explain to her what I just said?’”

“You’re the doctor.”

“Mr. Royce, I’m not sure what you want me to do here.”

Two hazel eyes that seemed to encompass an entire third of the child’s face peered at the doctor. Mouth slightly open, the child didn’t seem to have much of a response either.

“Doc, I want you to meet Sugar Bear. That’s her name.”

“Hi… Sugar Bear.” The Intern cautiously waved with a quick motion of his wrist. 

“Go ahead Doc, she’s smart.” Josef kissed his daughter’s head. The little girl laid back onto his chest, keeping her head level and continuing to look at the doctor. She waved back, a bit more enthusiastically.

“Ummm…… Sugar Bear?”

The Girl nodded. 

“Um.” Josef urged the doctor with another nod. “Alright so…” The intern was caught off guard, he quickly realized he had never had to explain death and probabilities to a child before, that was always the parent’s job. He had been trained about counseling patients of course, however he avoided pediatricy as much as possible, as children were often gross, whiny, hyperactive goblins. The little goblin before him seemed pretty interested in what he had to say however. The intern sighed. Josef was loving it.

“So Sugar Bear, I have some bad news. Your dad, umm, is very sick, very very sick. He’s been fighting the cancer, the thing hurting him and making him sick, for a very long time.” The intern used his counseling skills as best he could, keeping eye contact with the tame child. It blinked ever so slowly, mouth slightly hung open to maximize oxygen intake. She looked maybe four years old. “Its- it’s getting pretty hard to keep the fight going and umm… sw-sweetie I don’t think this is a fight that your dad can keep trying to win.” Her eyes furrowed, a child trying to understand what it already sort of knew.

Another nod from dad. “Say it doc.”

“…. So, umm, your dad and I were talking and well, uuh, he has two choices.” The intern held his fingers up for visual representation. “He can still keep fighting,” he curled his middle finger and kept the pointer straight, “and we can try one more thing.” Sugar bear’s expressions never changed, except for her eyebrows, which moved slightly with the end of each sentence, as if she was recounting what she heard in her head. She briefly glanced at the doctor’s pointed finger, counted one with her mouth, then concentrated again at the man in the lab coat who was helping her daddy. “The problem is, is that your daddy is already hurting a lot, and this could be a really long-.”

The intern, who realized he had stooped in order to be level with the child, stood up and waved his hands. “Mr. Royce I’m sorry but I need to ask, this is, this decision is entirely based on you and you alone. I, I can see why you’d like,” he gestured towards the girl,” Sugar B- her, this kid, involved, but I don’t see the need to explain to your daughter about this until you decide, otherwise I think this is a lot of pressure. She can’t decide for you.”

“Ha!” Josef countered almost immediately.

“Mr. Royce please take this seriousl-.”

“To hell she can’t.” The girl turned to look at her father. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Royce, I don’t mean to tell you how to,” a broad gesture, “‘parent’, I’m just not sure how to explain,” and another gesture,” to your daughter how she can weigh in on your treatment. How old is she anyways?”

Sugar bear played with her hands, firmly tucked into her father’s lap as he stared amused towards the intern. 

He pulled a lock of hair from her eyes. “You gotta give her more credit, doc, kids in general,” Josef stated. He turned to look up at the doctor, now employing his counseling skills he learned as a parent and social worker. 

The intern sighed. Josef continued.

“Cover your ears bubbie.”

The girl did so.

“Listen Doc, I don’t want to tell you how to,” Josef gestured with only one hand, the other tucked around Sugar Bear, “‘doctor’, but it’s my right to discuss these things with my family. You see that old man out there? That’s her grandfather from her mom’s side. ‘Sugar’ here is a copy of her mom, basically, and it was her wish before SHE died that I get custody of her. Not her actual father, fucking drunk he is, or her actual grandfather, ME.” Josef pointed at himself. Sugar turned to look at the finger, counted one, then turned back. She kept her hands in place.

The intern stood silent.

“She was my best friend. This girl is her mirror-fucking-image, I swear to god. I can’t even tell you about the legal battle I went through, it was hell. I raised her before she was even speaking, I’m her goddamned father. I didn’t even want kids.” Josef again looked at Sugar Bear. “You don’t understand ’til you have them. No doctor, this doesn’t affect me, I don’t give a shit. I’m old and greying, I did my thing already.” He hugged her with both arms. She lay back into his chest. “You need to tell this girl and it needs to come from you because pretty soon she’s going to lose her grandfather too. She’s going to go through a world of hurt and she’s going to have to endure some of it alone, and she needs to know that she can go to fuckheads like you and handle shit like an adult because she’s gonna grow up so fucking fast and I don’t think the world is ready for her, but she can be good and goddamned ready for it. So you fucking tell her, and explain it as best as you can, to the best of your ability please.”

The intern wavered for a second, abashed. A few seconds passed before he responded, “but what can she do about it?”

“Have you tried actually asking her?”

The intern did not understand. He looked at the girl.

Josef tugged at her sleeve and she relaxed her hands, head resting still on his chest. She was watching the screen on the television, hardly aware of the conversation that was just had.

“Ms. Bear?”

She turned as if to say ‘Oh me?’

“… I was trying to tell you earlier that your dad… he might pass away soon.”

Confusion from the girl.

“He, he’s going to heaven, with your mom.”

Sugar bear gasped and covered her mouth. Josef hugged her tightly and she turned to him and hugged his neck . “Noo daddyyy,” was heard very subtly behind him. 

“It’s okay baby,” Josef rocked her gently, allowing her a moment to process. After a second he brought her forward and pointed to the doctor. Wiping her eyes, she turned back to the doctor with a grimace, breathed in deeply, and tried to steady herself.

“I’ve been teaching her that,” Josef stated with a smile.

The intern couldn’t help but chuckle. He truly believed the man before him had led a good life, the way he humbly seemed to accept death.

“Nice job man… Hey Sugar Bear?” The girl nodded in between shuddered breaths. She uttered a whine, but managed her breathing. “Hey hey, it’s okay. I wanted to let you know, there’s still something we could do.” The girl was wiping her eyes, but now her full attention turned to the doctor. “ We can still try to save him, but it might hurt your dad even more. He’s already hurting a lot, so you might not like what you see if we do try, and there’s a good chance that he might not make it either way.” The girl uttered another sob. Josef comforted her as best he could. “The other thing we could do…. the other thing we could do is try to make him as comfortable as we can until his last breath.” 

The girl wiped her eyes and muttered “Conftable?” in between deep breaths, trying to master the sobs that randomly escaped her.

“Yes… We can try to make sure he doesn’t hurt so much. That way you can see him happy and quiet while he waits to… see your mommy again.” The intern had a hard time keeping his tears in now. They were bold faced lies, but close enough to the truth for a child. “Your dad said he wanted you to say what we should do. Your daddy thinks you’re pretty smart.” The intern smiled.

‘Cute,’ Josef thought, followed immediately by ‘Ya I have faith.’

“Conftable.” Sugar bear said it again, this time to herself, one hand rubbing her right eye. There were no more tears, but it was comforting. Josef held her other hand. “The other one.. hurts? Hurts him?” She put her hand to Josef’s face, and Josef took her scent in, adoring her smell and committing it to memory for the thousandth time.

“Yes… Yes it hurts, but it could help him too. We just don’t know.”

“Mmm,” She whined, “does it hurt a lot?”

“It could. He might not be too happy if you see him and, well, we just don’t know sweetie we’re trying the best we can.”

A moment passed by, the fate of the world being mulled over by a pre-schooler before nap-time. She lay back down on her father’s chest. She could feel his heartbeat still, at least.

“I want daddy to be happy.”

“You.. you want him to be happy?

She put her thumb in her mouth and vigorously shook her head up and down. Her father nodded approvingly.

“Yeah baby, that’s what I want too.”

The intern had no words. So, he followed his script. More patients to see.

“Okay, umm well, great, well,” he wiped his eyes, “Umm, Mr. Royce.” The intern bowed his head again. “I will… discuss the treatment plan with your pharmacist and uh, we’ll see about what options we have, that way maybe we can discuss transitioning to in-home treatment, so we can make you as… comfortable as we can.” He smiled at the man sitting with his daughter and wondered.

“Thanks, doc.” Josef winked. 

The intern turned to leave, but he caught himself catching a glimpse towards Sugar Bear, who had begun falling asleep with her hand by her face, eardrum placed firmly over her dad’s chest. 

“Don’t worry about her, she’ll get a good inheritance.” Josef touched his thumb and forefinger together and rubbed them back and forth. “So will the old man. Sorry for calling you a fuckhead by the way. Do me a favor will ya, grab me my phone from the counter please? I gotta schedule a date.”>

[rhondafromhr]

I ended up writing it after all! I‘ll probably make an Ao3 account and post a more polished version at some point but for now I’ll just post the chapters on this blog for whoever wants to enjoy them! I present to you my magnum opus: “We‘re Gonna Become the Bullies”

Chapter 1: Flash! Bang! Nothing’s the Same.

A week ago, Stephanie never would’ve guessed that trying to cheat off of Peter Spankoffski on that quiz would lead to them spending their Friday night in a dilapidated old murder house with the school weeb, possibly the horniest person alive, the resident repressed christian girl and the school bully who’s been terrorizing the halls for years. Especially not watching said bully absolutely gush about the prank they just pulled, completely oblivious to their malicious intent. Max continues his heartfelt speech as the rest of them watch, unsure what to make of this. At some point, Richie stops recording and sets down his camera. If Max isn’t going to piss his pants and humiliate himself there’s no need to waste space on the SD card with whatever weird after school special this is turning into.

“Maybe I had you figured all wrong, you know. I thought you were a bunch of nerds, but you throw one hell of a party-” there’s only a fraction of a second between the slight creaking sound and Max falling as the floor completely collapses beneath him. Max stares down and realizes that holy shit, that’s a three story drop, he’s going to die! But before he can become a full-page black and white photo in the yearbook, he notices he’s stopped falling and there’s a sweaty hand gripping his wrist. Shitlips! Please, please don’t let me fall, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die is all he can think.

“Uh, hey guys, you wanna come over and help me? I’m like the third smallest person in this group, why am I holding up a 6’2’’ quarterback by myself? I’d rather not also fall to my death,” Richie says in a strained voice. The rest of the group rushes over and they manage to hoist Max up and guide him away from the gaping hole in the floor where he almost just fucking died. Tears sting at his eyes and he can’t even be bothered to hide them. He’s so dizzy he thinks he might collapse and it’s so hard to catch his breath that he’s considering asking for a hit from Richie’s inhaler.

“Look what you fuckin’ nerds just did! You guys just saved my life! Now this is seriously the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Wait, you could’ve gotten hurt, are you guys all okay?”

The group mumbles in affirmation, although they’re almost as shaken as Max is. Except for Grace, who’s surprisingly composed. It’s almost as if she was prepared for things to go south and had some kind of contingency plan. And if she’s equal parts relieved, confused and concerned that seeing Max act all wholesome, then scared and vulnerable made him seem way less sexy then that’s her business. Richie’s hyperventilating. He takes a puff from his inhaler and adds, “I mean, I almost dislocated my shoulder because these guys took their sweet time making their way over to help, but I’m not hurt.”

“Good,” Max replies, “And just so you know, after what you did for me tonight, you never have to worry about me picking on you again. I wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you! And then we would’ve lost to Clivesdale at the big game.”

“Fuck Clivesdale!” The rest of them say in unison, although Grace opts not to say the first word.

“So you know what? I’ve decided,” Max continues “Right here, right now, your lives are going to change. ‘Cause what you did here tonight proves you’re cool. You’re worthy of being on my level. From now on, we’re equals. I don’t decide who’s a nerd and who’s cool or whether Kyle can date Brenda. I don’t bring order to Hatchetfield High. We do.”

The group is quiet for a moment, processing the offer he’s putting on the table. No more swirlies. No more getting beat up in the Pasqualli’s parking lot. No more flick-it tickets. No more feeling powerless.

“Guys, can we have a quick sidebar?” Pete asks. They all shuffle a little further away from Max and huddle up. He’d normally be furious at them for even hesitating, but he doesn’t think he’s allowed to be mad at them right now. If he’s being honest, he could use this extra time to process his brush with death and regulate his breathing anyway.

“What the fuck? Don’t tell me you’re actually entertaining the idea. Wasn’t the whole point of this to get him to stop bullying people? Stooping to his level defeats the purpose,” Stephanie whisper-yells, even more fired up than she was over the dog thing on twitter.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ruth whines “You were never going to get picked on either way. Cool kid privilege at work yet again!”

“It wouldn’t be all bad,” Pete says “If I’m cool according to Max now, maybe he won’t have an issue with us spending time together. We could finally have that study date at Pasqualli’s for real.”

Stephanie’s face absolutely does not flush at that thought. She does not imagine getting distracted from the homework as Pete makes her absolutely crack up, their hands accidentally brushing up against each other as they lean over the paper, holding out a breadstick for Pete as he tentatively takes a bite, the candle atop the table slowly melting down to nothing until their server finally has to ask them to leave because they’re closing, going back to her place (her dad is out of town) and - okay, she needs to stop. Is this how Ruth feels all the time?

“Yeah! And maybe we can use our power for good, too. If Max actually listens to us and takes us seriously, we might be able to influence him and create a better school for everyone,” Grace adds “We also could’ve done that if he was gone, but this works, too.” Her tone takes on a distinct bitterness on that last bit.

“I don’t think we can pass this up,” says Richie “This is our chance to have one year at that school that’s not totally miserable! Plus, yeah, all that stuff Grace said. Maybe we can get Max to mellow out a little bit.”

They turn back to Max, who’s been waiting patiently in the corner.

“We’re amenable to your terms,” Pete tells him.

Starting Monday, they’ll fight sin with sin.

Let the games begin.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Max redemption arcs in AUs where he survives the Waylon place but what about a corruption arc for Steph and the nerdy prudes? Like they catch Max before he falls and because he loved the prank so much and he’s so grateful they saved his life he decides they’re HIS nerds and they’re going to join him at the top of the social ladder. They all hesitantly join in on the bullying and at first they justify it as needing to keep up their new status to protect themselves, but slowly find themselves getting into it and enjoying the power trip.

They spend the rest of senior year being literal monsters and they all peak in high school and stay in Hatchetfield after graduation. They keep hanging out mainly because no one else will tolerate them and it turns into an Always Sunny-esque AU. They save Hatchetfield from the LIB multiple times solely because everyone who deals with them gets fucked over, even Wiggog Y’rath himself. The lords in black end up worse and worse off with every encounter and each time the gang summons them they just look more and more disheveled and defeated.

Maybe one of the adults can join in and be the Frank Reynolds of the group? Ted’s the most obvious choice because he is a self-proclaimed sleazeball and his history with Tinky could add an interesting element to the LIB encounters. Or it could be Solomon infiltrating the group to try and reconnect with Stephanie and he gets pulled into their shenanigans and uses his wealth, power and connections as mayor to help pull off their schemes. Or maybe Paul initially gets involved with them because he’s trying to convince Richie to be nice again and get his life back on track but then he ends up slowly getting more and more enmeshed in the group and ends up just as bad as them.

It’d be super out of pocket and out of character but it’d also be tons of fun.

[fwkei]

Time.

Kazutora x fem!reader (angst/fluff)

CW/TW: Mentions of suicide, (slight) mention of starvation.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR VALHALLA ARC

Note! Explanation of story at end just incase you’re confused also i apologize for mistakes, i did not read this over. 🙆🏻‍♀️

WC: 3.4k

--------------------------------------

You sat at the edge of your seat. Watching the clock above your teacher's head ever so closely. 

“When you want to find the common di-” 

Suddenly the bell rang, interrupting your teacher from his final words. 

“Oh my bad, guess I lost track of time, anyways please remember to study for your quiz on Monday! I know it's a weekend, but save some time for academics!” said your teacher as your classmates packed up their stuff to leave. 

Today was Friday, meaning it was the day you get to visit Kazutora at juvie for the first time after Keisuke's death, and your attempt. It was 3:30, and visiting hours started at 4 to 5 every Friday for inmates. Running to the metro takes about 5-7 minutes, and walking from the station to the actual juvie takes about 20 minutes, while the ride lasts up to 10, meaning you should arrive there at around 4:10. And there's no time to waste. 

You ran out of class, ignoring your fellow classmates goodbyes. You held your book bag tight as you ran fast to the Tokyo station. Seeing you arrived just on time you jumped in just before the 3:30 o'clock train leaves to a different side of the district where Kazutora is being held. You held onto the rail beside you to keep yourself steady as the train started to move . 

You felt scared but happy to see Kazutora. He most probably didn't know you would be coming, he probably thought you would at most write letters to him, like before, but again...Kazutora believes that you hate him now. You didn't know what you were going to say to him. Draken told you that he already visited him while you were in psychiatric hold for a bit, and he told you that Kazutora was planning on killing himself. Draken did not specify if he told Kazutora about your own attempt but you didn't worry too much because you were healing, and you now had hope.  

Your heart was racing, as the train came to a stop. As the doors opened you ran, and fast. Dodging people to not hurt them and almost stepping on things you shouldn’t be stepping on. You checked the time to see it was 4:01, and you still had about 10 minutes worth of walking/running to cover. 

You were breathing heavily when the Juvenile building came into view. You checked the time again to see it was 4:11. You jogged to the doors of the building despite the fact that your thighs were burning from the amount of cardio you had just done. 

It's all worth it. 

You thought to yourself opening the doors. 

Kazutora sat on the bed of his bland and colorless cell. He signed as he looked up at the ceiling light before turning his position to look at the side of the wall. He held his pillow tight. He knew it was visiting day, and his heart was anxious despite the fact that others had already been called to see their visitors, and there was still no call for him. He didn't even expect any visitors.

Kazutora didn't know if he wanted to see you or not. He’s spent so much time alone in his cell thinking. He wondered if you had figured out the other reason for him stabbing his best friend, you could read people, but he knew you had a hard time reading him. He felt his heart ache. He was scared of the karma that would hit him because of it. Maybe not even Karma, but just some sort of punishment, for causing pain to the soul that cared for him so much, and for not being there for that soul when she needed it the most. Which... ultimately lead to your attempt, which Draken told him about during his visit. He shut his eyes as he remembered Draken's words. 

“I don’t wanna hear you say there is no point anymore. Because there is, and it’s kinda frustrating and irritating how you can’t see it even though it’s right there. She’s in psychiatric hold right now because she was close to ending her own life. After Baji died, and you were taken away, Y/n couldn't take it anymore, and no one could see it because she just...she just kept it in, like you do. She was going to die on Baji’s birthday if I wasn’t there to make her throw up the pills she took. Her and I may not be blood related siblings, but I know she’s been through a lot and has always gotten over it just fine, you know that...but this time...I got really fucking scared.”

Kazutora felt his heart drop to fucking hell at Draken’s words. He felt his breathing stop as his mouth parted.

“I know you love her, I'm not sure in what way but I could care less about that. I know, Kazutora. All those times you came crying to the brothel, crying into her arms, begging for some type of help and she helped you, lended you her body for you to cry on, I’d hear all of it. I know you’re hurting, but if you go, I don't think she will be able to live with herself. She’ll blame herself for not being there for you like she’s always been. Do you understand?”

He felt his body throb from literal physical pain. Kazutora was feeling and getting the punishment he deserved right then and there. 

“You owe it to her, whether you like it or not, to stay alive because she's doing the same for you. And once you’re out of here, you should finally grow up. Let her cry into your arms for once. She’s your best friend, right? Because she deserves for those efforts to be reciprocated. And you deserve to see what she’s gone through because of everything that happened. Take care, Kazutora.” 

Kazutora was lost in his own mind, to the point where he couldn't even register that one of the guards was calling his name from the cell door.

“Hm? I’m sorry I wasn't...uh, paying attention. What did you say?” he asked sitting up nervously 

“You got a visitor, kid. C’mon get up.” said the man unlocking his cell 

“A- visitor?” he said quietly getting up from his bed with shocked eyes 

It was already 4:15. Kazutora grew anxious at who his visitor could be. He was sure it wasn't you, your school is too far for you to make it here in time. There would only be a couple minutes to spare if you did try. Could it be Draken wanting to give him a word of advice? Or maybe Chifuyu.. Maybe Mikey? God, who could it be. It made him feel even more congested and trapped than before.  

As Kazutora walked, he looked down at his feet avoiding people's gazes. He saw the backs of his fellow juvenile delinquents from the side of his eye. His heartbeat became stronger, and he felt it thumbing in his ears. God, he didn't know what to expect. He was just so...frustrated. 

“Here, you have until 5.” said the guard, taking off his hand cuffs. His back was facing you. You grew anxious bringing your hands to rest on your things and skirt, waiting for him to turn around and look at you. You watched as he rubbed his wrists and sat down at the stool still not looking at you. You rubbed your hands together under the table separating you both, as the guard walked away to patrol. Your eyes followed the guard, not even noticing that Kazutora had turned to look at your face. 

Kazutora felt his face get hot at the sight of you. You had a school shirt on, with a dark blue tie and a sweater vest, Your hair tied into a low and messy bun with some of you natural and dyed hairs falling out framing your face. He felt his whole body go warm as you turned your head and gave him a nervous smile as a small blush formed. He didn't know why he was scared to see you, because every time Kazutora had the chance to see you, he instantly felt better, no matter what.

You two, and the other inmates and visitors, were all separated by a piece of plastic with a vent to capture sound better. On the side there was a subsection with an opening to the other side where you could pass things through. Such as notes, toys, hygiene stuff, and extra. You brought your hands to the table holding them.

“Hey...sorry I’m late.” you said as you saw Kazutora snap out of his gaze 

“Oh no I-, please don’t be..” he said waving his hands frantically, clearly nervous

“I had to run about 2 miles to get here..” you laughed trying to not tense up

Kazutora felt… stupid, why would you do that? Just to see him? It just made him even more confused...confused about how he felt towards you. 

“Just to see me? But..why?” he asked without thinking and just speaking, giving a regretful and embarrassed face after asking his question.

“Hm? Oh well it's simple really…” you said bringing your hands to rest in between your thighs on your seat 

“I know that I've told you that I don't like saying these words to people because it sounds like some sort of goodbye but it’s time I grow up from my past, and stop keeping things in..so…it’s because I love you... I thought that was fairly obvious but I don't wanna mess up like I did last time. I want you to know that I do love you and care for you.” you said giving him a closed eyed smile, this made Kazutora realize that you deeply regretted not telling Keisuke that you loved him more often when you two still had time. He felt his heart ache. He felt so guilty and gross.

“So, I’m gonna try and start saying that more often..” you said laughing to break the silence 

Kazutora was still speechless at what you had just said. He couldn’t seem to process it, and he wanted to say it back but for some reason he just couldn’t. He was afraid that something else might slip out. He truly didn't think he was worthy of your love and care. It became quiet. Again.

“I made you a bento box with your favorite things, I made sure to put some extra meat. Cause you always used to ask for that when I would make bentos for study days with you and Keisuke. And don’t worry! It’s allowed and you can have the kitchen hold it for you till you’re ready to eat it for today's dinner, the guards said so. And the container is microwave safe! So you can warm up the entree section. There’s rice and BBQ meat, little octopus shaped sausages and sauce with it! Oh and a salad with sesame dressing on the side, and desert which is just mochi. Every Friday I'll come by, and give you the new bento and you'll just give me back the old one, so that I can wash it and so we don't have to waste stuff.” you said smiling 

Your hand dung into your bag, and you pulled out a wooden bento box sliding it halfway through the subsection, but Kazutora hung his head low. You smiled, trying your best to make things right, as silence grew loud again. 

“I can also bring some mangas for you, I know you like shounen and also horror.. So I can buy some and give them to you so that you aren't bored! This week's shonen jump is good… It’s about a boy who is trying to save his mom, and ends up traveling across lands, with close friends, to get this special potion that will heal her, but I’ll make sure to look for some good horror manga too...I know you like stuff about folk tales, that sound okay?”  

Silence.

After a few minutes you spoke again.

“I decided to let my hair grow out cause I kinda miss having longer hair…There's this really pretty girl in my class who has long blonde hair.. Like Emma’s but longer and more wavy.. What about you? Anything you wanna do to your hair when you get out? I’ll take you to get it done-” 

Silence. 

The time now at 4:40. Kazutora bit his lip out of frustration, refusing to look up at you. 

“Oh! What about I bring over a sudoku book, so you can work on your academics as well! I can teach you how to play, it’s fun once you get the hang of it. Or I can bring just a simple literature book, it’s really up to you, I think both are great.” 

Silence. 

“Maybe markers so you can draw on yourself when you’re bored? I remember you doing that while I would tutor you and Keisuke. I can get big and small ones, and ones with different colors too. Also a sketch book, since you’re really good at drawing.” 

You were met with silence again. You felt your heart ache. Your eyes looked up at the clock and saw it was 4:47. You both were running out of time. About half an hour went by of your speaking, you giving a couple minutes in between waiting for him to speak back, but nothing. You clenched your hands into fists, biting your bottom lip as you looked down at your hands, resting on your thighs. 

You felt a strong feeling in your throat, the feeling you get when you’re about to sob. You were so frustrated, and you were trying to keep a level head. It was hard and you just wanted to fucking cry. 

“I- '' you said before closing your mouth realizing you were about to let out a whine. You didn't wanna cry, you wanted to say something but you were afraid that if you did, it would just come out as a sob.  

“I know it’s hard on you-” you said holding back your sobs while still looking down at your hands, letting your hairs cover your face 

“If you don’t want me here, I promise- that I’m fine with that...but~” you said in between pauses keeping your sobs in, but your last word came out shaky making Kazutora shoot his head to see you about to cry. 

He felt his heart ache once again. 

 “But please….jus-just say something. Anything. At least acknowledge that I'm here.” you cried quietly while tensing up your shoulders 

Kazutora frowned. This was his punishment. Seeing you cry, and not being able to hold and comfort you like he desperately wanted to. He opened his mouth, but closed it soon after when nothing came out. Not even a squeak, or whine, or breath. 

“I-”

You heard him say. You looked up with tears in your eyes seeing his face of desperation. 

Kazutora wanted to speak so badly, there were so many thoughts in his head he just could not push one out of his mouth, and he was afraid he might say something he would regret. He wanted to respond to everything you asked him, add commentary, tell you that you looked pretty today, say thank you for the food you made him. Tell you to not waste your tears on someone like him. Say sorry for making you feel uncomfortable because of his silence. God he just- 

“I love you-” he choked up and said in a louder tone causing your eyes to widen and mouth to part from shock at his sudden outburst.

He was avoiding your eyes as he spoke. 

“I- thank you, thank you so much for the food! Really! And I would really love whatever and everything you bring me.” he said, quieting down towards the end.  

“I...can’t put my thoughts into words… and I don’t wanna say something I’d regret. All this time I’ve just been lost in my own mind. I just want you to know that..that I really am in- that I really appreciate you. I want you..to be here, and I’m so...sorry for making you cry.” he said in between pauses of frustration and embarrassment 

You felt your body get warm, your heart beat was strong and you could feel it in your finger tips and temples. You opened your mouth to say something before Kazutora spoke again. 

“I..wanted to.. Wanted to help you...in just some way...after seeing you cry for the first time...with Baji in your arms….I shouldn't have stabbed Baji...I took the person you loved more than anything...away from you.. Because I was j- because I was so stupid, and still am. Even when you’ve done...so fucking much for me...I- and I took him from you...I just don’t get it… how can you have any empathy towards me anymore.. It doesn't make sense. I took so much from you… I killed Shinchiro, and I killed Baji. You loved them both...Mikey loved them both, why do..why do you even have any feeling towards me?” he said looking into your eyes with tears   

Your eyes softened at him. You took a small breath before saying-

“I thought I already told you why, Kazutora. I love you.” 

Kazutora felt a tear run down his cheek. He knew how much thought came behind those simple words. 

“I don’t need a reason to love you. Just like I don't need a reason to be hungry. It’s just there, and will continue to be there, you know what I mean? Same thing with everyone I love.” you said 

His breath hitched. The time now at 4:52.

“The only difference is I was in love with Keisuke. I still am in love with him. Even though he’s not here anymore. I know you might think I love him and Shinchiro and Mikey because they saved my life and helped me. But I was only so little. I had no concept of it. So was Keisuke. So was Mikey. Keisuke had no reason to come up to little me while I was starving on the ground practically dying. He just did it. He was too young to understand love. You think he understood his feelings for me the second he saw me? Or even with Mikey or Shinchiro. Of course not. They were just focussed on saving my life at the time. We discovered the love that was involved later. Even if it was too late to say anything about it. It took Kei and I about...hmmm..5-7 years maybe...to understand what we felt toward each other specifically. It is different with everyone. The love is just there, it’ll just be understood when the time is right. Like when your hunger just hits you. So when you ask me why I love you, or care for you, or forgive you. I just can’t give you a simple answer, even if I wanted to….because there's so much. Too much.” 

Kazutora understood your words. He really did. It made so much sense to him and he just wanted to scream.

Why? Well.. 

“The time will come where you believe that you're worthy of someone else's love and even your own, and even worth loving someone else yourself. So don’t worry. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Even if it takes all the time in the world, okay?” you said smiling at him leaving him with shocked eyes

“Alright times up! 5 o'clock!” yelled a guard 

“Well, I'll see you next Friday, okay? I’ll bring over some manga, oh! And don't forget the bento!” you said getting up from your seat as Kazutora did the same keeping his hands on the table as the guard came to cuff them 

“Y/n I-I’m…”

No. He can’t say it. He can never ever say it. Why? And say what? 

Because he will never be him. He can never be like him for you, and he was perfect for you. He was the one there for you. He had the time to love you. He was the one. He could never even compete. Not after what he did. Not after the jealousy and envy grew and brewed inside him towards him. He is filthy. Not worthy of your love. Right? 

But someday, he desperately and genuinely wants to allow himself to be loved, and to love. Kazutora will forever be longing for that moment. And when he can love, and allow himself to be loved, he wants it to be with you. 

But till that time comes..

“I’ll...really be looking forward to it.” he said biting back his words and smiling softly 

“Likewise.” you said smiling as you both parted your ways, at least for the time being. 

------------------------------------------

Explanation/note: when i wrote this, i made y/n be a ‘foster’ siblings with Draken and childhood friends with Mikey and Keisuke. << Reason being is because i gave her a backstory where she was neglected and ran away, hence her having a more naturing personality. Y/n and Keisuke were a couple till he died but Kazutora always loved Y/n so it’s a love triangle in a way? I don’t know, but Kazutora grew envious of Keisuke in this ff which ended up being a motive to stabbing him during the fight, to which he later regrets and gets punishment for. Y/n in the story doesn’t know that so that’s why Kazutora can’t accept her love for real because he doesn't know if Y/n will really forgive him after that, and Kazutora won’t be able to learn/accept love till he admits what he did. Holding in that secret, and being in love with Y/n makes him feel frustrated and act out. And obviously time is the theme of this whole story. Kazutora at the end decided to avoid his feelings because the way things are going right now fro the time being for him are fine because he doesn't believe he deserves anything more.  But that can only last for so long, so he’s gambling with his relationship with you. He thinks of it as his punishment for now, not being able to tell you how he really feels, and not being able to comfort you.

ANYWAYS hope you liked it, sorry if it’s confusing. 

[spooderboyandtincan]

Hibernation

“Mr. Parker!”

Peter’s eyes flew open, blinking rapidly. “Whassup?”

The teacher glared down at him, her hawk-like features sharpening. “Perhaps I can direct your attention elsewhere,  Mr. Parker, since your desk seems to be so fascinating.” She slipped a blank sheet of paper on his desk. “Pop quiz, everyone!”

Peter hummed drearily as the room filled with groans, glares heating the back of his head. He shivered miserably and picked up his pencil, wishing he had worn a sweatshirt instead of a thin t-shirt with a science pun on it. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine curling up in his bed, warm and cozy. Nice and warm, lots of blankets, hot chocolate, sleep….

Mmmm, sleep. 

“Peter!” Ned hissed, poking his side. “Pete!”

“Hmmm?” 

“Dude, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, glancing vaguely at his friend’s face. “Yeah, of course.”

Ned squinted. “Yeah, right. You need the nurse.”

“No, I don’t.” Peter scribbled a circle on the paper. “I’m one-hundred percent fiiiiiiiiine.”

“Dude, everything you just said convinced me you’re not fine,” Ned said. “Peter, really. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Peter thought back. Actually, he’d slept incredibly well, falling asleep before his head hit the pillow. “I did. Really good, actually.”

“Did anything happen during your… internship?” his best friend whispered confidentially.

The boy shrugged. “Haven’t gone out for a few days. So, no.”

Ned frowned at Peter, who rubbed his eyes vigorously, his hands shaking slightly as he fiddled with his pencil. 

What was going on with his friend?

~~~~~

Happy glanced up to look for the kid, scanning the crowd. He spotted Peter, and his friend, Ted, or Fred, or whatever. 

The kids stopped at the car, Ned squinting worriedly at Peter, saying something Happy couldn’t hear. The back door opened and Peter slid in, waving quietly to his best friend. Ned smiled and shut the door. 

With a heavy sigh, he slumped against the seat and closed his eyes. Sleep. 

“Kid?” Happy said, looking in the rearview mirror. “You okay?” 

“Mmhmmm.”

“You don’t look so good.”

“‘M just tired.” 

Happy raised his eyebrows. “Sure, kid.” 

He drove to the penthouse as fast he could.

~~~~~

Peter staggered to the elevator, ignoring Happy’s offers to help. “No, really, I’m just tired. I’m tired, that’s all.” 

“Okay, kid, I got it. Now go to sleep, or I’ll call Tony and May.”

He barely made it to his room without collapsing, falling onto his bed and kicking off his shoes, snuggling under the blankets and curling into a ball. 

Within seconds he was deeply asleep.

~~~~~

Tony fiddled with a button on the cuff of his fancy gray suit as Pepper spoke. It felt like the meeting had gone on for days, but in reality it had only been a few hours. Though those few hours hadn’t been exactly short. He was surrounded by old geezers who probably didn’t have their own teeth.

Plus, it was Friday, which meant Peter was already in the penthouse.

He pulled out his phone quietly and did a quick check on Peter’s vitals. His heartbeat was slow, his temperature cool, and was deeply asleep. Tony nodded, satisfied his kid was okay.

“-and that concludes this meeting, ladies and gentlemen,” Pepper finished, neatly stacking the papers in her hands. “Thank you for your attention.”

“Glad that’s over with,” Tony muttered as they dispersed, getting up from his seat and pulling off his jacket. “Thought I was about to die from old age.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “More likely to die of cold, Tony. It’s freezing in here.”

~~~~~

The inventor walked through the penthouse, rubbing his eyes. First he checked the couch for Peter (empty) then continued to Peter’s own room.

He knocked gently on his door before pushing it open and moving to sit on Peter’s mattress, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead and smoothing back his soft curls. 

Tony frowned suddenly and felt his kid’s forehead. “Jesus, you’re cold, baby. FRI? What’s his temp?”

“Peter’s temperature is at 79 ℉,” she answered. 

“What?!” Tony bolted to his feet. “Read his vitals.”

“Heart rate sixty beats per minute, blood pressure 70/80 mm Hg.”

Without thinking, Tony scooped a limp Peter into his arms and sprinted to the medbay.

~~~~~

“He’s hibernating?!”

Helen nodded. “It’s his spider side. It was cold enough today to send him into hibernation.”

Tony paled even more as he took this information in. “How do we fix him?!”

“Tony, calm down, take a breath. He’s gonna be okay.”

He took a shaky breath, massaging Peter’s smaller hand between his. “How do we wake him up?”

She smiled. “As far as I can tell, it’s best to warm him up slowly. That includes warm blankets, and lots of cuddles.”

~~~~~

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, rubbing his back, the boy’s head resting on his chest. He kissed Peter’s temple and smoothed back his curls before starting to order Happy and Rhodey around.

“Get his Iron Man blanket, it’s his favorite, he needs it,” he ordered. “Get his nightlight too, he can’t sleep without it, and his teddy bear. Oh, his Spider-Man hat, get that. And find a weighted blanket, he has one in his room, it’s dark blue.”

Tony ignored the eye roll Rhodey gave him, and kissed Peter’s forehead gently. 

“You’re gonna be okay, tesoro, I got you, Dad’s got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

God, he wished Peter could wake up right then.

~~~~~

Tony sat up in Peter’s hospital bed, reading aloud from some sort of science-y book about spiders he thought his kid might enjoy.

“‘Spiders have blue blood. In humans, oxygen is bound to hemoglobin, a molecule that contains iron and gives blood its red color. In spiders, oxygen is bound to hemocyanin, a molecule that contains copper rather than iron,’” he read. “How about that, kiddo? Pretty cool.”

Peter stayed silent. Tony tucked the many blankets more firmly around him, picking up his hand and running a thumb across his knuckles. 

“‘During the 16th and 17th centuries, it was believed that a bite from a species of wolf spider would be deadly if the victim did not dance to a specific type of frenzied music. It inspired a dance called the tarantella.’” Tony snorted. “Now that I would like to see.”

Without one of Peter’s witty comments and high-pitched giggles, it was a lot less funny. 

He sighed at the boy’s pale, lax face. “I miss you baby.” He dropped his forehead to Peter’s. “I miss you so much.”

~~~~~

Peter gradually became aware of two things; the soft snoring in his ear and a loose hand in his curls. 

He was warm and cozy in a pair of strong arms.

Peter hummed quietly and buried his face in Tony’s chest. 

He let himself slip back to the comfortable darkness. 

He was safe with Tony.

~~~~~

“You know what I mean!” May insisted as Tony stared at her blankly. “The teddy bears with lavender and rice in them, you put them in the microwave and they get nice and warm. Please don’t tell me you’ve never heard of those.”

“So what, you eat them?” 

“No!” she scoffed, “They’re all warm and fuzzy. I got one for Pete when he was little, but it had a hole and we had to throw it out. Maybe it’ll help?”

The inventor smiled.

The inventor smiled. “Maybe.” He reached for his Starkpad on the bedside table. “Would he like an Iron Man one or Spider-Man one? Nevermind, I’ll just get both. FRI, speed order.”

Barely fifteen minutes later Happy entered the room, holding a box. “Package.”

May blinked and stood to take it. “That was fast. These are super cute, Tony. I’ll go warm them up.”

“How’s he doing?” 

Tony sighed, combing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “His temp is a lot warmer. He’s getting better.” He smiled and kissed Peter’s forehead. “Aren’t you, bubba?”

“Good.” Though people thought he didn’t care about Peter, Happy privately thought of himself like his uncle. “That’s good.”

May walked in a second later. “Nice and toasty.” She slipped the hot bag underneath the blankets, under Peter’s socked feet, and placed the other one by his side.  “There we go.”

There was a whining sound from Peter as his fingers twitched. Tony rushed to move the bag closer to his skin. “There you go, baby, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

May laughed when Peter’s fingers closed around the warmth. “Aaw.”

~~~~~

May helped Tony tuck Peter in, which was hard to do when lying in the same bed. 

She kissed Peter’s forehead, gazing fondly at him. “Goodnight, honey. Larb ya.” May smiled. “Night, Tony.” She walked to the couch, lying down and grabbing a blanket.

“Night.” He shifted and circled his arms around his kid. “Goodnight, Petey. I love you so much.” He kissed his cheek. 

~~~~~

Tony woke up to whimpering. His eyes snapped open.

Peter was awake. 

“Peter?” he gasped, bolting up in bed. “Oh, no, shh, don’t cry, shh. What’s wrong, buddy?” He cupped the boy’s face anxiously. “Are you feeling okay? Are you hurting- does anything hurt?” He pressed the call button frantically. “What’s wrong?”

“‘M cold,” he whined, reaching for Tony. Tony gathered him in his arms, rubbing his back to give him some sense of warmth. 

“Oh baby, I got you, shh. You’re okay, we’re gonna get you warmed up. You’re okay, shh.” 

He looked worriedly at the layers of heated blankets and hot packs. “It’s okay baby.”

“Peter? Tony?” May mumbled from the couch, slowly sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

“May- May, Peter’s awake! He’s cold, we-we need to heat these up.” He grabbed the Iron Man neck warmer. “Here.”

May jumped to her feet and took it. “I’ll be right back.”

Cho rushed in a second later. “What’s wrong?”

“He woke up, he’s cold. Should he be cold? Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly. 

“No, I think it’s just the shock. He came out of hibernation early, maybe his body isn’t quite ready.” 

“Hey Peter,” she said to the boy. “This is gonna warm you up, but it’s going to make you sleepy, okay?”

She took a syringe and pushed a clear liquid into his IV. “There.”

“Hmm,” Peter mumbled, which was the equivalent of “thanks.”

“Do you feel better, tesoro?” Tony whispered, still looking worried as ever.

Peter paused, his eyes hazily focusing on Tony’s face. “Hun’ry.”

“You’re hungry?” he cooed. “Oh baby, of course, don’t worry.” Glancing towards Helen and May, he said “Someone needs to make some soup.” 

May volunteered, and about ten minutes later she hurried in with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. 

“Okay, bubba,” Tony murmured. “We got you some soup, okay? Can you open your mouth, sweetheart?”

Peter’s mouth opened. Tony blew carefully on the spoon before scooping it into Peter’s mouth. Peter swallowed it, then glanced beggingly at the bowl.  

The inventor quickly gave Peter another spoonful. “Is it too hot, baby?”

He shook his head slightly. 

After nearly half the bowl was gone, Peter’s eyes began to droop.

 “‘M tired.”

Tony immediately set the bowl on the table and gently helped his kid lie down. “There you go, sweetheart. There you go.” He kissed Peter’s forehead.

 Peter snuffled quietly, curling his arms around the neck warmer and grabbing Tony’s arm like a koala. Tony lay back down and pulled the covers up to Peter’s chest.

“Do you feel better?” May asked, combing back his curls. Peter hummed an affirmative, eyes closed.

The inventor wrapped his free arm around Peter, burying his face in his soft curls and kissing them gently. He smiled in relief, drinking up the sight of his now sleeping kid. 

“Goodnight, honey,” May whispered. She kissed his temple, then stood and flopped wearily on the couch. “Try to get some sleep, Tony, okay?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ll try.”

It didn’t matter to him. Peter mattered.

He was surprised that when his head hit the pillow, his eyelids began to feel heavy. The rush of relief and love for his kid, his baby, had taken a toll on him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, bambino. More than you’ll ever know.”

Peter was okay.

~~~~~

/DO NOT TAG OR REBLOG AS ST*RKER/

~~~~~

Tag List: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace

If anyone wants to be added/ removed let me know!

[missinghan]

give it a chance ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au

❖ word count : 9,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.

❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤

one.

It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.

“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up. 

Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.

“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”

Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”

“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.” 

“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink. 

“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor. 

Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years. 

In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”

Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates. 

Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”

“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One. 

Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night. 

“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”

“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this. 

Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy. 

“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”

“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends. 

Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit. 

Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”

“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”

“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down. 

“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”

“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa. 

“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends. 

two. 

“Your boyfriend is late.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed. 

Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not fucking sad!”

“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.

You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what? 

Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract. 

Are you sad about that? 

Yeah, kinda.

The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it. 

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time. 

Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, “Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”

“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”

She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.

“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”

Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”

You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”

“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”

“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”

Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since. 

“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.

“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.

She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”

“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”

She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.

“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.

It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece. 

Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.

[10:38 AM]

lino | hey you still on campus?

three.

The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning. 

“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.

Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.

This is not healthy. 

“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time. 

“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him. 

You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time. 

Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire. 

“Don’t you think that this is weird?”

“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here. 

You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this. 

“Hmm, what about it?”

“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much. 

He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life. 

“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.

“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”

“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”

“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms. 

Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way. 

You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him. 

four.

You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight. 

“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine. 

Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.” 

You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”

“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that. 

You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung. 

“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person. 

“What are you even? Four?”

He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”

“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway. 

“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood. 

“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that. 

Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether. 

“Can you go any fucking slower?”

“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.” 

Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt. 

“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.

Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.” 

“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.” 

The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway. 

“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?

Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions. 

You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—

“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is. 

Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying. 

You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while? 

“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.” 

Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle. 

“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend. 

Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.” 

“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“

“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?” 

That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world. 

Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”

Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits. 

“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic. 

“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”

You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”

And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content. 

“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further. 

He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”

“I blame gravity for that.”

“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber. 

Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten. 

Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.

If only it were that easy.  

“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?

“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”

It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn. 

five.

“Y/N you ass, give it back!

“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink. 

Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red. 

“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason. 

Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly. 

“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour. 

Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable. 

“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard. 

“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?

You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk. 

A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body. 

“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense. 

The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?

No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.

“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.” 

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”

You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”

“Well, what else can they like about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”

Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”

Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight. 

Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself. 

Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.

You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing. 

“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”

“Huh where—“

Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer. 

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here. 

When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in. 

‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to. 

“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”

Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”

“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”

You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students. 

You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready. 

six.

Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long. 

The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet. 

The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you. 

This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed. 

“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb. 

The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them. 

“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”

You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary. 

“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?” 

Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.

He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon. 

Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?

“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly. 

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”

“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care. 

Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”

Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”

“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward. 

“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”

“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”

“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“

Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”

You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”

Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”

“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”

“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you���re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.

Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”

“What dumb things?”

“I don’t know, kiss you?”

“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”

You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach. 

The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t. 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you. 

You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove. 

“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless. 

“I am home.”

“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.

Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.

Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change. 

Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down. 

After all, you can’t love alone. 

[thechosenburrito]

Intro to Love: 1.1-Free on Sunday

Word Count: 1,555

Summary:

Xochi gets partnered up with some guy named Carson for a project only to be reminded that she has no social life.

Author’s Note:

This is my first original writing!  I’ve been wanting to write fiction geared towards actual young adults, 18-25, since I grew up on stuff like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter.  Unfortunately, I’m not 12 anymore so I need something geared towards an older audience.  Hope you enjoy!

.

.

.

When you hate going to class as much as I do, you learn to turn off alarms in your sleep.  Once you figure that out, it's all downhill and you'll always be late to morning classes.  You'll end up like me: throwing on a hoodie over your pajamas and running to class in flip flops.

Being late to my morning class wasn't that big of a deal.  It was an intro-level psychology lecture.  A "gimme" class compared to my others.   Plus, the class was so big that no one would notice if I came late or even showed up at all.  Except for Fridays.  Fridays were quiz days and if you weren't in class in the first 10 minutes, you didn't get a quiz AND you got a 0.  No makeups.  No dropped quizzes. I was running full sprint across campus and with no breakfast in me, the only thing keeping me going was the sheer fear of dropping a letter grade because of one quiz.

I made it to the building where my lecture hall was and threw the doors open.  This was a mistake because they were way lighter than anticipated and I ended up scaring the shit out of myself and anyone who was responsible and wanted to spend their morning studying in the common area.  Their piercing glares and furrowed brows were completely warranted.  I felt my face flush red, but I'd have to be embarrassed later because the clock on the wall read 9:07.  The elevator doors closed right when I looked at them.  If only I had telekinesis powers.  I booked it for stairs and after about 10 stairs I remembered that I forgot to take my asthma medication the night before.  Not exactly a great technique.

This time, I didn't throw the doors open.  A TA walked up to me and handed me a copy of the quiz.

"Just in time," she whispered with a raised eyebrow.

I was not even remotely prepared to speak to a human being this morning.  I managed half a chuckle and muttered something along the lines of  "Yeah, I know.".

I quickly looked around the back of the lecture hall for an empty seat, realizing that the only empty seats were at the front of the class.  Because today couldn't get any better, the sound of the door was so loud I should've just thrown them open, to begin with.  The whole lecture hall turned to look at me. The professor even paused to glance my way.  My brain chose this time specifically to reflect on my current outfit choice.  

My navy blue hoodie didn't exactly gel with my orange and black jack-o-lantern pants.  And the flip-flops didn't exactly help my cause.  I knew for a fact that I didn't brush my hair while I was running out of my dorm, which meant I probably looked like I lived in that elementary school lost-and-found bin with my wild black hair sticking out all over the place.  Not to mention I was also red and sweaty from running here.  I had only one thing on my mind as I made my way to the front row in my surprisingly loud flip-flops: "I need to get my life together.".

I sat down in the front row and quickly started my quiz, doing my best to avoid eye contact with either of the people next to me.  It was easy enough and I finished fairly quickly.  I started to pack away my things, but then accidentally made direct eye contact with my professor standing 10 feet away.  I sighed a little.  I couldn't leave early without prolonged awkward eye contact with my professor which was too much for me at the time.  I sat back in my seat.  'Ok,' I thought to myself. 'This lecture end in 25 minutes.  It should be fine".

I was definitely not fine.  Sleeping 3 hours a night does not necessarily lend itself to early morning lectures.  I started nodding off, snapping myself awake when my head hit the back of my chair.  I imagined that this is what it was like to fight off a demonic possession.  I definitely would have been taken over by the demon because I completely fell asleep.  

I jolted awake with pain in my arm.

"Ow!" I  said a little too loud.

The professor was looking right at me.   Shit.  I slept through the question.  I racked my brain for something I could say that wouldn't make me look like a complete idiot in front of everyone.

"Um.. is it.." I felt a gentle nudge.

I looked over and the guy next to me gestured to his notes.  The word "hippocampus" was written and circled at the bottom.

"...the hippocampus?" I wondered aloud.

My professor raised an eyebrow, "Yes".

I sighed and slumped back into my chair.  I scribbled a note on my paper, 'Thanks, man.  You saved my life.', and nudged him on the arm.  He looked over, saw the note on my paper, and nodded.

"Alright before I let you go, I'll go ahead and assign partners for the Trust project," she announced, taking out a clipboard. "If you're in an odd-numbered seat, your partner will be the person to your left, or one number up from yours.  Once you find your partner, check with me or a TA so we can get your names!"

God, why can't professors make things simple?  I shouldn't have to do math to figure out who my partner is.  I stood up to check my seat number, 17, and to the left was-

"Hey, looks like we're partners," He stood up and started grabbing his bag.  "I'm Carson."

I finally got a good look at him once we were both standing.  When we were sitting, I couldn't tell that he was 6 inches taller than me.  It felt awkward having to look up to talk to him.  He was wearing a red flannel over a black t-shirt and jeans.  It was exactly something I would wear at any other point in time.  His thin frame made me extra aware of my potential food-baby.  His face did seem familiar.  Maybe I'd seen him around campus? I wasn't sure.  There were so many guys like him, I probably could've seen any one of his 'clones'.

I managed an awkward smile.

"I'm Xochi.  Nice to meet you!"

I did my best to give a firm handshake.  He definitely had a stronger grip than I anticipated, but 7 years of violin gave me strong hands.

We made our way to one of the TAs.  Carson turned to me.

"I'm gonna be real,  I have no idea what this project is about.  Do you?" he whispered.

I sighed and felt a little part of me die.  That statement alone meant that I would probably be doing this whole project myself.  I figured I didn't get the sharpest knife in the Cesar.

"Uh... when's it due?"

He checked his phone, "Email says it's due on Friday.  Same as Exam 1."

"Then I'll care on Thursday," I said dryly, already taking to account how much I was going to procrastinate.

I was being dead serious but I managed a laugh out of him.  His smile was surprisingly infectious and I felt a little smile bloom.  I quickly turned away.

I gave our names to the TA at the exit.

"Carson..uh.."

"Williams"

"Williams. And Xochitl Jimenez.  It's X-O-C-H-I-T-L."

The TA nodded and Carson and I made our way down to the lobby.

"I thought your name was So-chee. You spell it with an X?" he asked curiously.

I grinned so he wouldn't know it wasn't the first time I heard this.

"Yeah... It's traditional.  It means flower.", I replied with a half chuckle.

"Huh.  That's pretty cool.  Mine just means my dad's a car.", he smirked.

I couldn't hold back my laugh.

"Ok,  you got me with that one!"

Caron smiled and pulled out his phone to check his calendar, "We probably shouldn't leave all the work to Thursday 'though, just to make our lives easier.  I can't work on it today 'cause I have Tennis practice, or tomorrow because I have a tournament.  Sunday works 'though! I'm free at noon, but at 6 I'm grabbing dinner with my friend.  Does that work for you?"

"Let me check," I said in vain as I pulled out my phone, feeling a little pang in my heart.

I looked at my calendar and pretended to look through it intensely.  My personal calendar was empty.  No plans, no meetings, no activities.  He seemed so lucky to have all that going on. Friends, a hobby, people to talk to.  I could go days, sometimes, without speaking a single word until my parent's eventually called to check on me.  I used to have lots of friends in High School.  I'd known them so long, I didn't bother to make any new ones, and going to college left me all on my own.  I couldn't even bring my instrument with me.   Being a musician was my whole life and stopping cold turkey hasn't been doing my brain any favors.  No new friends, no hobbies, no one.  I really had nothing going on.

I gave a strained smile.

"Yeah. I think I'll be free then."

.

.

.

Next Chapter: 1.2-Clinic Crashers

A/N:

It has been so much writing this!  The rest of the chapters I’ve already written will be posted soon!  Chapter 2.3 Will hopefully be out tomorrow or at least some time this weekend!

[dibidibifiction]

Criminal In My Mind: Chapter 1

Warning: foul language

Pairing: Choi Minho x Reader

Word count: 2k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

masterlist  

Y/N

“What... What’s happening?”

Different voices sound faint in the background. I try to adjust as my sight is still cloudy. I have no idea where I am. I start to fail catching my breath as soon as I realize that I can’t feel my arms when I attempt to feel my head where there’s excruciating pain other than the rest of my body aches all over.

Although everything is dark and blurry, I noticed that I’m sitting down with my knees bent to my face, a cloth smelling of gasoline fumes covers my nose and mouth. I’m in a cramped space that I can hardly move in, some kind of a big container. I look up and I see a small hole with light shining through.

What is going on? I can hear myself breathing rapidly.

Two men appear from above me and grab me forcefully on both of my arms to stand me up as I feel another severe pain. This time it’s somewhere on my hip.

Shit, it hurts! It hurts, it hurts. It fucking hurts!

Still catching up with my breath, my sight is fading black again while I hear drilling and hammering but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. I feel myself being dragged as burns forming on my heels. I start to panic—trying to jerk every part of my body, trying to break free. I’d shout for help but my lips down to my throat are too dry as if frozen.

I must have passed out for a minute because the next thing I know is complete silence and complete darkness. Suddenly, in front of me appears another man with blood all over his hands and a sledgehammer in one. “Stay still,” he says.

I try to scream again and finally, my voice rips out the loudest that I can, “Help!”

“Shh, relax, this is just a-” 

“Dream!”

I jolt up. My pores drip with cold sweat and my heart throbs as if to break free from my ribs.

“It was just a dream,” I think out loud.

It’s been over a year since I last dreamt something about what happened when I was thirteen. I don’t even remember what exactly happened anymore. I just remember exactly how it felt, how terrifying it was. How I thought I was going to die. I’m not even sure how I survived, especially my surgeon. I received quite a beating from that event, such as severe bruises and deep cuts all over my body, internal bleeding along my insides. Two rib bones were so complicatedly twisted on my lower right flank that I needed surgery just for the doctors to fix them, which left a big scar down my side. I don’t know what’s worse: remembering how everything happened or remembering how it all felt. The memory of it all, although unclear...

I get freighted by the vibration of my phone against my nightstand. Jinki is calling.

“Lee Jinki, isn’t it too early for a flirtatious phone call? I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect you to pick up right away. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a bad dream. Gonna take a shower. I’m late for-”

“Wait! Stop by for breakfast. It’s on me.”

I roll my eyes and hang up. Jinki and I dated shortly after college for like a week or two so nothing was serious. We’re good friends now but he’s still claiming that there is still some kind of remaining spark between us. It’s getting old so I just always assume he’s joking every time he tells me that.

I decided not to wash my hair and just let it loose since I really am going to be late for work and I hate to bother going out with wet hair. I get dressed, I go for a pastel pink long-sleeved shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted light blue jeans and my ivory cream high-top Chucks. I don’t bother for any makeup, which rarely happens, and rush out the front door then lock it behind me. 

I hop on a cab taking it that there won’t be a bus stopping any second now.

I arrive at Jinki’s café, which is just on the next parallel street of the flower shop and just two neighborhoods away from home, “Hi, I’m here,” I call out even before I spot him.

“Good morning, Y/n!” Jinki greets cheerfully with his usual bright smile. “Wait, I think there’s something different,” he gestures both of his hands on my face.

“Oh, maybe it’s because I haven’t put any makeup-”

“You’re extra beautiful today,” his smile widens, and eyes almost disappear.

“-on,” I grit my teeth at him. “You shut up, Jinki! I’ll see you later,” I walk out the glass doors and nod at the barista as thanks for opening them for me.

I flash all the way to the flower shop that my sock slips off from my heel when I walk in, to already witness an early customer.

“There she is! My favorite employee. Y/n, sweetie, please come and talk to this fine lady right here. She has a lot of questions that are far beyond my energy to handle.”

“Sorry, I’m late, Mr. Lee. And everybody knows I’m your only employee who isn’t your son,” I joke back as Taemin pops in yawning, still in his morning glory.

“And everybody also knows that my son sucks at his job,” Mr. Lee shouts and smacks the back of his son’s head then points to another customer that has just walked in, ordering him to go and entertain.

As I mind my own customer, I catch a small glimpse of the guy Taemin’s talking to, who looks unimpressed. He has dark hair in a layered bowl style with his fringe covering more than half his forehead and would’ve definitely looked cuter if he smiled. They seem to already know each other. Weird thing is I feel like I’ve met him before. Was he in one of my classes in college? Does he go to the same gym class I do? 

“For the petunia bouquet, can you add something else so it won’t look so plain?” the nice lady inquires further.

“Absolutely. Maybe I’ll add some purple azaleas or lilies, or maybe both if you’d like. What do you think?”

“Great! I’ll just entrust this on you, dear, okay?”

“No problem,” I assure her, not breaking a smile while I work the cash register for her down payment, I take one more quick look at the guy, who may now think I’m creepy so I’ll stop now. I hand over the receipt to the lady in front of me.

“Thanks! I’ll come back Friday to pick them up,” she announces.

“Thank you for coming in! I’ll make sure to ready your bouquets by then. Have a nice day!” I say, still smiling, opening the door for her to walk out.

As soon as I approach the guys, the other customer, probably coincidentally, is just walking out of the shop. I don’t know about everybody else who’s met him but he seems hostile to me. 

And really really familiar. I can’t point my finger at it. “You know him?” I ask Taemin beside me.

“Yeah, we’re in a photography class together,” he tells me. “I tend to talk to him at school but he’s kind of scary.”

“Seems likely.”

“But I like him. I think he’s better once I get to know him.”

I laugh. “Anyway, what time do your classes start this afternoon?”

“2 o’clock.”

“Great. Can you deliver those bouquets due today for me? Please and thank you!” I sweetly ask him, pointing at a big box across the counter.

“Sure thing, Noona. Tell Dad I’ll be home late tonight,” he informs me while grabbing his backpack and the box of deliveries.

“Hot date?” I tease him.

“We’re just friends,” he said with a jokingly evil grin and a wink. 

“Hey, Lee Taemin, don’t do anything stupid!”

Just like that, he’s out the door before I even finish my sentence.

Lunchtime is finally here. I’ve been arranging flowers all morning and handling customers whenever somebody comes in. Although I could never complain about my job since this is what I’ve ever wanted growing up.

I was born and raised in a different city where my parents live to this day about a two-hour drive away from here, or three hours if you took the bus since it has a lot of stops and depending on traffic. I moved to this city in my first year of college. 

My mom and dad had been tight with me growing up, especially with academics, since they both have families that got master’s degrees and PhDs. At first, I didn’t mind studying hard and graduating with honors because I didn’t really know what I wanted to be in the future at the time. However, the more I aged, the more I realized that I hated studying. I’m not smart enough like my parents and my cousins and they had no idea how hard I must have worked in order for me to please them. I hated the attention whenever I received a first-place certificate or won local quiz bees and academic decathlons because, you know what, none of the trophies and medals I earned made me happy.

When I was kidnapped and held captive in some kind of box for days, all I thought about was flowers. I was missing my mom’s garden at home, and how it smelled in the morning before I went to school. I figured that flowers were all that I drew with crayons in kindergarten. It was the highlight of my days. At the time, in that container, I had foreboded that I was going to die.

Since the universe provided me a second chance to live, that’s when my life began. I did not want to be an academic overachiever, I wanted to have fun. Since then, my parents always scolded me for getting a B or a C, but I didn’t care. At least I never neglected my studies.

The day came when I had to move out to go to college and I couldn’t be more excited. Still without neglecting my academics, I started partying almost every weekend and dated whoever I wanted. Although, I honestly have never been in love before.

The rest is history, I found Mr. Lee’s flower shop. I applied for a job here three years ago, before I graduated.

“Did somebody order lunch?” Jinki walks into the shop. “How’s my love doing?”

“Fine, thank you for asking. And shut up,” I say. “You didn’t have to do this. You already gave me breakfast.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want my girl to starve,” he winks at me.”

“Hey, Lee Jinki! Give me a break, won’t you? I’m not yours.”

“Come on, I’m kidding. It already sank into me that you’re never gonna be mine. Plus, I actually met somebody.”

“No shit, really? Who?” I ask, surprised.

“I’m not gonna tell you now. We just started seeing each other and we’re not exclusive yet. I don’t even know if she likes me.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you moving on. Let me meet her when you’re ready.” I say to him as I pinch his cheek.

“Here we go,” he says after laying out all the food on the counter.

“Looks good, thank you,” I’m always thankful for Jinki. Even though we didn’t work out as romantic partners, I’m glad we’re friends. “Oh, by the way, Kibum is coming into town this Friday.”

“Oh, great. I only got to meet him once before but I think he’s really funny. How long ago was it when he last visited?” he asks while his mouth is full with rice.

“I think it was over a month ago when he told me the news about his engagement.”

“Looks like we have a fun weekend ahead. Although I might not join you the next day since I’m going home to my mom’s.”

“Great! Say hi to her for me.”

Chapter 2

[fallinnflower]

fresh start

young k x reader (non-idol!au, college!au, fuckboi!brian, request)

a/n: i got an anon request for a flirty fuckboi brian, and the request got a little out of hand. i’m not very good at writing our resident fox boy as a bad guy...

By all accounts, you and Brian Kang should be good friends. You literally share a best friend and are in the same degree program — so anyone would come to the logical conclusion that you and Brian get along. You might even be pretty similar. 

If anyone were to say this to you, you’d probably vomit on their shoes. Because Brian Kang is kind of an asshole to you, and you don’t even know why. 

See, the first time you had a class with him you were so excited! Jae had told you all about his best friend Brian, and that you were both getting a business degree, but when you walked in the room Brian glared right at you. 

You sat as far away as possible. It didn’t stop him from glaring at you literally all the time. You wondered if he hated you for being Jae’s friend or something. Were you stealing Jae away? 

The two of them were in a band together, and whenever you went to their shows you would congratulate Brian without being able to look him in the eyes. Not that it mattered, or that he noticed, because he was always swarmed by girls (and some guys) after the shows. He always looked a lot happier surrounded by his adoring fans, and you deduced his ego must be fucking huge. 

So you decided to hate Brian Kang! Simple as that. If the guy wanted to glare at you and openly play with people’s hearts in front of you, he was just asking for it, right? 

You never told Jae why you hated Brian. You never brought up all the glaring after the first day, when you were dejected and confused, and you certainly never told him about the times Brian would be staring/glaring at you in class and suddenly bite or lick his lips like you were some meal. 

It was gross. You thought he was such a tool. But Jae didn’t need to think that about his best friend; so you never said anything, and he never asked. 

At least, not for over a year, anyways. 

At least once during this year, Jae tells Brian to try being nice to you because he’s sick of having to divide his time. And Brian tries — he really does, but you… don’t seem to notice.

He takes a seat beside you in one of your many shared courses, and you immediately give him a look he can only describe as disdain. However, Brian doesn’t see your facial expressions up close much; or maybe you’re just joking around because you’re friends with Jae. To avoid sounding too loud in the lecture hall, he scoots his seat closer to yours, offering up a winning smile.

“Hey, Y/N,” he starts, and you don’t even look in his direction. He leans forward on the desk, trying to catch your eye. “Nice shirt. That’s a good color on you.”

“Thanks. Stole it from Jae.” The flatness of your tone makes it almost impossible for Brian to know what to do, but he laughs anyways. You give him the deadliest look he’s even seen when he does this. 

“Yeah,” he replies, running a hand nervously through his hair. He thinks he sees you wrinkle your nose at him. Is his cologne too strong or something? He suddenly worries that you’re allergic and leans back a little. “You and Jae are pretty close.”

“Mhmm.” You turn your attention to the front of the lecture hall as the professor walks in, but Brian’s eyes linger on you. He wonders if today is a bad day. The two of you do have a pretty important quiz in this class today, so maybe you’re just stressed. Either way, he feels bad for imposing on you.

He scoots his chair back out a little, and sniffs self-consciously at his shirt.

“Hey, we’re having a party Friday night. You in?” Jae asks, snagging another fry off your plate. You swat at his hand. 

“Yeah, sure.” You pause for a second, then look up at Jae. “Is… is Brian gonna be there?” Jae looks up at you like you’re a dumbass. Maybe you are. 

“Well, he lives there, so.” At his response, you pick up a fry and dunk it in ketchup, hurriedly shoving it into your mouth. The whole time you feel Jae’s questioning gaze on you. He doesn’t really know what beef you have with Brian — not that you really know, either, except that he seems to hate you and has a pretty bad reputation with girls in general — but the fact that you avoid his housemate like the plague is starting to get too obvious to ignore.

“What’s your problem with him, anyways?” Jae asks. You shrug and shove another fry into your mouth, stalling. As you go to reach for yet another, Jae slides the plate to his side of the table, watching you expectantly. With a sigh, you beckon him closer, both of you leaning across the table conspiratorially.

“Isn’t he, like, a total fuckboi?” You ask. Jae immediately freezes, his eyes going wide,

“A what?!” He asks, and when you repeat yourself he bursts into raucous laughter, totally undoing any inconspicuousness you two had going for you. You sink into your chair, embarrassed, but still manage to glare at him.

“What! Everyone says he just uses your band’s fans. Leads them on and shit.” You think about how he always seems to be glaring at you in class, and the one time you caught him licking his lips while doing so; or the one time he sat by you on a quiz day just to compliment you and probably cheat off your test or something. Classic dick move. However, while you’re mulling this over, Jae is taking off his glasses to wipe the tears away.

“Ah, man, oh my god. Y/N, I think that’s the funniest shit you’ve ever said to me.” After composing himself with another one of your french fries, he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Brian is way too soft to be a fuckboi. Trust me.” 

You want to argue, but you realize how absolutely pointless it is. Jae lives with Brian, so obviously he would know if Brian had girls around all the time or was going to theirs — if there’s anyone in your life who would know what Brian’s deal is, it’s him.

“But, then… why?” You ask meekly, miserably reaching for another fry. Jae shrugs.

“The rumors? Some girl asked him out freshman year and he rejected her,” he says. “Brian’s too nice to do anything about it.” As you avert your gaze in shame, you happen to catch a glimpse of a clock on the wall. Realizing your next class is coming up soon, you stand up and grab your bag.

“Alright,” you say, looking down at Jae. “I’ll be there Friday.” He breaks into a smile.

“Sick.” 

You almost walk away without your fries, but you don’t think Jae deserves them after laughing at you like that. So you go back for them.

Making up with Brian Kang was going to be way harder than you thought. 

First off, now that you knew what you knew, you felt so awful you couldn’t even look at him! Second, he was pretty scarce at the party, seemingly just moving around the room checking on people constantly. By the time you managed to catch up to him (or him to you, really), you were wasted and had almost fallen into a wall. Brian managed to snag your elbow and pull you towards him, so you fell into his chest rather than their drywall. 

Upon seeing it’s him you let out a little gasp and grab his bicep excitedly. 

“Brian!” He laughs at that,

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” You pout, probably way more exaggeratedly than you should. 

“No,” you start, and as he begins to look nervous you grasp his arm tighter and continue. “I wanted to say sorry.” He blinks at you. 

“What for?”

“For think you were a fuckboi!” You wail, swaying slightly. If not for your grip on his arm you probably would’ve crashed to the ground. Brian’s brow furrows. 

“A... a what?”

“A fuckboi!” You repeat loudly, leaning in close to his ear, and as you do you miss the way his whole face seems to turn red. 

“How drunk are you, Y/N?” He asks, gently steadying you with his hands on your shoulders now, and you beam proudly. 

“I outdrank Jae!”

Brian blinks at you again, his mind going to where Jae is passed out in the bathtub already, and wonders how you’re still standing. 

“Come on, we should get you home,” he says. “Did you come with someone?” 

“My roommate left me,” you respond, and as Brian tries to walk you towards the door you take hold of his bicep again, more tightly now. 

“No~,” you wail. “I don’t wanna go outside. It’s cold.”

If you weren’t so trashed, you’d be able to see how conflicted Brian looks before he decides to bring you upstairs. He unlocks his bedroom (the master, because he’s the one who put the deposit down on this place), and gently leads you in. 

It takes at least twenty minutes to convince you to change your clothes, and Brian has to squeeze his eyes shut and cover them with one hand so you’ll actually do it — but you need his other arm for support the whole time. Then, for some reason, you decide you want to brush your teeth instead of staying in bed where he put you while he went to get water, and he comes back just in time to see you fall on your ass in the bathroom. You don’t seem fazed at all. 

And then, you finally fall asleep. 

You wake up in the morning in a room you don’t recognize, in clothes that aren’t yours, and with a terrible headache. As you’re trying to get back to sleep, the door creaks open and your eyes meet Brian’s. 

You sit up immediately. 

“Morning,” he greets. He sets some painkillers and a mug of coffee down on the bedside table for you. You’re still staring wide-eyed at him. “How’re you feeling? Are you sore at all?”

You want to die. 

“Am I what?” You squeak out, dragging his sheets up to your chest. Brian stares at your for a moment, then suddenly his face turns red and he shakes his head. 

“No— no I mean, you fell in the bathroom last night and I... I thought you might have a bruise or something.” 

You take a little solace in the fact that you both feel awkward about your current predicament, but that only helps marginally. You swallow hard, both of you just staring at the other, unsure of what to do. 

“So uh, are these your clothes?” 

“Yeah,” he says, awkwardly. You shift awkwardly in his bed, biting your lip and averting your eyes. 

“Did we… did we sleep together?” Brian furrows his brows. 

“No. I slept on the floor.” It’s at that that you can finally look at him again, this time pinning him with a sharp gaze. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

He turns red again. 

“O-oh. No. You were drunk, I wouldn’t do that.” After a pause, he speaks up again, “Is that what a fuckboi would do?”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. “I’m so sorry. Oh my god.”

“It’s okay!” He says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” With your face still half-buried in his sheets, you look up at him and break into a little smile. He looks so concerned, you wonder how you ever thought he was a bad person when he cares so much about something like this. 

From this close you can see how pretty he is, even without his concert makeup — and honestly you’re realizing his glaring is just how his sleep-puffy eyes look. You feel pretty dumb. 

“We’re kinda stupid, aren’t we?” You ask. Brian laughs a little and runs his hand through his hair, letting his bangs fall into his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Wanna start over?” He nods,

“I’d like that.” The two of you shake hands, both giggling, and then Brian stands up. 

“So, Y/N,” he says, with a blindingly brilliant smile. “Are you a pancake or waffle person? I made both, don’t worry.” 

And suddenly, you think you and Brian are gonna get along just fine as you follow him downstairs for breakfast.

[authoressskr]

Write Into My Arms [3]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Thor, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Angst (mostly in last two chapters), Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)

Word Count: 11,278  ::  Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next parts will be posted by the end of this week. All will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

*Note: Endgame happened - kind of. Steve didn’t go back to the 40s. Tony didn’t die. Natasha got brought back with the Bruce Snap. Bruce is not the Hulk mashup they had going on. Everything else happened. This takes place 3 years after defeating Thanos.*

[PART 2]

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Waking up later that afternoon to Bucky gently shaking your shoulder is...nice.

You open your mouth to apologize for your breakdown earlier but he just gives you a soft shake of his head, sporting a shy smile before yawning.

“Lunchtime,” He rumbles out and it’s a whole lot sexier than it should be. “But eat some of the fruit first and take a couple of aspirin.” His second yawn makes you yawn, but you manage to nod, slipping from under the covers and stretching a little before seeing the banana on the side table. You manage a few small bites before reaching greedily for one of the bottles of water, downing a third of the bottle before reaching for the aspirin. You shake out two pills and toss them back before offering the other water to Bucky who is slipping off the bed to get his boots. He shakes his head ‘no’ before pulling on his right boot. You set it back and finish your water, surprised at the ease of this whole thing between you two now and at Bucky appearing before you, taking the banana from your hand and polishing it off before flashing you a round-cheeked smile.

“Let’s go, chipmunk,” You mutter with a smile before slipping into a pair of flats and heading through the door, the handsome sergeant following behind you with his own smile flirting on his lips, this whole thing making the tired wheels in your mind spin.

Bucky couldn’t like you like you, could he?

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Lunch is served later than usual and you thank Tony quietly when you enter for it. He just gives you a genuine smile before reaching out to squeeze your wrist affectionately.

Your seat is in between Natasha and Hope for this meal, a beautiful salad set before you before it’s swiftly pulled away by Bucky, leaning over the giant ass table. He pushes his plate in front of you while you watch quizzically. He looks at the salad with a tiny hint of disdain before handing it to Steve and heading back to the buffet table.

Looking down at the plate, it’s loaded with food. Fried potatoes, antipasto salad, some cottage cheese, three slices of ham, and a little white frosted cupcake.

“Need something solid,” He remarks as he sits down with his new plate. You nearly start crying again - there is no reason for all of them to be so nice to you. Especially Bucky. “Eat,” Bucky orders around a mouthful of chicken, Sam shaking his head - at what exactly, you aren’t sure.

But they must all be in on it since most of the Avengers are giving you smiles like they know something you don’t but right now, you are simply too tired to care.

“Our space division will be here tomorrow, probably just before dinner,” Tony states loudly, disturbing the soft conversation you were having with Hope about adding the ability to “talk” to ants to her Wasp suit or if she could dare to control wasps since it’s her moniker. You meet his eyes and nod your understanding. “We’ll let you rest up the day after they arrive - they can show you around the ship and take pictures, but I want you to rest as much as possible.”

“I’m not doing anything difficult,” You reason, setting your fork down with a frown.

“But you’re still pushing yourself a little too hard, kid.” Unable to argue, you just tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and pick up your fork to continue eating. “I don’t want you run ragged, okay? Just rest up tomorrow and take it easy the day after and then you can go right back at it.”

“Fine. But I’m only agreeing to this because I don’t think I can win an argument right now.”

“Good.”

“And I’m still going to interview Happy after lunch.”

“Fine,” Is uttered through clenched teeth with a forced smile as Pepper reached over to pat his hand, while Peter grins from beside Pepper.

“It sounds like you’ve been adopted or are close!”

“Adopted?”

“Yeah! Mr. Stark shows his affection in not the usual way. He’s kind of compliments you, then tells you what you can do better. Then he starts to orders you to rest and to stay safe and will keep tabs to make sure you do.” He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while Scott and Wanda both give little shakes of their heads.

“Um, thank you?” You look at Tony who just looks away before shoving some antipasto in his mouth.

“Maybe we just let her and Bucky nap some more?” Shuri sing-songs oh so innocently from the other end of the table by Clint and Vision.

When you look across at Bucky, his cheeks that cute pink you remember for your interview. You feel the heat creep up your neck at this as well, all though your eyes shift from Bucky back to Shuri.

“Well, not everyone can have my good taste. Thank you for lunch, Tony. Pepper. And thank you for the care, Sergeant.” And it takes all the confidence you can muster, but you slide from your seat with grace, taking your cupcake with you, and walk from the room with your head held as high as you could manage while nerves ate at your insides.

I just let that damn teenager rile me up...

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxx::

Tracking down Happy is a little more difficult, but by now you aren’t ashamed to ask FRIDAY to help locate people. It’s a big compound.

Happy’s in the garage after an errand run to Avengers Tower and he’s more than a little shocked that he’s included - which in turn makes you a little sad since he’s been with Tony longer than Pepper has.

He tells you of his life before Tony, after Tony, his boxing background and helping Peter navigate superhero duties now that he’s not just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“Kid thought AC/DC was Led Zeppelin…” He shakes his head with obvious fondness. “Tony bought him all of AC/DC’s stuff and told him he was gonna quiz him after that.”

“It’s a terribly dad thing to do.”

“After Tony assigned me to look after him, the kid called constantly. ‘A lady bought me a churro.’ ‘When do I get to help Iron Man again?’ But I know Tony picked him for a reason. Tony second-guesses nearly everything he does, but not that kid. Under-roos was a good choice.”

“Un-un-under-roos?” You cackle happily, bending over a little as you laugh and nearly jostling the recorder off your knee as you do so.

“The kid seems to like you.”

“To be fair, Peter seems to like everyone. He’s a very sweet young man.”

“They all do, honey. You’ve brought a lot of normalcy to them in a very short period of time. They won’t say it, but they get attached quicker than they like to admit. And they all like you.”

“There are a lot more interesti-”

“Not to them. They like the normal. They like the wit. They like your enthusiasm...that you can connect with all of them. They’ve been to space. Time traveled. Met a talking raccoon and tree. Trust me, they got interesting.”

“Are you implying I’m not interesting?” Happy looks flustered for a moment, backtracking like his life depends on it while you can’t hold your serious face anymore and burst out laughing. “I’m just screwing with you. I know what you meant, Happy.”

Happy is lightheartedly funny, teasing you more after that, and you make the notation that he’s obviously a very good influence on Tony and Peter. He also tells you he helped Rhodey change the signs from Stark Industries to Stank Industries, which still makes him smile every time he drives into the compound.

You take a break after that, twenty interviews in five days a lot to go over - and in your case, go over and over and then once more, just in case.

Spending the rest of the afternoon and early evening shut in your room as you type and listen, type and go over your notes, type and re-type. This has to be perfect. If you never write another story again, this has to be perfect.

For them. For all they’ve done.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

If she’s not interviewing, she’s writing.

And if she’s not writing, she’s taking photographs - the grounds, the woods, them.

When she’s not interviewing or taking photographs, she’s singing.

It’s soft, always under her breath when around them, like after lunch today when she came to grab some lemonade from the fridge. Sam told him it was an 80s song called ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’. He mentally added that to the list he’d already compiled in the last five days from listening to her.

It’s a little spaced out, with whole verses skipped when she’s seated on one of the patios, furiously typing and rereading - typing and rereading.

It’s in her normal speaking volume when it’s early morning and she’s seated in front of the windows in her room, scribbling in her notebook or listening to her boss complain on speakerphone about deadlines, hiring decisions, or suggestions on things he knows already that she’s going to ignore.

He hears her softly singing as he heads towards the living room, silence breaking it up every so often, so he knows she’s typing. Part of him wants to go in and talk to her, but he knows he shouldn’t. She’s working and he needs to let her do that. It doesn’t stop the need burning in his chest but he just shoves it down as much as he can, knowing that he’ll see her later.

“You know, that means she likes you too Tin-Man.” Tony’s smirked-riddled words from lunch keep tumbling around in his head. Over and over and over again.

He grabs an empty bowl and some Lucky Charms from the cabinet, filling the bowl to the brim before pouring the milk and settling in at the bar top to eat his cereal. Peter is a few stools down, shoving a brownie into his mouth as Tony and Sam come in, Tony calling out a gruff “Hello freeloaders” to T’Challa, Shuri, Steve, Vision, Wanda, and Natasha who are all seated in the living room, watching Animal Planet. Shuri, Wanda, and Natasha all give him smirks while T’Challa grabs hold of Shuri’s hands, keeping them firmly on her lap while chuckling.

“Whatcha doin’, kid?” Tony asks Peter, stealing a brownie from the giant serving platter in front of the teenager as Peter looks at his phone with a smile.

“Sending some memes to Y/N. To cheer her up.” Bucky nearly drops his spoon into the cereal in disbelief.

“How’d you get her number?” Tony asks, his gaze sliding from Peter to Bucky, a big smile stretching his lips. Asshole.

“I asked,” Peter answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the history of things.

“Well, I’ll be damned. First DUM-E and now the spiderling…” Sam’s voice filled with the joy this revelation begins as Bucky’s voice overlaps his with an edge of shock.

“We can just ask?” Peter looks at Bucky like he’s confused for a second before his phone dings, Shuri appearing and looking over Peter’s shoulder at his phone.

“That’s a good one,” Peter tells her over his shoulder as Shuri laughs.

“That is a good one!”

“Y/N has a wonderful sense of humor,” Vision agrees from across the room, Wanda nodding in agreement.

“She has retained all of her phrases I’ve taught her so far. And sometimes rearranged them to make them humorous. You should just ask her out already, Bucky.” He feels the heat creep up his neck. He saves himself from answering Wanda by shoving a big spoonful of cereal in his mouth but glares at Sam and Tony who are still staring at him with big smiles. Dicks.

“She seems to like you too, Mr. Bucky.” Peter pipes up helpfully.

“Yes, you two looked very cute earlier,” Shuri adds with a wink.

“And the Guardians are supposed to be here tomorrow night, so you need to get in as much flirting time as possible, Mr. Bucky. Thor is coming. And he’s handsome.” When Bucky just stares, Peter clears his throat. “Everyone says so.”

“Everyone,” Natasha agrees as she gets up to refill her coffee cup.

“If Thor doesn’t try to steal her attention then Peter Quill will,” Tony adds loudly, his back to everyone while digging through the junk food cupboard.

“Star-Lord?” Stephen snorts from his spot on the loveseat in the corner. “I hope she’s a lot smarter than that.”

“Nebula said he wore Gamora down…” Tony argues, eyebrows raised as he shoves an oreo in his mouth.

“Well, we aren’t in space and he is in no way the pick of the litter here on Earth. Regardless of what he thinks.” Stephen comes over to steal a cookie from Tony.

Y/N comes down the hall with Wong, talking animatedly, making Bucky throw his spoon at Tony, who drops his oreo.

“What the fuck, Tin-Man?” Tony hisses as he looks forlornly at his oreo before bending to pick it up.

“Hi everyone! Wong told me we’ll be having dinner in the mess hall tonight. Does that mean the Guardians will be here sooner than planned?”

“No, still due tomorrow, but Nebula said it might be around lunchtime when they arrive. Tony, Pepper, and Natasha just want to work out schematics,” Steve pipes up from the couch, shooting you a bright Captain America smile.

“I was thinking,” You begin nervously. “I’m sort of glad Tony is forcing me to take a break. It gives me time to finish up my notes on you all but also gives them some time to recharge and ask you guys about me.”

“I’m glad you’re gonna rest some, imposed or not. Plan sounds perfect to me,” Pepper answers with a bright smile, taking the oreo package from Tony and closing it as he frowns slightly at his cookie loss. Then Bucky sees Peter slip him a brownie. Tony shoots you a wink as he accepts it.

“Good!” You perk up at the acceptance before you and Wong continue to what Bucky assumes is the library.

Scott and Hope walk in with Okoye and Clint, Scott looking excited.

“Thor’s gonna be here soon!” He rubs his hands together as Peter, Shuri and Sam laugh.

“What did I say?” Scott wonders aloud, looking at Natasha as she pats his shoulder once as she returns to her seat on the couch.

“They’re obviously trying to get the White Wolf to make a move before Thor comes. He may have gained some weight, but he’s still very handsome. Funny. Powerful. Pleasing to the eye and ear.” Okoye comments as Scott and Peter nod along eagerly.

Bucky drops his empty bowl into the sink and sulks off to his room.

Would you really like Thor better?

Of course, you would. Thor wasn’t a former brainwashed assassin who still have difficulties remembering his past as a normal person should. He probably doesn’t sit up nights after rough missions and hate that he can still feel the person he used to be. He can offer you charm and laughter and he was fucking royalty. Space royalty!

Bucky was a man out of time with more blood on his hands than any man should, he was a man who couldn’t offer you a lot...all he had to give was his damaged self.

He was just a semi-stable soldier who liked watching your beautiful eyes light up as you get excited about the smallest things and who liked to follow you around to hear you sing - how could he compete when he was possibly up against an actual god?

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

It’s after midnight, so it’s mostly cleared out, with the few who are still awake settled on the patio with a few bottles scattered across the glass tabletop, soft words and the soft clink of glass on glass is all you hear from the partially opened patio door as you slip into the kitchen.

You open the junk food cabinet to find the tin of cookies Bucky had gifted you with two days ago is still there (how you don’t know, but you’re thankful) and still half-full of the little sugar cookies identical to the ones you had the other afternoon. He’s so thoughtful, you muse.

You’re almost back to your room with your tin of goodies when it happens.

A loud boom echoes far too close for comfort, making you jump while you clutch the tin to your chest, fighting back a scream. Then you hear the sound of gunshots, your heart rate already rising.

There is nowhere safer to be. There is nowhere safer to be. There is nowhere safer to be! You repeat the mantra in your head as you automatically head towards Bucky’s room at a run.

He’s not here. Panic blooms in your chest as you throw open his bedroom door and find it barren. No. No. No! He’d gone to his room when you had after dinner...where could he be?! You close his door and rush back down the hall towards the kitchen. Kitchens have knives, you reason to yourself. Killers don’t look that often in kitchens, right? Velociraptors, yes. Bad guys, hopefully not so much.

The lights go out as red alarm lights begin flashing overhead, spurring your feet to move faster.

That’s when suddenly you crash into a hard body.

You’re praying it’s Bucky or Steve.

It isn’t.

The man in black tactical gear grabs your arm, forcing you to face the wall before shoving you into it harsh enough to make the precious cookie tin slip from your grasp. You gasp loudly at the pain shooting through your cheek he’d smashed into the wall and at the angle he’s still got your arm in. Your back is to his chest, so you do as Gracie Lou Freebush taught you and SING!

You bring most of your weight onto your right heel, shoving in at the tip of his boot before snapping your head back hard against his face. He yelps out a few expletives while you thank whoever that this dude was just a little taller than you and not Steve or Bucky’s size. You spin around now that you’re free of his grasp and bring your knee up as quick and hard as you can into his groin, hoping that the tactical gear isn’t that thick there, before flattening your palm like Natasha showed you and thrusting it up and into his nose. You fist that same hand and jab at the uncovered skin you can see by his Adam's apple. He doubles over and while you know it’s stupid and cliche, you grab your cookie tin and continue past the gasping man faster towards the kitchen.

When you run into a second body, you decide you’ll try out the whole tossing your foe over your shoulder thing, but then you feel the cool metal against your wrist before Bucky pulls you against his chest roughly. He releases your wrist, metal hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you tighter against his chest.

“Scared the shit out of me, doll.” He breathes against your hair as you cling to him. Safe. He pulls back to look at you and he frowns, eyes running frantically all over you. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Where’d this blood come from?”

“I think I broke a guys nose,” Your voice is unsure but Bucky looks proud.

“Good. Good, babydoll. Okay, we gotta get you to the safe room now.” You nod shakily as you pull away, your hand slipping into his easily before your eyes widen. Bucky drops your hand and pushes you behind him, looking at the six men now standing in the hallway, blocking your way to the kitchen and wherever the fuck the safe room is. Bucky looks around before tapping the comm in his ear. “Hall blocked. I’ve got Y/N. Sending her outside to safety.”

Sending you OUTSIDE to safety?! What sense does that make, Bucky!?

“Run for where you saw the 3 bucks,” Bucky orders sternly before grabbing you, throwing open a little hatch in the wall and tossing you through the tight metal shaft.

You scream most of the way down until you land on mostly soft things. You shove your hand down to steady yourself on the - fuck, he threw you down the garbage shute! Climbing through the giant dumpster trough is a feat in itself, only to reach the sides and find them sticky with residue that nearly makes you faceplant back into the dumpster. You manage to wrangle yourself out and shimmy down the side, with only minor scrapes and cuts your sides and hands, trying not to gag at the scent that now clings to you. At least you’re safe...Well, safer. You still need to get to the clearing.

You aren’t sure how many are outside, so you press yourself against the dumpster as close as you can and ease your way around it until you can almost see the corner that will lead you to the patio and the edge of the woods.

But that’s when a man holding what looks like an electrified baton, steps out of the shadows just feet in front of you, teeth gleaming menacingly in the moonlight.

“Well, fuck,” you huff out angrily before searching the ground around you for a weapon.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Where’s Y/N? Anyone have eyes on Y/N?” Steve yells through the comms before soft grunts echo through.

“Tin-Man lost Y/N.” Tony’s voice comes in before there is a crackle of lightning right beside Bucky as he exits the house in a mad dash for the clearing.

“Fuck you, Stark. I didn’t lose her, I simply misplaced her. House is clear. Eyes? Anyone?!” He’s sure he’s panting because his chest is so tight with worry. Fuck, he did lose her. There is no answer, which means no one has seen her. Sweet Jesus, please don’t let anything have happened to her...

“All clear on the east side,” Clint’s voice confirms, not easing the worry bubbling inside Bucky.

“All clear on the north side,” Natasha huffs out. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

The clearing is empty, no sounds coming from the forest. NO! Bucky spins on his heel and heads back for the compound.

“The west side is clear,” T’Challa’s voice comes over. “No sign of Y/N, Bucky.”

“Southside is clear. Except for the debris and unconscious dudes,” Scott affirms before adding softly. “No Y/N here either.”

“Alright - everyone spread out and find her. Queens and Bruce can stay out here while Thor, Strange, Wong and Vision all start to round up these morons. Buck, where do we start?”

“I tossed her out the chute by the kitchen and I just checked the clearing and she’s not here.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Wanda asks, disbelief clear even through the comms.

“He tossed the girl he’s been mooning over for a week down the damn kitchen garbage chute!” Sam chortles while Bucky fights the need to punch something. Anything. Preferably Sam.

Okoye, Shuri, and Natasha all are headed towards where she was last seen when Okoye stops.

“Do you hear that?” The others stop, straining their ears. They hear a few soft grunts followed by a soft “Help” so breathy if they hadn’t stopped they might not have heard it.

Hope and Steve are coming from the opposite direction, all of them looking around before the shouts grow louder.

“Help! Please!” A pause. A cough. “HELP!” Bucky comes huffing up behind Steve, searching you out.

“Doll?!”

Hope is the one who peers down into the open incinerator hole, “Got her!” she yells before Steve jumps down to help you out.

When Hope and Okoye pull you up, you’re beyond relieved but you only manage to get one semi-clear breath in before hands are cupping your face, making you look into relief-filled storm blue eyes.

“Are you alright? Is anything broken? Are you hurt? Doll, answer me.”

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” You answer before feeling the rage you’d felt earlier returning. “You threw me down the garbage chute.”

Bucky tenses at your angry tone. “It was the safest option at the time, sweetheart.” Tony and the rest of the Avengers and Thor come around the corner about this time, your eyes never leaving Bucky’s as you get angrier and angrier.

“You. Threw. Me. Down. The. Garbage. Chute.” You shove his hands from your face. “And safe?!” You wave the baton you’d taken from black tactical uniformed asshole #8. “That asshole,” pointing the baton down towards the hole you’d both tumbled down, with you luckily landing on him to break your fall. “Was waiting out here ready to electrocute my ass into either compliance or peeing on myself, but yeah, I’m sure sticking with a fucking former sniper and super soldier was a bad plan.” Bucky is grinning with relief, he can practically feel it coursing through his veins like a drug. Now, his mind supplies with glee. And Bucky heeds the call, reclaiming the little space you’d put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face before his lips gently meet yours. He can hear you inhale sharply, moving his lips gently against yours.

And for a few moments, you surrender. It just feels so nice. You don’t want it to stop. But the anger reminds you that you could have died from the fall while your brain reminds you that you didn’t. And his lips feel so damn good.

You pull away, taking a deep breath as Bucky looks at you with hope dancing in those blue eyes.

“I need a shower,” You snap, withdrawing further from Bucky and marching back towards the compound’s closest patio. They can all hear you talking to yourself as you leave. “Maybe update beyond a plain chain-link fence? Who the fuck attacks the fucking Avengers compound, huh? Maybe put a stupid cover over the giant ash and fire pit in the ground! Stupid asshole, he’s lucky he broke my fall. What is in my hair?! Can’t believe he kissed me...fucking cookies...”

Pepper and Wanda follow after her while Natasha shakes her head at Bucky.

“A garbage chute, Barnes? And then she fell into the incinerator pit?”

“I didn’t plan it that way! I figured she’d get to the clearing and be safe!” Bucky defends, throwing his hands in the air.

“I thought you were smooth with women back in the day?” Rhodey asks, gesturing from Bucky to where you’d gone.

“You must go and make this right. But you might want to wait a bit since she still had a very firm hold on that stick.” Thor offers with a cheery smile. “I like her already!” Cookies. The thought of her holding that tin so tightly to her chest spurs Bucky to begin searching the ground before heading over to the garbage bin.

“Whatcha doin’, Tin-Man?” Tony asks, hovering to watch him.

“She had her cookie tin when I found her,” He grunts out, shoving the garbage out of the way to see the bottom of the metal bin.

“It’s not in there, Sergeant Barnes.” Vision confirms, making Bucky jump out with a huff.

“You can make her some more as an apology, Buck.” Steve huffs out as he dusts off the ash from the pit.

“Yeah…”

“You’re going to need a lot more than cookies,” Wanda’s voice is a whisper through the comms.

“Why?” Bruce asks, looking at Wong who shrugs.

“Whatever was in the dumpster, it mixed with the ashes and residue in the incinerator and it’s clumping in her hair. Pepper has her in the bathtub, trying to work it out as you would gum, but it’s not all coming out. We’ve got some of it...Maybe Shuri or Bruce can help? Otherwise, Pepper is going to call her hairdresser…”

“Oh shit. Yeah, you’re gonna need a whole lot more than cookies if you’ve fucked up her hair. I know that from experience,” Sam affirms before giving a shiver and heads back to where they tossed all the intruders.

“Best way is to admit you were and are a dumbass, then give her a few of her favorite things...oh, and she liked those chocolate chip pancakes you made - make those!” Bucky groans, looking from Clint - his suggestion is the best, after all - to Steve who is ready to begin doling out orders for cleanup.

“I’m just gonna give her some time. I’ll apologize in the morning. With pancakes and cookies.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

After Pepper and Wanda try to work the solidified goo from your hair for almost two hours, you give up and just ask Pepper to call her hairdresser.

You didn’t know she’d come right away.

You barely step out of the shower when Wanda knocks to let you know she’s there.

It takes her about twenty-five minutes to cut all the wads from the ends of your hair, the highest luckily only coming a couple of inches up. You had wanted to cut your hair anyways you suppose…

She evens it out beautifully before smothering your hair in a mask as a knock on your door, draws all of your attention to the door. Part of you wants it to be Bucky. Needs it to be Bucky... The other part is hesitant - mostly because now you’ve had time to calm down and think about everything - you had said some harsh things. You had basically rejected him. And it hurt that you did that to Bucky.

The person at the door isn’t Bucky, it’s a nurse to check you over. You have a few scrapes on your hands from the metal edges of the trash bin and a few cuts on your arms and neck from wrestling with your assailant. You have a nasty bruise on the back of your left thigh from landing on it but right now it’s just a dull ache. She adds split lip and an electric-based burn on your forearm to the papers.

“Nothing major, thankfully!” She’s far too chipper for you right now so you just give a little sigh and nod.

After everyone leaves - having to placate Wanda and Pepper several times over that you are alright - you stand there in the middle of the room, bewildered. What do you do now? Is this how they all feel after battles?

You wander over to the desk, looking over the interviews you were working on before the attack, but you can’t seem to settle.

Just like before.

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bucky is lying in bed, rubbing both hands roughly over his face while his mind goes over the last couple hours like fucking torturous instant replay.

A groan bubbles up in his throat as he stares at the ceiling.

He knows he’s made things bad but he hadn’t wanted you to see him like that.

Because he had felt more unhinged than he had in a long time...he didn’t know where you were and then someone had hurt you. The rage he had barely contained was let loose the moment he had turned around from shoving you down the chute. The six men were lucky. The man who had limped from the hallway after he finished with the six idiots, was not.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, in his selfishness - he barely registers the knock at his door. Huffing out a breath, he tosses his sheet over to cover his nudity...Steve didn’t seem to care but Sam threw a hissy fit every time he barged into his room and found him naked.

“Yeah,” Bucky calls out gruffly, tossing his flesh arm over his eyes, trying to prepare himself for whatever lecture he was about to receive.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.” He pops up at the sound of your voice, drinking the sight of you in like a thirsty man who had just crossed the desert. “I’m scared.”

His heart breaks. You should feel safe here. That’s all they had to do was protect you and he failed. Miserably. You look so small against the dark wood door, the oversized shirt from before is gone - a dark blue tank top in its place - but those tiny little shorts still there. Those would have been considered underwear back in his day.

You move forward slowly, coming to a stop at the empty side of his bed.

“I’m...um…”

“Naked?”

“Yeah.” She turns her back and sits on the edge of the bed with a soft sigh, perhaps relief? “Okay,” Bucky is standing by the bed in his black boxers, searching your face for what he’d seen earlier, but all he sees is tiredness and tears sitting ready to spill. “Come on.” He eases back into bed, watching as you mimic him.

Bucky can hear you swallow once you’re settled, staring up at the ceiling as he had done earlier. The both of you lie on your backs with a small space between the two of you, the soft breathing the only thing to break the silence.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. You saved my life. I should have been more grateful.”

“I shouldn’t have tossed you down that chute like that. I didn’t - I couldn’t - let you see me do what I did. You’d have been safer if I would have kept you with me.” You don’t reply - not verbally, at least. Your hand finds his under the sheet, gripping it tightly before linking your fingers through his. “I’m sorry about your hair,” Bucky whispers in the dark room, half-afraid to look at you.

“It’s just hair. It will grow back. Maybe I’ll cut it shorter once I get used to this length. I cried a little when Pepper was working on getting it out...seeing chunk and chunk of that stuff on one of those plush white towels...I honestly think it was the whole ordeal that made me cry. The hair was just the kicker.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, just squeezes your hand before he feels your gaze on him. Like a siren call he can’t ignore, his eyes meet yours.

“Stop blaming yourself Bucky. You thought you were keeping me from seeing you beat the ever-living fuck from those guys and keeping me safe by getting me out and away from where they all were.” He can hear your voice break as you fight back tears. “Please don’t take that burden. I’m fine. I’m safe.”

“With me,” Bucky breathes out, releasing your hand for the second time that night, turning on his side before drawing you closer, as close as possible. “You’re safe, babydoll. Okay? I’m a dumbass. I should have done what made sense and keep you close.”

He can feel you chuckle against his chest, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo as he idly rubs his cheek against the top of your head.

“You are a dumbass, Barnes.” He sucks in a breath, a tightness already forming in his chest. “But you are an achingly good person, so I’m going to forgive this incident. Next time, I’m not gonna be so lenient.” It’s all mumbled against his chest, your fingers digging slightly into his back as you cling to him like he is doing to you.

“I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes and cookies ‘til you pop.”

“Mmmhmm,” You hum against his chest, giving a little wiggle before taking a few deep breaths. “Goodnight Bucky, you handsome dumbass.”

“Goodnight, doll,” Bucky waits until he hears your breathing even out before he adds. “Your dumbass, sweetheart.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Everyone wakes up to find Steve panicking that Y/N isn’t in her room.

“She’s gone!”

“Calm down, Steve.” Natasha orders, handing Clint his third cup of coffee.

“I checked the surveillance cameras, she didn’t leave the compound,” He rambles. “And I’ve checked the grounds, she isn’t anywhere to be found.”

“Did you ask everyone? Maybe she’s talking to Wong or Bruce or Okoye. Get ahold of yourself, Rogers. A man your age doesn’t need the added stress.” Steve shoots her a glare that clearing has some language undertones.

“Morning,” Tony says brightly, tossing the morning newspapers onto the kitchen bar top and taking a seat.

“Tony, Y/N is missing.”

“Ah. Is she now? FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Is our little writer still on the premises?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“See? No need to worry, Steve. A man your age could have a heart attack.”

“Oh hardy-fucking-har har,” Steve spits out while Tony grins, just before they all hear a loud gasp.

“Captain!” Shuri has her hand over her heart dramatically. “Language!” Steve throws up a hand.

“One more language or old man joke and someone - or multiple someones - are getting some shield. Understand?” They all fucking snap to attention and salute, T’Challa walking in with a sigh.

“Please say this is for him and not for me.”

“No, it’s for the Captain,” Peter clarifies with a bright grin before schooling his face back to serious.

“Alright then.” Steve nearly snaps when T’Challa joins in, trying to hide a smile as he stands at attention.

“Fine! I’m going to keep looking for Y/N!” And stomps from the room.

“You guys really should have shouted ‘America’s Ass!’ when you snapped to attention,” Scott muses as he heads towards the coffee pot.

“Damnit! Why didn’t I think of that?!” Tony groans out before Natasha slides him a glass of orange juice and smiles over the rim of her glass.

“There’s always later, Tony.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Bucky! Have you seen - AHH!” Bucky shoots up, making sure to angle himself to cover you as he held a gun pointed at the intruder.

“Jesus, pal. Maybe knock next time?” Bucky grumbles out, replacing the gun next to his lamp on his bedside table as he feels your fingers on his bicep. You sleepily peeking around him to look at Steve with murder clearly written on your face is the epitome of too cute.

“I didn’t - I’m sorry - I-I was just looking for -”

“What time is it Steve?” You yawn out, interrupting him.

“It’s, um, 8:30.”

“AM?!”

“Yes.”

“What the actual fuck? I didn’t get to sleep until after 3. Not cool, Rogers.” And you toss yourself back down before reaching up to pull at Bucky’s arm with a little whine at the back of your throat.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll, um, I’ll just go then. See you when you get up.” Even Steve doesn’t understand what you mumbled out, his brow furrowed as he pulls the door closed quietly behind him as Bucky waves him off. Bucky wiggles downward, changing their positions from last night - his face pressed against your collarbone as he feels your fingers slip into his hair, winding his arms around your middle with a sigh of contentment.

You both drift off wrapped up safely in each other again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“You find her?”

“Yep.” Steve walks briskly into the kitchen, reaching for his coffee cup.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging in suspense!” Hope chides as Steve adds some brown sugar to his coffee before moving around Sam towards the liquor counter. All eyebrows raise as he pours a healthy amount into his coffee cup.

“She was with Bucky.”

“What?!”

“After what happened last night?!”

“Did the old man finally get laid?” They’re all talking over one another or talking to each other about this development.

“I don’t think she’s gonna have sex with him after that. Maybe she just went in to talk and they fell asleep together. I don’t know. I didn’t get to ask too many questions. She’s not a morning person and running on less than five hours of sleep doesn’t make her any more of a morning person.”

“Well, where are they?”

“She pulled him back down and they went back to sleep.”

“That’s adorable!” Wanda gives a little squeal of delight before adding a dollop of whipping cream to Steve’s cup of Irish coffee.

“It seems the endeavor to bring them together has worked,” Vision expressed, nodding at everyone like they had done a good job.

“He has to ask her out. That’s the goal.” Wong utters as he waits for the tea kettle to warm up.

“Wong’s right. He’s gotta ask her out.”

“Who has to ask whom out?” Thor asks as he struts into the kitchen. “I am glad I came ahead. I got to have some fun before the interrogation.”

“Interview,” Okoye corrects with pursed lips.

“Ah yes, interview. But who is asking who out?”

“Bucky needs to ask Y/N out,” Pepper clarifies, hugging Thor before taking the barstool next to Tony.

“She seemed upset with him earlier this morning.”

“He threw her out the trash chute,” Shuri reiterates.

“Better than a high window. Or into the vacuum of space.” Natasha shoots Clint a look at Thor’s words, which just makes him chuckle loudly before gesturing at the Irish whiskey Steve left on the counter. She rolls her eyes and hands it to him.

“Yes. Very right, Pikachu. But what else can we do? We’ve pushed them together at mealtimes, they’ve napped together - now they’d slept together,” Thor opens his mouth but Bruce just shakes his head and Thor closes his mouth. “Sleep, not sex, Thor. He’s been smiling more, following her around when she isn’t interviewing...maybe we should send them to town for supplies make up an activity to do and then we all bail?”

“What scares me is you are a certified genius…” Shuri utters with a hearty sigh. “This isn’t a Lifetime movie, people.”

“It wouldn’t be a Lifetime movie anyway!” Scott argues, drumming his fingers on the countertop. “We need, like, a ‘You’ve Got Mail’ scenario.”

“That’s not gonna work! They’ve met. They aren’t competitors,” Clint argues back, shaking his head vehemently. 

“Okay, everyone gives ONE idea!” Stephen pipes up as he leans against the coffee bar.

“We should go over tropes!” Peter jumps in with the first offer.

“Finally! A good idea!” Shuri agrees with a broad smile.

“Alright, let’s make a list,” Pepper pulls out her phone. “Trope one?”

“Bedsharing. Check.”

“Could we do a sick/injured one?” Natasha asks, looking from Shuri to Peter.

Peter nods seriously. “I’ll allow it.”

“Sending them on a blind date?” Hope offers, smearing butter on her toast as Scott hands her a jar of peach preserves.

“Oh, yes. That could work. Add that please, Pepper.”

“Why are we listening to children?” Stephen looks around the group, hands wide with a universal ‘what’ gesture.

“Cause we are very intelligent. And you aren’t throwing out any good ideas, Strange.” Peter snorts at Shuri’s comment.

“Mutual pining for sure,” Sam adds, cracking open an energy drink.

“Poorly timed confession? When he kissed her?” Okoye slips into the last barstool, Shuri grinning from ear to ear at her addition.

“You know so much, Okoye.”

“It is my job, Princess.”

“Anger born of worry, definitely a possibility for Y/N…” Tony mutters more to himself than anyone else, as he scrolls through his phone, looking at the list of tropes he found.

“Innocent physical contact?” Steve peers over Tony’s shoulder. “Hand holding when they napped.”

“Sleep intimacy.”

“Well, that didn’t seem to help. We just made a list of things they’ve done,” Thor looks at Sam’s can before rooting around in the fridge for a similar one.

“Exactly, Mr. Thor. We need a starting point. They both seem to be sort of dancing around each other, so we have to also go with what they’re comfortable with.”

“Excellent, Spider-Parker. Continue.”

“Just go old school. Send her flowers in his name. She thanks him, he plays along, if he’s smart he asks her out - Done.” Bruce vocalizes, Hope offering him a slice of toast.

“Or…,” T’Challa begins, “We could take them to Vegas, get them drunk and get them married. I have now solved all the future problems they’ll encounter as well. You are welcome.”

“Why not just get them drunk here and since I’m ordained, and you’re a King, we could just marry them?”

“Is this really what we’re going with?” Skepticism is rampant in Pepper’s voice as she sets her phone down, eyebrow raised at Rhodey - who has been remarkably silent in the corner, a guardian of the newly brewed pot of coffee.

“Listen, if he’s not smart enough to see he needs to snap her up, I can’t help the man.”

“I just think he needs a little push,” Wanda expresses as she picks at her fingernail absentmindedly.

“Or we just watch and hope he pulls his head out of his ass,” Stephen mutters, pouring more hot water into his cup with a grimace.

“God, it’ll be another 70 years,” Steve groans, polishing off his Irish coffee.

“We’re talking about Bucky, Steve - not you,” Natasha reasons, patting his forearm and flashing a cocky grin.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tony staring down at the marble countertop with his hands on either side of his head with Pepper sitting beside him at the kitchen bar top reading something on her tablet. Bucky is making breakfast - well, more like brunch and a brunch overload at that - pancakes, coffee, bacon, sausage, ham, waffles, and he’s working on eggs when everyone drags themselves back into the kitchen.

“Where’s Y/N?” Shuri asks as she pours herself some juice.

“In the garden,” Bucky answered distractedly before taking a long drink from his black insulated tumbler.

“How is she?”

“She’s been on the phone since she came out of Mr. Bucky’s room,” Peter pipes up happily before walking by Tony and squeezes his shoulder. “Did you guys see she posted the first interview?”

“Who did she post first? Was it me?”

“No, uh, sorry, Sam. She posted Mrs. Pepper’s first.”

“How many times have you read that Tony?” Steve asks, taking his own long drink from his coffee cup as his blonde hair sticks up everywhere.

“Four. He didn’t even tell me until the third time,” Pepper answers for him.

“Five now,” Tony corrects, leaning back in the barstool. “It’s everything I could have wanted.” Natasha takes the tablet from in front of Tony, bracing her elbows on the counter before scrolling to the top and settling in to read. Pepper hands her tablet to Steve as Thor climbs into the seat besides Tony, taking a few waffles from the pile and dousing them with far too much syrup.

“Kid, tell her breakfast is ready,” Bucky orders softly, Peter already out of his seat and out the wood covered patio door before Bucky gets to the word ‘ready’. Repairs to the windows and door the intruders broke will be fixed later today, Pepper confirmed earlier since Tony was distracted, for now, they’re just boarded up.When Peter returns with her, there is just the sounds of Bucky finishing up and soft shuffles as people shift where they’re sitting or standing. Almost everyone is looking down at their devices or eating, which makes you more nervous, he can tell.

Bucky had woken up to an empty bed and his giant tumbler filled with hot coffee sitting on his bedside table, the sweet smell and pale color tipping him off immediately to what his doll has been up to. He didn’t know exactly what she’d put in it, it was different from the other times, not as chocolatey but sweet enough to appease his sweet tooth.

He watches you from the corner of his eye as he carefully plates the two biggest, warmest pancakes onto a plate for you, balancing two pieces of bacon and a couple of pieces of sausage at the top of the plate while you slip into the barstool on the other side of Okoye who had claimed the seat by Pepper.

Bucky carefully slides the plate before you, a silent offering of apology. Even if you’ve said multiple times he doesn’t need to apologize...he knows he has to. You deserve every apology he can muster.

“Morning,” He rushes to say it and it comes out rougher than he planned nearly wincing at his overeagerness.

“Good morning,” You reply softly, “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course, doll.” Everyone is trying not to look at the two of you and you both appreciate that.

Tony points to the tablet in Natasha’s hand.

“We need to talk about this later, kid. Wonderful stuff.”

“Really?” She’s beaming, the nerves she had suddenly gone - like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Tony nods as he takes a big bite of sausage.

“Yeah, kid. I love it. I really do.”

“When we get done eating, can Thor join me in the garden please?” Bucky fights the need to tense up at your words, putting a few pancakes on his own plate before adding a heap of eggs, smothering his pancakes in buttery syrup as if every action will somehow prolong the inevitable. But you slept in his bed last night. Woke up wrapped around him. The thoughts don’t stop the jealousy already clawing at his belly.

Thor just looks at you with happiness painted on his features, extending a hand behind Pepper to shake yours.

“I did not think last night was a good time to introduce myself. Thor, Son of Odin and Frigga.”

“Y/N, Daughter of Lily Lee. Pleased to meet you.”

“You as well. I like your hair cut. I know what it is like to have no decision in removing your hair and I am sorry. But it will grow back.” He adds cheerfully, spearing a forkful of eggs. “This is only 8 years worth since that madman on Sakaar shorn me like a sheep!”

“Asgardians hair must grow fast.” Thor bobs his blonde head. “Where is Sakaar?”

“It is a place I would never take a lovely woman such as yourself. It is a prize fighting planet filled with thieves, vagrants, and mercenaries which is ruled by a sexually-deviant man called the Grand Master.” He shoves half a waffle in his mouth, cheeks round as he smiles and points his fork at Bruce. “You remember Sakaar, don’t you, Bruce? Hulk was top fighter there!”

Bucky watches your eyes widen as your gaze falls on Bruce.

“You didn’t mention Sakaar, Dr. Banner.”

“Why-why would I? It’s a terrible planet, like-like Thor said. Plus, I-I was Hulk and don’t remember everything about that time.” Thor and Bruce nod along together, Bucky nearly rolls his eyes at the two. Their sublty and Shuri’s absolutely needed some work.

“Of course. I’m sorry to prod, Bruce.”

“No problem. No problem at all.” Tony is looking at Bruce, confusion written all over his face,  who shrugs as soon as you look away.

“Well, I’m going to get my things, Thor. I’ll see you in the garden.” She rises from the seat and puts her dirty plate in the sink, Bruce stuttering out he’ll wash it before her hand falls on Bucky’s wrist. “Thank you again for breakfast, Bucky.”

Now it’s his turn to stutter. “O-of course, doll.”

As you disappear down the hallway, Bucky meets Thor’s gaze, the god smiling knowingly at him.

Asshat.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Thor starts your interview with a hug, complimenting you on the stories that Nebula shared with him from the many electronic mails that Tony had sent.

“I’m glad you liked them.”

“Oh yes. I think even my brother would have had to admit they were well written.”

“How is your brother?”

“I have seen him but twice on my travels with the Guardians. But he seems well. He is not the brother I lost to Thanos, not as mature, he is more Trickster...but he seems to avoid getting himself into too much hot water.” He sighs, absentmindedly stroking his beard. “I suppose I am just happy he is alive and well. I dare not ask for more.” You pat his knee as you nod.

“We can’t change our family. But the family you found is always here and welcoming.”

“Of course. I am very grateful for such a family.”

“May we begin?”

“Yes. Let us begin.”

“What was it like growing up on Asgard?”

“Beautiful. Peaceful. Even when we were being trained to be warriors, there was still joy in me. I was always happy to protect Asgard.”

“It’s been mentioned to me by others that you are actually not the King of Asgard as many news agencies constantly report.”

“No,” He gives a little chuckle as he looks over the roses. “No, I am not King of Asgard. I never wanted to be. Loki should have been King, he was more for politics and intrigue and silver-tongued words. I am a warrior. It is that simple.”

“Is it?” Those electric blue eyes bore into you, brows furrowed slightly. “‘Cause you let your home planet be destroyed to protect your people. You ferried quite a few Asgardians who were flung across the cosmos back here to live with their own people. I’d say that’s more than just a simple warrior.”

“You flatter me, my lady.” You laugh at his words.

“I’m not terribly into flattery, so you won’t be getting any more of that from me.”

“Noted,” He remarks, his serious face being held for only a few seconds before it breaks into a wide smile that reminds you of the sun. Did his mother ever look at him as a baby and think ‘this is Thor - my little god of sunshine’? You’d bet a fair amount of money she did.

“Things on Asgard were medieval-ish in terms of the way you spoke, the way you dressed...yet you were far more advanced than even we are now. Probably more than we will be in a hundred years. Why visit us so long ago, when we were far less advanced than now?”

“You were a simpler people. Not stupid, but not quite ready to dream of going out into the stars. All of the cultures we visited were so different...good medical knowledge, fairly good at outlining the stars, planets, and constellations, all very clean and focused on the betterment of their people. And then I believe it was the Dark Ages and you lot seemed to take a few dozen steps backward. Like you had all, as one, forgotten the hard-earned knowledge of your forebearers. We did not come back for a great many years after that. But you have relearned most of what was lost. Wakanda seems to be the best because of it, seeming to have lost the least amount of knowledge over the centuries.”

“Have you read any of the Viking mythology?”

“Tony has made a few mentions of it during our time together, but I did not understand all of his references.”

“Viking mythology is quite different from Asgardian fact. You are the oldest legitimate son of Odin, so you would still be King. Loki is still a Frost Giant raised as an Asgardian. But Hela is not your sister, Hela is Loki’s daughter - well in some versions. He - um - in a certain story,” You wiggle a little on the bench under his intense, but friendly gaze. “Turned into a mare and let himself be impregnated by an Asgardian stallion. He then gives birth to a nine-legged horse that Odin uses named Sleipnir.”

Thor bursts out laughing, deep, rich and from his belly as he slaps his hand on his knee a few times before taking a deep breath and wiping away a few tears.

“Oh! You MUST send me more of these stories! They are wildly inaccurate and very, very amusing!”

“What’s your favorite thing about Earth?”

“Besides these stories I have just learned of? I enjoy the clothes but dislike the lack of armor. I like coffee! I add a little bit of Asgardian mead to mine to make it more enjoyable. I enjoy the fact that you are all so resilient. Most of you so willing to do what’s right, you just act upon that need - it is quite endearing. Selfies! I have become quite good at taking selfies with people! You all also opened your planet to me and my people when we were in need. I also enjoy those Oreo cookie things that Quill packs onboard that I steal and share with Rocket and Groot.”

Another snack thief… You make a note under Thor’s name, before adding Oreos just under it.

“You left New Asgard to go travel with the Guardians. Is Quill still the leader?”

“Yes. Of course.” You giggle at his face.

“Your mouth says yes, but your eyes don’t seem to agree!”

“You have a lovely laugh. And I suppose I am used to being the leader or, at least an equal to the leader, and 3500 years of that is a hard thing to break. I will call it a toss-up on most days.”

“Thank you for that compliment, Thor. Are you a morning or a night person?”

“I like all times of the day, but I do enjoy sleeping in when I can.”

“What would happen if you summoned lightning and I was holding onto Stormbreaker at the time?”

“You would not be able to wield such a weapon, little one. But you have nothing to fear, I would not let any harm come to you - lightning or attempting to wield Stormbreaker. The lightning would simply go where I wanted it to and I would be wielding the ax, so no harm would come from you hanging onto it.”

“How do you deal with all the loss you’ve had in the last fifteen years?” Thor gives you a sad smile.

“One day at a time, as do we all. I have very much to be thankful for, so I think of that often when I feel weighed down.”

“Do you take fruit from Tony’s farm when you go into space? Have you tried giving them space fruit?”

“Yes, Tony has had some. As well as Rhodey. I am not sure the others have tried any. I should bring a few big crates for them to try next time we come to visit!”

“Would you like to tell me more about your family and growing up?”

“What else would you like to know, little rose?” You cover up the shock at the nickname with a bright smile, nodding eagerly before flipping to another page of questions you have for him.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re all about to sit down when FRIDAY announces that the Guardians are about to land on the east side of the compound. You snatch up your camera, which had eerily reappeared in your room this morning, from the kitchen counter and run outside to snap a few pictures of the landing.

Meeting “The Space Division”, as Tony lovingly refers to them, is amazing!

Carol is funny, sarcastic and a bit dry, she immediately reminded you of a lot less weighed down version of Tony. Maybe a mix of Tony, Wanda, and Clint. That thought gives you a little concern.

Nebula glares as you extend your hand before giving a little huff and shaking it roughly. You don’t mind, Tony and Thor have warned you she was rough around the edges. You give her your warmest smile and allow her her space afterward.

Gamora gives you a firm handshake, sizing you up before offering a tight smile. “Don’t mind the idiots too much, I’ll help keep them in line for the questioning.” She says softly before dropping your hand and stepping aside.

Thor wraps his arms around you in another hug, tighter than the last, before pulling back to introduce you to Groot and Rocket. You manage a thank you as he releases you, seeing Bucky come into your line of sight behind Thor, you smile again - this one just for him since he looks a little glum.

“These are my very good friends, little rose. Tree and Rabbit,” His voice is filled with pride and glee, so you try to school your face when he calls Rocket a rabbit.

Groot shakes your hand and smiles wide, “I am Groot,” falling easily from his mouth as he beams down at you.

Rocket perches up by Groot’s elbow to shake your hand afterward, “I’ll be translating for him during your interrogation thing.” You thank him profusely as Thor gives a little frown beside you.

“Interview, friend.”

“Right. Right.” Rocket agrees with a little shrug before a giant wall of muscle stands before you - shirtless.

“I am Drax the Destroyer.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” You pause. “The writer.” He nods as if the title is exactly what he needed to hear before yanking your hand away from your side and giving it a few firm shakes before dropping it and moving to the left.

“This is Mantis. She knows she is hideously ugly, so there is no need to bring it up again.” Your brows furrow at Drax’s summation as you look at the woman before you. She isn’t ugly. At least not here on Earth.

“Hello, Mantis, nice to meet you.” She keeps her hands clasped together lightly before her, giving a nod at you instead

“Don’t mind Drax. His vision of beauty is horribly skewed,” A male voice says from behind Drax, pushing him out of the way to reveal a nice looking man in red leather who has plastered on his most charming, boyish smile as he extends his hand. “I’m Peter Quill, you may know me as Star-Lord.”

“Of course,” You answer brightly as his other hand comes up to clasp tightly around the hand he still has a hold of, stepping a little closer as he does so.

“You have beautiful eyes,” He begins before Steve clears his throat loudly to your right.

“Lunch?” He reminds in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Bucky appears at your side like magic, offering his arm as he stares ahead. You gently slip yours through it, setting your other hand on his forearm. Thor is holding the door open and smiles brightly at you, blue eyes nearly electric with the light shining in them. Bucky gruffly thanks him before escorting you to your seat, which is opposite the Guardians. Bucky makes sure you’re settled before he takes his seat beside you, with T’Challa on your other side.

Lunch passes much like the first dinner you had with the Avengers, with you recording and feeling a bit like an interloper, but at the same time more comfortable in the group. The Avengers really help you not feel like the odd man out, and it does seem to ease something in Carol and Nebula as they interact with you. Quill and Thor keep smiling overly friendly at you, Bucky’s arm landing on the back of your chair about halfway through dinner. T’Challa says something to him in isiXhosa that nearly has Bucky sputtering into his wine, making you pat his back roughly before rubbing a few circles as you make sure he’s okay.

“Fine, doll. Just fine. Sometimes T’Challa’s humor throws me off.”

Dessert is individual layered desserts with cookies on the side and you nearly squeal when you see the homemade sugar cookies on your plate with the colored sugar on top. You bite into one eagerly, making a little noise at the sound, a chuckle sounding to your right as Bucky watches your happy little wiggle.

One of the things you learn quickly is that Nebula doesn’t talk much, and when she does, it’s blunt. Quill, on the other hand, talks a lot. Especially about himself. Which you don’t mind - just look at your chosen profession - but it’s cocky and you aren’t one for this ego-boosting performance. Especially overly dramatic, long-winded ones... Rocket is rolling his eyes at the story Quill is telling, his hand miming talking while he mouths ‘Blah, Blah, Blah’. Then Quill throws one of his cookies as Rocket, who ducks and it hits Groot - and while you’re sure he’s physically fine, the look in his eyes is one of betrayal and you pick up your unused soup spoon and throw it at Quill. He looks more startled than anything at the turn of events, rubbing his chest where your spoon hit.

“Don’t worry,” Drax shouts as he shovels in the last of his dessert. “He does not have sensitive nipples!” You try desperately to smother your laughter with your hand but fail for the most part.

“Good to know,” Clint replies for you further down the table as Bucky leans over to whisper in your ear.

“No one needed to know that, doll. And that was a hell of a shot with the spoon.” You turn to face him, foreheads almost touching.

“Did you doubt my spoon throwing skills, sir?”

“Haven’t come across a spoon thrower…” He rumbles out, smiling so wide his eyes are wrinkling on the sides again.

“So that makes me all the more impressive. I mean, you are over a hundred years old…” He leans back a little, hand over his heart.

“Ow. Bringing my age into it, doll? Rough.”

“Don’t be such a baby. Sam brings up your age constantly.”

“Does he? I ignore him most of the time…”

“No you don’t, you old fogey!” Sam hollers from a few seats down, making you laugh again. Tony leads all of you into the lounge, complete with a fully stocked bar. Bucky brings you a dirty Shirley Temple before sitting beside you with a big glass full of whiskey, Thor making himself comfortable on your other side.

He regales you with stories from his journeys throughout the nine realms, about his brother and his friends the Warriors Three. You listen to a particularly suspenseful one, Steve smiling as he leans against the bar edge a few feet away, your hand shooting out to grab onto Bucky. You miss the shocked expression when you grab his knee, squeezing it before you sputter out an embarrassed apology.

“I was - I’m sorry - I just - I was so caught up in the story…”

“It’s fine, doll. Startled me was all since I was talking to Stevie is all.” He pats the hand that was just squeezing his leg, his small smile comforting. Thor coaxes your attention back to him, finishing the story with gusto.

About two hours later you’re excusing yourself off to bed, saying you’d like to get better pictures of the outside and inside of the ship before you start the interviews. Quill eagerly agrees, offering to give you a tour until Rocket makes what you assume is a crude comment under his breath since Quill tries to kick him before flashing a bright, flirty smile at you.

You don’t see Bucky glaring menacingly at him, standing at his full height just to your left as you say your goodnights. When you turn to wish Bucky sweet dreams, his face is normal - his eyes even softer than usual as he wished you sweet dreams in return.

You don’t hear the sound of a whip Sam makes but you hear a few soft grunts just before the door clicks closed behind you.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

[PART 4]

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @transcendent-heroes @jotink78

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

[thoseirondadfics]

MJ and Peter Parker: as seen through Tony’s eyes

There was something wrong with the kid, Tony could tell. It wasn’t just that he was completely quiet which, in and of itself was already pretty weird but Tony could attribute that to the tiredness the kid must be facing since he was out late fighting some sort of giant lizard or something weird like that. And then he had had to get up early to go to school since he had a History quiz.

Maybe what was weird was that Tony knew Peter’s schedule almost by heart even if he didn’t know his own.

But, regardless, Peter had been completely quiet since he got to the lab, he hadn’t eaten anything and now, he wasn't even bothering to pretend like he was listening to Tony; only humming along while he told him about the latest of Morgan’s antics.

He figured he could let it slide, the kid had been through a lot with coming back from the dead and that whole thing. Also, he imagined that it was probably hard on him to see Tony in the hospital for so long and to find out he had a pseudo- sister who was 5. But, then again, he was still Tony Stark and even though he bothered Peter endlessly about his inability to keep quiet, he still was just as bad when it came to tolerating silence.

“So, yeah. Morgan was all like “I’ll be a superhero when I grow up”,” Tony continued his story, eyeing Peter to see his reaction, “And I said, “When you grow up?Why wait? Let’s start right now”, and I built her a suit.”

Peter didn’t even look up from his homework as he responded, “That’s great Tony” and the silence overcame them once again.

“Okay kid. Focus up.” Tony grabbed the rag he was using to wipe his hands from the car oil and threw it at Peter, he caught it without even looking up. Great to know his reflexes still worked. “What’s going on with you? You’ve barely said a word in the hour and a half we’ve spent here. Everything okay at school?”.

“What? Yeah- yeah. Everything’s fine” Peter sighed, knowing that once Tony knew something was wrong, it was only a matter of time before he found out what. That didn't stop him from trying to lie to him. “I’m just, you know, tired from the whole lizard thing. And- and, the quiz was kinda hard so, you know, just tired. Yeah, jus-just tired.”

“Mhm” Tony said while looking at him. He had known the teenager for a really long time, longer for him since he had grieved him for 5 years, had moved heaven and hell to bring him back, so he was aware of the fact that all it took to catch him in the lie was to get him to look him in the eye. “Well, I suppose there’s no need for you to be here in the lab if you are so tired, Pete. You can go to your room and have a nap, I’ll call you when dinner is ready”

Peter looked at him then, almost dissapointed. But it was really a testament to how much better the kid was at lying through his teeth that he just sighed once more, got up and with a quiet “Okay, thanks” he left the lab.

“Friday, let me know when Peter reaches his bedroom please” he said as he slid under the car to continue his tinkering.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost an hour later when he heard his lab door open and a soft pair of footprints approach the car. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“ Daddy, Mommy told me to tell you to wake Peter for dinner”. Morgan told him in a tone that suggested that she was very excited at the prospect of being the message carrier. He got out form under the car and sat on the board.

“Okay, Moguna” He told her sweetly as he got up and washed his hands on a cloth. “I’ll be in the kitchen with Pete in a minute, why don't you go wash your hands?”

With that Morgan turned around and ran upstairs while Tony followed after her until he got to the hallway towards the bedrooms. He walked up to Peter’s room, right in front of Morgan’s and quietly opened the door, just in case Peter was still asleep.

What he found, however, was a shocked, mask-less Spider-man staring at him with wide eyes standing in front of an open window.

The minute Peter saw Tony he started getting out of the suit while rambling nervously.

“Mr Stark, I-I-I can totally explain” he started saying while he grabbed a Stark Industries sweatshirt and some pants. “I was just- you know, um, just getting fresh air.”

“Mr Stark, huh?” Tony answered, his arms crossed and his eyebrows knitted. “Let me get this straight, you were so tired that you couldn't even speak, so I send you to bed like the responsible parent I am,” Peter blushed at that, “and you decide to go out to “get fresh air” in the Spider-man suit?”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, he sat on the edge of his bed and dropped his head between his hands.

“Okay so,” he started looking up at Tony, who decided to walk closer, “ I wasn’t actually tired and, I didn’t really went outside for fresh air”.

“Oh, really?” Tony answered sarcastically, “Well, you had me fooled”.

Peter groaned at that, frustration evident and making Tony feel particularly bad. “C’mon, Pete.” He said, sitting next to the young hero, “tell Papa Stark what’s going on”

“Please don’t ever call yourself Papa Stark again”. Peter mumbled, letting his head drop on Tony’s shoulder. “I’ve just been having a hard time with this whole being back thing. Like, you guys have been great and I’m so grateful that Ned is with me through all this even if that is a bit twisted,” he started, Tony whispered that it wasn't twisted at all. “But 5 years have gone by and now I have to compete with fucking Brad and I am never gonna beat him because he is tall and sporty and smart”

“Wait,wait” Tony stopped him because he was honestly kind of lost. “Who the hell is Brad?”

“That’s what I said” Peter answered almost with a squeak. “He is just this guy who goes to my school who was 5 years younger but know he is our same age and he has a massive crush on MJ and I just, I can't compete with him”.

“So I take it, you have a crush on MJ too?” He asked, not wanting to make any assumptions.

“Well, duh.” Peter replied as he got up and started pacing around the room, “She is just so smart and pretty, and great and I really missed her while I was gone even though I don’t really remember any of it. But, I just, I feel like I can talk to her.”

“Kid , you can talk to literally anyone. I once saw you have a conversation with the tree alien from Wakanda and he only says three words”. Peter glared at him, so Tony put his hands up in defense. “But look, if you like this girl, just ask her out. It really is that easy, if she says no then she says no but at least you’ll know you tried.”

“I can’t ask her out Tony,” the kid was trying to get impatient, throwing himself face down on the bed, “She’ll say no and then I’ll day. Again.”  

Tony flinched at the memory. “You won’t die because I won’t allow that.” Tony started running his fingers  through Peter’s hair, “And why would she say no? You are the best kid out there”.

“You have to say that ‘cause you are like my dad. It’s like when Aunt May says it, it doesn't count” Peter explained almost patiently. “But Brad is gonna ask her out because he told Betty who told Ned who told me that he would. And MJ will say yes and I will be screwed. I mean, the guy is literally the school’s star basketball player”

“Dude, you are literally Spider-man” Tony told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t know that” Peter sighed disappointed. “ And I won’t tell her that just to get her to go on a date with me because then she would be going on a date with Spider-man, not Peter Parker”

“They are one and the same, kid” Tony got up and pulled Peter with him, “But okay, say you don’t tell her you are an avenger. You still have a lot of things going for you.” He started, “Like, you are super smart, and kinda funny. In a dorky kind of way. You are kind and you have known this girl almost your entire life, you have the whole shared experience going for you.”

“That’s true”, Peter mused as he opened his bedroom door and they started walking towards the kitchen.

“I know, I’m a genius”. Peter rolled his eyes at that while Tony put an arm around his shoulders, “I say you go to school tomorrow and ask her out, first thing in the morning. That way, you beat Brad to it and it will be like taking a band aid off.”

“You know what? I’ll do it” Peter smiled at him. Then he sat down at the table next to Morgan while Tony went to the kitchen counter to help Pepper grab the food.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tony found himself nervous all morning after dropping his kids off at their schools. He knew the kid would be fine though.

It was still nice to get confirmation. Which he did via text a couple of hours later.

“Guess who has a date this Friday?” - Spider-kid

“Actually don’t guess”- Spider-kid

“It’s me”- Spider-kid

“With MJ”- Spider-kid

“That’s great underoos, I’m happy for you”- TS

Yeah, he would be fine. He was part Stark after all.

[teddydriveshome]

5 AM my alarms blares and I jerk awake. I drag my tired body to the bathroom, take off all my clothes, and weigh myself. My skin looks like a bottle of milk save for the freckles dotting my arms. The scale reads the same number I recorded on my “thinspo” blog when I was 12, except now I’m 18. When I was 12 I thought I was going to be the next Coco Chanel of Gianni Versace and my mind was bright and hopeful.

I spend another five minutes staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, twisting and contorting my body to see how small I can look or how far my ribs can stick out. 12 year old me would scream in delight but I feel like screaming in horror. Pulling on my clothes I see my finger nails are faintly blue, a warning that doubles as built in nail polish. I don’t walk into the kitchen, I  float because nothing ever really feels real anymore.

The kettle screeches as I boil water and the coffee maker putters away while I look at the clock. It’s 5:10 now and I have to leave at 7. School doesn’t start till 8 and it’s not far away but I know I need time to get everything right. After carefully pouring almond milk into a ¼ cup scoop I take my bevridges and set to getting dressed.

Standing in front of my closet I knock my knees together to make sure they’re still there between sips of warm water. At 13 I learned that warm water keeps you full on zero calories, or maybe just the idea that you’re full. I remember copying the tip from the computer into my sparkly pink notebook. Jeans and a dark top are my uniform of choice these days and I traded my sparkly pink notebooks for black and blue to settle in.

I pull on a tight black v neck and stare at a pile of t shirt for a second. A pile of psychedelic tie dyes swirled together, unworn, probably still faintly smelling of pot and sugary vanilla perfume. I don’t like them anymore they remind me of the girl I killed, the loud and giggly pothead. Last summer I sat at my desk in one of the shirts working over a watercolor painting and my hair reached my waist. Three months ago I hacked off half my hair with kitchen scissors, a girl at school said it was cute and I wanted to set myself on fire.

My skin is ghostly and the cheap black hair die isn’t helping. Somehow a face of makeup makes me look worse so I dab on chapstick and squeeze my cheeks for color. It’s time to leave so I put on a jacket, then my winter coat because without the extra layer I know I would shake until hypothermia set in. Locking the front door behind me I twist the knob, let go, then twist it again four times to make sure it’s locked and I can leave. I make it halfway across my porch before I have to repeat the process so I know it’s really locked. In my car I only listen to Jim Morrision.

I park the car but here is the hardest part of my day. I switch the headlight on and off again and again to make sure I didn’t forget so my battery doesn’t die. On off on off on off on off. The anxiety subsides a bit and I rush out of the car before it comes back. I stand in from and stare at my headlights for five minutes, squinting at the to make sure it’s not an illusion and the lights are off.

I feel like I’m trying to talk myself off the ledge, trying so hard to tell myself that everything is okay and assure myself they’re off. I finally start walking to the school entrance and get halfway there before the fear takes over again and I have to see if I left the lights on. I didn’t.

I float through the hallways up to the third floor like I don’t exist. Someone is sitting in front of my locker and my heart rate skyrockets with nervous energy, the interaction happens without a hitch but the adrenaline drains me and I can’t even look the person in the eyes, all I know is that my hands are shaking too much and I put the wrong locker combination in twice.

Someone stops me in the hallway on the way to class and I barely register their words. It ends with an invitation to something I know I won’t go to because I’m sure nobody wants me there.

First period I jot down notes but have to stop often because my hands shake too much. Second period is spent shivering in my English classroom. There’s a quiz on novel pages I didn’t read so I leave smiley faces for answers I can’t even guess at. I knock my ribs against my desk to distract myself from thinking about how I know my car headlights are still on.

1, 2, 3, 4

The bell rings and my heavy legs carry me to the library for study hall. I try doing homework but after five minutes I slump onto the table top with my face in my hands and sleep. I feel like a junkie. I wish I was addicted to heroin, so I could lull my brain asleep with the drug, not have to work so hard to see the daylight between my legs and ribs through my skin. I’d wear tank tops, so everybody could the track marks and know how in trouble I am. I’m a terrible person for thinking that. I should be oh so grateful that I’ve been struck with the most attractive illness, how accepted and praised I am for my “self-control” while drug addicts are shunned by society. The funny thing is I have no self-control or self-respect for that matter.

The bell wakes me up and the librarian glares at me. How dare I sleep among all this great literature that could’ve enlightened me and increased my knowledge. I know I’m a waste of space and she knows it too.

The rest of the day blurs minutes into hours. Eat lunch, squeeze the grains of rice to get the fat out, stay awake while my teachers drone on about nothing I’ll remember, smile a nod when my peers talk to me even though I’m sure I’m their charity case. My brain always feels foggy, I wish I could saw off my skull cap and wipe the dust off my brain with a Clorox wipe, or maybe I’d just smear the matter of the walls instead.

Last period is dance class and I’m trapped in a room with three walls of mirrors. As a child I wanted to be a graceful, thin, beautiful ballerina. Now I’m the thinnest I’ve ever been and not even halfway to looking like a ballerina. I get marked off on my technique because I don’t have the strength to hold my leg in position anymore. Waste of space.

School ends and I sprint to my car because I am positive I left my lights on, the doors unlocked, and someone ransacked my borrowed car all while I was wasting tax dollars away in my public school.

In my room I stare at the stack of college acceptance letters. Weeks ago I found myself wandering the aisles of a craft store with no recollection of how I got there or what I was looking for. I don’t know how I’ll have the brain capacity to study business or anything else for that matter. Maybe I should just drop out of high school now and cut my losses.

I drink my fourth cup of coffee of the day and then drag myself to the gym to bike for an hour but reach nowhere. It’s Friday and everyone’s trying to get a pump before going out. It must be nice to go out but I rejected every invitation I got until they just stopped. Home now I eat a bag of spinach and a sweet potato. Some vegan girl preached to me over the internet that potatoes are the most filling carbs. Her hip bones and cheek jutted out. “You can look like me” she said, twirling around her lithe body. I’d be dead before I be as thin as her so why not try. In a burst of anxiety I eat a spoonful of peanut butter because I’m afraid my hair is gonna fall out, I’m afraid I won’t be here in a year, and I’m afraid of the disappointment from everyone that knew me as a giggly pothead. Thin vegan woman would be mad, “the fat you eat is the fat you wear” is one of her slogans. I hate and love her so much. I know I do this to myself but I wish she would rot, the older sister I never had, yelling at my through a computer screen.

My phone screen stays blank and I’m thankful I won’t have to make any piss poor excuses tonight.

I drink more water to make my insides pink and shiny. I wish I could scrub my intestines with a brillo pad to make sure everything’s gone. Then I would be 100% me, no foreign matter. But I don’t even know who she is anymore.

[stray-writer-glitch]

We had a project? pt.1

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader

Genre: fluff + bullet point

Requested:

A/n: first time doing this format, hope you like it!

So let’s start off by saying that physics is torture and that’s all it is

Anyway it was made only more awkward by Kim Seungmin aka MR.PERFECT in your class

Does it even need to be said?

You had a crush on him

A huge one 

But you’re one of them silent students that tries not to die in class because Dammit teacher! Can you slow down a little? I am not a speed writer!!

Sure you were passing but it seemed that one wrong move and you’d pummel into a bad grade from which you would never rise

Enough dramatics

So you got sick on friday right?

Were sick throughout the weekend

Were back on tuesday

Only one school day missed

Doesn’t sound too bad, right?

Well it would be if the one day you weren’t there the teacher drops a partner lab project on you

Yyyaaaaayyyyyyy

So you come up to your teacher tuesday after class with the whole “What did I miss?”

And imagine your surprise when you get “You’re partnered up with Kim Seungmin for a lab project, it’s due in two weeks.”

Yeahfirstofall whERE is this project coming from?

Second WHY YOUR  CRUSH OF ALL PEOPLE??????

After a second of inner hyperventilation and outer inability to breathe you break out of your trance and by then everyone is gone and the teacher is busy with his computer

So you just leave and hope that Seungmin doesn’t forget to text you about the project

Time skip to lunch!!!

About ten minutes into lunch and yes don’t worry you ate your phone buzzes and guess who it is?

YUP Mr. Perfect himself

“Hey is this y/n? this is Seungmin, we we’re partnered up for the physics project”

You almost squealed

Being in the library stopped you and the shelves thankfully hid your flailing excitement

Pulling yourself together you texted him back

“Yep that's me, Mr. Seo told me about the project...what are we doing it over anyway?”

He sent a quick text asking if you were at lunch and where

Cue you being nervous and screaming internally before telling him your location

But it’s ok cause he comes over and explains the whole concept and everything and it’s all good and y’all are ready to start the project

ANYWAY CUT TO A BIT EARLIER AND MINNIE’S POV

That monday when you were getting rid of the last of that pesky fever

Our sweet child was losing his mind cause he just got paired with his crush for a lab project

He got your number from the teacher but didn’t call/text cause he figured you probably had something going on awww what a cutie

Cause you’d never miss a day of this class on purpose you’d die cause you’d fall behind but he doesn’t need to know that

So next day he sees you in class but it’s a really busy day and he forgot about the project at the moment cause he had an quiz next period

Don’t be mad at the poor bean he just has a lot on his plate

So it isn’t until lunch time when he’s sitting with all his friends that he remembers

Or really gets reminded by the ever so helpful teasing from Minho

“I had that quiz last hour and it feels like the teacher didn’t even realize what he was teaching!”

“And don’t you have that physics project with your crush due in a week?”

“Crap you’re right!” he takes out his phone “it’s in two weeks, and shut up, I don’t have a crush.”

He starts texting you about the project blatantly ignoring the teasing that gets showered upon him from either side

When he gets the question he makes a millisecond decision to explain it face to face

First of all cause it’s easier, second he needs to talk to you eventually better start now, third Anything to get him away from the guys and their relentless teasing

As soon as he gets the message that you’re in the library he gets up once again ignoring the boys

And BOOKS IT to the library excuse my horrible puns

So y’all meet up and the whole time he tries Not To Stare at how you’re so cute when you focus on something and be all serious

ANYWAY

Back to your pov

After getting all the info about the project you had to choose a specific topic

Being the great student he is Seungmin had some ideas ready

The rest of lunch was spent figuring out times and who could do what

Y’all meet up after school that same day at a bakery down the street

Hey you were both hungry and this place was nice and pretty and kinda empty so nobody bothered you

So you ordered and ate your food (and this bakery was pretty much a mini-diner so there was plenty of food)

You were smart little beans and asked to wait on paying the check cause “Yeah we’re gonna stay here a while and might order more so let’s just wait.”

You guys spent hours on that project and had most of the research done in that time

……..somehow probably because of Seungmin’s presence

After that chunk of research was done y’all called a break and ordered some more food

It was getting a little late so you decided to call it a night

It was around now that Seungmin got his wallet out and said he’d go pay

A bit of a debate followed

“Seungmin, I can pay for my part.”

“Let me be a gentleman here, I want to pay.”

That shut you up for a good minute

Seeing this as the end of the debate he turned to go pay

“Fine, but I’m paying the tip.”

You didn’t see the smile on his face but a certain waiter friend did

“So, “let me be a gentleman” huh?” Minho teased

“Oh shut it and give me the check.”

“You never pay when we eat out.” Minho pouted getting the check

“Cause you all annoy me more than what the food is worth.”

“Ah, my child why must you hurt me?”

“Minho, drama class ended five hours ago. Snap out of it.”

Yeah!!! Our soft boy is also a savage child!!

So he finally paid for everything and got back to the table where you already had all your stuff gathered and were about to leave a tip

But Seungmin commented that you probably shouldn’t bother

“Why?”

“The guy is an annoyance.”

“AM NOT”

“Oh, hey Minho, didn’t notice it was you.” You greeted

“Y/n, nice to finally be seen. So how much work did you guys get done? That is assuming you were doing work and not planning on eloping.” He sat down at your table, making himself comfortable

“Oh we got a fair amount- wait what was that last bit?” You narrowed your eyes at the boy

“Nothing, nothing.” His smile shining in fake innocence

Well either way you left the tip and excused yourself saying that you needed to go home

Guess who caught up with you and insisted on walking you home?

Byungchan!

I kid!!!!

Part 2

skz Masterlist 

Summer Drabble Project 

[malicemizer]

I’m taking a 3 week course and I legit have a chapter to read (with quizzes at the end of every major section, of which there are 7-12 per chapter) and a major quiz every day and then an exam every Friday and a paper due at the end of the course. I’m gonna die.

[captainmarvels]

Imagínate

Request/Summary: puedes hacer latinxpeterparker? :) gracias! -your fellow hispanic nerd [@worldsroses] | Peter gets some very much needed ayuda en español.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Latinx!Reader

Word Count: 1433

A/N: I loved writing this because it’s silly and cute, and I hope you all enjoy this! Note: there are no translations included for the Spanish in the fic, sorry :/ Hopefully I’ll start writing more fics in Spanish for all my lovely latinx gente out there :) | masterlist

Late afternoons meant homework and a snack. Peter stopped by the bodega on his way home from school, his energy at an all-time high after a pleasant day at school.

“Oyé, Peter! How are you?” Mr. Delmar asked, juggling two massive bags of bread.

“Good, all good. Need some help?” Peter nodded at the bags, but the owner shook his head.

“No, está bien, gracias. The usual, Parker?” He dropped the bags on the back counter, strolling over to the sink to rinse his hands. Peter walked up to the display case, nodding as he moved to pet Mr. Delmar’s cat.

“Si, por favor. Can you smoosh it down real flat?” Mr. Delmar laughs, nodding as he gets to work.

“How’s Aunt May doin’? Haven’t seen her in awhile,”

“She’s good. Real busy, I guess,” Peter shrugged, absentmindedly petting the cat as he waited. Mr. Delmar turned to one of the guys in the back, nodding in Peter’s direction.

“Su tia es una hermosa Italiana!”

“Y cómo está su hija, Señor Delmar?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow as Mr. Delmar froze, handing him his sandwich.

“Watch it, Parker.”

“No worries! 6.50, right?”

“8.50, just for that comment!”

“Dad!” You popped your head out from the back room of the store, rolling your eyes as you rubbed your hands on your shirt. “Hey, Parker.” Peter blushed, waving as he handed your father the money.

“Como estas, Y/N?” He asked, his face turning redder by the second. You laughed, resting your arm on your dad’s shoulder as you eyed Peter.

“Bien, y tú?” Peter’s mouth dropped open, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t know anymore Spanish, or he was about to pass out. “You alright there?”

“Yeah, yeah, all… all good! I uh, gotta go now, bye!” Peter walked away, nearly dropping his sandwich as he rushed right out the door. You giggled, patting your dad on the back as you headed into the storage room.

“Good job, dad. Scaring off your loyal customers!”

“Oh hush, ya vete a acabar lo que te manda, niña!”

A week had passed since Peter last saw you, mainly because he couldn’t bring himself to face you again.

“Dude, stop being scared. She’s just Y/N.” Ned said, punching Peter in the arm as he leaned against the lockers. Peter glanced at him, raising an eyebrow as he grabbed his books.

“She’s not just Y/N, Ned! She’s like, the coolest girl in our grade.”

“What about Liz? Or are we over her now?” Ned whispered, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“What, no! Ugh, just, I don’t know, Ned,” Peter groaned, resting his forehead against the cool locker door.

“Oh, idea! What if we ask her to tutor us? In Spanish? We have a quiz on Friday, anyways. Might as well get all the help we can!”

“How are we gonna ask her?”

“Uh, right now because incoming!” Ned whispered, turning Peter around to face you as you headed down the hall, right towards him. Peter’s eyes widened, his pulse quickening as he froze.

You waved, smiling as Ned motioned for you to come by them.

“What’s up, guys?” You asked, swinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Are you free tomorrow night, after school? We’ve got a quiz Friday and we could really use all the help we can get, just so we don’t fail. Please!” Ned asked rather quickly, and you laughed, nodding as you watched Peter blush.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll help you guys out! Where should we meet?”

“Peter’s place!” Peter gasped, turning to face Ned with terrified eyes as Ned kept talking to you, ignoring his panicked state. “Let’s say, 7pm? That work?”

You raised an eyebrow at Peter’s weirdness, but shrugged, nodding once again. “Yeah, perfect. See you later, dorks!” You patted Peter on the shoulder, smiling at Ned as you walked into the room across the hall. Peter let out a sigh of relief, his pulse still racing as he grabbed Ned by the shoulders.

“Are you freaking kidding me, Ned?! My apartment? I’m going to die!” Ned waved his hand, pushing Peter off of him.

“Relax, man! It’ll be fine. It’s just studying between friends!”

Peter was pacing back and forth in his bedroom, running his hands through his hair as he impatiently checked his phone.

You were going to be at his apartment in less than 10 minutes, and Ned had yet to show up. Frustrated, Peter called him, only to be sent straight to voicemail.

PP: What the heck, Ned!! Where are you?

NL: Good luck ;)

“Oh my god, no, no, no, NO!” Peter whispered, his eyes wide with shock as he realized he’d be alone with you, in his apartment. “I’m so dead.”

The doorbell rang and Peter practically fell over the sofa trying to get to the door. He swung it wide open, panting as he met your gaze. You cocked an eyebrow, taking in his disheveled appearance.

“What have you been doing today, Peter? Por Dios, you’re a mess.” You walk in, tossing your backpack onto the couch before slipping your shoes off.

“Today’s been busy; Ned’s uh, running late. Family stuff, he said.”

“Should we start without him?” You ask, rummaging through your bag for a pencil. Peter shrugs, locking the door.

“I guess. He doesn’t really need the help, to be honest.” You laugh at his words, shaking your head as you pull out your notebook.

“Nice. Alright then, let’s hit the books, Parker.”

“So you’ve got your present tense down pretty well. Think you can handle the oral part of the exam?” You were looking over the makeshift quiz you gave Peter, admiring his good work. Peter shifted around on the other side of the couch, pulling his Midtown sweatshirt off.

“Maybe. Can we practice?”

“That’s what I’m here for. Okay, let’s say the prompt is hanging out with friends. Ready?” You glance his way, catching him nod before grabbing the workbook off the coffee table in front of you.

“Okay. Bueno, Peter, que quieres hacer esta noche? Quieres ir al centro comercial, o mejor vamos a ver una película?” You lean against the armrest, hugging your knees to your chest as you watched him think.

“Uh, una película nueva que quiero ver sale esta noche. Eso um, está bien con tú?”

“Contigo. That’s how you say it.” You whisper, smiling as he nods his head.

“Right, okay. Esta bien contigo, Y/N?”

“Si. A qué hora quieres ir, Peter?”

“Uh, la película empieza a las ocho, um, so nos vamos a las siete?”

“Asi que is ‘so’ - try again.”

“Okay. Uh, asi que, te cojo a las siete, Y/N?” You burst out laughing as soon as Peter says the word, and he starts to panic. Did I say something wrong? Oh my god. His face is red with embarrassment, his heart racing as he hears you trying to catch your breath.

“Did-Did I say, did I say something wrong?” He can’t take his eyes off you, your hand over your heart as you try to calm down.

“Oh my god, Peter, I think I might have just died.”

“What did I say?”

“In Mexico, ‘coger’ means to like...have sex, you know? Everywhere else, it means ‘to pick up’ but wow, ever since I learned that, I cannot stop dying, oh my god!” You start giggling again, and a wave of relief crashes over Peter as he takes a deep breath. His face is still red with embarrassment, but at least he’s actually learned something new.

“They should really teach that in class, oh my god!”

“Nah; it’s super funny when people don’t know, except then I feel bad for laughing. So sorry about that, totally not making of fun of you, I promise.” You’re still giggling, but Peter can hear the sincerity in your words. He starts laughing to himself, a small smile spreading across his lips as you burst into another fit of giggles.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t know that, oh god.”

“Pete, relax. I know you didn’t mean it, because oh god, is that illegal, ha!” You’re still laughing, practically wheezing at this point, and Peter just shakes his head, smiling. He may be still be super embarrassed, but boy, is he glad he got you to laugh.

“Maybe wait ‘til we’re 18, nena,” He says, smirking as he stands up, jumping over the couch, heading straight for the kitchen.

“In your dreams, Parker!” You say, rolling your eyes as you start laughing again while organizing your notes.

“I know!”

[peterjonesparker]

lmaoo, hello, i’m back. i’ve loved all the suggestions i’ve gotten for this story and am gonna try to actually plan it out more concretely and hopefully that’ll mean i can write more consistently. but who knows? college is the fucking worst! anyway, have chapter three!

before i forget, gotta tag some lovely people: @spideychelle-romanogers, @aqhrodites, @redpanthers, @suplosers, @bellamywarriorblake, @daisypeterparker (like the new url!!), @spideychelleforever, and @ritebeforeyoureyes! if you’ve asked me to tag you in the past and i’ve forgotten, i’m sorry :o please let me know!

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five 

chapter 3: "we've always been good at overachieving, mj" (ao3 link)

It’s fitting that Friday is stormy and rainy and all around gloomy. Michelle’s just had the worst college week of her life. She’d been out of town the weekend before to go to her older brother’s wedding. Now, her family goes all out when it comes to weddings or parties in general. (Read: dancing, drinking, shouting the lyrics to songs from the 1970s that everyone’s heard a thousand times.) So, needless to say, Michelle did absolutely none of the work she needed to do over the weekend. Come Monday night when she got back to Boston from San Francisco (she was in the middle seat and there were two crying babies on the plane), she went immediately to bed. She then proceeded to underestimate how much time her work would take: one problem set that took six hours, two essays that each took four, a reading response that took two, and a quiz that required three hours of studying (which is maybe for the class she’s failing, but, you know, physics is the worst so it’s fine).

Therefore, when she comes home Friday night after a day of classes, with a total of twelve hours of sleep over the last three days, she feels broken down. Walking home as it thundered and poured, she’d started crying, thankful for the rain masking her tears from other pedestrians. In her apartment, shielded from the wet cold day, she doesn’t have the same excuse. Which is why Peter perks up at the sound of the door opening and immediately scrunches his eyebrows together in concern. “MJ, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t say anything. She just walks straight to her room and lies down in her bed, still clothed in her wet jeans and oversized t-shirt. She cries quietly, tears leaking out of her eyes slowly. She’s still stressed and anxious so she doesn’t sleep. Her exhaustion simply hangs over her, foreboding and all-encompassing. She curls in on herself and remains that way for what feels like an eternity.

Then, there’s a light knock at the door. She stretches out and swings her legs over the bed, feet dragging on the floor as she makes her way to her door. It’s Peter, obviously. He looks worried. Perhaps because of her red, watery eyes or the fact that she’s shivering a bit because her pants are now cold and stuck to her legs. He bites the inside of his lip and gently extends his hand toward her, slip of paper in his palm.

She sighs because as much as she loves Peter, the last thing she wants to do is give him sexual favors. But the coupon reads:

           This coupon is good for one night of cuddling.

She laughs despite herself, shoulders shaking as more tears fall. Her walks in and envelops her in his arms. She feels small in his arms, even though she’s a good two inches taller than him. He slowly walks them back toward the bed and they topple onto it. He pulls her backside to his front and brings her fluffy beige blanket over them. His arms hold her middle to him and he tucks his legs into hers. “Hold on,” she says quietly, slowly detangling herself from him so that she can stand. She drags the jeans down her legs, and they fight her at each point. She almost trips pulling the pant legs off her feet. Peter has the decency to hide his laugh. Then she’s back in the bed, under the blanket, enveloped with Peter’s warmth.

His warm, steady breaths against her cheek are comforting. Her heart still races for a long while, but he just holds her tight against him. It’s nice. She lets the tears continue to leak out of her eyes and Peter squeezes her and kisses her cheek every so often. After what she guesses is an hour, she turns over so that she’s hugging him instead. He kisses her hair. Then, her forehead. Her cheek, her nose, her ear, all over her face. She looks up at him, and he smiles, gently leaning toward her and planting a gentle kiss on her mouth. It’s tender, sweet, everything MJ thinks she needs right now.

She runs her hands through his hair, which is slightly damp from the torrential downpour outside. He gets overly excited and squeezes her tightly against his body, almost hurting her. She laughs when he pulls back, blushing and apologetic. She sighs and says, “shut up, you loser,” before pulling him back toward her. He rolls over a bit so that his body is pressing hers into the mattress, and it feels a bit like when he was holding her in his arms.

The kisses never get too frantic, though. They’re slow, languid, affirming. They continue like that for a long while. Roaming hands, lips dragged against cheeks and necks and ears, soft sighs breathed out. At some point, Michelle chuckles and smiles into the kiss. “Last time I checked, the cuddle coupon didn’t involve making out, Parker.”

He smiles and drags his lips across her cheek to her ear. “We’ve always been good at overachieving, MJ.” He punches him lightly in the shoulder, but he ducks down and latches his lips onto her clavicle. Their kisses die down slowly and eventually the two settle into a hug. They fall asleep, even though it’s only eight o’clock.

When she wakes up in the morning, Peter’s turned on his side, facing her. His chest rises steadily with each breath he takes, and the sun bathes his hair in bright golden light. He’s never looked more beautiful, and MJ has never been more royally screwed in her life. She’s in too deep with this boy, and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do when the coupons run out.

“Em, it’s too early to be awake. Go back to bed.” He peeks one eye open and smiles brightly at her.

“Oh hush, you baby.” She sits up and swings her legs over the bed. She stretches her arms above her head and yawns, padding out of the room. “Scrambled eggs will be waiting for you, Sleeping Beauty!”

A groan is the only response he gives and she laughs. She’ll appreciate whatever she can have with Peter. Whatever this is for the time being.