#RAISE YOUR FIST TO THE AIR AND CALL FOR A NEW DAY !! ; memes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jenrecs · 2 years ago

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oh boy...

Admitting to your face that he’d been up all night with a girl, and then calling you first thing upon waking like he knows you’ll just be there, waiting for him.

me, for the fourth consecutive week, through tears, fists clenched: hahahahaha ok get it bear, you're doing amazing sweetie, good for u for getting laid! haha aaha .aaha ahhs.dja

Something in your stomach turns. You don’t want to. You don’t want to keep getting your heart stepped on. You don’t want his metaphorical scent on all of your clothes, so that you can’t go anywhere or do anything without him lingering on you.

*throws my head back like the seagull meme* *channels my inner taylor swift* AND I KNEW YOU'D LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS. I KNEW YOU'D HAUNT ALL OF MY WHAT IF'S.

God, you think to yourself. Get it together. Two days ago, it hadn’t been like this, where every met glance cues up a shy smile, and each tiny smile elicits a flush. You don’t know who this girl is but she is un-fucking-recognizable.

me, as if i didn't instantly smile when the text came and twirled my hair and shit: yeah gorl.. get it together jeez 🙄

You huff out a sigh. “Like - unrequited because the other person doesn’t know, or because they don’t return the feelings?”

“One of those is the good kind?” he asks, raising a brow.

“The first one,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “It’s… it always exists only as the idea of love, it’s untarnished, it can remain a beautiful and pure thing. It never gets messed up.”

okay jo... come after my feels at 10 in the morning i guess 🤒

but anyway THE POEMMMMM. i am v excited for the analysis of this one BECAUSE my brain thought a thing about namjoon being autumn askdfhksak

“Fucking shit,” Namjoon swears, and then he grabs your hand and tugs. “Come on!”

When you round the corner of your block, together, you try to pull back, try to slow down. Your lungs hurt, your legs are burning, and you just want to admit defeat and walk the block letting the rain know it won.

MHMM OKAY DIMPLES. when i tell u that i kicked my feet and squealed and everything... we're running in the rain, we're writing and talking about poetry and love and grief, true romance 💘

nah but his legs are too long for me. i would stop and let mother nature take me. you go dimples... leave me here i won't make it...

You look back at him, the rain still assaulting you from above. There’s a second where you feel something. Something like… you’re half-drowned and chilled to the bone, but you feel warm with his affectionate gaze on you. Like you don’t want him to look away and leave you cold again. Like the rain was penance and now you’re all paid up.

Like for at least this moment, right now, the rain has washed away your histories and left you clean and empty, a blank page waiting for a new story to tell - where before, your pages were full of scribbles and scrawls that held such heavy meaning there was no room for anything new.

LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK 😭 do not talk to me like genuinely do not talk to me. i need you to put a pin on updates bc i need at least 15 business days to recover from these paragraphs. god tffffff

“The stove is on fire!” you shriek, pointing, your spare hand flying to cover your mouth in horror. Flames crawl from underneath the pan of meat, over the top, devouring what’s in the pan and leaping into the air. Namjoon drops the knife with a clatter and whirls around, eyes wide.

“What do I do?” he cries, hands in the air like he’s going to swat the flames like gnats.

this might be the most chaotic thing i've ever read from u 😭 i had a feeling that something would go wrong the second i read that he was cooking but i never thought it'd go down like this. dimples you accidental arsonist

The thing about grief - long-term grief, lifetime grief - is that you can go days, maybe even weeks at a time without noticing it. It’s kind of like a bruise in a hard to reach spot. It just takes one bump in exactly the right place, and it hurts just as bad as day one all over again. Namjoon’s words pierce you, and you take a slow breath. You were just caught off-guard, that’s all. You can be fine. You can be normal.

the kitchen was on fire just minutes ago... how did we get there, jo why... we were just running around trying to put out the fire and clear the smoke like 2 idiots and you've just dumped this bucket of ice cold water on our heads. whiplash.

He’s teasing and you know it, but after a lifetime of friendship with Taehyung, you know this too: there’s a little sliver of him that must be hurt, or at least bothered, or he wouldn’t tease at all.

When he hugs you goodbye at the end of the night, swaying you playfully back and forth like he might drop you, both of you giggling wildly, you’re reminded of just what the stakes are. You’re reminded of just how much you have to lose.

nah i know that some people might be ready to come after tae's head but i'm still on the defense squad. like yeah, it might come across as him being hypocritical (this might show itself more clearly in later chapters). sure, i can do see how it might be interpreted as that. but i don't think he's doing it on purpose or idk is even aware of it. this subtle change is unfamiliar to the both of them, evident during that scene of her in the shower. and like, again, regardless of tae knowing about her feelings or not, i think he's just used to her always being there and adhering to him? idk it feels like he's used to knowing her, being her best friend and all that? but now she has a roommate (one of his buddies, no less) and they have a dynamic that he doesn't understand and he's practically an outsider here. them living together, secret texting during movie nights, exchange glances that he can't decipher, etc. sure, it is a liiiiiiitle selfish but i don't think he has bad intentions. it's just that things are slowly changing after been this way since forever and they both need to adjust to this new reality. does this make sense? i do not know! i hope it does tho lol

anyway read the teaser for next week and JAILLLLLLLL. my money's on tae getting riled up and saying Dumb Stuff 😙

IV. Something Has to Change

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love.

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

Your friendship with Taehyung starts to show its cracks.

Section Warnings: language

WC: 7.5k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Saturday October 20th

You text Taehyung before going to sleep just to confirm he didn’t die in a ditch, but it’s radio silence from him until almost three o’clock the next afternoon. When he does finally answer you - “alive but at what cost?” - you roll your eyes and turn your phone over, screen down. You’re sitting in the living room, two author anthologies open on the coffee table, bookends to your open notebook.

Apparently he’s displeased with your silence, because your phone buzzes again a few minutes later - the longer buzz, indicating a call of some kind. With a huff of aggravation, you flip it over to see it’s a video call, his preferred method of communication. You slide the button to accept the call, but let him stare at your ceiling.

“What?” you demand. “I can’t talk, I have to go call off my search parties.”

“I was asleep,” he defends himself. “I texted you as soon as I woke up!”

“Didn’t sleep last night, huh?” you joke, but the sting is there. Just a little.

He avoids the question. “What are we doing tonight?”

You laugh at the audacity of his whole existence. Admitting to your face that he’d been up all night with a girl, and then calling you first thing upon waking like he knows you’ll just be there, waiting for him. What would happen if you weren’t?

Not to mention asking what the Saturday night plan is thirty seconds after waking up with a hangover.

“I’m assuming you won’t want to go out?” you ask.

He hums, runs a hand through his messy hair. “Depends. I could be persuaded, maybe. Wouldn’t mind just hanging out, though. What about a movie? We have that one we’ve been saving?”

We.

You’re not sure why, today, it’s bothering you so much. The truth is, Taehyung’s acting and speaking the same as always. So what’s different?

You don’t want to examine the answer to that, so you focus on the plan instead. “I like the sound of a movie,” you agree. “Wanna see if anyone else is interested?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “I’ll text everyone.”

“Sounds good. See you around eight?”

“Should we order dinner before that?” he asks.

And at the same time, he’s your best friend. He’s your family. You love him, in multiple ways.

It feels like being tugged in opposite directions. It feels like lose/lose. It feels like there’s no right answer, nowhere to turn, no option that doesn’t hurt.

“Not tonight,” you hear yourself say. “I have too much homework.”

“Okay,” he says easily. “See you around eight, then. I’ll let you know if anyone else is coming with me.”

You try to return to homework after you hang up, but your focus is shot. You lean onto the cushy back of the couch, closing your eyes. You’re still sitting like that when you hear the front door open. Namjoon hadn’t been home when you got up, had been out the whole time.

“Hey,” you say, eyes still closed.

He gives a chuckle. “Everything okay?”

“I think my brain is broken,” you tell him. “Can Edna write about something besides death?”

He huffs out a laugh, and you hear him drop his keys onto the counter. “I think she does,” he says, coming closer and peering at the anthology you still have open on the table in front of you. “Nature. Rebellion. Men. Women. Love. Sex.”

Your cheeks burn, like you’re thirteen damn years old, just from hearing the word sex in his low, steady voice.

Get a grip, you scold yourself silently.

“I guess so,” you admit. “But today everything I read is about grief.”

“Take a break,” he suggests, moving into the kitchen. You hear a cabinet open and the sink run, and then he comes in carrying a glass of water. He sits down a few feet away from you on the couch and copies your pose, leaning back against the cushions.

It occurs to you that you’ve never sat on the couch at the same time as him before. In fact, your Uber ride last night was the closest your bodies had ever been.

“We’re gonna watch a movie tonight,” you find yourself telling him. “That new one with what’s-his-face, Raven’s Prophecy? Around eight. If you want to join.”

“Yeah,” he says right away, surprising you. “Sounds good.”

–

The movie’s good - really good. You’re all crowded around the living room - Namjoon on one end of the couch, Yoongi on the other, you and Taehyung and Jimin on the floor. The coffee table has been pushed to the side to make room for you, the lights turned down. Taehyung is sitting with his back against the couch, legs extended in front of him, and you have a throw-pillow leaning against his knees, laying perpendicular to him. Jimin sits next to Taehyung, one of his legs resting lazily over top of yours.

It feels normal, and it feels nice, and everything weird from earlier seems to float away. Maybe you had just been tired.

“That’s totally foreshadowing,” you pipe up, raising a hand to point at the screen. “Because when he-.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says loudly, reaching over to flick the back of your arm. “No nerd talk. Just enjoy the movie. No one asked for a literary analysis.”

“But, look -.”

“No,” he repeats firmly, and Jimin giggles, used to this exact squabble. “This is fun, not school.”

“Foreshadowing is fun!” you protest, laughing, but you let it go.

A second later, your phone buzzes in your hand.

[9:37 PM] Namjoon: 🤯

You bite back a smile, turning off your screen before the light can catch anyone’s attention, and then you cast your gaze up at the couch to find Namjoon looking right at you, a sheepish smile creeping up on one side of his face.

You’re thankful for the dark of the room, the light shifting and changing with the scene on the tv screen, as you feel yourself blush.

You wait a minute or two, then turn your brightness down and send back, “but am i wrong?”. Then you glance back up to watch Namjoon read the text. He gives a laugh, one shake of his shoulders as he sees it, and then he meets your gaze. That same half-smile on his face, he shakes his head imperceptibly.

Behind you, beneath you, Taehyung shifts and you turn back to the tv quickly, feeling something akin to guilt simmer in your gut. You don’t see his eyes bounce back and forth between you and Namjoon, curious.

Monday October 22nd

Monday brings bright sunshine despite the chilly air, morning light illuminating the deep reds and oranges of the trees down the block.

Namjoon finds you in the kitchen, staring listlessly into an untouched cup of coffee.

“Good morning?” he greets you, a question.

You startle. “Shit!” you yelp and then laugh, heart pounding. “I didn’t even hear you getting ready in there. ”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says apologetically. “I’m heading to campus in a bit… how about you?”

“Yeah,” you say glumly. “I have work and class.”

“Same,” he says, moving around you to rummage for some breakfast. “Class first, and then I’m TA-ing all afternoon.”

You give him a little smile. “I don’t think I’ll be needing your services today.”

“No?” he asks mildly. “Last few submissions went well?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I’ve written anything worth submitting.”

He laughs, his back to you, and then settles against the kitchen counter. “I can help you brainstorm, too, if you’re stuck.”

You bite back the prideful I don’t need your help that rises to your tongue. He’s being nice. Instead, you say, “Hopefully I’ll make some progress on my own. Have fun, though. You still have that office to yourself? If I had that, I’d be so productive. Nothing to distract me.”

Namjoon shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “I find ways. I still have my phone. And a window.”

You laugh at this, and then rise, draining half of your mug of coffee in one go. “I need to head in. Are you leaving now, too? Or, later?”

“I can make now work,” he says, something warm in his tone. “Let me just go grab my bag.”

Out front, you blink against the sudden brightness, holding up a hand to shield your eyes as they adjust. Namjoon locks the front door and comes down the steps at a light jog, stopping next to you.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you tell him, and you start off towards campus in silence, the only noise around you the calls of birds and the hum of car engines from nearby traffic.

You stop at an intersection, watching the orange hand tell you to wait. “So,” you say, glancing up at him as the cars whiz by, “what’s your book about?”

He looks at you completely blankly, like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

“For the grad program,” you clarify. “You said you were in fiction, right?”

“Oh,” he says, as if he forgot. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” you say dryly.

“It’s a coming-of-age, I guess,” he says, rubbing his chin as he thinks. He’s wearing his glasses today, and you have half a mind to tease him that he’s just trying to look like one of the professors so they don’t kick him out of his hijacked office. “And a bit of an unrequited love story.”

“The good kind or the bad kind?” you ask, a little absently. When he doesn’t answer, you look at him to determine why, and he’s looking at you like you’ve asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

You huff out a sigh. “Like - unrequited because the other person doesn’t know, or because they don’t return the feelings?”

“One of those is the good kind?” he asks, raising a brow.

“The first one,” you say, as if it’s obvious. “It’s… it always exists only as the idea of love, it’s untarnished, it can remain a beautiful and pure thing. It never gets messed up.”

“But you’re alone,” Namjoon counters.

“You still love someone,” you insist. “The meaning of life, and all that shit.”

Namjoon shakes his head as the stoplight above you changes from green to yellow, and then to red. “It’s not the same as loving someone and having them love you back, building it together and working to sustain it,” he says firmly. “That’s real love.” And then he heads for the crosswalk, his long legs carrying him swiftly away.

You hurry to catch up, feet following his without question.

–

The first leaf falls, a warning. Now the rest will follow. I watched them sway all summer. Autumn leaves me hollow.

There’s a promise in the air, I turn towards the icy bite. If autumn can’t make me happy, I wonder if winter might.

Aren’t those frozen days so dark? Isn’t catching snowflakes strange? Perhaps this could be something. Perhaps something has to change.

You frown at the page. Half of you is tempted to take Namjoon up on his offer to workshop during his TA hours, but you’ve got a good reason not to let him see this one.

“Y/N?” Kris calls from the register at the front of the store. “Did I leave my phone back there?”

Their voice brings you back to reality, pulling your focus from the page of your notebook open on your lap. You’re hiding in the stockroom, sitting on an unpacked box of what you hope are books, trying to cram in some coursework.

Kris’s phone is indeed on a table behind you, where you sling your bookbag when you come in to start a shift. You rise, slipping your notebook back into said bag and grabbing the phone, walking it out to them.

You’re alarmed when both phones buzz in your hands, a long, repeating pattern that you aren’t accustomed to.

“What the fuck?” you utter, even though if your boss heard you cursing on the floor you’d get a written reprimand for the first time in your life.

“Storm alert,” Kris says, reaching one grabby hand out for their phone. You pass it over and press your thumb to your own screen. Sure enough, it’s a severe weather alert.

You groan. “Great. I walked here.” You try to pull up the radar, but your shitty service takes too long to load it so you switch over to the hour-by-hour.

“See if your knight in shining armor will give you a ride,” Kris says with a twisted chuckle.

For a second, you aren’t sure if they mean Taehyung or Namjoon, and that fact is startling. Obviously they mean Taehyung, they know a lot of your history with him and they don't know anything about what’s happening with Namjoon. Nothing is happening with Namjoon, you correct yourself sternly. You had a weird desire to scoot closer while drunk in an Uber and had one sort of deep conversation. It’s not a thing.

And, actually, texting Taehyung for a ride is a pretty good idea. Outside, it’s not even raining yet, but the clouds hang low and the leaves that have managed to cling to their branches this late into autumn are flipping and shimmying in the harsh wind.

There’s a long line of students waiting to check out - probably grabbing last minute snacks and drinks before the rain starts, so they don’t have to go out later - so you slide next to Kris at the second register and swipe your access card. You work like this for at least an hour, the rain starting a pace outside the windows as steady as the flow of students trying to get what they need and hurry back to their dorms.

When you catch a minute, you send a text, holding your phone down under the counter and typing with one hand, as if it isn’t painfully obvious what you’re doing. When the answer comes in, you tap the screen quickly.

[4:22 PM] You: are you still on campus?

[4:31 PM] Namjoon: just finished work. can’t wait to walk back in this…

You giggle and Kris looks at you out of the corner of their eyes.

“That him?” they ask. They mean Taehyung, and you’re too damn aware of the lie as you answer, “Mhm.”

[4:34 PM] You: i’m done in 25 min if you want to suffer together

[4:36 PM] Namjoon: yeah sounds good you can make sure i dont drown lol

An “lol”? Oh, goodness.

[4:37 PM] Namjoon: you’re at the bookstore right? i’ll come there and wait for you

Oh, lord, Kris is going to have a field day with this. You don’t have time to focus on this, as your boss finally sweeps out of her adjoining office, announcing that you need to shut down the second register and finish everything in the back room before your shift ends. She’ll be the one to close the store tonight, as she does on Mondays.

When you emerge from the back room at 4:59 on the dot, your backpack on your back, Namjoon is loitering near the registers, and Kris is shooting you looks that are somehow mischievous, delighted, and wounded. You have a feeling you’ll be interrogated during your shift on Wednesday.

Outside, the rain isn’t that bad, but it is steady. The wind blowing makes it look like it’s raining left to right, in sheets.

“We’re gonna be drenched,” you groan. You follow Namjoon out of the bookstore, waving a goodbye at a still-disgruntled Kris, stopping at the glass doors that lead outside.

“It’s not that bad,” Namjoon tells you, voice a little fond, like he thinks your complaining is cute. “We’ll just go quick. I’m mostly worried about my laptop.”

“Ugh, same,” you lament. “We’d better be fast, I fully cannot afford a new one.”

“Let’s go,” he tells you, and leads you outside. Just like that morning, your feet follow his, like it’s natural. You walk in silence almost halfway home, the pace too clipped to really carry on any kind of conversation.

You’re practically panting for breath when you hit the major crosswalk, stopping to wait for the signal to walk. The rain seems worse when you’re stopped - sticking your hair to your head where it lands, raising the hairs on your arms as your body gives one dramatic shiver against the chill. Namjoon looks down at you.

“We’re almost there,” he says, reassuring.

“Mhm,” you manage, rubbing your hands over your arms to fight off the goosebumps. The light changes and you start across, following Namjoon and his naturally long stride. You keep your eyes on the ground, dodging puddles, watching the white stripes pass beneath you.

You’re just across, stepping up the curb onto the sidewalk, when it happens.

The sky opens.

One second it’s raining hard enough to be a nuisance, the next second it feels like someone dumped a bucket of water over your head. The sound goes from a soft patter to a sudden roar, like the rain is alive and it is pissed. You splutter, actually blowing water away from your lips, reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“Fucking shit,” Namjoon swears, and then he grabs your hand and tugs. “Come on!”

He’s not running that fast but there’s still a few seconds where you feel uneven, your gait awkward, trying to match his. Eventually your feet settle into the rhythm and you run just behind him. His hand, so large in yours it's almost swallowing it, is warm and solid and sure. His grip is tight - like he means it. He doesn’t look back as he runs, just squeezes your hand in his and trusts you to keep up.

Namjoon doesn’t let you. He slows his pace to more of a race-walk, gives your arm another playful tug. Not for a single second does he loosen his grip on your hand.

“You can make it,” he tells you over his shoulder. His hair is flattened from the rain, his face a little flushed from the run, but his dimples wink at you through the deluge.

When he reaches the front of the apartment, he finally drops your hand and takes the steps at a clip. At the top, under the safety of the awning, he turns to see why you haven’t followed him.

You can’t help it - it’s all so ridiculous you have to laugh. Your hair sticks to your face like cooked spaghetti, your shirt clings to your arms, your backpack is dripping water like there’s a faucet in there, and even your socks are wet, making each step you take squelch like mud. Still cackling at the absurdity of this moment, of having been completely defeated by the season, of running all the way home and still ending up half-drowned, you look up at the sky. The rain slides down the sides of your face and you let it cool the heat that’s there from either running, or Namjoon’s touch.

You feel a little drunk from it.

“Y/N!” Namjoon scolds from the top of the stairs, but he’s smiling that same fond little smile he’d had on movie night a few days ago. “Come inside! You’re going to get pneumonia.”

You’re thinking too much.

You’re standing in the rain, Namjoon is looking at you like you’re nuts, and you’re thinking too much.

Watching your feet, you head up the stairs, going through the front door that he’s holding open for you.

You squish your way upstairs, neither of you talking. Inside the apartment, Namjoon flicks on a few lamps.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” he tells you, voice quiet. “You should, too.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “That was my plan.”

You stand beneath the spray of hot water, tapping on the faucet to work it hotter by degrees, not wanting the temperature to jump and scald you. You feel drained, like your limbs are noodles. You lean your forehead against the tile wall, closing your eyes and just breathing.

“What the fuck…” you whisper to no one, “is going on?”

You wish you had a friend to talk it out with. Kris would go overboard, exploding with glee. Lin isn’t a talk about boys kind of person, or even a talk about your feelings kind. That leaves Taehyung, and the idea of trying to talk to him about your burgeoning feelings for Namjoon makes you laugh out loud, the single syllable echoing off the shower walls, echoing back to mock you.

When you finally make it back into the living room, hair blow-dried and wearing your fuzziest joggers and a hoodie, Namjoon is tucked away in his own room, the door open that familiar four inches.

You get settled on the couch and pull out your phone and realize practically with a gasp - you hadn’t even tried to text Taehyung to drive you, nice and dry, back from campus. Your brain had thought but I walked here with Namjoon and the option of “dry” went right out the window.

You cover your face with your hands, sliding down on the couch a little bit. What is the matter with you?

You feel right now like it’s all happening too much, too fast. What even is “it”? Do you like Namjoon? Despite barely knowing him? Despite having to live with him?

Despite the years and years of experience you have with loving Taehyung, and Taehyung alone, out of everyone in the whole wide world?

Luckily, Namjoon stays in his room for the rest of the evening, sparing you from any more self-reflection, any more soul-searching.

You still kind of wish he’d come out.

Tuesday October 23rd

One of the steady things that you and Namjoon share, that works for you as roommates, is that neither of you cooks. A whole kitchen of pots and pans just to heat up water for tea and ramen and to occasionally cook an egg.

So when you get home from class on Tuesday so late that it’s already pretty dark out and you hear the clanging and banging from the kitchen that indicates a meal being made, you genuinely wonder if you’re at the wrong door.

As you push the door open, the noise only gets louder. You round the corner and see the kitchen in chaos - two unmanned pans on the stove, bowls and whisks and colanders and cutting boards all over the counterspace. Namjoon has his back to you, a large kitchen knife in hand.

You ease around him, not wanting to startle him until the knife is set down. He spots you anyway, and gives you a sheepish grin.

“What… exactly… is happening here?” you inquire.

“It depends on the scope of your question,” Namjoon answers, because of course he can’t just fucking answer you like a normal person. “If you’re referring to the stove, I am burning some sauce on the left and burning some meat on the right. If you’re referring to the cutting board, I am -.”

“What do I do?” he cries, hands in the air like he’s going to swat the flames like gnats.

“Turn off the burner and smother it!” you cry, not willing to enter the kitchen and get closer to the danger.

“Smother it?” he repeats, the words a little wild as he screams them. Smoke has filled the kitchen, blurring your view of him, and the smoke alarm over the front door begins to blare.

“The lid!” you scream, trying to be louder than the alarm. “Turn off the burner and put the lid on the pan! Be careful!”

You add this last part in a shriek as Namjoon follows your directions, reaching towards the flame to twist the burner and then slam the lid over the top of the pan, hissing a little as he does.

The flames vanish almost instantly, but the smoke remains and the alarm keeps screaming. Namjoon looks at the pan, then his hand, then at you.

“Go run cool water on that,” you tell him firmly, and you cross the apartment to open the windows and turn on the fans.

You return to the kitchen to find Namjoon running the sink over his knuckles, brows furrowed.

“Is it bad?” you ask loudly - again, to be heard over the smoke alarm - as you open a drawer and get a kitchen towel, moving to stand in the kitchen’s doorway flapping away, trying to send the smoke towards the open windows.

“No,” he tells you, pulling his hand out of the stream of water to examine it more closely. “It’s just a little red.”

“Keep it there for a little bit,” you tell him, still flapping away. “I might have burn cream in my bathroom, I’ll check in a second.”

Eventually the alarm quiets and you both heave a sigh of relief. The cold air coming from the open windows chills you down to your toes, but smoke still clings to the room, blurring your vision just enough to wonder if you’re imagining it.

You find the burn cream in your medicine cabinet and return to the living room. Namjoon is looking at the ruined remains of his dinner with something like heartbreak on his face.

“Come here,” you tell him, sitting at the breakfast bar, ointment in your hand. “Come sit so I can do this.”

“I can do it,” he protests, but he heads your way.

“Sit,” you repeat, pulling out the stool next to you.

He does, silently and obediently, sliding his hand over to you. You can see the redness over his knuckles, middle and index the most. You uncap the tube and squeeze a little onto your fingers, then take his hand in your spare one to hold it steady. Gently you press the cream into his skin, making sure to cover each bit of redness. Namjoon watches you solemnly, wincing a little when your fingers touch his middle knuckle.

“See if that helps,” you tell him, his hand still resting on yours. “Want help cleaning up?”

He sighs heavily, and you both look at the kitchen in defeat at the mess of pans and bowls to wash.

“Do you ever just… miss your mom?” he asks plaintively, not looking at you.

“Sure,” you say, trying to sound casual. Failing.

He narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. “Why’d you get weird?” he asks. “Do you have a bad relationship with your mom or something? I didn’t mean to -.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, but you rise and head for the kitchen, starting to pick things up just to do something with your hands. “It’s just… I don’t have my mom anymore. She passed when I was little. My dad too.” Might as well get it all out there. It felt weird to let someone only know half.

It’s easier to handle this moment with Namjoon in another room. You don’t have to watch him react, don’t have to translate his silence and his body language. You slide all the chopped onion onto a plate just in case Namjoon still wants to use it, and turn to rinse off the cutting board in the sink.

He appears behind you, silently lingering in the doorway. “Y/N,” he says softly.

“It’s fine, Namjoon,” you tell him, scrubbing at the cutting board vigorously. You don’t turn to face him.

“I wouldn’t have been so blase about it if I’d known,” he says apologetically.

“I know,” you say. You turn - away from the doorway - to put the cutting board aside to dry. You grab the pan with sauce in it - all congealed and unappetizing now - and move to scrape it into the garbage can.

He comes up beside you; his fingers touch your elbow, feather-light, like he’s afraid he’ll spook you.

“Y/N,” he implores. “Look at me.”

You do, glancing sideways up at him, the pan heavy in your hand. “I’m not upset,” you assure him. “People just get so weird when they find out. I hate… navigating that, over and over again, with new people.”

He gives you a guilty smile, but there’s relief in it as well. “I will stop being weird immediately,” he promises. “I just felt like I stepped in it, you know?”

You shrug. “It happens to the best of us. It really is fine. It’s been a long time.”

You arm tingles where he’d touched you, but he stays put when you move back to the sink, running the water hot enough to steam before you put the pan under it. Then, wordlessly, he moves next to you, grabbing a cloth and starting to dry the cutting board you’d washed.

You carry on that like that, a perfectly synchronized dance, in silence until the countertop is empty. All that remains is the pan that had been alight about half an hour ago.

“Can I ask you something personal?” he asks, leaning against the counter as you scrape the remains of the charred meat into the garbage with a grimace. “I’m just curious. You can tell me to fuck off.”

“It’s so jarring when you swear,” you tell him.

He grins at you. “Hobi says my surprising potty-mouth is one of my best charms.”

You laugh at this. “I can see that,” you agree. “It is surprising.”

“Not charming?” he teases.

You shrug, feeling that blush rise up again. “No comment. Anyway - what did you want to ask?”

He lets you get away with evading the flirtation. “If you were little… who raised you?”

“Oh,” you say. You aren’t sure what you thought he’d ask, but it wasn’t that. “My grandma, until she couldn’t. Then my Aunt Lin took over, but she’s more like a big sister than anything.”

Namjoon nods. Then he asks, carefully, “Did Taehyung know your parents?”

The question makes you smile at the memories it pulls up - you and Taehyung as kids together, goofing off around your house, back when it had been filled with people.

“Yeah,” you say softly. It doesn’t occur to you to wonder why he’d ask that. It doesn’t occur to you to mask the tiny smile, that it might jostle his feelings even a little bit.

You look over at him when you realize he’s gone quiet. “Are you close with your family?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He nods, eyes on the pan lid that he’s drying. “Very. I was a lost soul when I first moved to campus. I couldn’t do anything.”

“You burned dinner tonight,” you point out.

“I can do laundry now,” he retorts, smiling at you as you put the last of the dishes away. “I’ve come a long way.”

“Still room to grow,” you tease, reaching out to give his arm a playful nudge.

You’re giving playful touches now. That’s a thing that’s happening.

You ache, again, to have someone to tell.

Wednesday October 24th

You both love and hate Wednesdays - on one hand, you have your thesis double-feature, and you actually enjoy it. On the other hand, you go straight from double-class to closing shift at the campus store, and you don’t get home until dark. The day is long, and you’d rather be home. For several reasons.

Your morning goes as you expect - you make it through the lecture part of class, updating Professor Jemisen on how your research segment is going. During the break, you eat some leftovers you’d thrown in your backpack, and talk with Gloria and the other girls. After the break, your group helps you workshop your latest poem, the one about the season changing, and you do the same for them.

The season changing is happening in real life, all around you. Fall fades quickly, the days darkening, the chills lasting longer, becoming more pronounced. Gone are the autumn days that change their mood and become summer again for hours at a time.

You normally go straight to the campus store after class, but this week you’re hungry - the leftovers you packed weren’t enough to keep you until you get home. Instead of heading down the main paved path to the student center, where you work, you head for a large academic building you pass on the way there. You know there’s a little sandwich station on the lowest floor, tucked away past the mailroom like a well-kept secret.

You take a hallway off to the side, passing some open classrooms on your way to the staircase. You’re walking mindlessly, head thinking only about the sandwich you’re going to order. You slow your steps when you hear a familiar voice, low and calm.

“All I’m saying,” a girl is saying, and you stop in the doorway, listening, “is that while the idea of going to live alone in the woods is actually extremely appealing, Thoreau as a whole kind of sucks.”

“I might agree with you, but you need to frame that more academically,” Namjoon corrects gently.

A circle of students - freshmen, if you had to guess, maybe eight of them, are sitting at desks, their bags all forgotten on the floor by their chairs. Namjoon perches on the edge of the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, legs casually stretched out before him. He’s listening intently as the students debate.

“We have to specify the problem,” someone else in the group points out. “I’m all for metaphorically dragging down statues of the patriarchy and everything, but we need a solid argument.”

“Or,” a different girl says, voice just barely loud enough for you to hear from the hallway, “maybe instead of giving more attention to ‘classics’ we see as undeserving, maybe instead we should focus just on the underprivileged voices that we prefer to be amplified?”

“You mean pick a lesser-known author and shed light on their work instead?” Namjoon clarifies, and the girl nods.

The group begins to debate this passionately, and Namjoon lets them fight it out, taking a second to glance at his phone. You become aware of the fact that you’re just standing in the hallway staring. You’re about to move on when Namjoon notices you. He looks away quickly at first, and then it registers that it was you standing in the doorway like a weirdo, and his gaze flies back to you.

Caught, you have no choice but to lean into it. You give him a tiny smile, raising a hand in a guilty wave. He smiles back, just barely. You stay there another minute, smiling at each other, while the freshmen continue to argue. Then your feet spur you on, and you give him a little nod before heading down the hall. But the stupid fucking butterflies stay in your stomach the whole time you wait in line for your sandwich.

When you get to the bookshop, you toss your backpack behind the counter and slump onto a low stool that’s stashed back there. You lean your head on the counter next to the currently unmanned register and let out some unhappy grumbles.

Kris comes out from the stockroom - you can tell it’s them by their footsteps.

“What is happening here,” they say flatly, not exactly a question.

“Kriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis,” you whine, not looking up. “I think I need to talk about… my roommate.”

“Bitch!” they utter indignantly. “He has a name! What grade are we in right now?”

You stomp your feet lightly, needing to display your crankiness. “I am feeling very confused and conflicted and I need you to be nice to me about it,” you say petulantly, finally picking your head up so you can pout better.

“Okay,” Kris says easily, leaning against the wall. The shop is devoid of customers, so you don’t bother to lower your voice. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you continue to whine. “It’s just how I feel.”

Kris gives you a level stare. “I need the whining to stop, like, yesterday. If you feel conflicted, there’s a reason. So, figure out what it is.”

“I already said I don’t know,” you tell them, still pouty, but sitting up straight now.

“Dig deep,” Kris deadpans. “Do it for the dimples.”

“Oh my GOD,” you say, unable to even make eye contact. “Never mind, conversation over.”

They shake their head, not letting you off the hook. “What’s the problem, Square?” It’s a nickname they gave you last year when you wouldn’t go partying - because… apparently you’re a square.

“You know the problem,” you grumble quietly, making them lean closer to hear you.

They lean back, something knowing in their eyes. “Ah. It’s the Taehyung factor.”

“Shh,” you scold, glancing around the empty store like someone might have materialized without you noticing. When you return your gaze to them, Kris is just staring at you plainly, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I don’t know,” you say, and then more emphatically, “I don’t know! If I… start something else… does that mean giving Taehyung up? Because I can’t say I want to do that. Not if I’m being honest.”

Kris nods silently, letting you work it out. You meet their eyes, suddenly feeling the squeeze of anxiety around your chest, like your lungs have something heavy they have to push every time you inhale.

“If I lose him,” you say in practically a whisper, “I will quite literally die.”

Kris scowls at you. “You will not.”

“I will,” you retort.

Kris gives you an eyeroll. “So dramatic,” they scold.

“He’s my family, Kris,” you try to explain. “In a lot of ways he’s my only family.” Your voice breaks as you ask, “What if I lose him?”

Now Kris softens, lips pulling together into something like a very pursed frown. “Maybe you should talk to him,” they suggest quietly.

You hate that idea a lot. “Maybe,” you say loudly, slapping your hand on the counter and standing as the bell over the door chimes and a group of lacrosse guys (the sticks are a give-away) enter the store with a burst of noisy chatter, “I should never talk about any of this ever again.”

Kris sighs heavily, practically doubling over. Now who’s dramatic? “You’re so self-destructive,” they complain.

“Don’t be mean,” you say, going back to pouting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kris waves a hand at you. “Go write a poem about it.”

“And what if I do?” you demand, but you’re both laughing now, unlocking the registers as the lacrosse dudes line up to pay for their snacks and drinks.

–

Taehyung texts you near the end of your shift - “we haven’t hung out in five billion years :(“.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and text back, “come get me from the bookstore then and hang out for a little”.

You’re pleased when he agrees. He shows up a little bit before closing, knocking on the already locked glass doors. You hurry to let him in, ignoring Kris staring knives into your back.

“Hi,” you say happily as he slips into the store, and you lock the door again behind him. “I’ll be done in about four minutes.”

“‘Kay,” he says easily, striding over to the checkout counter and leaning against it.

“Taehyung,” Kris greets him, nodding their head as they lock the register. “How’s it going?”

He sighs dramatically. “The usual. Classes. Parties. Trying to figure out why Y/N doesn’t love me anymore.”

You freeze halfway to the stockroom, your eyes wide, air catching in your throat.

Luckily, Kris is and always has been way more slick than you. They cock their head quizzically, letting a playfully concerned frown settle over their features.

“Y/N doesn’t love you anymore?” they echo, the poor baby pronounced in their tone. “What on earth do you mean?”

Taehyung shoots you a mischievous look; luckily, you’ve gotten your act together since he said those words.

“I had to beg for her attention tonight,” he says, clearly loving this bit. “I’m beginning to think she has a secret boyfriend she’s not telling me about.”

You feel both caught - despite not having a secret boyfriend or anything like it - and guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I just got busy with my thesis and everything. I promise I’m not out with other people and not you. Even Kris only sees me at work these days.”

“And Namjoon,” Taehyung adds plaintively, and your blood runs cold.

“Namjoon?” you echo, not sure you can form a different word.

Taehyung’s pouting now, which means he’s not too serious. “Yeah, he has no choice, you’re in his living room every day.”

“Oh,” you say, relief flooding through you. “Yeah.”

You don’t see the point in telling Taehyung that there’s a teeny, tiny something starting with Namjoon. Not when it’s so… unformed, insubstantial, uncertain. You don’t know which word fits best. It’s a maybe at best, and it just doesn’t seem worth rocking the boat over it.

What would happen if things started for real? Would you tell him? It shouldn’t have to be a secret… it shouldn’t stay a secret, not if you mean it. What would happen?

You’re afraid to know the answers.

You finish up in the store and you all head to the parking lot together. You tell Kris goodbye and drop down into Taehyung’s passenger seat.

“You’re gonna stay at the apartment for a little?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he says, fiddling with the heat until he gets it how he wants it. “Can I work on homework with you?”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I have so much shit to do. I wasn’t kidding when I said school is eating my life. Senior year sucks.”

Taehyung isn’t looking at you - he’s watching the road as he waits for an opening in traffic so he can pull out of the parking lot. But something crosses his face - relief, maybe. Something softens, anyway. Maybe he really had been hurt that you hadn’t been hanging out as much.

When you return to the apartment, Namjoon isn’t home - his door hangs open, his bedroom completely dark.

You and Taehyung settle in the living room, dragging out your laptops. It’s nice, hanging out like this again. You hadn’t realized how long it had been - over a week - since it had been just the two of you, like old times. Everything falls right into place. You swap snacks, hands brushing as you both reach into crinkling chip bags. You reach over and type nonsense into his paper when he isn’t paying attention, letting out peals of laughter when he figures it out and starts spluttering at you in outrage. You tell him about the customer at the store who argued with you over - of all the stupid things - a used copy of The Odyssey.

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ahhhhh what do we think??!! there was hand holding!!!! are we clutching our pearls??!!!

as always thank you all so so so much for being here, i appreciate every one of you so extremely much!!!

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cyberdreamlandwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Just for a Moment

Summary: Nathan doesn't react to your pregnancy the way you thought. In fact, he doesn't react at all

Authors note: So this is my first reader insert fanfiction ever, which is a bit scary! Luckily I had the amazing help of @writefightandflightclub This story is even inspired by her own dad!Nathan story! This story is also for her, I truly hope you all enjoy! Nathan is a bit ooc in this, especially near the end. Oh, and no beta reader, apologizes for the mistakes. Wrote this in a few hours too.

Word count: 2.6k

You two had been so careful. So, so careful!

Well, except for that time when he took you on the counter-top for nearly three hours. Or when he fucked you in the shower. Or when you bounced on his dick for a hot minute in his lab. Or the time-

Okay, well, maybe the two of you hadn't been careful. Big whoop. You'd been dating for nearly a year, stuck in his, as you called it 'Futuristic House of Doom' after the incident where his A.I tried to murder him.

But he didn't like to talk about that.

Regardless, it didn't matter. You two were happy and in a stable relationship. And now you were going to have a kid.

But neither of you had ever even mentioned kids.

You'd wanted to have them in your teen years, you even picked out names for your future children.

Names that you'd long forgotten and didn't care to try and remember.

Then straight out of college you somehow got a job at Blue Book. And over the past five years, you'd been making your way up the ladder. Slowly but surely up the ladder. You had been too busy to have children, and you weren't sure you even wanted them.

But now? You were quite positive you wanted them, or at least one.

But Nathan, fuck, what would he think? He didn't show much affection, you'd only gotten one 'I love you' from him about a month ago.

That wasn't to say he was a bad boyfriend. He still snuggled with you on the rare nights he actually slept. He made love to you several times a week, occasionally worshiping you while doing so, calling you his goddess until you would cum.

He'd make you food when he was out of the lab. He taught you how to use the punching bag correctly. He'd press occasional kisses to you when he walked past. He had carried you back to the house when you had fallen and twisted your ankle, not complaining once about the trek or the fact that you had made him miss out on an entire day of work.

He did show affection in his own Nathan way.

You eyed the pregnancy test in your trembling hands.

What's the worst thing he could do? Scream and yell at you? Send you home and never speak with you again?

Those were all possibilities but Nathan didn't scream or yell much. He'd only yelled once when something he'd been working on for eight hours crashed without him saving it. And of course that's not counting the times he yelled in bed. But for the most part, he didn't yell.

You shoved the test into your pocket and wondered if he already knew.

You went into town twice a month, and had bought a test on your last visit. You'd shoved the box into the closet behind a stack of blankets when you got back home. Could he have found it?

Could he be expecting you when you exited the bathroom, arms crossed, eyebrow raised?

Plus you hadn't been eating much, but he never commented on it. You ate when he offered food to you, but otherwise stuck to crackers and water. Maybe he hadn't heard your retching in the toilet at three a.m. The lab was far enough away that he probably couldn't hear it, especially when the door was closed. Or maybe he had and just didn't give that much of a shit to check on you.

Or did he truly have no idea and you were about to give him the shock of his life? You washed your hands, making your way towards the lab. Your legs shook, but you continued on until you could hear the clacking of his keyboard. You exhaled and knocked on the glass, but he didn't look up.

"Nathan, can I talk to you?"

He doesn't pay any mind to you as you enter, something you would huff and whine about usually, but now you were gonna start crying if he didn't give you something. A grunt, a look, a word....something.

"Well, it's important. Like, super important."

He grabbed a pen and scribbled something down, then went back to scrolling.

"It's life changing news."

Still nothing.

You clenched your fists and walked up next to him. "I'm pregnant." You pulled out the test and shoved it in his direction but he didn't look up from the screen.

You pulled the test away, your body feeling like jelly. You wanted to call him a fucking asshole or a piece of shit. But you couldn't find any words or emotions besides heartbreak. Was this his way of saying you needed to leave? To say you weren't welcome here anymore?

You turned and went to the kitchen, grabbing some crackers and stumbling back to your room. You slammed the door, heart pounding. She couldn't cry, not yet. He was going to come in tonight and apologize, explain he was doing something important but that he's all done now and he's here to listen.

Or he'd tell you the helicopter is coming to pick you up in the morning.

You really hoped it was the former.

You opened your laptop and curled up under the soft blue blanket you had insisted on him buying the first time he came into town with you. Because as you had said. 'Your house is boring as shit, it needs some color. We're buying this.'

You put on your headphones and searched for something pleasant to watch. You found some mindless crime show and started on some random episode in season seven. Your eyes glazed over, not listening to a word being said.

You curled your knees up to your chest, your head resting on the pillow he had used two nights before. It still smelled like him, causing you to hold it close, imagining he was giving you a hug.

You felt fucking pathetic.

You woke up confused, face covered in your own drool. You blinked rapidly, the room dark. What had woken you?

Then you felt your stomach clench and your throat burn. You sprinted to the bathroom and threw up into the toilet, not bothering to shut the door this time.

After a few minutes you rolled off the toilet and groaned, flicking on the light switch. You hoped he would be standing in the doorway, eyes full of concern but alas...nothing.

You groaned and flushed the toilet, washing both your hands and your mouth and flicking off the light before entering the hallway. You hesitated, wondering if you should go see if he's still in the lab.

You made your way down the hall, and sure enough you could hear his keyboard and the soft scratch of pen against paper.

You turned and went back to your room, flopping onto the bed with a groan. You checked the time, nearly two a.m., and tried to fall back asleep.

You tossed and turned, tossing the blankets every which way, grumbling as you stretched over the side of the bed to grab the thrown blankets.

You soon gave up and grabbed your phone, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

After nearly two hours of scrolling through frightening politics in your home country and stupid memes that occasionally made you giggle, your phone buzzed with an alert about your battery.

You quickly plugged it in and rubbed your eyes. There wasn't a way you could fall back asleep, so you grumbled around for your laptop, thankfully with enough charge to get you through another hour or two of another show, you settled on a soap opera from the nineties.

You watched but absorbed nothing, as the sun began to rise and the wisps of light filled the room you couldn't even remember the main character's name. You shut the laptop at that, plugging it in and making your way to the lab. Surprisingly he wasn't in it, so you made your way to the kitchen. But again, it was as empty as his lab.

You then went out into the cool morning air to see Nathan, fists wrapped as he punched the bag.

You lean against the door, and this time you're less nervous and more annoyed. "I'm pregnant." You call out again, but he keeps punching. You give him a minute, listening to sounds of the birds waking up. "Bateman I'm pregnant, we need to talk about it." You shout, but he ignores you, not even sparing a glance. You feel your face getting hot, tears at the corners of your eyes. "Fine." You hiss, slamming the door and marching back to your room.

As soon as the door opens you burst into tears, throwing yourself onto the bed. You feel your body shaking, your heart pounding so loud it rings in your ears. You let out a muffled scream, snot running down your chin and mixing with the tears that cover the sheets.

You let yourself cry until your head is throbbing and your eyes are bloodshot. You can only whimper, you don't have any more tears left in you, at least for the moment. You crawl over and flick the switch on the wall, which covers the window in thick blinds, shutting out all the light. You flop back into bed, the room now pitch black. You pull the blanket around you, reaching for the pillow once again. But this time it doesn't smell like him, it only smells like you.

You bury your face in it anyway, the silence washing over you until your eyes flutter shut and the world around you vanishes.

When you wake up again, your stomach is screaming about how empty it is. You get up, smacking your lips and slam your way out of bed. You hit the floor with a thud and grumble. You're lightheaded from hunger and heartbreak, you need food.

You drag your legs down the hall, blue blanket trailing behind you. You don't even notice the lab until-

"Hey."

You freeze, looking over and seeing him standing in the door frame. He looks tired, more tired than usual. His eyes are more bloodshot, and his body is more reserved.

"Are you alright?"

You think something is wrong with him because he just asked if you're okay in such a soft and gentle voice that you only heard once or twice when you fell asleep in his arms and he would mutter your name.

"What?" You ask, not even trying to hide your shock.

"I asked if you're okay. Are you?"

"No, because you haven't been listening to me." You mutter, pulling the blanket around you.

"I have, I'm just, not good with words. Come here." He takes your hand and leads you back to the room, wondering if he just wants a quick fuck. But he stops in front of the room across the hall from yourself and opens the door. It was a guest room, where you used to stay before you two started to share a bed.

And now it's empty, and-

"I um, I ordered some stuff. For like a fucking nursery or whatever." He mutters. "I thought it looked nice, but it's up to you when it arrives. Should be here tomorrow."

He turns and heads toward the kitchen, you hot on his heels. "You need something to eat, even if you don't feel good you gotta eat something."

"Nathan, are-" you pause, "You're okay with this?"

He pauses as he closes the fridge. "Honestly Y/N, I'm fucking terrified and kinda wish you were joking." He runs a hand through his buzzed hair before leaning against the counter. "But I assume you want it."

"Yeah, but only if you'll be there, for me and for the baby and for yourself."

"Myself? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You can't take care of a baby or your pregnant girlfriend if you can't care for yourself."

"I do take care of myself-"

"That's a fucking lie. You've gone days without eating or sleeping-"

"Hey, I'm practicing, babies are loud and need attention-"

"Just like you," you take his hand, locking your fingers together. "But I'm serious. I worry about you, a lot."

"You don't need to do that. I'm the one who's gotta be fussing over you. Making sure you eat and sleep and whatever fucking else a pregnant woman needs. After you told me in the lab my brain kinda….stopped working for a few minutes. Then I spent all day researching babies and pregnancy. Read a bunch of stuff, some helpful, others not. Then I ordered all the nursery stuff, I picked blue and beige, thought it went well together. That isn't me wanting a boy, more me trying my hand at interior decorating. Probably gonna look like shit but we can always buy whatever you actually want." He rubbed a hand over his face.

"Then of course the terror set in, the fact that I was going to be a father. I don't need to worry about you in that aspect, you're gonna be a fucking fantastic mom. You're so fucking kind and sweet and you know when to put your foot down and-" his voice cracks but he continues. "I just know I'm gonna fuck up this poor kid's life. So I boxed, and then you came out and I was too much of a coward to face you then. I kept going until..." he holds up his knuckles which are a nasty shade of blue and purple, "but that doesn't hurt nearly as much as knowing I made you cry. And I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I messed you up like that. That I did that to you. I'm bad with people, I always will be, but I don't wanna be bad to you, I adore you."

A million thoughts are pounding in your head. He's teary eyed, he's terrified, he bought things for a nursery, he just said he's going to be caring and fussing over you, he said you were gonna be a fantastic mom. But most of all, Nathan fucking Bateman just apologized to you.

You feel the tears coming hot and fast. "N-Nathan, do you mean that? All of it?”

He nods and you race into his arms, knocking the air out of him. He pulls you close and you feel tears drip into your hair. Nathan is crying into your hair and you're soaking his shirt. His shoulders are shaking and you aren't sure how to react. You slowly pull back and wipe away a tear.

"Do you want this?" You whisper. He only nods, letting you continue. "Nathan, you're gonna be an amazing father, I just know it. You can be soft, I mean look at you right now!" You shake your head. "You don't need to worry about that at all. I love you, I love you so much."

"And I love you baby, I love you more than you'll ever know. So we're gonna have a baby, aren't we?"

"We're gonna have a baby!" You smile and jump around him, causing him to smile

He presses a kiss to your knuckles. "The mother-to-be needs food, what do you want?"

"Your baby and I want pancakes."

"Then so be it, I mean, you two are the bosses after all." He turns on the stove as you take a seat on the counter to watch.

Nathan is scared, he's so scared of fucking this up, and that fear never goes away.

But when the cry of your baby is heard six months later and the midwife declares it's a healthy baby boy and places him on your chest, the fear vanishes, if only for a moment.

Nathan takes a seat on the bed and presses his lips against the side of your head, softly whispering praises into your ear.

"What's his name?" The midwife asks, smiling at the three of you.

"Byron," You answer as the newborn wraps his hand around Nathan's finger, and all is right in the world, even if it's just for a moment.

#nathan bateman #ex machina fanfiction #oscar isaac #nathan batman x reader #my writing #ex machina

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quirkdotcom · 4 years ago

Text

Where To? || Kaminari x Reader

Summary: Denki Kaminari has been working with the League of Villains for the school year. He's been putting up a front and fake personality to keep his secret safe. However, the one thing he didn't count on was you. In the end, Kaminari has been found in a pond, one hand from Shigaraki in his clutches. The twist on this world? Like a popular tik tok trend, when you die, someone you have hurt the most comes to decide if you go to heaven, or hell. And you are his judge.

Warnings: Death

Authors Note: I honestly started this at like 3AM one night and now here I am 😳 Anyways, I hope you guys like it sorry for the angst that comes with it

Tags: @ijustwannachangemyuser @bluewritesmha @that-lowkey-weeb @pinkcowgirleggpanda

One moment ago, you had been sitting in class, with the rest of 1A as they grieved together over the loss of Denki Kaminari.

Two moments ago, Aizawa was explaining how he had just received a call that Denki had been found, alone in a lake, his quirk the ultimate cause. But one other important piece of evidence with him, a hand from Tomura Shigaraki.

Three moments ago, he had been explaining about Kaminari being the traitor of UA, working closely with the League of Villains.

But now, you were standing across Kaminari in the same pond that he had been found in, an electrical current dying out as his cries stopped, his eyes finding yours.

"(Y/n)?" His voice was hoarse, eyes red and puffy.

You looked around, fog rolling in around your legs, though you couldn't feel the water that looked to surround you, nor the fog.

"So...the rumors are true...I didn't think that'd I'd have to decide anyones fate so soon but…"

"Wait...does that mean.." he started, but the words fell short, his amber eyes looking around once more.

"You've died…"

"Then that means, " he turned in a circle, shaking his head quickly, "He...he got away!"

You stepped closer to him, in response, he stepped away, "No! (Y/n) you have to be quick, decide my fate! Warn Aizawa Sensei that the league is on their way!"

"But...I need time…" you pulled back, hand falling to your side.

"Just choose hell and be on your way! Please!" He pleaded with you, still leaving an open space between the two of you.

You stared at him incredulously, "Kaminari...thats...I'd be damning you!"

"Maybe I deserve it!" He yelled, his frustration and hate taking over as he kicked his foot, creating a wave of water that didn't touch you.

"All I ever did was pretend to be an idiot and betray everyone around me! And now you're here, and I have hurt you one more time!" His hands shook as he held them up, staring at them as they flickered with electricity.

"I sold everyone out each time. He asked me questions and without fail I gave them to him."

You shook your head, "Come on...there had to have been a reason! Tell me that he was pressuring you or that he had some way of manipulating you!"

His hands slowly turned to fists as he dropped them to his sides, "You don't get it! I faked everything! I pretended about everything! I made friends in order to keep my cover safe! I even.. I even started to date you to keep my cover safe! So just hurry up and choose hell and go be a hero!"

You stood quietly, his words like knives digging into your heart, creating chasms of heartache. Hot tears filled your eyes, you could barely wipe them away in time for them to be replaced with new ones, "That's..that's not true! Don't say it!"

"(Y/n)!"

"No! Stop it! I won't believe it! I'm the one who gets to make the decision! Don't try to lie to me, I know what I felt and who I was with! You aren't like that!"

At once, everything grew silent, neither of you saying a word more.

Instead, you were reflecting.

"(Y/L/N) was it? Im Denki, Denki Kaminari! Hero name Chargebolt ! Aizawa seated you next to me, so that means we're going to be good friends, maybe more if you catch my drift,"

You turned to the guy in the seat next to yours, immediately smiling and shaking your head, "Pfft wow! Are you trying to make a move on me already! I just transferred into the class literal minutes ago!"

"Hey what can I say, if I don't do it now, then the others might beat me to it," he flashed a wink your way, earning another chuckle from you.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Kaminari, hopefully you help keep this class interesting," you held your hand out to him, watching as he shook it.

"Sooo does this mean I've been friend zoned?"

You didn't answer, only leaving him to guess as to what your answer was.

"You...you were the first to welcome me into the class...even if you did hit on me right away. " You smiled softly, that memory of him had always been oddly charming to you.

"Because I had to keep my persona up,"

"You walked me to my next class, and any that we shared. You helped me befriend Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Jirou and even Bakugo…"

"I already told you! I had to make sure no one questioned me or my actions!"

"The second day that I had been in that class, at lunch, I had forgotten mine...so you gave me half of yours…and told me that if it happened again, you'd share any day,"

He didn't say anything for a moment, smiling before he did say something, "Sero called me a simp…"

That day still felt so familiar to you….

"Oh no…." You looked around the table, seeing that the others, who's names you were still trying to learn, had all brought their lunches.

"What is it (Y/L/N)?" Came the pink haired girl, who's bubblegum skin matched in such a pretty shade. She looked so concerned for you, even if she didn't know you all that well.

You let out a sheepish laugh, "Ahh I forgot my lunch…this morning I was in a rush…"

"Hey! Have some of mine!" Kaminari grinned, pushing his towards you, "We can split it!"

You turned to him, mouth open a little as you were caught off guard, "Wait really??"

"Yeah! And if it happens again, I'll share my lunch again! You can count on me,"

From across the table, the black haired boy, who had a contagious smile, coughed loudly, or cleared his throat, you weren't fully sure

After that, lunch had went by so smoothly, as if you had been friends with them for years.

"And later that day, you even gave me your number! " he sat down, the pond water now going up to his stomach. Though, like you, he couldn't feel it. Whatever cold that seeped its way into his body, was long gone.

You nodded, following suit and taking a seat, though you didn't look at the water too much, it was cloudy and murky, something you hated about lakes and ponds, "Yeah, and you sent me memes, even in class!"

"Well, I wanted to see you smile…"

"I know…"

But perhaps the memory you would hold dearest to you, was one that he had tried so hard to block out as he worked with the League.

The UA Winter Formal...just a few months after you had transferred into UA. The crew in charge of decorations had outdone themselves.

What was once the cafeteria, was now a room beautifully lit by fairy lights and pale blue lanterns. There were silky streamers hung across the room, catching the reflection of the lights off of them. At the front, Present Mic was behind a dj booth, a line of students waiting to ask for a song to queued.

You walked further in, trying to spot anyone you knew.

Currently, you were dressed in a very light shade of yellow, so delicately pale that in this lighting, it would be mistaken for white.

"(Y/n)! Over here!" Came the call from Kirishima, waving you over.

"Kiri! You look so manly! And Bakugo, I didn't think you'd actually show up!" You grinned as you walked up, earning a 'thanks' from Kiri and a scowl from Bakugo.

For the next few moments, you exchanged compliments with Mina and Jirou, and then joked with Sero.

But when that all came to an usual stop, you realized what was missing, well..who was missing.

"Where's Kami?" You asked, having to raise your voice slightly over the music.

Bakugo turned to you, thinking back for a moment, "Dunce face said something about feeling claustrophobic or whatever, he said he'd be in the hall? I'm surprised you didn't see him on your way in,"

You nodded slowly, humming in return, "ah thanks," You left after that, making your way around the groups of people, waving as you could hear your name from some friends.

As you reached the entrance once again, you looked up and down the hall, spotting him a ways away by a window, wearing black slacks, a white undershirt and black suspenders, his blazer hanging off his arm loosely, he had a tie on, a darker shade of red.

"Kaminari! Hey!" You called, making your way over until you stood a foot away, "Why are you all the way out here?"

"It was hot and stuffy in there, I needed some fresh air...and I was waiting to see if I could spot someone on their way in,"

Again Kaminari flashed a dazzling smile at you. And suddenly, your breath hitched in your throat, cheeks heating up.

Your stomach filled with dainty butterflies and you're pretty sure your heart stopped beating.

What was going on?? Were you...crushing? But there's no way….

Sure Kaminari tended to flirt with you, and you always laughed at his jokes and smiled at him whenever he smiled at you.

And sure, sometimes when he handed you something your hand would brush his and you'd think about it for a few moments .

And then there was that time when you were paired up in hero training, and you almost fell off a building in the city area, and then he pulled you back and basically hugged you because you were scared and then later on that was all you could think of.

...okay yeah you were definitely crushing but why did it have to act up now ?!

"Uhh…(Y/n)??? Earth to (Y/n)?"

You blinked, looking back to Kaminari, who was now fully facing you instead of the window, "Sorry! I uh, spaced out there…"

"It's okay! I'm used to seeing you space off, you do it often," Denki laughed, only furthering the complicated feelings you were having.

"I don't do it too often…" you gave a small smile, knowing full and well that you ventured into wonderland quite often.

"Hey, (Y/n)...do you want to dance by any chance? Right here? I can still kind of hear the music,"

You gave a startled look, eyes wide as you took in what he said, but you quickly changed to a smile, "Yes! I'd love that!"

At your approval, Denki gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, almost stealing away all the air from your lungs.

You looked up to him, your hands moving up to circle around his neck loosely.

God he was so pretty. Even just the light that streamed in from the window seemed to make his eyes sparkle with their golden color.

"What are you doing?" He murmured, gazing back into your own eyes, an amused smile played out onto his face.

You shook your head quickly, looking down and away, words caught in your throat.

"(Y/n)...look at me,"

A hand moved away from your hip, gentle fingers cupping your face as he turned you to look at him.

You weren't sure how it happened...but in a fleeting moment, he had kissed you. At this point, you weren't sure if the tingles running throughout your body were caused by you, or him.

He pulled away for a breath with a smile, and you pulled him back for another kiss, an overwhelming feeling of happiness washing over you.

After that, you both had left from the dance, and enjoyed the rest of the night together, watching movies and playing video games. It was the beginning of your relationship.

"Denki.. whatever the reason for this...I know you aren't a villain. You're Denki Kaminari, the student who offered me lunch on my second day. You're the student who saw a general education kid crying and joked with them to make them feel better!"

"(Y/n)..."

"And you're the one who I..who I love okay? So stop trying to make me hate you! "

His eyes went wide, filling with more tears. You rushed to him through the mucky water, grasping him. You clutched at his clothes starting to cry with him.

"I love you so much and I'll always love you, I swear!" You buried your head into his neck, feeling him hold onto you just as tightly as you were holding onto him.

"(Y/n) I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I want more time with you, I want to spend life with you. Im sorry fuck..I love you so much. You're the reason I'm even here! Shigaraki was planning on attacking the school and he threatened you and I panicked and I tried to shock him and..and...the water here...I wasn't thinking," he started to work himself into a panic.

You stroked his hair, shushing him gently until you both calmed down enough.

Finally, he looked to you, amber eyes red and puffy just as you had found him, and asked with a sad smile, "So...where to?"

You shook your head, tears still falling as you kissed his forehead, the water and the area around you falling away, "I think we both know.."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha #mha #mha kaminari #bnha kaminari #mha denki #bnha denki #mha denki kaminari #bnha denki kaminari #Kaminari #denki #Kaminari denki #Kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader #Kaminari x reader

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sweet-curried-powder · 5 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Edward!

Technically, Edward’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but I was too damn excited!!

I really wanted to do something special for Edward’s birthday, so I thought I’d write him a little something to celebrate!

There’s also some self-indulgent Chredwis in here, because there isn’t enough of that out there.

Characters: Edward Quinton, Chris Jackson, Drew and Nevin Jovel, Isaac Beamer, Ell Fisher

Word count: 2,164

Warnings: Swearing

The boys belong to @onebizarrekai, Ell belongs to me, and the picture was drawn by my good friend @oakskull!

Fic is under the cut!

Happy birthday, Edward!

***

Chris was ten seconds away from a fucking panic attack. He was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, finishing off his fourth chocolate bar in the span of ten minutes.

“Okay, so Ell’s baking the cake, Nevin’s cooking other stuff, Drew’s finishing up the playlist for the party…wait, what about the decorations? OH GOD, ARE THE DECORATIONS DONE?! THIS PARTY’S GONNA SUCK ASS IF THERE ISN’T ANY DECORA-”

“Calm your tits, man!” Isaac sighed, walking in the room with a box of handmade decorations. He put them down and held up a banner that said, ‘Happy Birthday, King Edward Quinton!’ There were crowns drawn on it with shiny markers, and it was covered in rhinestones and glitter. “Also gonna toot my own horn and say it’s some of my best work.”

“Oh, thank Kai,” Chris sighed, relaxing. “...Why is it so shiny, though?”

“It’s Edward’s birthday. Everyone knows that your birthday is the one day per year that you get to feel important!” Isaac grinned. “Plus I wanted to use a ton of glitter and rhinestones.”

“Isaac, honey, I love you, but how much did you even USE?” Drew cried, squinting at the banner and shielding his eyes.

“You remember when I went to the arts and crafts store with the five hundred dollars Ell gave me?”

“Yeah?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars were spent on anything that sparkled.”

Drew facepalmed.

“Well, the aesthetic does look pretty nice,” Chris nodded. “Ell, do me a favor and use your telekinesis to help hang all of these up.”

“Gotcha, Chris-cross!” Ell grinned, lifting her hand. The banner lifted in the air all on its own. She lifted the box up with her hands and wandered off to decorate the rest of Chris’s house.

“I can’t believe that your dad’s okay with holding Ed’s party here,” Isaac said. “I figured that he’d say no to this.”

“Oh, Dad doesn’t know,” Chris replied. “He’s been on a business trip since Monday. He won’t be back until late next week. As long as we clean everything up afterwards, he won’t suspect a thing.”

“Damn, you’re being a rebel, aren’t you?” Drew raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, because this is important! Tomorrow is Ed’s big day!” Chris cried. “Tomorrow has to be absolutely perfect! Just like he is…”

“What was that last part?” Nevin asked, leaning closer to the monochromatic teenager.

“NOTHING!” Chris shouted, face going red, turning to Ell. “Ell, you’re gonna pick Ed up later so he can spend the night at your house, right? You know, to keep him busy so we can set up the finishing touches the next morning?”

“Uh-huh!” Ell gave Chris a thumbs up. “I’m gonna get up early and sneak over here to bake and decorate the cake. If all goes well, I should be back before Edward even wakes up.”

“Remind me why Edward’s gonna stay the night at Ell’s house, again?” Isaac asked. “He could’ve stayed at my place. We’re on pretty good terms.”

“Ell lives the furthest away from all of us,” Chris reminded him. “I’d have him stay at my house, but obviously we can’t, since we’re having the party here.”

“And we all know what Chris would do to Ed if they spent the night alone with each other,” Ell added.

“Jesus fucking Christ, guys! It’s not like that!” Chris cried. “We’d just play birthday games.”

“Birthday games?” Drew repeated.

“Yeah! Like Spin the Bottle, 7 Minutes in Heaven…”

“Chris, those aren’t birthday games,” Isaac facepalmed. “Those are the types of games that horny teenagers play at parties.”

“Hey, who can blame him? That’s how I would want to ring in MY birthday.” Ell’s face started to turn red. “But with somebody else, if you catch my drift…”

“Ell, stop it. You’re gonna bleed on the carpet.” Drew sighed, pulling out a tissue and handing it to Ell.

“Alright, everyone regroup here tomorrow morning at 8 am to put on the finishing touches! Ed’s… er, cronies will arrive a few hours before, and Ell and Ed should be here at noon! Don’t be late!”

Everyone said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, Isaac getting into his car, Drew and Nevin heading home, and Ell walking towards Ed’s house.

Chris shut the door behind him, sliding to the floor. He was nervous. So, so nervous. This party was one of the many surprises that he had for Edward, when tomorrow came.

“Tomorrow is going to be perfect,” Chris said aloud to the empty house. “It has to be. For Edward.”

********************************************

Edward’s cake looked amazing. It was several layers tall, and was frosted in different colors, and even had a tiny little Edward made of modeling chocolate and fondant.

“It’s not really one of my best creations, but Ed’ll like it,” Ell shrugged, wiping some frosting off of her cheek.

“Not one of your best?!” Chris cried. “This is the best birthday cake I’ve ever seen in my life! How did you even manage to make this in two hours?”

“I’ve been in a ton of baking competitions before. No biggie.” Ell blew some hair out of her face. “You gotta learn to work quickly in those sort of things.”

“Did you win a few of them?” Chris asked, intrigued.

“Nope. I won them all.” Ell grinned. “What did you think all those trophies in my living room came from?”

“Martial arts competitions,” Chris replied without hesitation.

“You’re not wrong, actually. I just keep those trophies in my room.” Ell checked the time. “I better go. Ed’s gonna wake up any minute now, and I need to keep the B-day boy distracted.”

“Alright,” Chris sighed. “I’ll call you if I need you to distract him for even longer.”

“That won’t happen.” Ell smiled at Chris, confident.

“How do you know?”

“Let me ask you a question.” Ell leaned in close to Chris. “Do you love Edward?”

Chris’s face went completely and totally red.

“Well, the same generic and platonic love I share with all of my friends and family-”

“No, you dumbass! I mean romantically! Sexually! That kind of love! Do you love Edward in that way?”

Chris balled his hands up into fists. He could lie in this situation, say that he didn’t, but Ell could read minds, and on top of that, she could instantly tell whether someone was lying or telling the truth, so denying that he loved Edward in this situation proved moot.

“Yes. I romantically and sexually love Edward,” Chris admitted, his cheeks warming.

“In that case, I believe that you’ve got this in the bag,” Ell smiled. “You won’t let anything go wrong for him. It’s his birthday, and you want to make it really special for him. You want to give him a birthday that he’ll never forget, in the best way possible. And you’ll succeed.”

“You really think so?”

“I don’t think so. I know so. Telekinetic’s intuition.” Ell tapped her head, looking like the guy from the “you can’t do” meme.

Chris chuckled. “Thanks, Ell. You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome. That’ll be thirty bucks.”

“WHAT?!”

“I’m kidding! God…”

******************************

Edward felt something sit down on his chest, followed by a heavenly smell. He opened his eyes, and Ell was sitting on him, a party horn in her mouth, holding a tray.

Ell blew on the horn, and she took it out of her mouth using her telekinesis. “Bon anniversaire! Feliz cumpleanos! Happy birthday!”

“You made me breakfast in bed? That’s awfully nice of you!” Edward grinned, taking the tray. “Ooh! French toast!”

“Not just any French toast!” Ell grinned. “It’s my grandmother’s special Nutella French toast! The recipe’s been in my family since the day Nutella was first sold in 1964!”

Edward took a bite of it, and his eyes lit up. “Holy shit, this tastes amazing! Nevin would probably kill for this recipe!”

“Yeah, I figured, which is why I haven’t told him about this,” Ell chuckled. “Do me a solid and keep this under wraps, will you?”

“It’s the least I can do,” Edward nodded, taking another bite. “Damn, I gotta say, you’re a really good cook.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m mostly self-taught.” Ell crossed her legs. “So, do you have any plans for today?”

“I usually go out for dinner on my birthday with my family, but I’m pretty much free until then,” Edward said. “I think I might go see Chris. My cronies probably got me something. Well, at least Cody, probably.”

“Oh, I bet you’ll see them soon,” Ell smiled. “Trust me.”

“Okay…” Edward took another bite. While he was distracted, Ell checked the time. She needed to keep Edward distracted for four hours. While some people would think that was impossible, she knew how to do it.

“You know, there’s this new store that opened up nearby that’s full of weird stuff,” Ell said, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. “And I heard this rumor from one of the librarians that the place had some haunted items…”

“Haunted? As in, ghosts?” Edward leaned forward.

Ell nodded.

“Well, what are we waiting for?! LET’S GO!” Edward shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth and started taking his shirt off.

“HEY! Girl in the room!!” ********************************

“You want… that book?” Ell asked, raising an eyebrow as Edward held up a dusty, old book with some kind of symbol on the cover.

“Yep!” Edward grinned.

Ell breathed in deeply. “Dude, I know it’s your birthday, and I don’t mean to shoot you down on your special day, but I haven’t seen you pick up a book that wasn’t assigned to you for class.”

“Well, unlike you, I do all my recreational reading in the comfort of my own home, and only there,” Edward said, holding the book to his chest. “Besides, this book is just oozing with supernatural stuff. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ell shrugged, giving the cashier several hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change, m’theydy.”

The cashier looked confused, but put the money in the register without complaint.

It was almost noon. Time for Ed to get so fucking surprised.

“Hey, Chris just texted me,” Ell said, looking at Edward with a gleam in her eyes. “He asked me to bring you over to his house. He has something for you.”

Edward’s cheeks dusted pink.

“Edward? You alright, buddy?” Ell asked.

“I-I’m fine!” Edward said rather quickly. “L-let’s hurry up.” Ell grinned, grabbed Edward’s hand, and fucking ran. For someone who was the shortest person in Foxfield High School, she was fast.

“Ell, slow down! Christ alive!” Edward cried, stumbling to catch up to his younger friend.

Ell finally screeched to a stop in front of Chris’s house.

“Chris said to just go on in,” Ell said, panting slightly. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.” She dashed inside the house, opening and shutting the door quickly.

“Okay, everyone! He’s here!” Ell whispered.

“Okay everyone, go and hide!” Chris hissed. “When Ed comes in, count to three, and then jump out and yell, ‘Surprise’! Got that?”

Everyone nodded, scrambling to find a hiding spot. Ell used her powers to turn the lights off as she hid behind the couch next to the twins.

Edward opened the door, entering the dark house. “Hello? Chris?” He squinted, looking around the pitch-black house. “Are you home?”

Ell turned the lights back on, and everyone jumped out from their hiding spots.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone yelled. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“W-what? A… a party?” Edward looked around the room in disbelief. “You guys set this all up?”

“Actually, it was Chris,” Isaac admitted, elbowing Chris in the side. “He got the idea in the first place. The rest of us helped in our own little ways. I made the decorations, if you can guess.”

Edward held back laughter as he looked at the extremely glittery banner that was hanging on a wall. He turned to Chris. “You planned all of this by yourself?”

Chris nodded, his face turning slightly pink. “It’s your birthday. I wanted to make it really special for you. I hope you like it.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

Chris felt his heart sink. “O-oh. I’m-”

“I love it!”

Chris blinked. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah!” Edward grinned. “I can’t believe you went through the trouble of planning a huge surprise party just for me. It’s such a great birthday gift.”

Chris looked at Ell from the corner of his eye. She gave him a knowing look, and nodded, as if she was telling her to go for it. Chris took a deep breath.

“Well, can I give you another gift?” Chris asked.

“Sure! What is-”

Chris grabbed Edward, dipped him down, and gave him a long, deep, passionate kiss. Isaac and Nevin fucking sceamed, while everyone else stared in awe.

After thirty thrilling seconds, Chris separated from a blushing Edward.

“Happy birthday,” Chris grinned.

Edward stood there, frozen for a good while, before he smiled back, tears of joy streaming down his face.

“Thank you.”

#sugar's writing #ibvs #edward quinton #chris jackson #isaac beamer #drew jovel #nevin jovel #ell fisher #chredwis #happy birth to ed!!

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daybreakrising · 4 years ago

Text

@fightingdreamcrs asked: five times kissed [shika & kiba] from this meme

Under a cut bc these will all get long.

ONE

Being raised amongst dogs gave Kiba a very specific kind of mindset when it came to affection. He saw nothing wrong with being physical with those he was close to. If it was good enough for the dogs, it was good enough for him.

He had, on more than one occasion, comfortably sprawled alongside his friends in the grass, on the rooftops, head pillowed upon their shoulder, or an arm thrown across their waist. He had, even, lain practically atop one or two of them before. They didn't seem to mind, even if they probably thought it was a bit weird.

They were used to his little quirks.

He was sprawled out atop Shikamaru's favourite roof now, his head comfortably pillowed on the other boy's stomach, one finger tracing idle patterns in the clouds. Akamaru happily chewed on a stick by his feet, tail lazily wagging in the air. It was becoming routine, he realised – skipping class with Shikamaru to watch the clouds.

Normally, sitting still for this long would get under his skin. He was always so full of energy, unable to sit and do nothing for any length of time – which was why he ended up skipping class in the first place. But sometimes, it was nice. He liked Shikamaru's company.

He shifted position, lying beside the other boy instead, and turned his head to study the other's face. He wouldn't have ever picked Shikamaru as a boy to be friends with, given how different they seemed, but somehow, they worked.

With a yawn that softened into a contented sigh, Kiba rolled onto his side and slung a casual arm across Shikamaru's body and leaned in to press an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

Well, if dogs could do it, why couldn't he?

TWO

"I told you."

He stepped up beside Shikamaru, the wind threading fingers through his hair as they looked out over the rooftops of Konoha. For once, Akamaru wasn't at his side – rather, he was dutifully waiting below, no doubt conning shop owners out of scraps of food. He flashed a grin at the other boy, hands settled on his hips.

Not long before, they'd received confirmation of their success in the latest Chunin exams. As Kiba had predicted, every member of Team 8 had passed. He was supposed to go straight home, to give the news to his mother and sister, but there had been someone he wanted to see first.

He pulled back the hood of his jacket, closing his eyes as he tipped his face to the sun. He breathed in the mingling familiar scents of the village, of the boy beside him, and grinned again. Today was a good day.

"When I set my mind to something, I usually end up getting it." He turned, fully, to face Shikamaru. "But I think you already know that." Eyes flashing with a hint of mischief, he fisted his hand in the front of Shikamaru's flak jacket and dragged him in for a kiss.

THREE

Fingertips skimmed lightly over skin, finding the bumps and ridges of old scars. His own skin was littered with such marks, a by-product of their job and their training, but he always found other people's scars much more interesting.

The grass was warm beneath them, the sun bright in the sky. The sounds of the river rushing alongside them and the call of birds in the trees only added to the utter peace and tranquillity of the moment. It was a rare thing for both of them to have a day off at the same time. It only made it all the more special when they did.

Shikamaru's eyes were on the sky, watching clouds as was his habit, but Kiba knew from the faint lift in one corner of his mouth that he wasn't entirely focused on them. One hand shifted from behind Shikamaru's head, instead coming to rest on Kiba's back, right in the space between his shoulders.

Kiba, naturally, took that as his cue. He shifted his weight, leaning more into the other boy, his lips finding one of the thin ridges across Shikamaru's sternum. He felt the abdomen beneath him tense as a breath was drawn in, his lips curving into a smile against his partner's skin. He kissed another scar, beneath a collarbone, and from there it was all too easy to find his throat, his jaw, his lips.

Akamaru, tired of entertaining himself, chose that moment to leap from the river and shower his two human friends as he shook himself dry.

FOUR

Kiba was uncharacteristically quiet and calm as he walked alongside Shikamaru, his eyes scanning the woods around them with interest. This was not the time or place for running wild. Even Akamaru seemed to sense the importance of this development in the relationship.

He knew where they were, even without Shikamaru telling him.

He knew what that meant.

The Nara Forest. Only members of the Nara clan were supposed to be allowed in here. When Shikamaru had suggested they take a walk together, he certainly hadn't been expecting this. Was this breaking any rules? He guessed that, since Shikamaru had brought him here, it was okay, but he couldn't help but wonder.

He sensed the deer before he saw them, Akamaru sniffing at the air a few seconds ahead of him. They emerged slowly, one by one, until Kiba realised they were entirely surrounded by the creatures. How many were there in this forest? Too many to count. When Shikamaru came to a stop, they approached, bending their faces towards his outstretched hand.

Warily, Kiba held out his own hand to the nearest deer, ready to back off if it took offense. After only a brief hesitation, it stalked closer, pressing its cool nose to his palm in greeting. Kiba grinned, letting his fingertips brush over its velvety muzzle. He was so caught up with this beautiful creature that he didn't register the presence at his back until arms snaked around his waist.

He dropped his hand, turning around to face Shikamaru. They didn't need words. Kiba knew what it meant for Shikamaru to bring him here. It was like the equivalent of Shikamaru being allowed amongst the new pups in the Inuzuka kennels. Family.

When Shikamaru leaned in, he met him halfway.

FIVE

"Ahh… I have never had more appreciation for my sister than I do right now."

It was all he could do not to fall through the door. He stripped off his jacket and his shoes, hanging one up and leaving the other scattered untidily next to the rack solely for that purpose. It would drive his partner mad, but that was precisely why he did it. He couldn't help it – he just loved that little furrow in his brow whenever he tried to scold him.

"Nine pups." He whined, padding over to the spot by the window where his partner sat, eyeing the arranged pieces on the board in front of him. "Nine. Practically identical, too, so trying to remember which ones I'd already checked over…" He trailed off into a yawn as Akamaru loped over, giving his partner an obligatory nuzzle, tongue grazing the back of a hand before he curled up in his favourite spot on the other side of the board.

Kiba folded himself over his partner's shoulders, nuzzling the back of his neck with all the affection of a sleepy pup. "Playing against yourself again?" He murmured, glancing at the pieces on the shogi board. He'd never been able to pick up the game, no matter how often Shikamaru tried to teach him.

He pressed a kiss to the pawprint tattoo normally hidden beneath the sleeve of Shikamaru's shirt, matched to the set of antlers in the same place on his own shoulder. He lifted a hand, gently tugging the tie from Shikamaru's hair, instantly running his fingers through the long locks as soon as they were free. He loved Shikamaru’s hair. "I'll make a start on dinner, hm?"

As he made to stand, a hand came up to catch his own. With a grin, Kiba leaned in to accept the offered kiss, letting it linger for several moments. When he pulled back, he winked. "Try not to kick your own ass too hard, Shika. I'm quite fond of it."

#fightingdreamcrs #;always up for getting wild (asks; kiba)#;KibaShika tag tbt #( !!!! )#( listen this was one of my OG ships back in the day so )#( here for this ??? you bet )

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iwillgiveyoumyhappiness · 5 years ago

Text

이대휘, Lee Daehwi

anonymous asked:

Happy (late) thanksgiving! I've seen all (and i mean ALL) of the aegyo daehwi scenarios on tumblr but can i get a request where daehwi is the super cool fashion therapist bestfriend that caught feelings? Love all your writing!! 💖

Group: AB6IX

Member: Daehwi

(A/N) Read with this song, I beg you.

When He Needs Her In Early Spring

Daehwi and his best friend sat where they usually did when life got too crazy. Outside on the curb at the nearest McDonald’s, stuffing their faces, swapping stories and showing each other funny YouTube videos.

Something about eating cheap cheeseburgers, fries and Cola when he knew his manager would be annoyed at him about it felt lovely. Maybe it was also because he spent that time with a pretty cool person.

He side-eyed her choice of black sweats, a dark blue tee-shirt with a leather jacket, and her absolutely ancient white tennis shoes, complete with dirt and grass stains.

He sighed to himself, shaking his head a little.

She was cool, albeit a little unfashionable.

He looked back down at his phone, scrolling through his Stress-Away playlist, trying to choose the best song for the occasion. “Hey, hon,” he said, using the nickname that had naturally grown between them over the years. “You know I love you, but we’ve gotta get you some new clothes.”

She laughed through her nose; just a short puff of air, never once looking up from her phone, too encapsulated in the memes from her Twitter feed. “Dude,” she said. “These are pajamas.”

He clicked Little Star by Standing Egg, letting out a relieved huff of air when the first guitar strums reached his ears. “That may be so,” he started, “but coming from the Fashion Master, that doesn’t really give you a pass.”

Eyes still glued to the screen, she reached for her ice tea, pressing the cold plastic cup to his nape. He jerked away with a disgruntled under-the-breath shriek.

“Gimme a break, Fashion Master,” she chuckled. “It’s midnight,” she reminded him. “I was two inches away from a soft pillow and a warm blanket, so just eat the burger and listen to your healing playlist, ‘kay? I’ll still be here.”

He was still massaging the cold buzz out of his neck, but her words made him gradually slow to a stop. He mumbled to himself, “It is midnight, isn’t it”, much more of a statement or realization than a question.

He looked over at her, examining her side-profile. She was all tired eyes, messy hair and bare-face, but here she was at midnight, sitting in front of McDonald’s and eating a burger that was 75% bun and misplaced ketchup instead of sleeping at home.

And she didn’t ask him any questions about it. She never did, in fact. She seemed to just accept that that’s what friends do. They’re there for each other, no matter the time or situation.

She let out a small laughed. “Hwi, look at this one,” she said, finally looking over at him. She angled her screen toward him, showing him a funny picture she’d spotted. He didn’t quite expect it to be of him.

Daehwi gasped, snatching the phone from her. “What is that?” he gaped. “How could they take such an ugly picture of me?!”

She laughed again, her shoulders scrunching upwards and her feet stomping unconsciously. “I love your fans,” she said impishly. “They give me all the blackmail material I need, and then some!”

He pouted. “They’re lucky I love them...” he said. He pressed the button on top of her phone, putting it to sleep. He set it down next to him with a sigh. He looked up into the sky, a lonely expanse of blackness. More of the song reached his ears. “I wish there were stars in Seoul,” he mused aloud.

She hummed thoughtfully, following his gaze into the night sky. “Well, technically,” she started, “there are. We just can’t see them, ‘cause the lights are always on. Less lights, more stars. It’s called science.”

He scoffed, but it was more like a way to mask his laughter. “I never would’ve guessed,” he joked, nudging her shoulder with his own. He sighed. “I know,” he said. “I just think they’re pretty. Give a little extra life to the sky, y’know?”

She leaned a little closer, their shoulders touching. It was a comfortable feeling, as it was something she did often at times like this—just a small touch to assure that she was there for him. “I know,” she said softly. “We’ll have to try to be bright enough, won’t we?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.” He shoved five fries in his mouth. “These are so good,” he said, visibly melting into the flavor.

She chuckled. “I know, right?” She took some for herself. “Really bad for you too, but screw it.”

That made him laugh. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” he wondered. She nodded, a silent ‘go for it’. “Why don’t you ever ask why I tell you to come out and meet you at these weird hours?”

She shrugged. “’Cause it doesn’t really matter,” she said simply. “All I need to know is: you always come out of these little escapades happier than when you went it. That’s enough for me, to be honest.”

Daehwi’s eyes widened and his cheeks burned. Suddenly, he felt pretty relived that it was dark and she wasn’t looking directly at him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, inching away from her shoulder just a little. She didn’t seem to notice, though. “Thanks...” he said. “You’re a good friend.”

She smiled. “I know,” she said confidently. She didn’t speak again for a while, contenting herself with swaying back and forth while she hummed along to Little Star. It was one of her favorites, too.

Silently and covertly, he glanced over at her again. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back a little, the breeze blowing through her messy hair. She looked bright, back-lit by the fast food restaurant behind them.

Surprisingly, he found himself thinking, “She looks pretty”.

He stayed quite for a moment, just listening to her humming along, watching her sway to and fro. “Hey,” he said quietly as the song was coming to an end.

She opened her eyes, looking at him. “Yeah?” she said, matching his tone.

He argued with himself in his head for a moment whether or not it was a wise thing to say, measuring any possible consequences. After much angel-and-devil consideration, he decided to just go for it. They were friends, after all.

“Your voice is nice.”

When He Needs Her In Mid-Fall

Daehwi leaned back in his desk chair, stretching and getting shocked at the way his back cracked with the action. He’d been hunched over his desk in the studio for too long, that was obvious.

He looked at the clock, scowling at the time. Yet, looking at how much work he’d gotten done, he couldn’t really be angry. But thinking about all the work he still had to get done?

He groaned, rubbing his heavy, tired eyes.

He could just go home—he’d gotten enough done—but the perfectionist inside of him really didn’t want to do that. He had this underlying fear that if his work wasn’t good enough, people would just think, “Oh, it’s because he’s so young”.

He clenched his fists. He couldn’t understand why people would doubt him for something as superficial as that. Hadn’t he proven himself enough?

He didn’t want to go to sleep, he didn’t want to work—and he couldn’t seem to find an in-between.

Instinctively, his hand went to his phone, hitting the first speed dial after his mom. Once he heard the other line pick up, without missing a beat, he spoke. “Bring me some food and listen to me whine and complain for a few hours,” he said.

He could envision his friend pulling away from the phone and staring at it for a second with a quirked brow. “What’s the magic word?” he finally heard her voice from the receiver.

He softened, feeling himself melt into his tired, half-dead state. “Please?” he asked softly. He could picture he gentle smile when she said, “I’ll be over in ten”, before the line clicked out, leaving a resounding dullness in his ears.

Ah, there she was.

She was the in-between he was searching for. She was the one sure thing in his fuzzy gray area of life.

He nibbled his thumbnail, a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. ‘What a good friend...’ he thought, though he felt a little shaky on the conviction behind it. He wasn’t sure why, though. By all accounts, she was a good friend.

The best of the best.

Maybe that’s why she made him so nervous.

When He Needs Her In Summer

Daehwi looked back and forth, trying to search through the crowd for any signs of his friend’s head of hair. He stood on his tip-toes every five seconds or so, trying to get a better look.

Nothing.

He huffed, tapping his foot impatiently and waiting for her to come around the corner. “You’re dead when you get here,” he muttered under his breath. He checked his watch, feeling his heart sink a little.

She wasn’t even late. He was just early and anxious, which was never a good combination. Without thinking, he started pouting, leaning against the unlit streetlamp behind him with his arms crossed.

Tap, tap he felt on his shoulder.

He whipped around at the familiar touch. “Hi!” he said, a little quicker and a little louder than he might’ve hoped for. A little more excited too, earning a few stares from passerbys.

She looked shocked for a moment before smiling, a giggle falling from her lips. “Well, aren’t you being cute today,” she said, poking at his stomach.

He flinched away from the ticklish sensation. “Stop it!” he said, trying to sound stern. “We’re literally in public—don’t embarrass me.”

She raised a brow. “Did being in public ever stop you from embarrassing me before?” His lack of response was her confirmation. “I rest my case!” she yelled, casing after him with fingers ready to dance across his torso.

He screeched, running and shouldering through the card, trying to get into the mall. Hopefully, he’d be able to lose her in there.

...Did he really want to lose her, though?

When She Needs Him In The Bad Times

Daehwi flopped on the bed, tired, sweaty and exhausted after a long day of schedules and practice. His cellphone—dead and black-screened since lunch time—was held loosely in his hands, barely any grip-strength left in him.

With his last burst of energy, he sat up and reached for his charger, plugging in his phone. He was sure he’d missed a few notifications, but he didn’t think they’d be anything important.

In a matter of seconds, the screen blinked to life, sporting a disheartening 1% full battery icon in the upper right-hand corner. His notification started popping up. A few missed texts, a missed call from his mom (he’d call her back later), a few Twitter and YouTube notifications, and...

His heart sank.

12 missed calls from 👏Hon👏

Suddenly, all of the energy returned to his body, making him fly to his feet, a concerned furrow between his brows. She never called very often unless something was very, very wrong. He was the one that called her more often, she just let him do his thing, because she never knew when he’d be busy.

But it seemed this time—when she saw it urgent enough to call 12 times—she didn’t care much whether he was busy or not. She just needed her friend.

He felt his eyes water. She needed her friend, but he wasn’t there, all because he’d fallen asleep playing games the night before.

“Hey, Daehwi,” he heard Youngmin’s voice. The door opened. “I was wondering if—” The leader’s eyes widened. “You’re crying,” he said obviously, worry lacing his tone.

With a quick sniff and a swipe across his watery eyes, he grabbed a hoodie out of his closet and shouldered past the older boy. “Sorry, Youngmin,” he said. “I’ve gotta go.”

The rapper grabbed his arm, very gentle and nonthreatening. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he said seriously.

Daehwi turned his head to look at him. “Yeah,” he said softly.

He nodded slowly. “Knew it,” he said under his breath. His fingers slipped away from his wrist. “You know you love her, right?”

Daehwi’s blood ran cold, yet his skin felt so hot. It was a stark, goosebumps-raising contrast. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. Not yet.

“Later, okay...?” he whispered.

He could tell Youngmin was a little disappointed in his lack of admission, but the kind older brother he always was, he just nodded, sighing a little. “Go find her,” he said simply, ushering him toward the door. “Don’t forget your coat!” he called after him.

+++++

He didn’t need to go searching all around Seoul to find her, because he knew exactly where she saw. She didn’t wander when she was sad. She didn’t go to some nostalgic place that made her feel and remember—she blocked herself away and hid in her house, shutting almost everyone out.

She made a proverbial pillow fort in her heart and played music with earbuds in, so that way she couldn’t hear the cars passing by or her own thoughts. She was her own worst enemy, in every way.

When she was good, she was great. But she spent up all that good energy taking care of everyone else, so she had nothing left for herself.

He was someone who used her kindness and unselfish heart quite often. He felt another pang in his chest and he waiting impatiently for the bus to drop him off. He massaged his temples, feeling more tears threaten to well up in his eyes.

“Did I tired you out...?” he breathed out, his breath fogging up the window next to his face. “Focus on yourself more, you jerk,” he mumbled, sniffling a little. He shook his head a little, staring down his reflection with a vengeance, as if saying: ‘You will not cry on this crowded bus, Lee Daehwi’.

He cried a lot as a stress-reliever, but only in private.

The thought suddenly dawned on him. He saw her as another version of private. Anything that he would do or say by himself, he could do and say in front of her. He could tell her anything, because that was the level of trust he had in her.

His breath shook to the point that he had to discreetly cover his mouth, muffling the sound in his cold hands. “That must be so much pressure,” he thought to himself. “Being someone’s confidant. Their safe place.” His stomach churned. “...My all of that.”

The bus came to a stop, idling by the poorly lit bus-stop—one he’d become quite familiar with from his trips to her place. He scooped up the hoodie he’d grabbed from the dorms, a sense of adrenaline rushing to his legs and propelling him out of his seat.

He flew past the driver and straight out the doors, skipping the two steps down all together. His feet made impact with the ground, and maybe on an average day it might’ve stung a little.

The bus driver’s eye widened. “Hey, kid!” he called after Daehwi. “Be careful, you hear?”

He didn’t hear him. He didn’t hear him at all.

The only thought in his head was her—how different, yet painfully similar they were. On an average day, they both carried themselves in different ways and had different thoughts, but on their not so good days?

They both wilted.

They wilted, and they needed something or someone to help them bloom again.

After following his feet through the turns and bumps he was so used to going over, he saw her. She was sitting where she always did when she wasn’t feeling well—on the hood of her car, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes damp and her nose and cheeks painted with red due to the late night breeze.

He stood there off to the side, catching his breath.

She noticed him, but she didn’t say anything. She usually didn’t, because she was always scared that she’d start crying again if she spoke.

Daehwi took a deep breath, the cold stinging his lungs. It didn’t matter, though. With a sigh, he crawled onto the hood with her, noting the way she scooted over a little to give him more room.

He tapped her shoulder and gestured to the orange hoodie in his hand. Without any argument, she lifted her arms, letting him slip it over her head. He was gentle and he took special care around her ears. He pulled the hood down so her could see her better, flattening her hair with tender hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Those first two words were quiet as the flap of a butterfly’s wings, but that didn’t matter. She was always good at listening to him. “This sounds like such and excuse,” he continued, rubbing her arms, “but my phone died.” He frowned at himself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

She looked him in the eyes, still not saying anything. He could read her well enough, though. That was a look that said, “It’s okay, I understand.”

He sighed, pulling her into a soft hug. “It’s not okay, though...” he mumbled, rocking her gently back and forth while he brushed through her hair with his cold, blue-tipped fingers. “I’m sorry that I’m still not good enough—”

She cut him off with a short smack. “Don’t make this about you!” she choked out, her voice hoarse. Daehwi was shocked that she spoke. “This is about me!” she said. “I had a shitty day!” Her eyes teared up. “For no reason,” she finished. She took a deep breath, trying to study herself.

She buried her face in his neck, nuzzling him. “You’re more than enough,” she whispered weakly. “You’re here. That’s more than I can say for anyone else, and it’s better late than never.”

He was very grateful for the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, because if she did, she would see the tears in his eyes. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. “Who do I have to hurt that made you like this?” he breathed. “Tears in your eyes and frown on your lips... It doesn’t suit you at all.”

She shook her head—he was greatly aware of her eyelashes fluttering against his skin.

He knew what that shake of the head meant.

“Don’t do anything,” it spoke more than a thousand words, “just stay with me.”

When She Needs Him In The Good Times

She couldn’t say that she was expecting a call from Daehwi at 4PM to invite her to be his friend-date to a company dinner, but she also couldn’t say that it was unwelcome.

All she’d been doing most of the day was just laying on the couch, watching TV and skimming through a few home living magazines so she could get a few tips on adulting.

“Yo, hon,” Daehwi said once she picked up, which only took about two rings. “You free tonight?”

She didn’t even bother checking her calendar. “Yeah, I’m free,” she said, turning down the volume on the TV. “Why? What’s up?”

“There’s a dinner tonight at Brand New and if I want, I’m allowed to bring someone,” he said. She could feel the excitement dripping off his words. “You wanna come with?”

Her ears perked up with interest. “To the company?” she asked. He hummed a positive answer. “Like a date?” she said without thinking.

Daehwi coughed. “Don’t get it twisted,” he said. “Friend-date,” he clarified. “Friend-date.”

She smiled. “Okay, sounds cool.” She jumped off the couch and shut off the TV, shuffling to her bedroom. She cringed at her wardrobe, rather barren in the fruits that it could offer. “Hey, Hwi...?” she started, putting him on speaker and tossing the phone onto her bed while she rummaged through the closet.

“Yeah?”

She started searching for a pair of heels, realizing suddenly that all of hers were really old and worn. “How fancy is this shindig?” she asked, suddenly feeling a little timid. “Like... Dress code and stuff?”

She heard him click his tongue. “I’ll be over in 20 minutes,” he said before hanging up.

++++

“Why do you own a big fat nothing?” Daehwi asked exasperatedly, tossing clothes messily onto the floor as he scoured through her closet like it was a desolate land with nothing to offer.

She crossed her arms, a bit of a pout on her face. “Now you’re just being dramatic...” she muttered. To be honest, this actually brought back a lot of memories for her; him helping her pick out the outfit for her first ever date, her parent’s anniversary, highschool graduation after-party, etc,.

To be frank, she used to have a better fashion sense, but that all changed a few years ago. Daehwi started chasing his career and she just stayed behind, dressing comfortably, working hard and trying to find her way through life.

Sometimes she felt a little felt behind by her dear friend, but then she realized that was silly, because he never forget about her, and she knew that. Not even once. He was like a deeply rooted tree in the respect.

Every one had their own pace, and hers was just a little more relaxed than his. That didn’t mean their paces didn’t still match up every once in a while, leading to moments like this.

She chuckled, recalling how they actually used to comfortably change in front of each other, putting on little fashion shows in their chosen outfits. Of course, they were a lot younger then.

Sometimes she wondered why age changed people so much—things that were normal, comfortable and accepted when they were younger were suddenly such foreign and strange ideas.

She always just shrugged it off as the way life was. Things changed, some things positively and some not so much. Either way, it was unavoidable, and that’s okay.

Daehwi glanced over at her, catching her expression in the corner of his eye. “What’s with the smile?” he asked, a chuckle passing his lips.

She shrugged. “Dunno,” she said simply. “This just feels nostalgic.”

He looked back at her, mirroring her smile. “It does,” he agreed. With a huff, he stood up with a pair of black heels in his hands. “Do you have a Sharpie?”

She furrowed her brows. “Yeah...?” she said, grabbing one off of her desk. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna draw on my shoes.”

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” he said cheekily, taking the marker from her hand with a sassy twirl. “I don’t know how you managed to scratch these up so bad, but this is a quick fix for it until we buy you a new pair.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Shush!” he said firmly. “Don’t argue with me.” He bent the shoes a bit, pointing out the way that they were frayed around the area the foot bent. “We’re getting you new ones. Soon,” he emphasized.

He uncapped the Sharpie. “But until then, I’m drawing on your shoes while you change into that,” he said, looking over at the dress he’d hung on the closet door. “I can’t believe you still have it,” he chuckled.

Her eyes raked over the white tea-length halter-top with the exposed back. The skirt was lightly longer in the back, lace hand-sewn around the hem to make it look more fancy. “Of course I do,” she said. “You bought it for me.”

He sucked in his lips, holding back a smile. “Where’d you wear that one?” he asked, trying to pick through his memories. “Your sister’s wedding reception?”

She clicked her tongue, giving him a disapproving look. “Close, but no cigar,” she said.

“What?” The realization dawned on him. He smacked his forehead. “Oh, duh!” he groaned. “Your brother’s!”

“Yup,” she laughed, nodding. She looked back over at the dress, fond memories filling her mind. She’d forgotten that she still had it, but she also didn’t think that she ever could’ve given it away. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on this lips. “No problem,” he said. “You look good in white.” His smile faded a little, a question forming in his eyes. It was as if he were debating with himself. “You’re gonna make a really pretty bride one day,” he finally said.

She stared at him, but he refused to make eye-contact with her, focusing very closely on his shoe ‘repairs’. She felt a smile break out on her face, showing her teeth and pushing up her cheeks.

She walked to him. He still didn’t look up at her. She pulled him into a side-hug, patting his hair for a moment. “Thanks, cheese-ball,” she said before pushing him back into a fully upright position. He still hadn’t stopped scribbling over the heels’ scuff marks.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but she noticed the blush on his cheeks. “Just go get changed—we’ve gotta go soon.”

When They Need Each Other On The Lazy Days

“Hey, Hwi?” she said, looking up across the table. They’d gotten a free moment on the weekend, so they decided to have lunch together at an unpopular (but spectacularly delicious) hole-in-the-wall restaurant that was never too crowded.

He looked up from his noodles, letting the ones he’d already scooped up fall back into the bowl. “Yeah?” he said, giving her his undivided attention. He smiled a bit, that cute and funny one at made his eyes crinkle. “What’s up?”

She scanned his face. His expression, his irises, the slope of his nose, his lips—everything about him. “Do you have a crush on me?” she asked without hesitation. She wasn’t afraid to ask him questions like this, because she trusted his honesty and his heart.

He’d never purposely do anything he thought could hurt her.

His eyes widened. If he’d had water in his mouth, he surely would’ve spit it across the room in shock. “I...” he stuttered, struggling to find words. He straightened up in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep eye contact with her. “Why do you ask?”

She set her fork down with a small clatter. “’Cause I’m curious,” she said. She tapped his knee with her shoe under the table, trying to urge him to be a little less stiff. “You can be honest with me.”

He nibbled his bottom lip. “I know I can,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I have a crush on you.”

She smiled, flashing him a thumbs up. “Cool,” she said, going back to eating.

Daehwi stared at her, mouth hanging open. “Do you...” he started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “...feel the same?”

She looked up at him, humming thoughtfully. “Not yet,” she said earnestly. A smile played at the corner of her lips. “But you’re definitely the type of guy I could fall for. Just gimme some time.”

When He Needs Her Always And Forever

He needed her comfortable silence, because he didn’t have to speak understand or be understood.

He needed her driving for him, not just because he didn’t have a license, but also because she looked for focused and endearing.

He needed her shoulder to lean on when he was having a bad day. Or a good one.

He needed her putting his hands in her hoodie pocket when he forgot his gloves, because it felt like she really cared.

He needed her ability to share the responsibility of ‘mature adult’ depending on who was more sulky that day. They were both more mature than they let on, and sometimes, they needed each other to bring out that aspect of themselves.

He needed her to listen to his rants, and he needed to listen to hers in return, because they were always interesting and slightly amusing.

He needed her to make funny parodies of their songs and sing them too loudly in the car, even when the windows were rolled down. Especially the famous, “I should’ve brought gloves~” to the tune of ‘Blind For Love’ when it was really cold out.

He needed her emphatic and often times dripping-with-sarcasm movie commentaries and her post-film in-depth analysis.

He needed her ability to always see him as the coolest guy ever, despite his condition. Whether he was bright and bubbly or not didn’t matter to her. He could be totally emo at times and she’d still think of him in the same way as she always did.

He needed her.

Maybe... He was in love with his best friend.

When She Needs Him Every Minute of Every Day

She needed his “Well! Later, hon” at the end of every phone call, because it was a dumb and familiar nickname, and she’d grown attached to it.

She needed his gentle singing voice, because it made her feel calm when she didn’t even know she was feeling anxious.

She needed his random back-hugs, because they always caught her off guard in the best way; a warm and lovely way.

She needed his late-night phone calls, ‘cause she’d never initiate them and they felt simple and mindless.

She needed the random videos that he sent her, because she didn’t think she needed a video of a panda cuddling its mom with a little puppy friend trying to nuzzle its way in there in her life, but apparently she did.

She needed his random, thoughtless back massages when they were hugging for a while.

She needed him to brush her hair for her when they had sleepovers.

She needed his daily compliments that always made her feel confident, said compliments being different every day—but she also needed his roasts and brutal honesty, always keeping her humble and in check.

She needed his good days and bad days.

She needed him.

Maybe... She was okay with her best friend being in love with her.

*takes a deep breath*

I LOVE LEE DAEHWI WITH MY WHOLE CHEST, EVERY HAIR ON MY HEAD, AND ALL 20 OF MY PHALANGES.

I hope you enjoyed it, Anon! Honestly, I wrote so many different versions of this, but I scrapped all of them, settling on this one. I need to learn to write shorter things, but I always feel like I’m cheating y’all. XD

I hope it turned out okay! The other ones were shorter, snappier and more to the point, but this one had a lot more... Potency, I suppose? Hopefully my sincerity was delivered. 😂 I hope you enjoyed it, beautiful person!

Also, I chose this gif ‘cause he looks so best-friend right here.

#for anon #a gift for you #kpop #kpopidol #kpop angst #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #request #reaction #requested #this is really cute #ab6ix brand new boys #AB6IX Daehwi #ab6ix imagines #ab6ix #daehwi #lee daehwi #wanna one #wanna one daehwi

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365daysoftododeku · 6 years ago

Text

23rd April 2019

Author: Anna

Title: Shouto's Sonnets

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto Rating: General/Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: Fluff and Humor, Slight Crack, Todoroki Gets Hit With A Quirk

Words: 2,313

Summary: Kaminari likes to be dramatic. Turns out, Todoroki does, too.

Author’s Note: This is Part 1 to this one-shot. It ended up a little long for the 365 of TDDK, so I separated it. To read the other half, check out my blog for a link to the full piece!

________________________________________________________________

Shouto’s Sonnets

“THEES IS A DEE-SASTER!”

The class 2-A students, lounging in the dormitory common area, whipped their heads toward the sound of the slamming door; a panting Kaminari held onto it like a lifeline. Still, his mouth stretched into a maniacal grin as he tried to stabilize his breathing.

Jirou, the first to recover from the intrusion, leaned back in her chair, thumbing through her book. “Don’t worry, everyone. Kaminari is just being an idiot and exposing his meme obsession to the world.”

A few of the class members relaxed their stances. They had been taught to jump at the first sign of trouble, and Kaminari’s entrance had caused their flight or flight instincts to kick in. Ashido and Hagakure both sighed with relief, collapsing into each other on the couch. Reacting as the class president, Iida pushed up his glasses and gesticulated widely. “That was an unwise decision to make, Kaminari-kun. Our class has been taught to expect danger at all times, so I’m sure we were all frightened when you made such an appearance!”

Kaminari grimaced. “Sorry, Iida. But there’s actually something disastrous going on!” The study group, composed of the girls of 2-A and Iida, put down their materials to give their attention to Kaminari. Uraraka looked excited, but Yaoyorozu’s face betrayed her anxiety. Her faith in Kaminari-kun had dwindled after one too many incidents in the classroom. After the failed ‘improved and blasty’ firecrackers accident, she always felt an air of doom when Kaminari had an announcement to make.

Jirou, who liked to entertain Kaminari’s antics for her own amusement, huffed a laugh, lazily beckoning him forward. “So, what has you yelling on this Saturday afternoon?”

Kaminari, smiling wide, clapped his hands together. “What if I told you I know of the absolute greatest, nay,” He held up a finger to enunciate his words. “The most amazing thing has occurred to one of our classmates, and how we will all benefit from the outcome of this event?”

Uraraka narrowed her eyes before murmuring something to Asui. Deciding not to play into Kaminari’s temptation, Jirou remained silent. Ashido and Hagakure turned to one another before looking back to Kaminari, who was twitching with excitement. Finally, Yaoyorozu broke the anticipation hanging in the air. “Well, I suppose we’d like to hear exactly what happened.”

Kaminari offered a gesture of placation, moving forward and pulling a chair towards him. Instead of sitting down in the chair, he raised one leg onto the seat, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Well, young lads and lassies.” He tipped his imaginary hat, winking. “It all started early this morn’, a day like any other, or so it would appear!” He waved his hands in a dramatic fashion to enrapture them all in his words.

Jirou, however, was having none of it. “Drop the accent and get on with the story or I’ll deafen you for the next hour.”

Kaminari finger-gunned in her direction. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” However, he acquiesced, turning the chair around to sit on it backwards. “Okay, but I wasn’t kidding. Something super amazing did happen!”

“Is this like the time when you claimed the amount of viewers on your latest Tik Tok video was ‘super amazing,’ kero?” Tsuyu asked, lips twitching with withheld laughter.

Kaminari blushed, while Jirou howled with laughter. Ashido and Hagakure snickered, not bothering to hide their giggles. Yaoyorozu tried to quietly reprimand them.

“Ahem.” Kaminari’s cough failed to hide his growing embarrassment. “Well, yes, this is even more amazing than that.”

Uraraka groaned emphatically, putting her hand to her head. “Can you just tell us already? You’ve built it up enough that I’m hoping it lives up to the hype, unlike another live-action remake of a previously good film.”

Kaminari nodded, solemnly. “Yes, it truly is a tragedy that Hollywood is ruining our favorite movies.” He sighed. “Okay, so! You know how I’ve been patrolling with Freezeframe, recently, as part of work experience?”

“Yes, I’ve heard you’ve been doing well on your biweekly patrols with him!” Iida cut his hands through the air. “Though I have not seen you in action while on my own patrol, I have caught you in the news from time to time!”

Kaminari grinned, a slight blush to his cheeks. “Thanks, prez! He’s a good teacher.” Shaking his head, Kaminari continued. “Back to the point. So, I was patrolling, like any good future pro, and guess who I saw?”

Yaoyorozu raised her eyebrow. “From your tone of voice, I’m assuming you saw one of our classmates?”

Kaminari snapped his fingers. “Bingo! While on my way through one of the city sectors, I caught sight of Todoroki on the other side of the street!”

“I’m hoping you didn’t interrupt him while we was working, right, Kaminari?” Iida said.

“Actually, no.” Kaminari twisted his fingers together. “Well, technically he wasn’t really busy at the time! He was actually talking to a young kid.”

The girls cooed in admiration of the class’ prince. Their cold classmate had slowly opened up to all of them, and it bled into his hero work. Ashido punched her fist into the air. “Aw, I’m so jealous! Seeing the prettiest boy in school talking to a young fan must have been so adorable!”

Kaminari snickered. “Yeah, it was pretty cute.” He stifled another giggle as he continued. “After I crossed the street to say hi, I saw the kid burst into tears.” Kaminari’s audience reacted in kind, murmuring to each other in concern. “It was fine! I promise. I thought the same thing too, so I got closer to see if I could help. But, then! The kid shot forward and clung onto Todoroki’s leg, smearing snot all over his hero costume. I’ve never seen Todoroki look that uncomfortable before, by the way.” The girls giggled, Iida trying to shush them. “So he started patting his head, which made the kid cry even more, but he reached upward to grab Todoroki’s hand and then…”

“What?!” Ashido exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Well.” Kaminari grinned widely. “His hand glowed a bright blue, which made him shiver for a second. I had to avoid looking at it directly because the glare was so powerful. As soon as the light faded, he had this... contemplative look in his eye and…”

“Finish the damn story, Kaminari!” Uraraka yelled.

“Todoroki sprung forward, wrapping the kid up in his arms!”

“What?” Yaoyorozu looked baffled. “That doesn’t sound like Todoroki-kun...”

“Exactly!” Kaminari exclaimed. “By the time I got to them, the kid’s mother, who had been watching the whole time, immediately started apologizing and explained that her kid had gotten so overwhelmed at meeting Todoroki that he accidentally used his quirk on him!”

“Kaminari-kun!” Iida’s disapproval evident in his voice. “It is not good to make light of another person’s injury, especially your classmates!”

“Is he alright?” Uraraka asked. She didn’t think Kaminari would speak this way if he was, though.

“Yeah, he’s fine! Great, actually!” The door to the dormitory swung open, which made Kaminari’s maniacal grin grow in magnitude. “I think that’s him right now! Oh, Todoroki-kun!” He called over his shoulder, in a sing-song voice. “How are you feeling?”

Todoroki entered the room, eyes downcast. As he shuffled in, the girls looked to each other for support, expecting the worst.

Kaminari snickered, patting Todoroki on the back. “What’s the matter, fella? You were so much happier earlier.”

Todoroki stood up, sighing. He looked out the window, at the setting sun. “My love has not returned to me/ I cannot go on until he be.”

The girls exchanged a series of glances in quick succession. Ashido mouthed ‘rhyme?’, while Uraraka shrugged her shoulders. Iida’s eyes widened, mirroring Yaoyorozu’s.

“Are you feeling alright, Todoroki-kun?” Yaoyorozu asked.

“Each day draws another to a close/ Yet all I have to show for it is this prose.” Todoroki flopped down onto the couch, sighing heavily. He shifted his bangs forward to guard his expression.

The assembled group grew concerned, and even Kaminari looked a little sheepish. “He was fine until just now. In fact, he looked really happy, the last I saw of him.”

“Hmm, he was talking about love…” Uraraka said. Then, her face turned mischievous. “Hold on, I’ll be right back!”

She sprinted to the staircase, gone before any of them had a chance to say a word. Tsuyu looked at Todoroki thoughtfully. “Todoroki, does this have anything to do with Midoriya-chan?”

At the sound of Midoriya’s name, Todoroki snapped to attention. He stood up, pacing the room. “The love that swims in my veins/ Permeates through the everlasting flames. When I wake and when I sleep/ He is the only thing I keep.”

Ashido snickered, turning to Kaminari. “Maybe coming back to the dorms reminded him of his unrequited love?” Yaoyorozu nodded in agreement, seeing where she was going. “It appears this quirk makes him more emotional and forces him to speak in rhyme.”

“Ah, yes!” Kaminari pointed to her. “You’re right! The kid’s mother called it the ‘Tortured Poet’ quirk. It renders the person to respond to their innermost feelings, making them known through rhyme.” His eyes narrowed, sharp with an evil gleam. “Maybe we should get Midoriya to see how Todoroki reacts.”

Hagakure giggled as she pointed to the doorway. “I think we’re about to find out.”

The door to the stairwell burst open, with Uraraka dragging Midoriya behind her. He looked completely bewildered. “What could you possibly have to show me, Uraraka-san? I wanted to finish the next chapter of my notes today!”

“You can worry about your nerdy obsessions later, Deku-kun.” She pushed him forward, lacing her fingers together. “I think you’ll like this surprise.”

Todoroki, who had been distracted by the sunset again, turned to face Midoriya. Instantly, his solemn expression turned to one of glee, and he raced forward. He took hold of Midoriya’s hand in one, caressing his face with the other. Midoriya blushed a deep red, sputtering, “Todo-todo- wha-what are you—?”, but Todoroki didn’t listen to him.

“Another day without your presence in my life/ Would torture my very soul, leave me in everlasting strife.” He tucked a lock of hair behind Midoriya’s ear. “The sound of your voice, the smell of your skin, the feel of your hair/ Without it, I have nothing more to care.”

“Uh—Um-Uh-wha?” Midoriya blushed even brighter. He turned to his snickering classmates. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Midoriya-kun,” Kaminari said, expressing too much sorrow to be real. “He was so sad until you got here. Right, Todoroki-kun?”

Todoroki nodded, but did not gaze away from the man in front of him. Midoriya seemed to be avoiding his eyes at all costs, pleading with his friends for an explanation. “Safety only with him/ Sorrow if I cannot have him/ My every breath hangs on his every whim.”

“Woah, changing from couplets, this time!” Uraraka giggled mercilessly, making Midoriya shoot a glare in her direction. “He must really like you, Deku-kun!”

“To like is intangible, unsustainable.” Todoroki brushed his thumb over Midoriya’s heated cheek. “To love is the fruit of all we’re capable.”

Midoriya squeaked. Ashido and Hagakure were overcome by giggles. Tsuyu tried to contain her throaty croaks, but ultimately failed. Iida looked almost as bad as Midoriya, blushing deeply and gaping widely, unsure of what to do.

Midoriya started to chuckle, awkwardly. He gently, but sternly, pushed away from Todoroki. “Ah, ha, ha, guys, very funny.” Though Midoriya looked like he found it anything but funny. His tight grin betrayed his strain. “I see. Great joke. Todoroki-kun must be under the effects of a love quirk.” The girls tried to chime in, but he held up his hand. “This is all very entertaining, but I really need to, uh, get back, and do, some uh, stuff. Bye!” Midoriya speed-walked out of the room, ignoring the calls behind him. Everyone looked at each other, shell-shocked.

Todoroki fell to the ground in a crouch, clutching his knees to his chest.

Kaminari was the first to break the silence, releasing an awkward chuckle. “Well. That’s not what I had planned.”

Uraraka laced a hand through her hair. “I thought this would be a good opportunity for Deku-kun to realize Todoroki-kun’s feelings.”

“Yeah, well.” Tsuyu said. “Now he thinks we did all this to play a prank on him, kero.”

Yaoyorozu frowned. Her gaze drifted toward Todoroki, who was mumbling to himself. “Are you okay, Todoroki-kun?”

Todoroki-kun looked up at her, face miserable. “The dark skies never leave/ Alone, my heart can only grieve.” His words ended in a groan, and he shifted on the ground until he could hold himself in the fetal position, rocking back and forth in agony. “Love is my very strength, my very weakness/ Without him to hold, I suffer in the bleakness.”

“Alright, Shakespeare, we get it.” Ashido leaned down to pat him on the head, but Todoroki swatted her off in agitation.

“Only his touch will bring me peace!” He glared at Ashido. “Without it, my cries will never cease.” When Ashido backed down, Todoroki resumed his rocking, mumbling Midoriya’s name in his long, woeful couplets.

Yaoyorozu watched her friend, dispirited. “I believe we went about this in the wrong way. Maybe we should have waited for them to come to terms with their feelings on their own.”

Hagakure groaned, flopping back on the couch. “Yeah, well, we’ve already had to deal with it for this long, I don’t know how much more I can take.” She motioned towards Todoroki. “And hearing his terrible poetry makes it so much worse.”

Having pushed down most of his own embarrassment, Iida finally spoke. “Yes, well, I quite agree with your sentiment. However, our conduct today was not permissible in the slightest. I feel deeply regretful for my actions by not intervening sooner.”

“So.” Tsuyu turned to the others. “What do we do, now?”

_______________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

#Story #majesticanna #TodoDeku #365DaysofTodoDeku #TodoDeku365 #365 Days of TodoDeku #tddk #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #Midoriya Izuku #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Todoroki x Midoriya #Shouto x Izuku #TodoIzu #long post

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gothamcityneedsme · 5 years ago

Note

Batman au

@abysskeeper

Finally. This is from the 3 sentence prompt meme. Which I am still doing. Fucking. This one is the longest I think. Almost 4k words. I’m not looking at this anymore.

———

Trickshot frowned, the light of the computer monitors in front of him casting his features in blue light. His eyes flickered from screen to screen, but nothing notable was to be found. Usually that wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but they had already been tipped off that someone was on the move tonight, so it was tense, waiting for the pin to drop. Just watching and waiting, unable to do anything else.

The sound of the door opening behind him was hardly worth him switching his attention away—he could see the person entering on the security monitors anyways. But, he did call out a brief greeting, “Hey.”

He could see Jonathan wave at him from a subwindow on the monitor on his upper-left, and Trickshot smirked, amused—he had even waved in the camera’s direction, despite the fact that it was the size of a marble, not visible to most. But, of course, Jonathan could see it.

“Tavon,” he greeted as he stepped closer to the monitors, “I take it no moves yet? Never mind—you’re still here. So obviously not.”

“Mn,” Trickshot nodded.

They stood in silence for a little while, watching. But it was never long that Jonathan would stay quiet, not while they weren’t on a mission at least, “Sooo. Have you come up with a name for this place yet? I feel like we really need a name for this base, or center of operations, or whatever.”

Finally, Trickshot looked away from the monitors, raising an eyebrow at Jonathan, “My garage?”

“Yes,” Jonathan snorted as he propped a hand on his hip, “We can’t just call it that.”

“I don’t see why not. It’s not like anyone else is ever going to be here.”

“We can’t just say we’re ‘going back to Trickshot’s garage’ at the end of the day. We should say something that sounds cool.”

“No,” he replied, unimpressed, “Why do we even have to say anything at all? We don’t have to explain ourselves to anyone.”

“Ugh,” Jonathan let out a long-suffering sigh. Trickshot smothered a smirk. “I get tired of your dark broody thing sometimes though. It feels rude to just disappear on people. It isn’t uncool to say ‘bye,’ you know.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, don’t pull the fake ‘I’m-considering-it-but-I’m-actually-not’ tone with me, Tav.” Jonathan was grinning though as he said it, their usual banter making the time go faster. It was nice to take his own eyes off the monitors for a bit too, he could trust that Jonathan would notice something pop up even faster than he would if he were looking himself, and so he could take a moment to be at ease.

It wasn’t the monitors that finally alerted them though, but rather the ring of the communicator on Jonathan’s belt. Trickshot could see who it was before Jonathan even brought it to his face, the red heart emoji giving it away rather obviously. Jonathan, predictably, lit up, quickly clicking to accept the call, “Nexus! Any news?”

Trickshot lacked super-hearing, so he didn’t really have a chance to overhear, but that was quickly remedied as Jonathan tapped the side, activating the holo-interface of his communicator so that Nexus could presumably speak to both of them. Nexus’s face came into view, looking only mildly irritated, “I have received a call meant for the two of you. Since your identities are unknown and your communications are more underground than mine, you’ve forced me to become a relay. I don’t approve.”

“Oh,” Jonathan’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked far too apologetic for something that was hardly a concern—of course one of the most active heroes on the net was easier to contact, “Sorry about that! I guess we could open a line or something—”

“No,” both Nexus and Trickshot said at once.

“Stop bullshitting,” Trickshot frowned.

“Fine,” Nexus sighed, continuing as if his complaint hadn’t even been aired, “It was your ex-partner, Trickshot, back in your ‘Crosshair’ days. I maintain that that was a stupid name, despite how fitting it was for your prior job.”

“Did she say what she wanted?”

Jonathan looked at him in concern. He wondered if his voice was as tight as it felt.

“No, and I didn’t ask. I’m not your secretary. All she gave me was a set of coordinates.”

“Transmit them. And tell Sequitur that we’re out, it’s up to him to deal with anything that arises.”

“Fine. But I maintain that I’m not your secretary.”

“Thank you, Nexus!” Jonathan added, quick, just before Nexus hung up.

———-

“I can’t believe you made him hang up on us.”

“You’re still mad about that?”

“Yes! I’m trying to—”

“Yeah, I’ve seen your contacts list.”

“You can’t talk, you’re gunning for—”

Trickshot brought a finger to his lips and Jonathan immediately grew quiet, his eyes narrowing behind his visor as he turned his focus to their surroundings.

“Five o’clock, 40 meters,” Jonathan whispered, low enough for Trickshot to just barely hear him, “She’s got a cloaking device on.”

But, of course, Jonathan could see through something like that, attuned to even the slight shifts and wavers in the air.

Trickshot glided down to the rooftop, landing with ease, and he turned himself towards where Jonathan had said she was. “Bolt,” he greeted.

“Don’t pretend to be all cool,” her voice rang out as her form shifted, the cloaking device at her belt being deactivated, “I know you didn’t see me.”

Jonathan landed so that he was slightly between them, but without saying a word.

Lynnick chuckled, “Way to ruin his attempt at mystique, Sentinel.”

“Spotter,” Jonathan corrected coldly.

“Yeah, I’m not calling you that,” Lynnick hissed, emerald eyes blazing in a way that was both familiar and not. “I was his spotter.”

“Not anymore.”

Trickshot interrupted, not that he didn’t appreciate what Jonathan was trying to do, but they weren’t here to fight (verbally or physically). “What do you want with us?”

“You,” Lynnick corrected, turning her gaze to him alone, “I didn’t ask for the other guy.”

“Fine, just me,” Trickshot snapped, narrowing his eyes, “What do you want with me?”

“I’ve heard whispers of something I knew you’d care about, so I’d figure I’d do you a favor—for the last time you got me out of a jam.”

“…When was that?” Jonathan’s eyes flicked to him, sparking with uncomfortable uncertainty—he never liked it when Trickshot kept him out of the loop.

Trickshot shrugged, “Sometimes we keep up connections. Help each other out.”

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed behind his visor, but he said nothing more. He wouldn’t, not while they were in front of someone else. Later though, Trickshot definitely hadn’t heard the end of this.

“Stop interrupting, Sentinel,” Bolt hissed, “I want to get this over with as much as you want me gone. So let me say my piece so I can fuck off.” Jonathan shrugged, prompting her to continue, flipping her braid over her shoulder, “Great. Specter is planning another raid—yes, I know you’ve been following them. Every superhero has. But I know you don’t want her dead, and I don’t either. She’s a good distraction, and she gets my crew out of jams sometimes. But, she doesn’t like us contacting her, so I can’t warn her. And fuck if I’m going to be where the shit is going down.”

“What’s going to happen?” Trickshot asked, masking the spiking worry—it wasn’t surprising that it was getting risky for Specter and the rest of her team—there were a lot of people gunning for them. This could be…bad.

“They’re going to be stopped, obviously. Attacked. Police, SWAT, whatever else they got out there, I don’t know. All I know is that there’s gonna be a lot of brass and I’m out. And, sure, Specter is good at getting out of things, but she won’t leave her team behind, and I’m sure more than one of them will be along.”

“How did this information come out? What’s your source?”

“I know a guy embedded with the cops. He heard about it and was nice enough to let me know for a few hundred bucks. He’s never steered me wrong before, and this isn’t a trap for me or anything so the likelihood of him lying is, I assure you, quite low.” She still remembered his paranoia. And, he was sure she could go on for longer to disregard all of his concerns about authenticity. She knew him. He could trust that much. “Specter’s people must have a leak or something too—you just can’t trust people these days.”

Jonathan opened his mouth, probably to object, but Trickshot quickly interjected, nodding, “I appreciate the information. Tell us when and where and we’ll handle it.”

Bolt grinned, her eyes glimmering, “Oh, a part of me wants to come along just to see how you handle it. How you’ll get them out. Especially since you don’t want them to know you like them, right? A little…well, it’s a little supervillain of you.”

Jonathan stepped forward, fists clenched, “He’s not—”

She scoffed, “Please. Don’t delude yourself.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t stand here if he was. I know him better than you do.”

Bolt turned, her footsteps sounding softly off of the rooftop. She stood near the edge now, looking back at them, shrugging, “Tell yourself whatever you want, Sentinel. Don’t come crying to me when he leaves you.”

With that, she tapped her belt, activating her camouflage, shimmering invisible, the distortion barely visible to him, until she jumped, disappearing below. The sound of a grappling hook could be heard firing into the next building, but Trickshot couldn’t discern where she was once distance was established between them.

Jonathan could though, his eyes cold on the horizon.

He couldn’t just let the silence remain though, he had to—to address what she had said, he couldn’t let her turn Jonathan against him. Trickshot quietly affirmed, “I’m not going to—”

Jonathan cut him off, “You don’t need to validate yourself to me.” He tore his gaze from Bolt, “I know you.”

He didn’t know how to reply.

Jonathan sighed, fumbling with the pouches on his belt to bring his communicator out, and predictably, another call was coming, a little red heart displayed on the screen. He clicked to accept it, solemnly scanning the information that was displayed in green over its surface. No voice or video this time, just the information, presumably the coordinates and time that Bolt was referring to.

Jonathan smirked a bit, swiping the message so that Trickshot could access it on his goggles, “I like how he says he’s tired of being our secretary but then tells us that he’s standardized how he’s sending us coordinates.”

“Of course you like it,” Trickshot quipped, a weak smile tugging on the corner of his lips, “You like everything he does.”

“Mhm,” Jonathan nodded, an ease to his stance now that Bolt was gone. “So, I assume we’re getting there first. Before they even break in.”

Trickshot shook his head, already running possibilities in his head, “We’ll just run into the authorities that way. We can’t be seen either—they wouldn’t understand our sympathies.”

Jonathan smirked, “Not when they’re trying to catch her too.”

“You and I both know she’s not what they think. That there’s way more going on here, we just have to figure out what.”

“Or ask.”

“Or ask,” Trickshot relented. “Either way, we have to head them off before they even get there.”

Jonathan frowned, “We don’t know where they’re coming from, only where they’ll hit.”

“Well, that’s half the puzzle. Surely with all the pieces we’ve been picking up about them, it’ll be easy enough to figure out.”

“Maybe for you, but I haven’t reached quite the same understand of them that you have,” Jonathan admitted, a bit sheepishly. “I’m not sure how much help I can be with so little information.”

“You can be plenty help. You’re my eyes. Come on, it’s only a few dozen blocks from here.”

“Why do I work for you again?”

———-

They were split up again, Jonathan on a radio tower a few blocks away, placed in the highest vantage point to take advantage of his heightened senses. Of course, their communicators still kept them in contact, Jonathan able to whisper so that Trickshot could hear him in his earpiece. He had told him to focus on the area north of the site—it was the least covered by the covert police and hero forces they could see since it was right by the waterway.

They had, of course, kept themselves from being detected by the other forces, which was easy when you knew them all so well. Better than Specter and her crew would—although they also knew how to hide. But, not knowing enough (and being limited in their mobility since they needed room to carry things out too) would hold them back from scouting to the extent that he and Jonathan could.

If only, a traitorous thought whispered, You were on her team.

Pushing it aside, he shifted his focus on the streets below, the little alleyways, the gratings that led to the sewers and the underground systems of the city—it was likely that those would be her choice of entrance. They were still a long way from her actual target, but they needed to catch them first. Before they entered the snares of the trap.

Jonathan’s voice whispered in his ear, “A shimmer of steel—Archangel’s wings fifty meters to your left. Alleyway grating pushed up.”

Ah. Specter’s right hand. They would be in two separate groups though, two entry points. Trickshot squinted to where Jonathan indicated, nodding as he caught sight of a brief flash, something no one else would notice, especially not from this far away. But, since he knew where, he could see.

“Keep looking,” he whispered back, “There should be a second group, that’s where Specter will be. We need both before we move.”

With a lack of anything else to do for the moment, he kept his eye on the small group of figures in black moving. Archangels wings were even painted black to blend in, but the slightest shimmer of their gears was the tell for Jonathan’s sight. From this far away Trickshot couldn’t identify the other members, but he was sure they were the profiles he had seen before. Perhaps a few new ones as well—her group was ever-growing.

“Twenty meters north and thirty meters west from your position—doorway of a building near a streetlamp. Probably has an underground entrance inside.”

Trickshot smiled, relieved, shifting his attention away from the others who he knew Jonathan would keep track of as well, tapping his goggles to enhance his own vision (although mere tech couldn’t compare with Jonathan), and just as he had thought, there she was. Alone—a surprise, but not too much of one.

She was sacrificial, he thought.

“You handle the others, try not to fight them. But we can’t have them fall into the trap. I’ll talk to her.”

“Don’t get distracted,” Jonathan’s tone was lilting, “Recall that you don’t want her to complete her mission this time.”

“I know,” Trickshot smirked, “I don’t get caught by such distractions so easily.”

“Ah, leaving the ‘like you’ unspoken, how unlike you.”

“Just try not to harm her subordinates. We’re trying to save them, not make things worse.”

“There’s only two others, I’m sure they’ll be amiable. I have a good reputation.”

“Oh, rub it in why don’t you.”

They could go on like hours like that, but they both had tasks to complete. He saw Jonathan glide down from the radio tower, landing soundlessly on the rooftop before running, heading towards where Archangel was. Meanwhile, Trickshot shifted his own attention to where Specter was starting to move, sticking to the shadows, and he would have to catch up to her quickly before she’d phase out.

He leapt between rooftops until he was closer to her, jumping down onto a staircase at the edge of a building. He allowed his impact to rattle the metal, creating a slight sound, enough to catch her attention. And it did, immediately her gaze snapping to him, alert and prepared.

He held his hands up, palms out, raising his voice only enough to be heard, “I’m not—”

Specter blinked out of existence underneath him, and before he could even think of where she would go, she reappeared, right beside him, soundlessly on the metal, her dagger up and ready a mere foot away.

He froze, eyes widening a bit, continuing as he carefully kept still, “—Intending to do you harm. I want to help.”

“You’re…Trickshot.” Her brows furrowed, green eyes bright in the dark. Slowly her dagger lowered, just slightly, “…Where’s Sentinel?”

So, she knew enough to know that they were rarely apart. He answered with ease, “Spotter is speaking to Archangel. And whoever else is here, I didn’t quite see who was on your other team.”

Her eyes narrowed, dagger raised again, “How did you know where we’d be?”

“Your operation has been leaked. A lot of people are trying to capture you, heroes and police alike. I caught wind of it and wanted to tip you off before you were in the trap.”

“How did you know where I would be?” she repeated, slowly, although she still didn’t quite seem hostile. It was starting to hurt, keeping his hands raised, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be seen as a threat to her, so he remained motionless.

“I’ve been observing your group’s actions. Reports, CCTV feeds, anything I could get my hands on. I’ve only run into you a few times in person, far off, but—” he swallowed, “I made an educated guess. And Spotter’s eyes did the rest.”

“You’ve…you have helped us, in the past. I noticed how sometimes our path would suspiciously clear, even though we expected a fight on our way out of somewhere—but never have you appeared before an operation. You’re with them, aren’t you? The people trying to get us?”

He was pleased she had noticed that much, at least, he hadn’t ever really been trying to hide, “No,” he replied smoothly, “They keep me out of the loop. I learned of their intentions from a contact—I have not been involved in their planning or their chase of you and your crew. I have no interest in labelling you as a foe.”

Her dagger lowered, again, this time staying low, and she took a step back (not that distance meant much for a teleporter). He allowed himself to lower his hands, but he kept them away from his belt. He continued, “I don’t want you to walk right into a trap. I know you aren’t what they’re claiming you are—and I don’t know what you are, but I’ve been wanting to know.”

He was usually skilled at reading expressions, but he couldn’t quite parse what emotion it was crossing her face at the moment. She seemed to be evaluating him, that much was clear and predictable, but he couldn’t discern what it is she saw. Did she believe him? Trust him, or at least trust his words?

“…How many are in the trap?”

“I don’t know that much. But when we were scanning the area, Spotter discerned that three blocks around your target is entirely stonewalled. They’re all undercover but there’s signs, equipment and practiced patrol routines that aren’t as normal-passing as they’d think.”

“…How much do you know?”

It was easy to respond, perhaps a little too easy to share his information, but he had been waiting for this for what felt like so long, to actually stand in front of her and speak to her, to be a more proper ally to what he felt was right. Even though he didn’t understand yet, he had seen the sort of things her people had been doing, and none of it was with true evil intent. “I don’t know what your purpose is. Or what your target is. Only where.”

“And still, you warn me? Without even understanding?”

“How am I supposed to understand with so little information?”

She let out a breath, the barest hint of a laugh escaping her lips, “Good point,” she mused, a corner of her lips tugging upwards, “I suppose that’s too much to ask of anyone when so much is hidden.”

“I want to uncover it,” he said, “I know something is wrong but I don’t know what you’re fighting.”

She stepped back a little farther, shrugging her shoulders, “You have to find that out yourself. I can’t just tell you. You have to see it.” Her eyes glittered, “Sentinel has good eyes. He might be able to, if you help him figure out where to look.”

He paused, unsure of how to respond to that, frustrated but unable to direct it towards anything. His fingers clenched slightly. Finally, he shook his head, “You aren’t still going to go for the hit, are you?”

She tilted her head, “Hm. No, not with the forces you described. This one wasn’t that important. It’s not worth getting captured, or risking my allies. Archangel agrees—Sentinel is someone even we’re prone to trust.”

He tried not to be too obviously relieved, but was sure that some of it bled through his façade, “Good. I wouldn’t have wanted all my efforts to go to waste here.”

She blinked, scanning him over, seemingly evaluating him again, “I’m sure we would have gotten out of it, but perhaps we wouldn’t be unscathed. While, clearly, we are now, even if our goal remains unaccomplished.”

“I’m sure you can plan accordingly later. In the meantime, I suggest you figure out the source of your leak. Someone who knows about your operations leaked it to the authorities, and they leaked it to my source. So…be careful.”

She nodded, “…Thank you,” she said after a moment. “…I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again.”

And, before he could reply, she vanished once more, and he didn’t see her reappear.

Jonathan’s voice crackled from his earpiece, “Archangel is headed back through the underground. Specter gave the order, but even before that she was listening to me. We aren’t seen as foes as much as you thought, Trick.”

“I’m glad whatever they were hitting is unimportant enough to drop.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what we’d do if they just ignored us. I guess at least they’d be warned?”

“Yeah,” Trickshot agreed. And as Jonathan chattered on about meeting back up and heading back to base (“Which we really need to rename,” he added), he was left to his thoughts of that scenario. What would they have done? Gone back after simply accepting that they had done all they could by informing them? Or—

Would he have followed her?

#abysskeeper #my writing #readmore broke initially because this website is fucking functional #tavon #jonathan #im not tagging anyone else #this got so long and i didn't mean to write this much for this universe that i dont REALLY INTEND TO WORK ON #GODDDDDDDDDDDD #this took FOREVER #shitpost

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ripley95 · 6 years ago

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OC Interview

I was tagged by @kenshi-vakarian7 and @rpgwarrior4824 for the OC interview meme. Thank you so much!

I’ve been putting off a ton of other OC memes that mostly @rpgwarrior4824 tagged me in and maybe some others? It’s been so long I can’t even remember, so sorry if I’ve missed anyone! Rather than flooding everyone’s dash with other OC memes, I’m going to do the interview, and add all of the other memes below the cut.

I’ll be doing all of them for Jane Shepard from one of the stories I’m currently writing.

Also, if anyone wants to do a huge OC master post like this with any or all of the memes involved, feel free to consider yourself tagged.

1. What’s your name?

Jane Shepard

2. Do you know why you are named that?

My parents were looking for something traditional. Something about remembering where we came from, having connections to Earth. I’m not really quite sure about their rationale behind that.

3. Are you single or taken?

Single? I’m not really sure how this is pertinent information.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

My tactical cloak has gotten me out of a few sticky situations. I guess that counts, right? Not everyone knows how to use those effectively.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I’m afraid that goes against my job description.

6. What’s your eye color?

Green.

7. How about your hair color?

Brown.

8. Have any family members?

My mom, Hannah Shepard. She’s a Rear Admiral now, you know. She’s pretty distinguished in her own right.

9. Oh? How about any pets?

I have a hamster. His name is Pongo. I have some fish too... actually, I should probably double check that one.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.

Intrusive and unnecessary interviews.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I do like my model ships. There’s something about the process of putting them together that’s almost meditative.

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

Hasn’t everyone?

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

I’m sorry, you do know who I am right? I will say, that I don’t take that for granted. I always try my best to avoid death, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

14. What kind of animal are you?

A human? Honestly, I don’t even understand the point of most of these.

15. Name your worst habits?

Apparently, indulging reporters, for what? Some kind of romance magazine I’m guessing?

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Of course. My mom’s been a great example for me. She raised me by herself for most of her life, and she’s always tried to do her best by me. She’s a great role model. Then there’s Admiral Anderson, but, maybe let’s not talk about him.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I really don’t see how this is any of your business.

18. Do you go to school?

Not anymore. I was raised going to the Alliance Academy, almost conditioned for military life. Then there was N7 training, but nothing as formal as that since.

19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?

I don’t know. Now that the war is over, maybe? I never managed to think that far ahead.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

You could say that. I have a VI dedicated to sorting my mail.

21. What are you most afraid of?

Failure. Letting down my team.

22. What do you usually wear?

Usually whatever the Alliance has requisitioned for me.

23. What one food tempts you?

Oooh, anything freshly cooked an warm, and you’ll have me wrapped around your little finger. Let’s just say I’ve become way more accustomed to MRE’s than I care for.

24. Am I annoying you?

Not exactly, though I’m not sure why some of these are so personal.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Great.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

Middle.

27. How many friends do you have?

Living a life in space hasn’t allowed for much stability on that front, but my crew has become a second family. It’s not about how many, but about the bonds that aren’t breakable, and I’ve found that in my crew.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Like I said, anything fresh or home cooked, and you have my attention.

29. Favorite drink?

Water’s never failed me. I’m sorry, were you looking for something more interesting? I’ll say that I am probably too attached to my coffee supply too.

30. What’s your favorite place?

Places have never really been a stability for me either. I guess the Normandy’s become pretty special.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Well... there was someone. I’m not really sure anymore.

32. That was a stupid question…

Yeah...

33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

I can’t say that I’ve had much of a chance for either, but I remember that sticky gross feeling after swimming in an ocean, so I’ll have to say lake.

34. What’s your type?

I’m sorry?

35. Any fetishes?

Oh, we’re really not going there.

36. Camping indoors or outdoors?

Are you kidding me? You’re going to ask this after that last question? What exactly is this interview for? Outdoors, I guess. I wouldn’t say no to a nice cabin though.

Fairy Tale Aesthetics: Brothers Grimm Version

SNOW WHITE.

jade trinket boxes. taste of iron. fingertips on a mirror. yellow and green with envy. long handled hunting knives. sewing by the window. combs laced with pearls and poison. an apple white one side and red the other. white doves. frosted glass.

THE MAIDEN WITHOUT HANDS.

a blunt axe. a ring of chalk. tear-stained cheeks. sweet pears. hands tied behind back. shallow rivers. aching feet, walking for days. flowing gown. liquid silver. wax seals. blinding lights.

THE THREE LITTLE GNOMES IN THE FOREST.

lukewarm bath water. sapphire butterflies. tiny milk snakes. baskets of strawberries. fat toads. sparkling snow. fur cloaks. raw gemstones. kettles made of copper. red wine. a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere.

BLUE BEARD.

a tiny key made of gold. pools of blood. stains that won’t rub away. galloping hooves. treasures from far away lands. dragging by the hair. dark and damp cellars. marble walls. shivering with fear. screaming at the top of your lungs.

THE SIX SWANS.

sitting side-saddle. daughter of a witch. nettles. white feathers. refusing to smile. needles and threads. a castle in the forest. sound of beating wings. birthmarks. climbing trees. balls of yarn. silver crowns.

LITTLE RED CAP.

wildflowers. rich-tasting cake. wicker baskets. the path rarely trod. sharp teeth. curtains drawn. a dying fireplace. grey pelts. red velvet. handmade quilts. sunlight peeking through branches. opening corks with a satisfying pop. looking someone directly in the eye.

OC Body Language Meme

DEFENSIVENESS

arms crossed / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth / brow furrowing / shoulders hunched / sudden, sharp movements / growling

REFLECTIVE

hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows / scrunched nose / staring to the side / fidgeting

SUSPICION

arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line / strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes / smooth, quick movements / sniffing the air loudly

INSECURITY & ANXIETY

chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging at pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically / hugging themselves / head whipping around frantically / hanging down avoiding eye contact / low growling / shoulders hunched over / sitting with knees pulled up to the chest

ANGER & FRUSTRATION

short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / running hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up – defensive posturing / clenching of jaw/ grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales / hitting walls and random objects / loud growling / pacing / yelling randomly

OC sense aesthetic

SIGHT. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.

HEARING

crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.

TOUCH

being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.

TASTE

coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries.

Bold Relationship Tag

If anyone actually made it this far, I’d be shocked. But seriously, if you want to do any kind of variance of an OC master post for your OCs, feel free to do it and tag me.

#OC Interview #My OC #Jane Shepard #oc memes #lots of memes #long post #super long post after the cut

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pluvicor · 5 years ago

Note

☕ RELAXED♒️ IRRITATED💘 LUSTING🌦 LONGING☘ HOPEFUL🍃 CONFUSED🎡 AMUSED🌞 HAPPY⚡️ ANGRY💧 SAD💕 IN LOVE

ㅤ☕ RELAXED -- Easy. Zion will close his eyes and enjoy the moment like that for a while, whether it's the silence or the sound of someone's voice + what they're talking about. He will joke more, allow himself to be dramatic for humourous effect, even somewhat ridiculous or go on an absurd tangent. Being relaxed is not the norm, he's always under some sort of stress, where it's mostly his own fault. When he gets the chance to dive in, it's blissful and he will lean into things or people -- in which case he will rest his head on their lap and MAYBE let them play with his hair, or rest against their back/side. No need for hugging, just resting.

ㅤ♒️ IRRITATED -- Your muse will know when he's irritated, he will make sure they do. Not only will Zion outright say he's irritated, he won't stop talking about what's making him irritated. And if your muse is the source, they'll be out of luck because this boy will rant their ears off. He's very expressive and can't control his face, the shift on his looks will be immediate. He will scowl, roll his eyes and he will sound stern. He will speak as though he has authority over whoever is listening and if they're not careful or too sure about what they feel, they might even believe he does.

ㅤ💘 LUSTING -- Zion's libido is... something, but it's due to how physical he likes to get and how quickly he is to feel touch starved. If the other person has his trust, he'll love to be touched, not only sexually. Cuddling, hugging, spooning, holding hands; all these seal the deal for him just fine. When he does get the urge to go beyond that, he will seek more skin-to-skin contact: slide his hands under someone's sleeves, or under their shirt to touch their back when he hugs them, he will look more at their lips or eyes and linger. Expect lots of neck kisses, kisses to the ear/behind it or him nuzzling the collarbone. All in all, it'll be obvious he's DTF. In case being physical isn't permitted or the context doesn't call for it, he's a big flirt and tease, will check the other person out at every chance he gets and smile if he's caught.

🌦 LONGING -- Either silent or restless. He may appear uncharacteristically gloom, unwilling to talk and plain look like he's not listening either. Zion will be absorbed in his own world, trying to figure out what will pull him out of that pit. And he won't accept help, it's one of the times he will feel like he's being pitied and it'll make him ashamed. This one he prefers to deal with by himself, even if it's the "positive" type of longing -- in which case he will act the same way, but with more daydreaming.

☘ HOPEFUL -- I'm not sure what to say for this one. He kind of... already is, constantly? Or tries to be. It's important to him to have hope in something, it'd be too easy for Zion to dig his own grave by having nothing to be hopeful towards. He doesn't know how to be apathetic, coldly hopeless; not having something to look forward to would freak him out. So, he finds things to do and look after that he doesn't need: a job, many pets, plants, a new degree and so on.

🍃 CONFUSED -- As arrogant as he may come off as, Zion has no problem saying when he doesn't understand something. It's common for him to say things similar to "I don't get it", "What do you mean?", "You lost me there" and etc. These are genuine, he will look curious about what the other person is talking about and make further questions until he's satisfied with the knowledge he's been given. Depending on the subject, he will even write it down for future reference and then bring it up to the person who's explained it to him.

🎡 AMUSED -- Man, is he LOUD? When he's having fun, he will laugh out loud, and so hard that he will have to lean back and bring his hands up to his mouth to stifle it (cue clasping hands together or clapping once he thinks he's close to stop laughing). Brings him to tears, too. Big smiles, dumb jokes, losing all his air from laughing. He might dance? Zion loves to dance, but it won't often be a well thought of dance so much as random moves to fit the scene.

🌞 HAPPY -- Same as above but less loud. Giggles, gentle smiles, he will compliment where a compliment is due and enage the other person, want to know what they're about and include them in what /he/ is about. Being happy is underrated, specially if it's by himself. He'll sing, make entire converstions to himself or talk to his pets (Marble, in specific).

⚡️ ANGRY -- I'd same it's the same as "irritated" because he doesn't get physically violent. In the rare cases the topic/person will drive him to the point of /feeling/ violent, he will blow and shut up. That's it, he will glare at them in complete silence and exit the scene [insert Jamie Lee Curtis Argument meme], grit his teeth and clench his fists until his palms lose all circulation. They'll know he's this 👌 close to clocking them, but he won't. And it will take him several days, weeks, to ride out that high -- he holds grudges, he will reference the situation often and expand on the topic until the irritation flares up into anger all over again. Ah, being angry will make him raise his voice. Yep, he will yell before going quiet.

💧 SAD -- But the alcohol never lies, never lies. 🎶 Truth be told, he doesn't drink only when sad. But when he is, 100% of the time he will drink something. He won't /look/ sad per se so much as he will look spent, and he will SAY he is tired instead because that's how his body translates sadness. Zion will be morose, feel sleepy without being able to fall asleep, he will tear up (he's easy to be made to cry in general) and not want to be seen. That's when he will go out and drive for no reason, go around the sit and empty his tank. And it's 50/50 when it comes to physical comfort, he will either want to be hugged badly or not want anyone within ten feet.

💕 IN LOVE -- Needy, clingy, if it's reciprocated. Which is inconvenient for him since he has a strong desire to feel independent and level-headed, so when that /need/ to have someone close at all times settles in, he feels guilty and on the fence. Not about the feeling itself, he's very sure of his feelings and has no problems confessing. However, he doesn't know how to act on them without feeling obnoxious, codependent. He's afraid that if he does, he will suffocate and push the other person away by monopolizing them. So he collects himself for the most part, then blurts out all these feelings like a broken dam when he's invited to speak his mind in a loving tone.

Not that any of this is particularly bad, it's just poorly managed. He's caring and attentive, he does his best to pick up the person's favorite everything and use it for gifts or other types of thoughtful little things. He loves spoiling, buying objects he thinks they'll like or that remind him of them. He's big on quality time as well, his mind runs with ideas for dates or activities to do together, which will take into consideration all those details he noticed the other person liking. He feels intensely and will give himself on a silver platter to the object of his affections.

#a.txt #because sam hates me and you all #(jk)#long post *#cutemoniic

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tomorrowcomest0day · 6 years ago

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To another year

My @homestuckss secret santa to @jude-harley , who requested john getting help for his depression! so, here goes!!

The snow was perfectly still and undisturbed on John’s porch. The last few nights had seen some dream-like snow, falling in big, lazy flakes and covering the ground in a soft blanket. On sleepless nights, John would watch it fall by the window, leaving Ghostbusters or Con Air on to fill the silence, without really paying attention to the movies. They were kind of dumb anyways. So, he would find stuff to do, to pass time. Well, _try _to find stuff is more like it. He had a couple of unanswered texts, mostly from Jade, Roxy and Terezi. In facts, most of his texts were memes from Dave or ideas about Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff’s newest arc. John couldn’t find the energy to answer them, or even the desire. It’s not that he didn’t like his friends or care about them, far from it; he would die for them, and probably has in some other timeline. But, since Sburb’s madness had ended a few years ago, something was missing, he couldn’t precisely put his finger on what. Constantly almost dying made everything much more intense, safety was almost boring. Everything was boring, and John did not want to bother his friends with such bleak thoughts. The days were so monotone, Christmas had come and gone without John noticing: his phone was probably crumbling with unread invites to various parties. It was now New Year’s Eve, and he was celebrating in his own festive way: eating ramen in relative darkness. The patience to endure noisy gatherings deserted him. It didn’t really matter, anyways. He raised his champagne glass, alone in the mess of his house, to ‘’another lousy, empty year.’’ His phone started buzzing. It was Dave. John figured it was a call worth taking: he probably wouldn’t need any phrases longer than 5 words, Dave was usually just thinking out loud. Effectively, John couldn’t place a word before Dave blurted out:

‘’Put your pants on and unlock the door, nerd, we’re coming in.’’He hung up as quickly as he called, leaving John puzzled. Seconds later, frantic knocking started resonating across the house. How useful had that heads-up been. With a groan, he opened the door, bidding farewell to a quiet, comfortable night of wallowing in his own depression. A procession composed of Dave, Terezi, Roxy, Jade and Karkat defiled into his living room. All of them were wearing party hats, Dave carried a bottle of sparkly apple juice, Jade had a neatly-wrapped box, Terezi was yelling ‘’Happy New Year’s Eve!’’ at the top of her lungs.

‘’We missed you, John! said Roxy, jumping in his arms. You missed the Christmas party!’’John reciprocated the hug:‘’Yeah, sorry about that, I slept through it. -Sure, said Dave, patting John on the shoulder. Slept through the whole twelve days of Christmas. -I mean—‘’

John mumbled a bit, trying to find a justification.‘’At least admit your guilt! yelled Terezi. We’re trying to be neighbourly!-She’s just kidding, intervened Jade. We were all a bit worried, we haven’t seen you in weeks…’’John pulled away from Roxy:‘’I haven’t got out as much as I should have, I guess.-It’s obvious enough, snarked Karkat. When’s the last time you washed the dishes?’’ John stayed silent and Karkat, without any further prompting, started cleaning up, picking up old clothes on the floor. Roxy opened the curtains and turned on the lights, Jade declared:‘’We brought you a gift, I wanted to give it to you at Christmas, but...’’She handed it to John, somewhat eagerly. Unwrapping it discovered a box in which there was a fedora, identical to that of John’s father. John stared at it, silent.‘’It was Jane’s idea, explained Jade. I thought it was thoughtful, it’s from her father’s personal wardrobe. Do you like it?-I—yeah, I think. I just didn’t expect anything.-I’ll be sure to tell Jane! I didn’t want to bring the whole gang stress you out by having so many people over…’’ John put on the hat. ‘’Thank you.’’ Roxy found the stereo and terrible Christmas music filled the silence of John’s home; Terezi was raiding the fridge for anything edible or not; Dave was bothering Karkat, who was trying to do the dishes, before bringing a few glasses to the siblings; Jade, fondly smiling at John, uncorked the apple juice and poured the three of them a bit of it. Dave, slouchy and stone-faced as usual, raised his glass:‘’Here’s to another, better year.’’

The three of them clinked their glasses. John smiled and Dave tapped his shoulder with his fist.

#homestuckss #jude-harley #sorry this was late i couldnt get my computer sooner!!#also please excuse any english mistakes dgsfdgdfghdfh english isnt my first language #enjoy tho!!!#fandom

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tisfan · 6 years ago

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Make his Mark

Title: Make his Mark Collaborator: @27dragons & @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: O4 - Marking Ship: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Major Tags: Sex, Anal Sex, Semi-public Sex, Marking, not your father’s coffee shop AU Summary: When the tabloids report that Tony Stark and Bucky Barnes’ marriage is going to end in divorce any day now, the queue starts forming to ”comfort” Tony. Bucky wants to make sure everyone knows that Tony is his.

Everyone. Word Count: 2,880 Created for @mcukinkbingo

A/N: We would apologize for hijacking the People Magazine meme, but we’re not actually sorry. Also, this story takes place in the Communal Kitchen AU, somewhat after Long Winter, but you don’t need to know anything about it, except that Bucky and Tony are married.

Everything below the readmore, for smut

There was nothing finer than looking up at Tony, straddling Bucky’s thighs, glistening with sweat, each muscle outlined with golden candlelight, as Bucky very slowly pushed up into that heat. They had the penthouse to themselves, all the kids were gone, and half of the Avengers with them. With relative privacy and the assurance of no interruptions, Bucky had taken his husband to bed, with the intentions of staying there for most of the evening.

Tony raised up, then rolled his hips as he sank back down, shuddering with the sensation. He put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders to change the angle and rocked again, humming with the shifting position. “Article in today’s People says you’re not in love with me anymore,” he mentioned.

Bucky choked and spluttered, then groaned as that changed the way they were fitting together. “Tony, I am literally balls deep in your ass right now,” he pointed out. He flexed his hips, fingers gripping Tony’s thighs. He clenched his jaw in an effort not to spill over right away; his dick often seemed to have an urge to make a point, somehow.

“Mm, yeah, I noticed that.” Tony dug his toes into the mattress for balance and pushed back onto Bucky’s cock even harder than before. “But do you still like me?”

Bucky slid an arm around Tony’s back and before he could protest, rolled them over until he was on top, sliding even deeper with each thrust, as if he could permanently become one with his husband. He leaned in, until his mouth was hovering mere millimeters away from Tony’s. Until speaking brushed their lips together. “I am so into you, baby,” Bucky said, “that nothin’ gonna pull me out.” He demonstrated, by way of pushing Tony’s knees back until they were practically touching his ears.

Tony’s breath caught and his hands clenched in the sheets. “Glad to h-hear it,” he groaned. “Oh, Christ, yes, right there, more.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, rocking with him, stroking Tony with each heartbeat, kissing him thoroughly. He was going to come quicker; driving down into Tony’s lithe, beautiful body always drove him wild. “You know I love you.” He balanced on the metal arm, getting a hand between them to tease Tony’s dick. “Don’t you?”

“Course I do,” Tony panted. “‘M just sayin, the press is at us again. And you know-- oh! Oh, yeah, sweetheart, just like that -- you know what it means when that happens.”

Bucky almost snarled; settled for purring in Tony’s ear, instead. “Means some stupid, mislead idiots with delusions of adequacy are gonna come crawlin’ out of the woodwork, hopin’ for a bite of Tony Stark.” He nipped at Tony’s throat, down to worry at Tony’s collarbone, sucking up a red mark. He ran his thumb back and forth over the crown of Tony’s cock, smearing precome around.

“God, it should not be so hot when you get possessive,” Tony swore. “You know I don’t want anyone else, baby.”

“I know,” Bucky said, and he did, he knew that. Tony had never even had to prove himself to Bucky; they’d held each other’s lives and hearts and heads since they practically met. He didn’t have doubts. “Jus’ don’t like ‘em circling around you like blowflies. You’re not someone’s prize.” He sucked in a breath, thrust in, and twisted his wrist at the same time. “You’re mine.”

Tony threw his head back on a cry and came, spilling over Bucky’s fist to splash across his stomach. “Yours,” he gasped. “Always.” He reached up to curl his fingers into Bucky’s hair. “And you’re mine. Moy soldat.”

Bucky arched, that squeeze and heat, so perfect… he gasped for air, everything clenching down, and then-- “Oh, god.” Deep and molten and shivering, Bucky let it go, pleasure zipping from nerve to nerve as he came, crying Tony’s name. He chased after his breath for a bit, heart throbbing painfully in his chest, practically squashing Tony while he recovered his wits.

“Do I like you,” Bucky said, rolling over and spreading out over as much of the bed as he could get, trying to cool down. “What idiocy. Of course I like you. Like you, love you, want you, need you. Everything. All of it. There aren’t even words.”

Tony sighed in satisfaction. “We might have to put on a show for the press again,” he said. “Since it seems to be a slow news week.”

Bucky rolled up onto his elbow. “What a hardship.”

Really, as Tony got older, you’d think the number of people trying to hit on him would decrease. Sure, he was pretty fit for his age, still a billionaire, still a celebrity superhero, and there were always going to be people who found that attractive; Tony had long since resigned himself to the occasional offer from a fan with little to lose. But since the latest round of the gossip rags proclaiming that Tony and Bucky were going to call it quits Any Day Now, it seemed every third person he met was trying to get into his pants.

Bucky hadn’t even left Tony’s side for five minutes at the last event they’d been at before some society darling had pressed up against Tony’s side and offered to help him through those lonely nights.

Honestly, the woman was lucky that Bucky had only flayed her with words on his return; Tony was pretty certain he’d been mentally doing much worse.

Tony didn’t know where the gossip sites got their speculation from. It’s not like they’d stopped being affectionate with each other -- the kids were forever complaining about it, actually. Which only made them do it more, because it was funny. But apparently, that was too subtle. They were going to have to take things a little bit farther to get the message across.

Bucky, who normally contained himself to shooting at bad guys, and the occasional knife fight when one got too close, switched it up a bit and picked up one of the Not-Quite-Doombots (Tony didn’t know what they were, but they weren’t Doom’s robots, those things were dangerous, these were more like knock-off, dollar store bots. Annoying, clunky, and prone to malfunctions. The Avengers were only called in because there were so many of them) and threw it.

The ‘bot crashed into a nearby coffee shop and sent patrons screaming away. The way Bucky glared at the shop, without paying the least bit attention to the scrap metal he’d just failed to recycle, made Tony wonder if the collateral damage was a little more directed than usual.

But that was the last one. Nothing was still standing that wasn’t wearing signature colors (and the bystanders, who were by-fleers). Bucky took two running steps, hit a park bench, and leaped, getting an arm around Tony and practically tackling him to the ground. It was a good thing Tony had all sorts of shock resistance built into the armor. As it was, the fall jolted his breath out of him and Bucky thumbed the helmet’s release and was kissing him before Tony could recover his air.

“Mph--” Tony tried to say, then gave up and kissed his husband. It was shorter than usual, because air was a thing, and Tony hadn’t started out with a full breath. “Fighting knockoff Doombots gets you hot and bothered now?” he teased.

“No,” Bucky said. He nuzzled at Tony’s jaw. “College girls daring each other to flash Iron Man when he flew by kinda pisses me off, though. That one in th’ blue shirt left her damn brassiere on the table.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “No subtlety at all,” he complained. “Think it’s time to do something about this mess?”

“Mmmm,” Bucky said. He rolled to his feet and offered Tony a hand up. Steve was squawking over comms about the cleanup. Bucky made a face, tugged his earpiece out and threw it over his shoulder. “Fight fire with fire.” He lifted Tony up, armor and all, kissed him again, like they were in some sort of romcom and the wreckage of the street was a field of flowers.

Tony returned the kiss, with interest. “Have I mentioned before how hot it is that you can manhandle me in the suit?” He grinned down at his husband.

“You an’ the suit don’t even weigh what Thor does,” Bucky said. At Tony’s dubious look, Bucky added, “we did ‘get help’ last fight. It was fun.” He turned and carried Tony right back to the coffee shop, which was abandoned and ruined. Bucky took particular pains to step on the lacy bralette laying, forgotten, on the floor. He pushed into the back office, depositing Tony on the desk and swept it clear of rubble.

“Really?” Tony asked. “This is your choice of location?” He didn’t waste any time unfolding himself from the suit. He glanced up at the security camera in the corner and shot it with an EMP blast. There was a limit to how much evidence he wanted the press to get their hands on.

“Smells better than a broom cupboard,” Bucky said with a shrug. “An’ if someone’s gettin’ naked about you in a coffee shop, it’s gonna be me.” He worked open his armor one handed. “Gonna be a quickie. Once I’m outta this shit, I don’t like t’ put it back on until it’s clean.” He licked his way into Tony’s mouth, one hand sliding down the underflight suit until he reached Tony’s hip. “But I’ll make you feel real good, baby.”

“Promises, promises,” Tony taunted, groping down the front of Bucky’s armor and generally interfering with Bucky’s attempt to get it opened, until he got his hand on Bucky’s cock. “Already hard for it? You sure it wasn’t the ‘bots?” Tony grinned impishly until Bucky growled and leaned in to kiss the smirk off his face.

“Maybe a little bit th’ ‘bots,” Bucky said. “It’s nice t’ cut loose an’ not worry about hurtin’ people.” He groaned, pushing against Tony’s hand. “Gonna be even quicker than a quickie if you keep doin’ that.”

Tony was pretty sure Bucky would be able to manage a second round if he did shoot off quick, but it was also a pretty good bet that Steve or someone else would come looking for them if they were missing too long, so they probably didn’t have time for two rounds.

Tony wasn’t completely hard yet -- he wasn’t as fast on the draw as Bucky -- but the warm press of Bucky’s body and the firm stroke of Bucky’s hand as it slipped into the suit was getting him there pretty easily. “RPF,” he murmured. “Coffee shop AU.”

“Look at you, baby,” Bucky crooned. “Love it when you’re all sweaty ‘n dishevelled.” He rubbed Tony’s shaft with the heel of his hand, fingers teasing at his balls while he taunted Tony with more kisses, his tongue flicking over Tony’s lips in quick, heated strokes.

Tony groaned and tipped his head back, tugging Bucky’s mouth toward his throat. “Oh, yeah, yes, Bucky...”

Bucky fastened his mouth on Tony’s throat, a sharp nip and flare of pain as Bucky sucked all the blood to the surface, tonguing the spot when he was done. He rutted against Tony’s thigh, hips moving urgently. He kissed Tony again, hard and quick, then pushed him a little higher on the desk until he was sitting on it, Bucky tucked in the vee of Tony’s legs. “Gonna eat you right up like an ice cream.” Bucky slid to one knee, matching actions to works and took Tony down to the root in a single motion. His mouth was a hot, slick inferno and his tongue worked at Tony’s skin with skill and agility.

“Oh Christ,” Tony gasped. Quick, indeed; there was no slow savoring here. Bucky worked him with raw, ruthless efficiency, proving just how well Bucky knew Tony’s body. He clenched his hands in Bucky’s hair, hanging on for dear life. “God, Bucky, yes...”

Bucky slid two fingers into his mouth, teasing at Tony’s cock, his tongue working in between them, then, slippery with spit, drew them back, along the crease of Tony’s thigh until he was pressing at the entrance to Tony’s body, a quick little caress and tease, circling and encouraging Tony to thrust up, into Bucky’s mouth. The noises he was making were obscene, slick and wet, moaning almost continuously.

Tony whined and pushed up into the welcoming heat of Bucky’s mouth and throat. He shuddered at the sensation, and Bucky pressed one finger into Tony’s hole, not far, just enough to stretch and burn a little. It was enough to tip him over the edge. He cursed and jerked and then came, shooting down Bucky’s throat in a warm wave.

Bucky licked and tormented him through the aftershocks, until Tony was weakly batting him away, overstimulated and jittery. Bucky licked at his lip, his mouth red and swollen and used looking, face pink, hair sticking to his forehead. “You are utterly, utterly wrecked, babydoll,” Bucky said, smug jerk that he was.

“You’re not much better,” Tony retorted. He gingerly tucked himself back into his undersuit. “Do I get a turn at wrecking you next?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, eyes flashing eagerly. “Wanna feel you, baby, your nice warm skin. Got a hand for me?”

“For you, sweetheart, always.” Tony dragged his hand over Bucky’s cock, teasing a little before wrapping firmly around it. He kissed down Bucky’s neck, sucking at the skin. “Think if I work hard enough at it, I can give you a hickey that’ll last long enough for some pap to get a picture?” he wondered. He sucked a little harder, pulling the soft skin between his teeth.

Bucky groaned, pushing into the pressure of Tony’s mouth, head falling back in supplication. “Don’t know that I even care,” he said, “damn, that feels good, Tony, oh, oh, yeah, like that, baby.”

Bucky might have started their tryst as a possessive marking of territory, but once he was into it, Tony was his sole focus. It was a little humbling, sometimes, the raw, naked longing that Tony could see in Bucky’s every movement. From the way he shuddered under Tony’s hand to the savage wantonness of his cries.

“That’s it,” Tony coaxed, working his hand faster, rolling over the tip to spread precome down Bucky’s cock. “So gorgeous, so perfect for me. Come for me, sweetheart, I want to feel you coming.” He licked at Bucky’s neck, the salty tang of sweat and skin, and if he hadn’t just climaxed, he’d be getting hard again.

Bucky rolled up onto his toes, fucking up into Tony’s hand. His fingers clamped down on Tony’s shoulders and he let his mouth drop open, all the stress and worries dropping off his features until they were smooth and relaxed. His eyes fluttered shut and then, “Oh, god, Tony.” His hips stuttered, pistoning wildly, two, three strokes. A soft sigh and he arched into it, painting Tony’s belly, hip, and the thigh of his flight suit with come.

Tony stroked him through it, peppering his face and neck with kisses. “So wonderful, so beautiful,” he murmured. He nosed at Bucky’s temple, dropping a soft kiss there. “Now who’s wrecked?” he teased.

“One ‘a these days,” Bucky said, huffing out a breath, “I’m gonna make you carry me.” He shuddered, resting his forehead against Tony’s shoulder for a long moment before yanking his tactical pants back up around his hips. He tucked himself in, belted the pants, but left the shirt open, showing off his chest, and a few round, red bite marks.

Tony found some napkins to wipe up the mess and then got himself back into the armor. He left the helmet off; the tender spot on his neck where Bucky had sucked a hickey would probably show nicely, and it definitely wasn’t a combat injury. “You want me to give you a lift back up to the ‘jet?”

Bucky took a step back, his knees obviously shaky. “Yes, yes, I would like that,” he decided, firmly. “You can sit with me on th’ way back to the Tower. I don’t think we need an aerial escort today.”

“Your wish is my command.” Tony caught Bucky’s hand in his -- he couldn’t feel it through the gauntlet, but it was nice anyway -- and led the way back out into the street. He caught Bucky around the waist. “Hold on,” he said. He waved at a returning bystander, giving their cell camera a bright press smile, and then took off, Bucky’s arms twined around his neck.

“Buck, you okay?” Steve asked, as they landed in the ‘jet.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky said. “Just needed a hand with somethin’.”

Steve took a step forward, as if concerned, then his nostrils flared. “Buck!”

Jessica Jones, who was stripping out of her armor with very little regard for modesty, looked up. “What?”

“You can’t smell that?” Steve grimaced. “Really? Really, Buck?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched until he was forced to duck his chin to hide a wide grin and flushed cheeks. “Really.”

Tony dropped onto the bench beside his husband. “No need to get excited about it, Cap,” he said, probably more smugly than he should. “It’s just a little territory marking.”

#mcukinkbingo #tony x bucky #winteriron #marking #possessive bucky #communal kitchen

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vcepsis · 6 years ago

Note

Would you do K+3 for your babies Sheith pleeeease? With cherry on top? ❤

thank so very much ilu

From this drabble ask (and hey if anyone else wants one feel free to send me an ask)

So the meme is for a drabble but I uhhhhhhhh wrote 2k so have some Shiro suffering under the cut (this is my first time writing for vld so I hope it turned out ok)

When this was over, Keith was going to see to it personally that this planet was bombarded from space.

He wrapped his good arm around his knees, gritting his teeth as Shiro coughed next to him, the sound wet and horrible.

They were coming up on day two of being stranded on this planet, and Keith didn’t like it any more than when they had first arrived. It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission: make contact with the locals, shake some hands, gush about Voltron and the fight against the Galra, go home.

Keith remembered looking forward to it: a mission with just him and Shiro. And Pidge, but, well, she would probably lose herself in the planet’s tech almost immediately, so she didn’t count. Keith also remembered the deliberation to cancel the mission when Shiro had picked up a virus the week before, with symptoms similar to a bad cold. But in the end, Shiro had managed to recover enough that it was decided to push forward with the original plan.

Shiro had brushed off Keith’s concerns, insisting he was fine. And he had looked fine as well; in fact, the only indication that he’d been sick was a lingering cough, and even that wasn’t too bad.

The species that lived here was skittish, and not under Galra control. While their technology was impressive, they were used to keeping a low profile so as not to attract Galra attention. It was decided (by Allura and Shiro, mostly) to only bring the Green Lion, to not scare off these potential new allies.

Unfortunately, their secret keeping abilities weren’t quite as advertised. Because no sooner were Keith and Shiro meeting with a group of their leaders, the Galra attacked.

Of course, the locals blamed the Paladins for the Galra’s sudden appearance, and left them to fend for themselves. Luckily, Keith and Shiro had been together, and while Pidge had been alone, she had managed to get to her Lion.

”There’s too many of them!“ she had cried over the comms. ”I can’t get to you!“

“It’s fine!” Shiro had called back as he and Keith sprinted through the jungle terrain, a small army on their tail. “Just go!”

“I’ll contact the Castle, we’ll be back as soon as we can!” With that, the line went dead, and Keith and Shiro were on their own.

In the process of escaping, they had gotten pretty banged up: Keith would have a collection of impressive bruises come morning, and he was pretty sure his left arm was broken from a three-on-one fight. It paled, however, in comparison to Shiro. He’d taken two direct shots to the chest from a hidden Galra soldier, and while the armor stopped the shots from tearing through him, it didn’t stop a few of his ribs from breaking.

It had taken time, luck, and more than a few close calls, but they finally managed to find a small, shallow cave, naturally protruding from a large moss covered rock. It seemed the Galra had turned most of their attention to the fight in the sky and in the city. So they had settled in, expecting rescue to come fairly quickly.

It didn’t.

The only thing Keith could think of was that the planet was under heavy fire, and the others couldn’t getto them. Attempting to raise them on the comms did nothing as well.

Shiro continued to cough, and Keith looked over at him, trying to keep the panic at bay. After a few minutes, the fit finally subsided, and Shiro rested his head on the rock wall behind him. His breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps, and sweat plastered the white of his bangs to his face. The whole planet was just so warm and humid and gross. Keith felt the sweat beading in his own hair and under his armor.

Shiro looked over at him, turning his head without lifting it. Despite the heat, his face was pale, making the red of his scar more prominent. “How’s the arm?”

Keith shrugged his good shoulder. When they first found their makeshift camp, Shiro had managed to set and wrap Keith’s arm pretty well, despite the shaking in his hands and his own injuries. The pain had been excruciating at the time, but had eventually faded to a dull throb that Keith was able to tolerate. “As good as it’ll be. How about you?”

It was a dumb question, but Shiro gave him a soft smile. “S'ok. Not bad.”

They hadn’t been able to do much for Shiro: the armor covering his chest and stomach had been removed, leaving him in his black under suit. Keith had hoped it would make it easier for Shiro to breathe, but it wasn’t going well. That cough was making Keith nervous, especially with the wet edge it had recently taken on. The humid environment, broken ribs, and last remnants of that virus were creating the perfect storm in Shiro’s lungs. Truth be told, it was scaring Keith.

“Maybe you should lie down?” Keith asked hesitantly, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. God, he was just so bad at this. There were lines of pain etched into Shiro’s tired face, and Keith wanted nothing more than to make them go away.

Shiro shook his head slowly, closing his eyes when the small movement made him dizzy. “Can't–can’t breathe, like that.”

They had a bit of distance between them; Keith told himself it was to not crowd Shiro, but in reality, he was just scared. Scared that if he touched him, he would do something wrong and end up hurting Shiro even more.

“You’re quiet,” Shiro said softly, breaking Keith out of his spiraling thoughts. “You sure you’re ok?”

Keith had to laugh at that; it was either that or burst into hysterical tears. “Me? What about you?”

Shiro chuckled softly, which set off another round of rough sounding coughing he tried to smother into his fist. When he was done he was blinking tears out of his eyes. “It’s fine. Only—hurts when I breathe.”

Keith shot him a look. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Shiro responded, voice practically gone. His breath was rattling in his lungs. Pneumonia flitted through Keith’s mind, but he had to quash it down; he already felt like he was barely holding it together, seeing Shiro hurting so badly and not being able to do anything about it. He didn’t need anything else adding to his stress levels.

Shiro shifted slightly, hissing in pain when it jostled his battered ribs. “What are you doing?” Keith asked, the sound sharper than he intended. “Sit still, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Shiro blinked at him, and Keith noticed with alarm that he seemed less aware than just a moment ago. “S'cold. Wanted to…get closer.”

Cold? Keith frowned, confused. It was the exact opposite of cold here; Keith felt the humidity under his skin, felt the warm air sticking his bangs to his face.

Then it dawned on him. He scooted closer, finally crossing the distance between them. Pulling off a glove with his teeth, he pressed his hand to Shiro’s forehead, gently lifting the bangs away. Yes, it was warm out here, but even Keith could tell the heat radiating off Shiro wasn’t normal.

“Shit.” Keith couldn’t stop the curse from rolling off his tongue. Panic bloomed in his chest anew, washing over him like a wave, ripping through him like a thunderstorm.

Shiro blinked slowly at him, not understanding. “Keith?” The sound was so soft, so worried, and Keith felt sick.

“It's—it’s fine, Shiro. Do you want to try to sleep?”

“What about you?” Shiro asked, voice still raspy. “You haven’t slept since we got here.”

There was no way Keith could even consider sleep, not now. Not with Shiro hurt so badly. “Neither have you. You’ll feel better if you sleep.”

The lie was obvious, but Shiro hummed in response, eyes already slipping closed. He scooted down the wall a bit so his head was level with Keith’s good shoulder, resting on it. Keith sat up as straight as he could so Shiro could still sit in a somewhat upright position. Keith found himself wishing he had taken off his own armor; sleeping on it couldn’t be comfortable. But he wanted to be ready in case the Galra came back. Besides, taking off his armor felt a little like defeat—as if the action would be admitting they wouldn’t be rescued for a while yet.

Despite not sleeping since they landed, Keith felt wide awake. Shiro’s head was heavy on his shoulder, his good arm caught underneath. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw that their hands were just inches apart, resting on the ground between them. Slowly, carefully, Keith moved his hand so it was over Shiro’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. Shiro sighed a bit in his sleep.

Looking over, Keith took in Shiro’s pale complexion, save for the faint flush beginning to bloom across his cheeks, and listened to the labored sounds of his breathing. At least he was breathing. Keith tried to focus on that rather than the fear coursing through him.

They stayed like that for a while, Keith eventually leaning his head gently on top of Shiro’s. Suddenly, his helmet crackled from where it sat a few feet away, making Keith jump a bit. “—ith? You there?”

Keith blinked, taking a second to process it, then lunged for the helmet. The movement startled Shiro awake, who managed to catch himself before falling on his face. Keith made a grab for the helmet with the arm Shiro wasn’t resting on, which, unfortunately, was his broken arm, and he cursed loudly as the pain shot through it anew. Jamming the helmet on his head, he heard the static sounds of jumbled voices on the other end. “I’m here. We need a pick up, stat.”

“Keith!” It was Lance. Never in his entire life did Keith think he’d be so happy to hear his stupid voice. “Where are you? We tried to contact Shiro, is he withyou?”

“Yeah, he’s here.” Shiro had managed to shift so he was leaning back against the rock, eyes closed tightly in pain.

“Thank God,” Lance said, relief evident in his voice. “We couldn’t reach him, it was freaking us out. Are you guys ok?”

Keith looked over at Shiro. His head was resting against the rock wall, arm draped loosely around his stomach, panting hard. “Shiro’s hurt. You need to get here, now.”

Lance cursed. “Where are you? There’s a break in the fighting, I’m pretty sure I can come get you in Blue.”

“I’ll send you our coordinates,” Keith replied, already bringing up the armor’s floating touch screen. Shiro was looking at Keith now, brows up in question. “Lance is on his way.”

Shiro smiled, and though it was tired and hazy, it was like the sun coming out. “That’s good. But tell him to be caref—” The rest of his sentence was abruptly cut off by a coughing fit that sounded worse than all the others combined, practically doubling him over with the force of it. Keith’s relief at contacting the team quickly turned back to that familiar, heavy feeling of dread he’d had for the past two days. He scrambled over to Shiro, rubbing his back as he worked through the fit. When he was done, his lips were flecked with red.

Keith’s eyes widened at the sight. He grabbed Shiro’s hand roughly, turning it palm up to see the fabric of his glove nearly soaked in blood, which Keith could see even against the dark fabric. Shiro was practically gasping for breath, too exhausted to protest Keith’s manhandling.

“Lance,” Keith said into the helmet, voice just this side of hysterical. “Hurry.”

“On my way.” Lance’s voice was serious, for a change.

Shiro was slumped against Keith, breathing hard and fast. Keith put his arms around him, ignoring the scream of protest from his broken arm. “Lance is on his way, alright?You’re gonna be fine, ok?”

Shiro looked up at him, though his glazed eyes didn’t seem to really be seeing Keith. “Yeah,” Shiro agreed softly. “Everything’s….gonna be ok. You’ll be…” Before he could finish the thought, his eyes fluttered shut and he went boneless in Keith’s arms, unconscious.

Keith wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “Lance!”

“I know, I know, I’m coming!” The sounds of battle came through the comms, along with low grunts as Lance fought through it.

Keith tightened his hold on Shiro, the pain in his arm secondary to the fear that had taken root in his chest. “It’s ok. You’re ok.” Keith wasn’t sure if he was talking to Shiro or himself at this point. He rested his head on top of Shiro’s, frustrated that the helmet was in the way. But he could hear the sound of Shiro’s breathing, shallow as it was, and focused on that. “I’ve got you.”

And five days later, when Shiro stumbled out of the pod, Keith was the one to catch him.

#vld fanfic #vld sickfic #vld whump #hurt shiro #injury #coughing #blood #blood tw #caretaking #vcep writes #hey here's my first vld fic #i didn't expect to fall this hard into the fandom #but here i am #anyway thank you so much for the request!!#i know shiro is whumped enough in the show #but it's never enough #so here i am doing more #also this can be romantic or platonic #it's whatever you want

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sunshowers-and-sunflowers · 4 years ago

Text

I tried to write about love

I posted this piece on fet and some man told me to “Go fishing and talk to someone” but the joke is on him bc I HATE fishing.

Admittedly I did come in hot...I tried to clean it up for tumblr so it doesn’t get taken down. TW: mentions of abuse and toxic relationships, blood and consensual acts of harm. Oh and suic*de

One of the only reasons I haven’t killed myself is because I know love is real.

If I had never experienced it, I might have ended my own suffering. But every day I wake up and I remember what it felt like to be in love. And I can’t die when there is a possibility, I could feel that way again.

I love a lot of people. Actively and passively every single day.

My platonic love is overwhelming. It’s a bright orange, like creamsicles with the soft pale-yellow swirl. It is messages asking about your day. It is always paying for lunch. It is a text exactly one hour after you left asking if you made it home safely. It is a warm blanket draped over you while you fall asleep watching a movie with me. It is a warm hand placed on your arm accompanied by the warmest most sincere smile I can muster. It is holding you while sobs rack your body and you shiver in my arms. It is absorbing your punches as you scream their name, pound my chest and curse. It is slowly rubbing circles with my thumb while we hold hands. It is carrying napkins, tissues, chapstick, change, extra sunglasses and a snack at all times. Just in case you need it. It is sending you positive encouraging messages reassuring you of your brilliance. It is four-hour long phone calls while you talk, and I nod along even though you can’t see my face. It is a handmade card for your birthday even though we’re nearly 23. It is remembering your parents, grandparents and siblings’ names. It is a soft kiss planted on your forehead. Rustling your hair. Laughing until I cry even though your joke definitely was not that funny. It is playing the same three songs when you get in my car because I know you like them. It is being the voice of reason. Reminding you to study instead of go out. There is no scolding, but a silent disappointment when you make the “wrong” decision. It is a heavy sigh when you tell me about repeated behavior that is causing you pain. It is a firm but gentle nudge forward towards your dreams. It is holding you accountable for your actions. It is forgiving you. Your favorite words fall into my vocabulary and when I catch them coming out of my mouth I can’t help but smile and think of you. It is seeing your favorite things and texting you a picture. It is searching for the perfect meme that I know you’ll love. It’s spending too much money on gifts and wanting to spoil you with material items because I am not good at expressing my love with words. It is a privilege to be by your side and watch you grow. It can be intense, but it is always soft.

My familial love is a dark purple, the deepest color in a bruise. It is beauty even when there is pain. It is picking up after you. It is cooking your favorite meal and dropping it off at your house. It is calling you and hearing the same things I have heard since childhood. It is listening to the same story I have heard one hundred times but smiling and nodding along anyways. It is staring at old photos of us for too long. It is sneaking my cousins their favorite snacks. And not scolding them when they curse. And laughing at their stories. And never letting them win card games. It is ice cream during the hot summer. It is kissing their heads and whispering I love you and I can’t believe how big you’re getting. It is saying “I remember the day you were born” and choking up with tears. It is knowing I’d give the world to them if I could. It is holding my grandmother’s hand. Running my fingers through her hair. Listening to my grandfather talk about the Army, and every job he’s ever had. It’s remembering how he let me play games at the carnival even though I never won anything. It’s forgiveness. Forgiveness for all the things I needed that you could not provide. Forgiveness for the raising of voices, the breaking of dishes and the hurling of insults. It is never sharing how I felt as a child, because I know it would break you. It’s sitting in silence and watching HGTV with my father for five hours. It is sweeping his floors, and helping him fold laundry because I worry, he won’t do it without my help. It is watching TV with my mother even though she pauses the show and stretches a 30-minute show into almost 2 hours. It’s sitting down on the couch, and then being immediately asked to grab something and doing it anyways. It is birthday cards, and Christmas cards, and even Easter cards every single year. It is the soft rays of an early morning drive. It is the swelling in my chest when I remember you are all human. It is feeling satisfied, but still sad, that you tried your best and it was not enough.

Then there is the love that drives me. But I guess there isn’t just one.

The soft yellow, a warm ray of light slipping through the blinds. Looking straight at the sun and smiling.

The waking up at 11 am on a Sunday, limbs tangled, light spilling into the room, a barely audible hum and a feeling of peace. It is making chocolate chip pancakes with smiley faces that exist for ten minutes at most before you devour them. It is reaching across the table with a napkin to wipe your face. It is grabbing onto your forearm in public when I am scared. It is the intertwining of feet at the dinner table. It is grocery shopping together and running with the cart. It is laughing so hard that people start to stare. It is watching your favorite movie 100 times and not complaining once. It is waiting to watch the next episode of tv with you even though I’m dying to find out what happens. It is leaving love notes in your lunch. Or on the bathroom mirror. Or the refrigerator. It is sending you snapchats of ugly faces because I know it makes you laugh. It is standing on my tip toes begging for a kiss. It is holding hands while we eat dinner. It is waking up at 3 am and looking at your face, so moved by your existence that I start to cry.

Then there’s an apple green.

Riding carnival rides and screaming together. Carving pumpkins and one of us definitely cuts our finger. It is singing karaoke and neither of us knows the chorus. It is pulling your pants down as you cut an apple in the kitchen but as I run away, I run into the wall. It is buying dinosaur band aids because I know you will love them. It is rolling the windows down and driving far over the speed limit while we both scream into the inky night. It is driving at the dead of night; darkness surrounds me and your snoring is so loud I cannot hear the radio. It is being horribly drunk in public, and I warn you about getting sick, but you keep drinking and we end up in the bathroom, me holding your hair back while you spill your guts. It is loud electronic music in a club as we flail our bodies around. Your face looks so good in neon flashing lights. It is doing dishes together and accidently flicking soap on you. It is the time I dumped noodles in a soap covered drainer and you never let me live it down. It is being sprawled out on the couch while you play video games, I scream at the TV pointing out all of your enemies as they shoot you dead. It is being selfish and not pausing the show even though you fell asleep 20 minutes ago. It is your morning breath that I can taste but don’t care because I have to kiss you as soon as I wake up. It is when you force me to cut your hair and my hands shake terribly but I am so moved by your trust in me. It is when you make me try new food and I hate it so you eat it all. It is anger when you say you don’t want any fries and then proceed to eat all of mine, but I don’t say anything. It is playing hide and seek in the aisles like we are children, not held down my societal expectations. It is holding back all the “I told ya sos”. It’s the absolute chaos sharing your life with another person brings. But god I’d take all the chaos in the world as long as you’re by my side.

There’s a lilac color. Like lavender.

It is so similar to platonic love. Picking up after you, seeing things and thinking of you, trying my best to make you happy. But it is different. It is running my fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It is leaving lipstick kisses all over your face. It is doing your laundry because it saves time. It is telling you my fears and hopes for the future. It is kissing all the spots on your body that you aren’t ready to love. It’s holding your hand when you try new things. It is listening to your hopes and dreams. It is encouraging you to be who you are inside. It is picking up your habits and being amazed when I catch myself doing them. It’s slipping your name into conversation with other people. It is laying on freshly cleaned sheets and listening to your heartbeat. It is our fingers intertwined during a nap. It’s getting used to your little quirks. It is finishing each other’s sentences. It is knowing your standard Chinese food order. It is going to corporate Christmas parties and watching you interact with all your co-workers as I stand in the corner. It is running a thumb across your lips. It is familiarity and comfort.

Then there’s a deep red. Like dried blood flecks on my face.

It’s the screaming and crying and shaking because I need you to understand me, but you just can’t seem to. It’s the splitting my knuckles on the wall that I punch out of frustration, and you gently wash my hands and bandage them in silence. It is the awkward silence when I meet your family and they just don’t seem to like me. It’s the pain that shoots across your face when they ask me “So what are you?”. It’s being curled in a ball on our bed, desperately sniffing your shirts because I haven’t seen you in days. It’s the white-hot pain that shoots through my body when your fist connects with my jaw. It’s the absence of air in my lungs, and the audible struggling as your fingers squeeze the life from me. It’s wearing pants in the summer because I can’t let anyone see all the bruises you’ve left on my thighs. It’s the strands of your hair, ripped from your head and grasped tightly in my fingers as you leave bite marks all over my body. It’s the slightest hint of blood on your back as my nails dig into your skin. It’s the sound of flesh hitting flesh in my car parked in an abandoned lot. It’s my backseat being covered in white and red fluid, clashing against my tan carpet. It is the smell of sweat. It is stained sheets. It is screaming into the void with you by my side, but not being sure what we’re screaming about.

It can be confusing. When it’s crying your name out. When it’s begging you to hurt me. When it’s feeling empty when I’m not with you. When it’s chains and shackles. When it’s warm breath pleading “Take the pain for me”. When it’s being covered in bruises. When it’s shaking uncontrollably when I’m with you. When it’s flinching when you go to touch me. When it’s crying in my room because you aren’t there. When you are all I can think about. It is a slightly metallic smell. Slightly off-putting but also intoxicating too.

But I know for sure what it isn’t.

It’s not emptying my first aid kit every month because we just seem to run through bandages like it’s nothing. It’s not sweeping up broken glass from our living floor. It’s not sweeping up pieces of ceramic in the kitchen. It’s not the smell of bleach as I scrub the spots of blood from the bathroom floor. It’s not the heat radiating from my cheeks as you humiliate me in public, in front of your friends because I dared to suggest you needed assistance in any form. It’s not crying. So many tears. It’s not waking up at 2 am to an empty bed. It’s not doing our laundry alone because you have worked 10 days straight. It’s not looking in the mirror and not recognizing who is looking back. It’s not cursing and screaming and crying and pulling away. It’s not knocking glasses off of tables as I run from you. It’s not waking up at 12 am to greet you as you come home from your closing shift, but finding you on the couch, talking to someone else through your headset. It’s not unanswered text messages. It’s not boiling water washing over me as I sit curled into a ball in our shower. It’s not wearing headphones and blasting music for a single second of peace. It is not our apartment filled with the sounds of chewing because we have nothing to say over dinner. It is not constant pain. It is not constant fear. It is not fearing for my safety.

I live every day because I think I might get to see the soft hazy yellows, or the bright candy apple greens. But the fear of rusty reds keeps me alone. It drives me to pull back from every encounter. It plants seeds of doubt in me.

And so, I settle.

I dream of those colors, while isolating myself. I consume literature and media that paints with such pretty colors. But me? I can’t imagine ever picking up a paint brush again.

And so I long for something I will never pursue.

I live knowing love is possible but not willing to risk it all again. Only to be left bloody, bruised and alone.

I’ve got no problem with blood, or bruises. But being alone while someone out there knows every inch of me?

I’d rather not.

#my writing #i didn't think this was very good but some girl said it made her cry #so uh i guess that's a compliment #tw: sui mention #tw: blood #tw: abuse

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denimwrites-archive · 7 years ago

Text

My Han Solo

Prompt: Request by @helplesshansen - “Could you do a jared x reader where everyone’s trying to set you two up but youve been secretly dating??“

Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen

Pairing: Jared Kleinman X Reader

Summary: The squad has had enough of your and Jared’s flirting and decide to set you up on a movie date and become frustrated when it doesn’t work. It’s probably because you’re already dating, but you don’t have to tell them that.

Word Count: 2,342

Warnings: Kind of implied sexy times? Very bad Star Wars references? language

A/N: I haven’t seen any of the new Star Wars movies, and I haven’t seen any of the classic ones for god knows how long (I know don’t kill me) so I left descriptions really vague, only making references to character nicknames and stuff. Also for the subjects/books I talk about I just used the stuff I learned in my senior classes cause it’s what I know. Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you like it!

~~~

“Hey there sexy, how was that English quiz? Want to help me study for it during lunch?” Jared asks walking up to you in the hallway. You roll your eyes as you put away your chemistry textbook, while Alana’s eyes widen next to you.

“You mean tell you what the questions are so you don’t fail? I don’t know, I kind of like to see you squirm.” You glance at him with a smirk. Jared lets out a whiny groan.

“(YYYY/NNNN), c’mon. I need to keep up my grades to keep my car.”

“Well then maybe you should actually study rather than look up those stupid pictures you’re always going on about,” Alana cuts in.

You point at her with a thankful nod, “She’s got a point, Kleinman. Memes are getting in the way of your education. It might be best to cut them out until you can find a good balance.”

Jared gasps in mock horror, placing a hand on his chest. “I can’t believe the words I’m hearing coming out of your mouth, (Y/N). I expect that kind of thing from Alana, but you? I thought you actually understood me!” He turns away with a huff, and takes a few steps as if he’s about to storm off. But he turns back around with an endearing look on his face. “You are actually going to help me though right?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you nod your head. Jared pumps his fist in the air. “Alright then babe, we can go over it during lunch. I’ll even buy. Mickey D’s okay? It better be, cause I’m broke. See you then!” And then Jared’s gone, disappearing down the hall.

Shaking your head, you turn back to your locker and grab your math textbook before closing the door and making your way down the hallway. “I don’t know how you put up with him,” Alana says, falling into step next to you.

“He’s Jared, we kind of have to put up with him.” Alana gives a small nod and you chuckle. Soon enough lunch rolls around and as you make your way to your friends’ table in the cafeteria you see them huddled together talking about something. But as you get closer, they seem to break up.

You raise a brow at them as you set down your stuff. Jared comes up behind you and sits next to you, McDonald’s in hand, “What were you nerds talking about?”

“I was just about to ask them the same thing,” you say looking at them suspiciously. Evan’s cheeks turn red, and he’s looking anywhere but at you two, while everyone else just sits there with ‘innocent’ looks on their faces. Turning to Evan you ask him, “Anything you want to say Ev?”

He just shakes his head at you, before concentrating on the lunch plate in front of him. Squinting at them all one more time, you then turn to Jared and start to talk about the English quiz that he didn’t attempt to study for. He gives you your McD’s order and you dig into some fries while going on about the parallels in The Poisonwood Bible.

As you explain, you keep snacking on fries, and eating the other food Jared brought. When your fries run out, you start to steal some from Jared’s section. Connor tries to steal one when Jared isn’t paying attention, but he immediately pulls them closer to himself. “Excuse me, Murphy, I know you weren’t just trying to take my fries. Right?”

“What the hell, Kleinman? (Y/N) can take them, but I can’t? What kind of friend are you?” Connor responds, exasperated.

“The broke kind? I’m sharing cause they’re helping me with English. If they weren’t doing that I wouldn’t be sharing my food with them?” Jared says, as if it was obvious.

“Hey! You’d totally share with me if I wasn’t helping you with English cause I’m helping you in history too.”

“That is true. Actually, that reminds me, can you help me study for my next test? I kind of fell asleep for most of the notes.”

Letting out a sigh, you reply, “Yeah, sure. When is it?” When you see Jared’s sheepish smile you let out a groan, “It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” He gives a nod and you really want to slap him. “Goddamn it, fine. I’ll study with you tonight, but you’re buying snacks and you can’t be stingy.”

“Um… Did you not just hear me defend myself to Murphy? I’m broke?” Jared asks, gesturing to the McDonalds you two were eating.

“If you really couldn’t afford it you’d still be eating the school’s lunch,” Alana points out. You give him a look and he shakes his head.

“I will never sink to that level again. My palette has since grown past the muck that is served as food here,” Jared says, lifting his nose in mock distaste.

Everyone rolls their eyes and you go back to your explanation for English, while the rest of the group quietly watches you and Jared interact. They were all tired of your teasing and flirty demeanors towards each other, and were ready to get you two to confess your feelings, but were unsure how to do it yet.

When lunch ends you all go to your respective classes and soon enough the day is over. Heading to Jared’s car so you can help him study for his history, you see Evan waiting for Jared to come and unlock it. Greeting him, you both wait in comfortable silence, until Evan clears his throat.

“S-so, um… We... I mean, Connor, A-alana, Zoe-e, and I-I were thinking of h-h-h-aving a movie night and um… I was wond-dering if you and Jared wanted to come? Or if we could-d do it at Jared’s house?” He asks, looking at his shoes.

“Yeah, Evan, that would be cool. You want me to ask him about having it at his place?” you ask. Evan nods and you nod back, “Yeah, I can do that. When do you want to do it?”

“M-maybe, Friday?” Evan says, questioningly. He’s fiddling with the end of his shirt and you gently place a hand on his arm as a placating gesture. He looks up at you and gives a small smile. Returning it, the moment is interrupted by Jared making an entrance.

“Ready to ride, bitches?” He walks around to the driver’s side and gets in, throwing his stuff in the back, and starting the car. Evan sits in the passenger seat, and you take the backseat, forced to move Jared’s shit out of the way. The good news about Jared taking his time is that most of the traffic is gone by the time he pulls out of the school’s parking lot. Dropping Evan off first, you wave goodbye then head to Jared’s.

When you get into Jared’s room, he immediately pulls you into a kiss and you can’t help the smirk that makes its way onto your face. Pulling away, Jared lets out a whine at the loss, trying to follow your lips. “I thought I was here to help you study. If we’re just going to make out I kind of want to get some stuff done first.”

He lets out a small groan. “But I’m studying in the form of practicing for my most important subject: being a boyfriend. C’mon, you know I can’t fail that.”

“You also can’t fail history, or you’ll be held back. And I don’t think you want to repeat senior year, do you?” He lets out a sigh before begrudgingly going to his backpack and pulling out his history textbook. “Good boy. If we have time, you can study for both subjects?” At that, his head perks and you can’t help the giggle that escapes.

“Oh, really? This wouldn’t be one of those stripping games would it? I get a question right and you take off some clothing, I get it wrong, I take it off?” He asks, with an eyebrow wiggle.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Jared. I was suggesting that you study first and if you get done early, we could do something else.”

“Well I like the sound of something else, so let’s get started, shall we?”

Two hours later and Jared was pretty well prepared for the test tomorrow. You wanted to help him study more, but he was becoming a little impatient and whiny, so you decided to take a break and watch some TV and cuddle. Cuddling turned into a little make out session and let’s just say that you didn’t get much more done that night.

However, you did get to ask Jared about the movie night at his place that Friday, and he agreed to it, as long as he got to pick the movie. The next day, you relayed the news to Evan and he seemed pretty excited. When he brought it up during lunch, everyone agreed on 7 o’clock for the meet time and who was bringing what snacks.

Friday came sooner than you expected, and you headed to Jared’s house a little early to help him set up, along with just wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend before the movie. When seven rolled around, you were sitting on the couch with Jared, ready for the others to arrive so you could start. After half an hour with nobody showing up, you start sending some texts that no one responds to.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you and Jared decide to just watch the movie on your own. Star Wars was always a good marathoning movie series, and you got through the first three before passing out on Jared’s shoulder. The next morning your neck is stiff, but you feel safe in his arms. Snuggling in closer you ignore your phone as it goes off.

When you finally wake up a few hours later, your eyes meet Jared’s and you can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your face. Giving him a lazy kiss, you sit up and finally check your phone. You see you have a few missed calls from Alana and Zoe, and about 100 texts from the group chat. As you scroll through, and listen to the voicemails, you can’t help but roll your eyes at their ‘plan’ to get you and Jared together. Like leaving you two alone would just solve the problem.

Jared seems to have had a similar experience when he looks up from his phone. Staring at each other for a few seconds you both burst out laughing. It was just so much fun to tease them. When your chuckles and giggles grew quiet, you both planned what you would say.

You ended up staying over Jared’s for most of the weekend, and finished your Star Wars marathon with a fake lightsaber duel, reenacting some of the more iconic scenes and quoting as you went. Some of the duels end in tickle fights, which you are proud to say you were the victor. But Jared always retaliated with a flurry of kisses and you ultimately decide that you were evenly matched. Needless to say, it was a really great weekend.

That Monday at school, while putting books back in your locker and talking to Alana, Jared comes up behind you and gives your side a poke, making you jump. Giving him a look, you turn back to Alana, who seems to be assessing your interactions with a critical eye.

“Sorry about Friday, something came up. How’d the movie night go?” she asks with an ‘I’m totally not interested but give me all the details anyway’ air about her. You smirk a little and lean in like you’re about to tell a juicy secret, when Jared lifts you and carries you away down the hall.

“Put me down, flyboy!”

“Sorry Princess, can’t do that. Got a galaxy to save,” he replies. You can’t help but laugh at his antics, while also trying to get out of his grip. “C’mon Leia, you’ll be fine with Chewie. Speaking of…” he trails off, dropping you at your first period where Evan just stares at the two of you from his desk. “Take care of them, furball, or it’s your head!” And with that Jared disappears and you’re left shaking your head at him.

“What was that-that about?” Evan asks, a very confused look on his face.

“Jared’s just a little swept up in Star Wars fever. Thinks he’s Han Solo or something.”

“Well, he-he called y-you ‘Leia’. D-does that mean…” Evan trailed off, really hoping that you’d say that something happened during the marathon and that you two were finally together.

“He’s just wrapped up in a fantasy. I mean, yes, I am a totally badass resistance leader,” you say, “but I don’t think I could put up with Han if I were in her shoes.” Evan seemed to let out a breath at your answer and left it at that. Class started and soon enough it was lunch.

As you got food, Jared came up and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You smirked at him and told him about Evan’s reaction which got a chuckle out of him. When you got to the table, everyone was looking at you expectantly, but when you didn’t say anything they seemed to deflate a little.

Eating and making light conversation, lunch was over all too soon, and you grabbed your stuff ready to head to class. Jared stopped you outside the cafeteria though, and made sure that no one was looking as he gave you a small peck on the mouth. “I love you,” you said with a growing smile.

“I know,” he replied with an eyebrow wiggle, and then he was gone down the hall like nothing happened. You made your way to your next class and just shook your head at his actions. Oh Jared Solo, you will be the death of me, you can’t help but think to yourself.

#jared kleinman x reader #jared kleinman fanfiction #jared kleinman #dear evan hansen x reader #deh x reader #dear evan hansen fanfiction #deh fanfiction #dear evan hansen reader insert #deh reader insert #musical x reader #musical fanfiction #musical reader insert #my writing #finished request

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