#and he said yeah. hes rolling random encounters for every single one.

[sparklehoard]

Oooooohhhg my dnd campaign just hit it's armageddon.

[dirty-brainrot]

(Frienemies)

I do not like him I do not like him I like him I do not like him I do not--

Pairing: Jotaro Kujo x Reader

There's nothing in the world that you hate more than Jotaro Kujo, the school's bad boy. Every girl (and even boys of course.) fell for the 195cm emo man and you didn't know why. He was quiet and would tell everyone who approach him to go away, not to mention, very intimidating.

All the teachers fear him and the rest of the students, who don't fall head over heels for him, are afraid to even look at him.

Then there's you.

"I fucking hate that Kujo guy."

The only person in the school with a deep loathing for Kujo Jotaro. You avoided the man as if he was a plague or like a cat with water.

You huffed as your redhead companion only laughed awkwardly. "This is the 3rd time this week, Y/N..., What did he even do to you?" Straightening your back, you turn to face Kakyoin with a deep frown. "Well for starters, your friend," making air quotes friend part, you continued. "He's just a fucking asshole and not to mention I hate his grumpy-ass attitude." You huffed and crossed your arms.

"Ah..." Kakyoin only sweat dropped while listening to you rant about Jotaro. "Honestly, I don't even know how you managed to befriend that guy..." Your voice going soft as you relaxed and looked at him. "Kakyoin, we've been best friends ever since we were kids and this guy—" You cut yourself once you saw the all-familiar edgy teen, the scowl on your face returned. Kakyoin, noticing your swift change of expression, turned around to see Jotaro.

"Ah, hello Jotaro." He gives him a small smile while you greeted him back the complete opposite with venom in your voice. "Kujo." He glances at you and looks back at Kakyoin, ignoring you.

"The old man, Avdol, and Polnareff are visiting this week." Kakyoin's smile widens. "Is Iggy with Polnareff?" You watch the two of them interact as if forgetting your existence. Getting ticked off, you stormed away while mumbling. "Fuck him and his hat."

As you storm away, Kakyoin glances at your irritated figure. "Ah... Can we invite Y/N too? I just want my friends to get along..." He frowns while Jotaro grunts. "I know you don't like them- can you two try to get along at least just once?" Jotaro thought for a moment and nodded his head. 'He probably won't stop until I say yes.' Kakyoin beamed at him. He sighs and grabs the tip of his hat and said his line.

"Yare Yare Daze..."

It was the next day. You had forgotten the whole encounter with Jotaro yesterday and to make your day better, you found a new game shop! You could certainly ask Kakyoin to hang out with you and check it out.

☆

Walking in the student-filled corridor, you kept an eye out for a tall redhead. 'Hm... Where could he be? He could be possibly with Jotaro.' As you rounded the corner, you bumped into somebody. Gasping, you stumbled back and bowed with an apology. "Sorry-" You were cut off with a familiar chuckle. "It's okay Y/N." You smiled and looked up at Kakyoin. "I've been looking for you! I wanted to tell you that there's a new game shop and I wanna ask you if you wanted to go with me."

Saying you were excited is an understatement. You and Kakyoin have been gaming buddies ever since you were a child and now there was a new game shop which could mean new games to play and trash talk over.

You could see Kakyoin getting excited to check out the shop as well. "Yeah! I'd love to." He responded.

The bell rang before any of you could talk again. "I'll see you at the school gate later!" Already heading to your classroom, you waved your hand goodbye. Kakyoin waves back and walks in the opposite direction. Fate seems to be on your side since you haven't seen Jotaro once today and you plan on keeping it like that until math class at least.

The day went by quickly, all the lesson was messily scribbled on your notebooks and all assignment were passed. Now you just have to wait for Kakyoin at the school gate.

Once you arrived at the gate, you saw Jotaro leaning on the wall, smoking. You glare at him knowing he was probably waiting for Kakyoin too. "What are you doing here?" He glances at you and covers his face with the edge of the hat. "Why do you care?"

You roll your eyes. 'He's extra edgy today.' "Can't I just ask a question?" You could feel eyes on you. It was probably Jotaro's fan club hiding somewhere and glaring at you.

He huffs the smoke and looks away. "Yare yare... Just leave me alone brat."

"The only brat I see here is your edgy ass." You retorted.

It seems to strike a nerve. His scowl deepens and flicks his cigarette away, grabbing you by your collar. You look at him unfazed but ready to strike anytime. "If you don't sh-"

"Geez... You two fight like an old couple.." Kakyoin breaks you two up before any of you could get hurt. He shook his head, "And here I thought bringing Jotaro was a great idea." You laughed loudly making Jotaro glare at you.

Kakyoin sighs as you two have a glaring challenge. "If-" He spoke up and you both look at the redhead. "If the two of you don't fight for a week then I'll... I'll do whatever you say." You stared at him and grinned. Kakyoin nervously gulps at the expression you're giving him. "Sounds like a deal."

Now Jotaro doesn't care about that but you on the other hand have some great plans for the poor redhead.

"Let's go to the game shop then..." You both start to walk until you realize Jotaro was following too.

"... He's... He's coming with us?" You whisper to Kakyoin. "Ah!" He looks at you apologetically. "I...may have forgotten to tell you that I invited Jotaro to come with us..." You took a deep inhale and walked ahead. Not bothering to comment on what he just did. Since you made an agreement after all.

The entire walk was painfully awkward. You didn't talk and Jotaro doesn't usually talk so that left Kakyoin trying to engage you and Jotaro to talk to each other but you just nodded and hummed. 'Damn... I feel like Jotaro now." You snicker quietly.

The game shop didn't have many customers. There were probably around 3 and a single employee at the cashier.

Feeling giddy, you walked inside while dragging Kakyoin with you. "Holy shit..! They have the best RPG game!" Letting go of Kakyoin you ran towards the RPG section and looked at the huge selection of games.

"Damn... My allowance is gonna be dead by the end of this." You thought while you read the cover of a random game you grabbed.

Out of nowhere, you felt a warm breath hit your nape. Flinching at the feeling, you turned behind ready to hit the person with the game you were holding. "Oh." Looking up, it was just Jotaro looming behind you.

Wait a minute.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You furrowed your brows suspiciously at him. He looks at the game in your hand, bored. "I wanted to look for games too."

"Huh... You don't look like a person who plays games." He steps backward and shrugs then walks away leaving you confused. "I should just look for F-Mega..." Forgotten the weird interaction, you looked for the latest F-mega game they had.

After walking around and getting distracted by other games, you finally found F-Mega! Happy with your decision, you went to the cashier and paid. Then looked around to search for your cherry friend.

You have looked around the shop but you didn't find him, plus the shop was small so it was easy to find someone. Walking outside, hoping to see Kakyoin, you see Jotaro smoking. Waving the smoke away, you approached him. "Have you seen Kak?" He throws the cigarette and steps on it. "There was an emergency so he went home early."

"Oh." You look at him dumbfounded. "Kakyoin left you with Jotaro?! It's an emergency anyway..." You sighed and walked in the direction of your home. Surprisingly, Jotaro followed you. "What do you want?" You didn't mean to sound annoyed but it came out like that. "Making sure you don't get into trouble." Huffing, you started to walk faster but Jotaro was able to keep up since he has longer legs.

Too busy trying to get far from Jotaro, you failed to notice the crack on the pavement, making you trip. Thankfully, Jotaro was able to catch up with you. He grabs you by your waist, preventing you from facepalming the floor. "If I wasn't here, you would be eating dirt right now." He pulls you up. You pouted and mumbled. "You were the reason I ran and tripped." Good thing he didn't hear it or else he would've let you go. You straightened the creases on your clothes and quietly thanked him. He seemed to have heard that one and nodded.

Giving up on trying to outrun Jotaro, you both walk in silence. It was only the leaves rustling and the occasional birds chirping. It was surprisingly peaceful since you both didn't bicker.

When you both arrived at your home, the sun was setting down. You opened the door to your home but stopped and looked back.

Jotaro was already walking away, probably towards his home. "Oi Kujo!" You called out to him. He stops walking, not looking back. "I enjoyed that walk. Thank you." His hands were in his pockets as he looks back at you and nodded then continued his walk.

Maybe  Kujo Jotaro isn't that bad.

[rumblelibrary]

Hello, it's me again, your friendly neighborhood... Hungarian?!...👀❤️

Can I request a Sebastian Zöllner fic, where he is a coworker of Reader, and there's an obvious sexual tension, attraction in the office, they sit opposite each other, legs touching sometimes, hands touching... Idunno... Things like this 👀🔥 but nothing happened... Yet...🔥🔥

Never an Enemy [Sebastian Zöllner x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 5k

Warnings: A bad mouthed journalist with strong opinions about art and performance that might offend

Author’s note: Did I let this idea simmer in me for ages? Yes. Did I ever stopped thinking about it? NO.

You hummed softly while the music blasted in your headphones as you made your way up the stairs to the headquarters of the Art Tribune, the art focused magazine you worked for since over a year.

You liked the job even if to deal with artists was hard and the pay check could really deserve an improvement, it was stimulating and surely kept you on the edge. That morning in particular you needed to revise some background stories and just loads of reading to do to work on a new article for an upcoming exhibition. Just the usual fact checking, but you just couldn’t do it at home the day before so you decided to come early and enjoy some peace and quiet at the office.

You arrived at the top of the stairs of the fourth floor with a groan, you told yourself you had to do the stairs because you spent 70% of your life sitting in front of a computer, kind of self care, but brutal. You groaned lightly going straight toward the little kitchen installed for the team when you noticed something in the empty shared room full of desks. It was actually a really nice place with big industrial style windows that let lots of light inside, a very smart environment to work in, with areas where you could relax, free Wifi and loads of facilities. Usually people were put in big desks together, facing each other, trying to push a sort of ‘community feeling’.

Inevitably most of the people created barricades with books, and pictures of their dogs or even empty coffee cups. Yes, all cute and artistic, but do not talk to me.

That’s what also the attitude of the man you shared your desk with on your first day. He whined like a child for twenty minutes, complained he was happy to work alone, followed the assistant of the editor around the office and created a barricade of catalogues between the two of you so thick that you wondered if it was also bulletproof, only to rest his elbows over it half an hour asking if you had the change for the vending machine. Yes, that random man was you colleague and friend, Sebastian Zöllner.

The same that you are witnessing now asleep on the desk, head resting on his crossed arms while a stand of saliva went down on his shirt, wild hair and shoes taken off.

He could be considered an attractive man if he wasn’t a bloody nightmare of a person. You actually worked a lot with him and enjoyed his presence most of the days, your characters folded nicely and you would bounce off his attitude. He was strong on biographies and annoying the shit out of others, so he was always nagging at someone, you included.

You smirked slowly tracing his hair with your fingers, he never looked so innocent and you were always surprised to learn how those messy hair were so soft. It wasn’t the first time you did that gesture, sometimes he did lean his head like this only to be touched like an annoying mewling cat that needs attentions. “Kaffee” He mumbled making you chuckle, such a an annoying brat and he didn’t even open his eyes.

You carried on walking to the little kitchen room to prepare some coffee for you and your desk partner. You shook your head aimlessly as you started wondering why the man is here at this hour and if it was really a good idea to wake him up. To have him awake means to be able to do little to zero.

You watched the coffee get ready, the comforting tune of your morning playlist getting you still on the good side of your mood as you poured the coffee in your mug.

Then you saw it, an arm sneaking in front of you and taking the mug from your hand, you jump scared in a second almost pouring the rest of the coffee on the whole kitchen counter only to encounter Sebastian sleepy figure behind you bringing the mug close to his nose and inhaling deeply the aroma before having a gulp, you stared at him as his jaw clenched, his eyes got a bit teary. “Fucking hot” he whined making you chuckle, he deserved it for stealing it, luckily you were already doing some more for him so he stole your favourite mug but you had some coffee for you left.

You pulled off your headphones leaning them on your neck “No idea you’d be sleeping at the office, weren’t you off on some interview ?”

He shrugged “yeah, well me neither, but interviewing sculptors is always annoying as shit and those are always supersensitive” he said opening the freezer and pulling out some ice cubes from their box and putting them in the coffee mug. “Scheiße!” He cursed as the ice cube landing in the mug caused the coffee to spill onto his white shirt. You pressed your lips tight against each other not to laugh into his face, but he was already pissed off and it wasn’t even proper work time. You watched him lean over the sink trying to wash it off somehow without even bothering to take it off, just adding chaos on chaos.

“Y/N! Do not laugh and try to help me! Beside, the heck are you doing here at this hour?” You rolled your eyes at that comment, but you didn’t indulge him in that request.

“I was just looking for silence”

He nodded like he didn’t believe a single word of it, he was just an asshole and you had to deal with it like it or not. You almost hated how he was so freaking good at writing and that’s probably why many people indulged him. Even you knew his pieces on the magazine and didn’t expect to find out he was so…so Sebastian.

You let out a breathy chuckle taking your mug and making your way to your joined desk letting him wrestle his balance over the kitchen sink trying to get the stain wet and not shower himself in the meanwhile.

You sat down at your spot leaning the mug on side, hands covering your face trying to keep a clear mind letting out a big breath “okay, let’s do this”

You turned on the lamplight on your desk pulling out your laptop from your backpack. As the computer was ‘waking up’ you stared at Sebastian side of the desk compared to yours.

You had like a little citadel of books around you, but it was pretty neat, a little succulent gifted by your friend for your first day at work with the name tag ‘Danny’ on it sitting beside the lamp, lots of pencils and pens of different colours and notebooks to no end. If you had something in common with that beast of a man was that you both still relied on paper for sketching ideas and write down impressions in the moment, then onto the typing.

His side, however, was like a contemporary artwork in itself. Half empty cigarettes packages everywhere, the ashtray filled up, paper inside books and books filled with more papers. Notes everywhere, the damn king of neon yellow post-its, stains of coffee and crumbles of food invert corner, his red laptop showing off like a punch in the eye and his satchel bag always hang or thrown around.

You often wondered if the cleaning stuff just gave up on him. Your lucky guess was that he would probably throw a fit if anything was moved, so everyone just played the blind eye.

He was good at throwing fits.

You watched him come back sitting in front of you, half of his shirt soaked in the attempt to clean it up, he licked his lips picking one empty package of cigarettes looking in it and throwing it away until he found one with still something in it and he lighted his cigarette as he turned on his laptop. You sighed opening the window to let the fresh air not getting you intoxicated.

You went back to sip your coffee and stare at the screen quietly, every now and then your eyes falling onto the little cloud of smoke in front of you.

Sebastian was an attractive man, that was undeniable and you were sure that made him also a successful interviewer even though he was so random and chaotic, when he was silent and collected in thoughts he was indeed a sight to be seen. The dark hair framing his face like he was some cherub, his deep eyes staring into the void of his own words as he typed. He had a sort of decadent look on him.

Slowly the office begun to get filled, people coming here and there to tease Seb about coming early and he just waving his cigarette around asking for silence.

“Zöllner””

The chief editor shouted getting into his office without even turning around. Seb rolled his eyes looking at you as he pushed the cigarette in the ashtray waving his hand around to dissipate the smoke around him before standing up.

“I wonder how he managed to survive few days without shouting my name” he smirked.

You looked at him and mimicked his smirk.

What a chaotic man.

You had finished your reading by then and started to make a first draft of the article you were meant to work on.

“Y/N!!!” Sebastian voice rang through the office making you jump on your seat and he gestured at you to go with him with a big wave of his arm.

You looked at your screen with an helpless sigh, it seems like you will not write that article anytime soon, you’d better just have slept an hour more.

You stood up following that incessant wave as Seb put his hand on your back to get you in a bit quicker.

“Good morning”

You said as the chief editor nodded quietly “Look Y/N, it is a big favour I have to ask you” he begun frankly as you were beginning to get worried “you did your time with silly articles, so I thought it could be interesting to pair you up with Sebastian to go to tonight’s exhibition of Evita Schnecke”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Sebastian shrug his shoulders.

“I need somebody to keep the horse with tight rains” Mr Megelbach continued gesturing with his pen at Sebastian and then at you “and you will dip your toes in those big time artists environment, but we really need to make sure Sebastian won’t hurt anyone’s sensibility, her interview has been obtained with lots of hard work”

“Yeah, we all know that hard work” Sebastian whispered in your ear earning a glare from Mr Megelbach who handed you a couple of catalogues from that artist and the invitation.

“So, put on hold your current article for today, make a plan with this train wreck and please make sure he doesn’t show up dressed like that”

“That was unneeded”

“All precautions are always needed with you, and now get out of my office the both of you”

You nodded moving out of the office, you were a bit anxious. Those artists were unpredictable just as Sebastian.

You made your way back to your desk with him as you sat down looking at the invitation. “So, it begins at 9 pm” you said almost understanding why Sebastian shouldn’t be allowed to go unescorted because the invitation on the dress code had: Wear something that talks about your soul. Only that could bring Sebastian to have an aneurism.

“I hate that bitch”

“Seb, that’s not a good start for an article”

He smirked as you said so but shrugged

“I mean it, this woman was born into privilege, she portrayed herself to be this underground rebel, but her simple black dress was a Chanel and her everyday boot Balenciaga, so I don’t trust her for a reason”

You smirked as you could agree with that and showed him the two catalogues the boss gave you

“Choose your fighter”

He groaned so loud he could have stabbed his toe and he leaned over his side of the desk picking one from your hand giving a light pinch on your side “teacher’s pet”. You chuckled softly as he always said that.

“Tell me if you read something that it is not about the performer’s way of life” he mumbled opening it in front of him.

You begun your reading and it was indeed the hell pit of a vey spoiled kid who was told to be the greatest since the first day of life, you picked your notebook and opened it taking notes on things that you could ask about.

Sebastian in the meanwhile lighted up another cigarette rolling it between his fingers mindlessly, his eyes looking above the paper at you every now and then among the little curses in German about the stupid things written there.

After some time it was becoming really a torture to read and you leaned your back on your chair stretching your legs forward for Seb to catch one of them among his.

You smirked as you often joked to him he was like some bear trap with those legs always catching yours.

He put his hand under the table bringing your leg up onto his thigh as you shifted even lower on your seat, his hand touching your ankle mindlessly as he had a talent for little massages like that. He did it the first time a while aback, a summer day where it was so hot and humid that you couldn’t feel your own legs.

So it became a little ritual among the two of you. You had many of those rituals, it was like an unspoken collection of attentions. Like you making the coffee in the morning because he was a grumpy ass. Or him always buying you some chewing gum or little treat when he went to buy cigarettes.

“I guess I am not the only one that needs a restyle”

He said bringing you away by the tenderness those little actions brought to you when he pushed his finger in your Vans shoe deepening a hole that you were trying to ignore from months.

“Seb, don’t do it, I wanted to make them last another season”

“Another season? These can’t last the end of the month, no doubt why your sex life is a train wreck”

You frowned at him taking your ankle off his hand to push on his chair making him roll back thanks to the little wheels underneath it, but he held on the desk and pulled himself closer again.

“What do you even know about it”

He looked at you, eyebrows raising up on his forehead

“Y/N, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t allow you to leave the bed that early in the morning to go to the office and that’s a fact”

“Oh, and how on heaven could you detain my passion for this job?” “Well, I can write you a list about it, you can consider it a to do list on your next date” His smirk was so wide, he enjoyed to tease you like that, the bastard, he knew to be an hottie and he always acted like half of the world was up to fuck with him.

“Oh please, do it, I want to see”

You teased him and he leaned in elbows on the table staring at you.

Oh the sexual tension with him was too much, you always went down on this hurricane of remarks, always him mentioning how you need more orgasms or implying it, or even implying how good he is at giving them.

“But be careful, because any act should be performed and not only lived”

You said quoting the artist you were reading about and he whined so hard like you really stomped your foot on his balls.

“Horrid witch”

“Me?” “No, that one”

He huffed and puffed picking another cigarette. Sometimes cigarettes just died on his fingers as he forgot to actually enjoy them more than waving them around.

The artist herself wasn’t remarkable, she used themes seen over and over before, she had a background as performer/dancer and she added painting to that, but more than talent she had an amazing marketing squad. You read her story and her commentaries about living like in a poem, which always sounds pretty easy with a big bank account.

You did all you could to stay neutral even if Seb was going down to massacre the woman, you two shared a bundle of two sandwiches (or better say, your brought a package of two and he was skipping his lunch so you just handed it to him) until you decided to get parted and go get ready at home.

That evening you were waiting for him in front of your apartment, when a taxi stopped in front of you and his figure appeared waving at you to come in on the back. His eyes widened in surprise “Well, well, well, look who got all fancy here”

He smirked as his eyes travelled on you shamelessly, the dress was actually one of those you brought ages ago and never used, also to wear heels felt like new, last time you went to a fancy event almost hard to recollect.

“Just move and let me in”

You said chuckling as you looked at him being so elegant when you noticed it, the price tag on his shirt.

“Seb, did you just buy this shirt?”

“Yes, and I am going to take it back tomorrow”

You looked at him puzzled

“What?” He groaned “I suck at ironing stuff”

You looked at him as a little laugh escaped your lips as he told you not to, but it was too late for that, you shifted closer to him anyway helping him to hide that price tag better behind his neck. Nevertheless the white shirt was really fancy and fitted him perfectly.

As you arrived in front of the gallery you sighed and made your way inside.

The place wasn’t crowded but few eyes turned as you got in.

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter asked and Seb picked two flutes immediately downing one in a gulp on his own as the other was still in his other hand, he put the empty glass on the tray and then picked a third one handing it to you.

“Drink Y/N or you won’t make it to the end of the evening”

You smirked as he was always over dramatic, but indeed the evening seemed to be made for posh people to show off how cool they are.

You spotted the artist pretty quickly wearing a Valentino bright red dress, she surely had the dancer figure and gestures which gave her some kind of an edge.

"She is all yours"

You looked at Sebastian already half way through his drink, giving you that cheshire cat smirk.

"Are you sure?"

"You know I will insult her in a second if she names her dancing background one more time, I saw the videos, she looked like a three ready to collapse on the ground" he chuckled as you smirked shaking your head at his metaphor, but he is probably right, he is too much biased.

"I didn't notice the open back before" he said referring to your dress as he caressed over your skin with his fingertips making goosebumps raise up your spine.

"What? Am I too sexy for your own good?"

"Probably" he commented not losing a beat to answer you. You were taken aback from a moment, his eyes still down on his hand touching your back before raising up to find yours.

Then he took his hand away and pressed the cold champagne glass against it making you hiss "Now go, I'll check this bourgeois art"

You frowned but you just moved away from him. He always did it, he teased you and then made it a joke. You gave it back to him too, it was your relationship, that's how you balanced it.

"Good evening " you said to her with a smile holding your glass in your left hand before offering your right hand to her "I am Y/N, from the Art Tribune"

She went from neutral to smiling in a second

"Oh, I was waiting to meet you" she said leaning to kiss your cheek, surely she was a woman with charm, with a degree of boldness that made her charming and also, you noticed, extremely touchy-feely with everyone.

"We can define this a sort of retrospective of your previous works, I liked to see the evolution of it" you lied, because you just saw the catalogue.

But that was fair enough to have her go on about her, guess what? Past as a dancer, about how she needed to express herself, how she was her own muse and all the stuff you already read.

"What is next for you then?"

"I want to follow my dream, I have always wanted to found a space with my name where people could rent the rooms to perform dances and arts"

You stared at her. For real? Like there weren't other hundreds in the whole city?

"What will keep you apart from all the others that did this before you?"

"Nobody is me" she smirked like it was clear and obvious.

You asked few more questions, but you were sad to admit Sebastian was right. There wasn't art there, there was just profit, selling a name, a brand.

This saddened you because you met many artists that had less than a chance to make it but double the talent of Miss Valentino Dress.

"Y/N" Sebastian warm hand was on your back as you were downing the last bit of champagne "Come, come ,come quick" he said pushing you away as the artist clearly recognised him but he dismissed her with some insult or whatever he just mumbled.

"Seb, I was working, what the hell?"

"Elke is here"

You still didn't understand, you were puzzled as the reason of that anxiety was still unknown to you.

"Like your girlfriend Elke?"

"Put an ex in front of it" he said looking around frantically

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know"

"No, me neither, I thought she was just bashing around, she always did" his arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer "please, act sexy for once"

You were one second from hitting his guts with your elbow when Elke herself approached.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" she said waving her glass around

"Yeah, well I work for an important Art journal if you remember"

"How could I forget?" she groaned looking at you then as Sebastian's hand rested onto your hip. Really? Was he acting like you were his date?

"Hi, I am Y/N"

You said politely to her and she chuckled "Run when you can, this man is a leech and you don't even know it"

She mentioned it almost casually, but you could feel all the poison implied on your skin, Sebastian's hand giving you a soft squeeze, you had never seen him like this before. He looked like a dog that just got kicked, his back hunched over you lightly both trying to protect you and for protection.

"Well, thank you for your advice, I must be a real torment too because we actually have lot of fun together, I like his unpredictability"

You said it from your heart, you didn't want to insult her or anything, but you felt bad for him. Even if he probably deserved it, to be humiliated like this must be hard in any circumstance, in particular in a place where he is supposed to work and being known.

He looked at you a bit surprised, he leaned slowly pressing a kiss on your temple and you smiled because of that gesture so enveloped in that feeling of tenderness.

"Your shot" Elke said clearly a bit annoyed that you as she just moved along followed by a man that must be her date.

"Lets go out"

You suggested as Seb nodded and just followed for once, he held your hand as you guided him and for once he wasn't talking or commenting anything.

As you went out he sat down on the sidewalk pulling out his package of cigarettes taking out one immediately.

"Hey stand up" you said to him as he looked up at you and you snatched that cigarette off his lips "let's go away"

"Where? Don't we have to stay until she gets naked to dance?"

You smirked "No, we have all the material we need"

You took his cigarette away offering him your hand as he picked it and you guided him.

He was silent, which is rare, when he was silent it meant he was upset in some way, he always had a nice comeback line for everything usually.

His head leaned on side like a scolded child as he slowly laced your fingers together.

You walked across few streets, your heels clicking on the cement until you made it to your final location pulling him inside.

"Constatinopole?"

Seb asked looking at the sign, it was a kebab place, your favourite by the way.

"I am hungry" you just said making him lower his head and smile like a kid with cue breathy chuckles.

You ordered for the two of you as he went to sat down putting another cigarette between his lips when the man behind the counter glared at him and he just put it back in the package.

He sat down slouching as you did some small talks with the guys there, you clearly knew them. The soft music from the radio holding the place into a sort of magical aura as his eyes travelled over your naked back once more, the need for a cigarette becoming even more urgent.

You two dressed so elegantly really were so noticeable in the bright lightend place, he smiled to himself thinking it could be a nice painting by Hopper.

You came back offering him his kebab with a soft drink, very thoughtful because he was indeed already a bit high on champagne.

You ate quietly together, it wasn't uncomfortable, your silences were happening often at work and always filled with a sense of common understanding, you leaned your leg up like you always did at the office and rested it on his thigh as you sat sideways beside him. His hand flying naturally on your ankle to give his usual massage, his thumb tracing your skin with imaginary patterns as his other hand held the kebab close to his mouth.

The speaker at the radio announcing next song as Rocket Man by Elton John filled the room with a melancholic vibe. You couldn't help but think the song suited perfectly Sebastian, his being out of this word, out of control.

"Thank you" he said at some point as he tried his best not to ruin his shirt, you looked up at him as he was staring, his eyes telling you something on their own "You have been the best girlfriend I have ever had"

He added with a bitter smile diverting once more his gaze, you smiled back at him, he looked so resigned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you have never seen him so fragile before.

"I could be"

His eyes darted up to you, his surprise evident as he put down the kebab, the soothing voice of the British singer still giving a dream edge to the moment as he moved closer. You slowly shifted your leg to give him room of movement as his right arm sneaked to rest on the back of your chair closing the space between the two of you.

His lips tasted still a bit of champagne as he pressed them against yours, you kissed him back slowly as his left hand travelled on your thigh pulling you closer to him probably staining your dress because of his greasy hand.

He pulled back almost immediately before leaning onto you again titling his head on the other side. This second time the kiss was more deep, more intense. Your hands slowly cradling his face before pulling back yourself.

He smiled against your lips and you smiled back.

Maybe tomorrow you will regret it like Elke said, maybe not.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahlingLet me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[bffsoobin]

Apartment 370

↳everything about your apartment was perfect. Aside from your neighbor. Choi Soobin has become the bane of your existence. You can’t go a single day without looking over your shoulder for your misleadingly handsome neighbor. Just how many petty pranks does he think he can get away with?

➤ enemies to lovers!au, neighbors!au, arguments, petty behavior, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,062

Requested?: yes

Warnings: none really other than swearing and Soobin kind of being an ass. I also didn’t proof read or edit this, as per usual.

A/N: To be honest I’m feeling a little unsure about this? I loved the concept and I’m very glad that a lovely follower requested it but I feel like lately all of my writing has started out really well and then just got progressively worse? Like all of the endings I write are just kind of lame? Just a weird insecurity I’ve been encountering lately. So please leave me some feedback on what you think about this!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You loved your apartment. It was small, but just right for you to live in. The shower had hot water, your bedroom had a beautiful window for your plants to sit on and the wifi connection was always working well. You even only had to travel up two flights of stairs if your elevator stopped working. There were a lot of pros to living at your complex. But there was one, massive, glaring and obnoxiously loud con. Choi Soobin. When he had moved in next to you, you tried to be nice. You knocked on his door and introduced yourself; making some kind of lame joke about borrowing sugar. 

He didn’t laugh. He just introduced himself back and apologized for not having any sugar. Apologized? Had he really missed the joke that bad? Your delivery had been impeccable. Despite his charming face and annoyingly adorable style, you decided there was no way you could be friends with someone who didn’t understand a classic joke. 

Soobin must have decided there was a reason he didn’t like you either, because just about a week into being neighbors he began to wreak havoc. He played music as loud as it possibly could be at the weirdest times of the day and yelled at his television way too much no matter what he was watching. It seemed like every day you had to storm over and knock on his door to complain. This went on for weeks until he finally agreed to stop when you threatened to involve your burly landlord in the matter. 

For a few days, you enjoyed peace and quiet. You came and went from work without seeing him, took naps in silence and remembered how it felt to cook in your own kitchen without the sound of a twenty something year old man screaming at reruns of Survivor as background music. 

As they say, ignorance is bliss, because little did you know Soobin’s silence was about to erupt into a new, massive volcano of stupidity. One night you woke up around 4 am to the sound of scratching coming from the wall that connected your and Soobin’s bedrooms. You were already annoyed at the fact that you had to be up at 7am to pick up an early shift for your slacking coworker, so you didn’t have it in you to just roll over and go back to bed. You couldn’t have if you wanted to anyway because the scratching noises were only getting more and more persistent. You flung yourself out of bed with a groan. Pets were allowed here, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Soobin had gotten a cat who decided to be a little extra scratchy. 

You poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to clear your mind and sort your thoughts. In the silence of the night, you could hear Soobin’s panicked voice through the thin walls. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, as you could hear pauses as if he were listening to someone else. What a weird fucking dude, you thought. With eyes still drooping you walked back to your bedroom. The cat would have to be done scratching at the wall by now, right?

Wrong. The same consistent noise that would surely haunt your dreams still persisted. Knowing Soobin was awake gave you enough grounds to throw on a sweatshirt over your sleep clothes and go knock on his door. 

When it swung open, you could see just how distraught he was. His usually fluffy hair was flat and knotted and his eyes were sporting huge dark circles that only made the panic in them amplified. Wait, panic?  

“Y/N, I’m really sorry but you need to leave,” he had the door open just far enough to stick his head and shoulders out, as if he were trying to hide something. 

“No, Soobin. I heard your cat scratching at the wall and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I can’t sleep. Can’t you lock it in the bathroom or something?” His face scrunched in confusion. 

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” Your insides boiled with hatred at the idea of him trying to lie his way out of this. 

“Listen up Choi. Unless you have a dragon in your bedroom scratching the shit out of the walls, I don’t want to deal with your lies. Just take care of it! I need my beauty sleep and you and your noisy cat aren’t helping at all.” Soobin’s face paled and for a second you thought that you had finally won. And then Soobin said:

“It’s not a cat. It’s a racoon.” 

You almost fell onto your ass right in the hallway. Soobin’s eyes sparked with a type of mirth you never thought such an admittedly gorgeous face could possess. 

“I’m calling the landlord.” You snapped the door shut in his face and turned away.

That had apparently been the final straw for Soobin. The next day when you got back from work, you found a handwritten “RACOON HATER” sign taped to your door. What you found inside was somehow even more unsettling. Your whole living room and kitchen had been essentially trashed. Throw pillows and blankets were thrown haphazardly on the floor, many of your photos and art you had on the walls were switched around or taken down altogether. And the worst of it all; everything was covered in a fine dust of glitter. It was a struggle to find a single surface that wasn’t covered in glitter, really. 

A new type of dislike for Choi Soobin brewed in your stomach. Hatred. Your kitchen counter- also covered in a dust of chunky silver glitter- became the victim of your frustrations as you slammed your hands down. It would cost you so much time and money to get all the glitter out of your living spaces, let alone the fact that you'd inevitably be leaving some behind for the next poor soul to rent this apartment. Gritting your teeth, you went to work with your poor little vacuum. 

You had only managed to clean your coffee table and half of your couch before you heard a series of loud knocks on your door. You grumbled at the idea of having to take a pause in your work but you trudged over to the door anyway. 

To be honest, you had no idea who you were expecting to see behind your apartment door-which you belatedly realized was still decorated with Soobin’s handmade sign- but you didn’t think it would be the man himself. 

Soobin stood in the hallway, picture perfect as always. His face was tan and smooth and free from any possible blemishes. Had he plucked his eyebrows? They were groomed to neat perfection. His tall frame was dwarfed by a fuzzy blue sweatshirt that was easily a size too big. If you had met him by chance on the street, you would have fallen in love in an instant. But you knew better. You knew he was the one who reduced your once lovely apartment into the mess it was now.

“Oh, sorry,” he feigned innocence, “are you busy?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that blossomed on his face. A grumble of a curse fell from your lips before you responded. 

“Yeah. Some asshole decided to break into my apartment and spread glitter on everything. So yes, I’m sort of busy,” you laced your voice with enough venom to kill a horse, and it seemed as if Soobin had gotten the message as he shrunk back into the hallway a bit. His mouth opened and shut in rapid succession as he struggled to find the perfect retort. 

“I-” he cut himself off as his soft eyes became hyper focused on a spot on your face. Suddenly you were a new combination of concerned and offended. His hand hesitantly rose toward your face before the softness of his fingertips made contact with your cheek and brushed something away. You held your breath the entire time, unsure if you should be upset or worried or utterly lost in the way his skin felt against yours. The contact was brief but still made your skin burn bright red. When his hand left your cheek, you saw that he had brushed away a piece of glitter that was now resting delicately on his fingertip. 

“Sorry,” he hurried out, “I just wanted to get the glitter off of your face.” His whole demeanor had changed, and you were sure that whatever plan he had in mind when he knocked on your door had vanished. 

“Okay, weirdo,” you tried to ignore the way you were yearning to feel his touch again, “I’m still busy so can you like, go away?” Upon hearing your words he turned away to head for his apartment door with ears as red as you’d ever seen them. 

Although the glitter incident was now months behind you, you still often found pieces in random spots around your home. And Soobin was still a pain in your ass. He had been quiet for close to two weeks after your odd encounter and you were almost convinced that he had changed his ways. You were quickly proven wrong when he conned the man who works the front desk into hiding your mail for a week straight; making you subsequently late to paying some of your bills. 

More recently, a new person had moved into the apartment across the way. The first day you met him, you were busying yourself with taping up Soobin’s door with bright pink duct tape from the outside. Your new neighbor-who you learned to be named Yeonjun- had squatted down right next to you and offered to help tear pieces of the tape. 

You and Yeonjun had become fast friends. He was incredibly charming and willing to lend an ear every time you needed to complain about Soobin. For a while, you were almost able to forget the fact that the devil incarnate lived next door to you. While your work schedules tended to be a little crazy, the two of you managed to talk for at least a few minutes every day. He helped you gain some sanity back within your apartment hallway. 

Despite also being friends with Soobin, Yeonjun never took sides in your little feud; but you were always secretly worried that somehow Soobin would put a bug in his ear. One day, about two months after Yeonjun had moved in, he knocked on your door while you were in the middle of making dinner. You invited him in but he hesitated. 

“I just came to talk to you,” he bit into his bottom lip, “I really like you. But I don’t see us ever being more than friends. I hope you understand.” You scrunched your eyebrows. Where was this coming from? 

“Uh okay? I know that. I don’t like you...like that, Yeonjun. Did you hit your head or something?” You were seriously confused. Yeonjun’s eyes widened comically. 

“Well Soobin said that-“ as soon as the words fell out of his mouth Yeonjun put together the invisible puzzle pieces. His face morphed into extreme regret.  “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was part of your weird prank war. You should have seen how convincing his acting is though, he really had me thinking you had a crush on me.” You scoffed at the idea of Soobin beginning to spread rumors to one of your closest friends just for the hell of it. If Yeonjun hadn’t been mature enough to address it right away, you could have gone through weeks of confusion about why he was avoiding you.

You looked back at your kitchen, catching sight of the steaming bowl of ramen you’d just finished making. Sighing, you shut your door behind you to stand in the hall with Yeonjun. He looked sheepish in your presence as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not mad at you, Yeonjun. I’m going to talk to the bane of my existence,” you gestured toward the door with the shiny ‘370’ plaque. “Just don’t bother calling the landlord if you hear yelling.” As soon as you heard the sound of Yeonjun’s door snapping shut, you laid into Soobin’s door with a heavy knock. As soon as it was opened far enough, you wedged your body inside and subsequently sent Soobin stumbling backwards. 

“How dare you?” You roared, throwing your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m fine with your petty pranks and all the other stupid shit you pull against me because that’s all between the two of us. At least it’s funny and gives me something to think about in my free time. But when you start to involve my friends? That’s way too far. There was no reason to rope Yeonjun into this. He’s your friend too, Choi.” Soobin seemed surprised that you had come in with so much to say right off the bat.

“Y/N it’s really not that big of a deal. I just wanted to see if you actually had the capacity to have a crush on someone. And you’ve been spending so much time with Yeonjun I figured he’d be the perfect person to test my theory with, plus the humiliation factor of him not liking you back would have kept me entertained for days” he sat down on his couch casually, “I guess he had to break it to you that you aren’t as flirty and irresistible as you think you are, huh?” The air crackled with tension as you gawked down at his sprawled form.

“What are you even saying? Yeonjun and I are just friends. And why does it matter to you if I have the capacity for a crush or not? You hate me. If you’re just waiting until I get a boyfriend so that you can come in and ruin it all with your shitty vendetta then you’re much worse of a person than I ever pegged you for!” Tears welled in your eyes but you wiped at them angrily. Out of all the fights and disagreements you’d ever had with Soobin, this was the first one that stirred an odd emotion in the pit of your stomach. You were tired of the back and forth. Soobin seemed oddly alarmed at the formation of your tears as he got up from the comfort of his couch and approached you like a wounded dog. 

“Trust me, I have no grand plan to ruin your life at every turn even though that’s what you think. You spend so much time with Yeonjun, I thought maybe you liked him. I knew he didn’t like you because when I told him that I-” Soobin actually clapped his own giant hand over his mouth as the words hung in the air between you. Anger shot through your mind at the idea that he didn’t even have the guts to relay the entire story. 

“You what? You’re so wrapped up in your own little world but you can’t even finish telling me what you said to someone else? I can’t believe you, honestly,” you turned and made your way toward his door, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a hot shower. Soobin’s hand clasped around your wrist as he gently yanked you away from the exit. His strong grip kept you standing right in front of him and although you struggled against him, there was no use. 

“I told him that I like you.” For a second, you thought that you had misheard him, but he continued. “I told Yeonjun that I like you. And he told me that I should go for it, because he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. But I freaked out so I told him that you liked him. I knew you probably actually didn’t.” 

Your brain was short circuiting at the confession. Choi Soobin, who had complicated your life beyond belief since the day he moved in months ago liked you? 

“But,” your eyebrows drew together as you tried to comprehend it all, “you hate me, Soobin. We have a whole...rivalry! There’s no way you actually have feelings for me. I swear if this is just another prank I’ll shove my hand so far down your throat-“ Soobin threw his hands up in front of his body in a form of defense. 

“No! I don’t hate you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just thought the pranks and petty stuff was like...our way of hanging out? That’s why I kept doing them. I thought you were having fun with me.” It was ridiculous how much he sounded like a little boy explaining his side of the story to a teacher. It was even more ridiculous that the corner of your brain where you’d stuffed all your feelings for Soobin began to overflow. 

“Haven’t you ever heard that there’s much better ways to tell someone you like them? We could have spent the last 11 months not at each other’s throats if you would have just manned up and found out I like you too.” You saw the exact moment that the words finally processed and his entire face lit up with the recognition. 

A familiar, deeply dimpled smile grew across his face as his skin reddened. He clasped his hands in front of him and swayed back and forth on his feet. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in close enough that you worried he could hear your heart thumping against your ribs. 

“You like me too?” 

“Yes, Soobin. I like you too. And I would like you even more if you stopped your stupid pranks,” you tapped his nose with your pointer finger twice. He nodded eagerly with his tongue sticking out from between his teeth slightly.

“Deal,” he stuck his hand out to you and you raised an eyebrow to silently ask if he was serious. His hand didn’t waver, so you grasped it firmly and pulled him toward your body until you could wrap him into a tight hug. It was an odd feeling, soaking in Soobin’s scent as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth in his apartment. Odd, but good. Perfect.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Louisiana Fever (Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader)

Request: Hi! Since your ask are open could I have a imagine with bucky where him and his boyfriend (if you’re uncomfortable with male reader could you make it gender neutral pls?) are at the Wilson’s party and they talk about moving here and maybe getting a dog? Something really sweet and fluffy please? I’m having a hard time and need a bit of softness! Thanks you! (by @pastel-boy-sungjae), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: A forever changing decision was made between Bucky & you. Whatever the future held for you, you could not wait to finally start somewhere new.

Words: 1,876 [Are you proud of me?]

Warnings: language, humor, fluff, short & sweet, no pronouns used, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Louisiana. Home of the Wilson family. A pier alongside the turquoise sea which created comforting tunes to soothe your ears. The slight breeze that tickled your skin in the most pleasurable way possible. A peaceful place to stay & feel safe, no matter the alarming threats menacing this universe daily. Here, it appeared to be as calm as ever. Like a bubble enveloping the area here, along with its people. A dome to prevent jeopardy from taking over.

The party was hosted by Sam, assisted by his younger sister Sarah. They invited Bucky & in addition to that, he invited you. You were his partner & if he attended a get-together then he only ever did with you right by his side. At first, you disliked the idea of inserting yourself where you believed you were not wanted. Luckily, your boyfriend had some reassuring pep talks up his sleeve that convinced you to tag along.

A flight was booked & before you even knew it, Sam hugged you close to his body as he greeted you. Bucky had informed him that you would come along. To his best friend, that was a given. There was no Bucky without you & no you without Bucky. Hence why he did not explicitly say that he obviously invited you as well.

It was the first time you were introduced to Sam’s family & his friends living nearby. The locals were more than welcoming & helpful even though you were complete strangers. Plainly stated, you fell in love with this place. The atmosphere was incomparable, like nothing you had ever encountered. This new, unfamiliar feeling washed through your body & there was only one word that could come close to describing it. Home. Not Bucky’s apartment where you had moved into a while ago. This strange yet somehow well-known place triggered emotions in you that you thought did not exist. You wondered if Bucky reacted in a similar way as you walked down the pier, hands intertwined, gazing out to the endless blue horizon. Where one hue kissed the other in an almost seamless way. Connecting yet separating sea from sky. A stunning sight that caught your plenary attention. You imagined yourself spending hours, simply watching the sun rise during the chill hours of the morning & set during the warm hours of the evening. The light not only coloring the sky in reds & purples but that same tone reflecting in the waves of the water which were caused by the wind.

“Hey, lovebirds! A little help here!” a familiar voice echoed in your ears & you found yourself turning around as you searched for the source of it.

“We’ll be right there, Sam.” you yelled over the distance so he could hear you clearly.

“He does have awful timing.” Bucky joked, wrapping an arm over your shoulders. You giggled & silently agreed with him though both of you were aware that you did not mind one bit.

Preparations were almost done, you simply assisted with the last finishing touches. They really went out of their way to create a homely aura for everyone to enjoy. Bucky & you occupied one of the many wooden tables, sitting next to Sam, Sarah & her kids. You guys had so much fun & could barely contain your laughter. Those people were not just friends. They were family. Blood related or not, the feeling they gave you counted at the end of the day.

The barbeque was delicious, as were the many options of desserts. One of them which you brought along. Bucky whined about a cake & who were you to deny him something you loved too? And by the fast pace it was gone, you assumed the others relished it just as much.

Food was long forgotten but the chatter kept the party alive. In the lifestyle you found yourself in, it was a rare sight to be surrounded by so much happiness & contentment. Usually, people radiated desperation & fear. Here, it was as if nothing bad existed. Only the smiles & sparkles in people’s eyes as they talked about something they were passionate about or the most random topic that came to mind. It did not matter. Acceptance was capitalized & it was a gift to experience it. With your boyfriend, with your best friend. With soon-to-be friends, you hoped.

“…so they aren’t here today ‘cause they’re currently movin’ out.” Sam pointed to the house that sat right next to his. Your eyes widened a little at this statement.

“It’s up for sale then?” you questioned, referring to the cottage that definitely needed some hours of dedicated work but appeared to be worth it underneath its surface.

“Yeah, it is. Still looking for a new owner.” Sam nodded. A smirk spread onto your face & you nudged Bucky with your elbow to gain his attention. With raised eyebrows, he turned his head so your eyes were locking.

“Okay. What’s going on in that head of yours?” Bucky chuckled as he noticed the enthusiastic look you wore. Sam observed your interaction but decided to stay silent for the time being.

“We could buy it, right?” you suggested, rambling so your words blurred together & it was hard to make out what you said.

“The house?” it took him a couple of seconds before he answered your question with another one. Simply because he was uncertain if you were joking or if you were serious.

“No, a trip to Disneyland. Of course the house.” you replied with a slight sarcastic tone.

“You wanna move here?” Bucky asked once again to ensure that he understood correctly.

“Don’t you? I mean, it’s perfect for us, Buck. The people here are lovely & we’ve got Sam here.” you pointed out, trying to list as many positive aspects as necessary to convince him.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sam chimed in & you directed your attention to him. “Does that mean robot-boy will be my neighbor?” he pointed his finger at Bucky with fake disgust that had you laughing.

“That would annoy you, wouldn’t it?” Bucky inquired with a sly smile.

“Totally.” Sam countered, now completely ignoring that it was your idea in the first place. The two of them were bickering like children & it was a useless attempt to stop them.

“Perfect, we’ll buy it then.” your boyfriend’s statement had you shocked but equally excited.

“Really?” you could not help but ask.

“Really.” Bucky assured you & placed a short kiss on your lips.

“Why did I even say anything?” Sam shook his head, mumbling those words so nobody heard. Deep down, he had to admit that the could imagine it to be pleasant to have you two with him at all times. Though he would never say that out loud.

“We’re gonna move to Louisiana.” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around Bucky’s neck to hug him tightly. Your future could finally begin here. Something told you that it was the right decision. Sam only had to pull some strings & the deal was almost as good as yours.

A few hours ticked by, the sun had already started setting & Bucky suggested to watch the remaining minutes down by the dock. Your back rested against his chest, his arms securely wrapped around your waist as you sat in between Bucky’s legs. Savoring the last sunbeams that shone into your face & had you squint your eyes in order not to blind you. A comfortable silence settled around you. The sound of the sea the only discernible noise amongst the calm of the evening. But every quiet had to end eventually. And it was you who broke it, voicing a thought that had been playing in the back of your mind ever since you agreed on moving here.

“Hey, what about a dog?” your question caught him off guard & he barely had time to prepare a reply.

“Huh?” was all he could muster & you giggled at his perplexity.

“A dog. When we move here. Don’t you think this is a perfect place for a dog?” you turned in his arms so you could hold eye contact.

“We’ve already got Sam.” Bucky scoffed & you rolled your eyes annoyingly at him.

“I’m being serious, Buck.” & you truly were. Ever since you could remember, you promised yourself that you would adopt a dog if the chance was given. With a house this size, it would be a waste to not fulfill your dream. You watched Bucky sigh but the glint in his eyes showed you that he contemplated your thought.

“We’re not getting a Chihuahua.” he made clear before you got even crazier ideas.

“What’s wrong with a Chihuahua?” your dumbfounded expression had him laughing.

“They’re outta the question.” he stated & left no room to argue.

“Fine.” you breathed out with an exaggerated sigh. “A Corgi?”

“Why?” you did not understand why you had to reason with him but you had to think fast to provide a reasonable explanation.

“Because they’re cute.” maybe not the smartest of replies but if you worked your pleading expression then you should win.

“You say that about every single dog. That’s not a valuable point.” Bucky called you out & earned a pout from you.

“But it’s very much true.” a short pause allowed you to gather your thoughts once more. “Besides, they remind me of you.”

“Do I even wanna know?” Bucky breathed out & threw his head back to visualize how done he was with you in this moment. You, of course, were aware that it was only him teasing you.

“No, but that was, in fact, a very valuable point & speaks for getting a Corgi.” a proud smirk made its way onto your face.

“You’re lucky I love you.” his ocean blue eyes flickered between yours. You moved forward & pressed a tender kiss on his cheek. “But I’m the one choosing the name.” he decided.

“No way.” you shook your head frantically. “We’ll end up with a dog called Dog then.” you almost whined.

“You can’t stop me from giving it a nickname.” he reasoned with that famous smirk of his & you groaned because you knew he was right.

“I don’t like it.” you mumbled after a few moments.

“Alright, no dog then.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders & pretended that it did not matter anyway. But it did. And he really did like the idea of getting a dog.

“NO WAIT!” you were quick to raise your voice & stop him from turning down your plan. “Ugh, can’t we just…I don’t know, pick a cute name together?” you offered him your best puppy dog eyes because he had a hard time resisting you whenever you played that card.

“We could.” Bucky agreed but kept his response short. He waited for you to ascertain what he meant.

“But?” your voice went an octave higher at the end.

“But I’ll still call it Dog. It’s a great nickname.” Bucky praised himself.

“It’s foolish.” you commented & crossed your arms over your chest.

“Do we have a deal or not?” his head tilted to one side, waiting to watch your reaction.

“What do you think?” your eyebrows perked up. “Of course we do!”

Published (05/10/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @weareironmanbitches,@zestyemby, @kattenjager1, @cheraboo330 (thanks for your support <3)

[tarteausuga]

Home for Christmas

CW: just pure fluff, really. As fluffy and as soft as snow but not as cold. Idol! Mark Lee x reader. Johnny's there too but just as support.

WC: 3.3K

Summary: in which you're alone for Christmas and Mark tries to give you a gift to make you feel less sad.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. Happy holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas. I hope you're all happy, healthy and safe. I'll also be taking a break from TBTC next week and posting something for New year's ✌️

Long distance relationships were hard but they had their good sides as well as bad. One good thing is that you had a lot of time for yourself but on the bad side, you often felt lonely whenever you're out and see people with their significant others. You never really had to spend money on dates but conversely, you never had a chance to go out and show off your boyfriend in public. The time difference often made it hard for you to talk but neither of you ever missed out on your calls.

Mark would call you first thing in the morning when you woke up. It would be midnight to him but luckily, he was a night owl and didn't mind keeping you company while you got ready for your day. Then, you would go about your day before calling him at 5pm, 9am his time, to do the same for him. He often spent his mornings at home before heading to the studio for practice or to write so it was ample time to catch up and just talk about random things. He liked to watch you cook and he often would watch something in Netflix with you. Sometimes you were lucky enough to have him talk you to sleep, or sing you a song he's been working on to send you off into your dream world.

It sounds perfect in a way. You're both able to focus on your lives during the day because the other is safely asleep but you craved the physical aspects. You wanted to be held, you wanted to hold his hand, hell you just wanted to eat a meal with him sitting across from you at the table instead of on a little screen.

The past year and a half has been spent like this. You were childhood friends, growing up together before he moved overseas. You often spent recess running around together and sharing snacks. He wasn't necessarily your best friend, but he was one of the few friends you had growing up and even to this day. It's not that you weren't social but you just preferred being by yourself a lot. You kept in touch with the few friends you did have and that was all you really needed.

It was a surprise to run into him given the circumstances on both ends. He was an incredibly talented and relatively famous Idol in another country; and you moved across the country for school but ended up staying there after landing a good job. You were aware that he would be performing with his group but it wasn't your scene. And you couldn't get tickets anyway since they sold out almost instantly.

Out on your lunch break, you were grabbing a midday iced coffee. But you were trying to juggle setting up meetings and calls with a few important people so you weren't really paying attention when you went to grab the coffee, thinking it was yours.

"Oh I'm sorry." Both you and the owner of that drink said.

Finally, you looked up from your phone at the man and for some reason, you had a feeling of familiarity with him. After squinting your eyes and trying to go through your roledex of people you've encountered in your life, your brain finally figured it out. "Mark?" You say with bewilderment.

"Oh my god! It is you!" He pulled you into an extremely tight hug. "I saw you but I couldn't really tell and I didn't want to go up to a random stranger." He laughed and you couldn't help but do the same. Mark always had that effect on people, he would laugh or smile and no matter who he was with, they would do the same.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, somehow completely forgetting that he was due to perform the next day, which he reminded you of. "Oh! That's really exciting." If you were honest, you were distracted by how he's grown up. He used to be this cute boy that you would trade your fruit snacks for cookies with. But now he was incredibly handsome but still had those captivating eyes that could make you melt.

"This is amazing, I can't believe we ran into each other like this." He pulled you into another hug that brought a blush across your face. You were in a daze as he introduced you to the 2 other guys with him but you didn't really catch their names. You just noticed that they were also incredibly handsome. "But hey, if you're free tonight, we should catch up!" You agreed, thankfully.

And you could say the rest was history but beyond that one fateful day/night, you haven't seen Mark. A full year and a half later, you were entering your second Christmas without him but unfortunately, you weren't able to go home to your family to distract yourself from the boy you wanted to be with during the holidays. Not usually the type to be into overly romantic gestures, you uncharacteristically were craving the experiences that couples usually had in the movies. Your sisters told you countless times to stop watching Hallmark Christmas movies but you really couldn't help it when there was nothing else to watch on TV.

December 23rd. You were staring at your miniature Christmas tree that you had bought for your small apartment. The rest of your apartment was fully decorated in an effort to fill the emptiness you felt but it didn't seem to help much beyond wishing that Mark were there to experience it with you.

It was a perfect Christmas, the snow was falling outside and you reminisced about that rare snow day you had in your West coast town. That day was incredible. It was Christmas Eve and the whole city shut down due to the influx of white that they rarely had to deal with. Mark had banged on your door and begged your parents to let you go out and play despite it being Christmas Eve. That day was spent building snowmen, having snowball fights and everything before everyone went home and passed out to wake up to a white Christmas.

Mark had expressed to you that he missed that the most. Those snow days where everything shut down and you could just go out and be free to run around and have fun. You wished to be able to send some snow to him. But instead, you called him.

"Hi baby, how are you?" He said in a gravely voice as he had just woken up.

"I'm okay, just miss you a lot." You pouted and he copied your expression. "But look!" You showed him the view outside your window, including the snow capped trees and pillows of white on any surface it could cling on.

"Oh my god, that's beautiful." He sighed. "I wish I could be there to see it with you. I hate that you're alone this year for Christmas."

"It's okay." You flash a weak smile. "My coworker is going to drop off some food for me from her parents. I'll just have a Harry Potter marathon."

"Okay. I'll join you for that." He smiles. "My present for you should be showing up soon. I hope it gets there before the 25th."

"Hard to say. Doesn't matter if it does or not, I'm just happy to get something from you." You ease him of his worries. He often got worked up over the smallest things and you found it cute the way he would furrow his eyebrows in frustration only to breathe a sigh of relief when you told him to do so. You were his comfort and he was yours. Even if you were thousands of miles apart.

"I have to get going, love. I'll talk to you later okay?" He says and you are confused as he usually never has nice to do before noon. But you shrugged it off and assumed he just had some year end things to work on.

"Yeah I'll talk to you later. I love you." You blew him a kiss and he did the same before hanging up.

To be honest with yourself, you were starting to hate saying goodbye. Your heart would feel so heavy whenever a call ended and recently, that feeling got worse and worse with every call. Things were starting to feel like they were all for nothing. You trusted Mark and knew him well enough to know you were the only one that would be on his mind but that physical aspect was something you were craving. The simplest things like just being in the same room while you were both quietly working on your own things, exchanging loving glances every so often.

You dozed off watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and was woken up on Christmas Eve by the blinding white of the snow capped exteriors. Confused, you searched for your phone to check the time: 9:27. Mark has never failed to call you at 8AM every single day. It was your routine. It was your ritual. You send him a message but his phone doesn't even receive it. Is his phone off? You ask yourself. He did sound a bit off yesterday… Or was he just tired and groggy? Maybe he's having a late night in the studio. He said he didn't have anything scheduled for a few days though. In an effort to mitigate your panic, you throw your phone to the other side of your bed.

Forcing yourself to roll out of bed and make some coffee to try to dull some of the panic you were feeling. He wouldn't just ice me out on Christmas Eve. He's probably just tired and fell asleep before he could call, you convinced yourself.

It was nearing lunch time and you still didn't hear from your boyfriend. You had spent the morning curled up on the couch watching Disney Channel Original Christmas Movies, trying to distract yourself but every time something romantic happened, you sighed and wished for Mark. His phone still wasn't receiving your messages. Had his phone died?

In desperation, you text the only other person you knew who was close with him: Johnny. You had met Johnny that day that you ran into Mark but never processed it until you began watching their performances on YouTube. Mark had given you Johnny's number so you could apologize for ignoring him but you would occasionally ask him for favours. Usually asking him to get something for Mark from you. He often said, "I only do this because I love Mark and you love Mark."

You [11:34AM]: Hey Johnny? Are you awake?

You [11:34AM]: Merry Christmas, by the way!

It was almost 4AM so you would be surprised if he was still awake but he often stayed up late with Haechan so you figured it was worth a shot.

Johnny [11:39AM]: what's up?

Johnny [11:38AM]: Merry Christmas to you too :)

You [11:40AM]: is Mark okay? I haven't heard from him since last night. I'm getting worried.

You watched as Johnny's message bubble appeared and disappeared a few times. He was hesitating…

Johnny [11:42AM]: he's fine. You'll probably hear from him soon ;)

You [11:42AM]: ?? What's that supposed to mean?

Johnny simply replied with a shrug emoji and you wished you could send a punch through a text message. But you sighed and continued sipping on your hot apple cider as you pressed play on another movie. Johnny doesn't lie so I'll believe him for now.

You had somehow fallen asleep and you only realized when you felt your phone buzzing next to you. Without even checking the caller ID, you press the green answer button and put it on speaker as you tried to pull yourself out of the afternoon nap haze.

"Hello?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"Hey baby, sorry I've missed your messages. Johnny said you were worried about me?" Mark's voice shook you awake. You scrambled to sit up before picking up your phone and taking it off speaker to hear him more clearly.

"Mark? Are you okay?"

He simply laughed, "I'm okay babe. I'm sorry for worrying you." He apologized again.

"No, it's okay. I was just worrying over nothing. What were you doing?"

"I was at the airport." He said and you could tell there was something up by the tone of his voice. Mark could never lie to you even if he tried.

"And?"

"And I need you to come pick me up." He teased and you became even more confused which made you a bit upset as you didn't like being led on.

"Mark I can't, you're in another country." You roll your eyes even though he can't see.

"Baby, I'm not. I'm here." And it finally clicked in your head.

"Wait! You're here? Like here? Like in the same city?" You try not to scream.

"Yes, exactly. I wanted to surprise you better but the snow delayed things…"

"It's okay I'll come now!" You practically yell into the phone.

"Drive carefully!" He warned you before hanging up.

Like a tornado, you tried to clean up your apartment so your boyfriend didn't think you were a complete slob. At the same time, you were trying to pick out a cute outfit and do your hair in an effort to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

With your best effort, you shrugged when you checked yourself in the mirror before pulling on your parka and heading out the door. As your car warmed up, you reminded yourself that Mark had seen you at your literal worst. From the late night mental breakdowns to a hungover morning from having a few too many drinks with your coworkers, Mark had seen it all and always assured you that you looked amazing. Maybe he was lying a few times during those moments but he never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect for him.

You did your best to drive calmly to the airport. There wasn't much of a choice as the other cars on the road were also trying to get to their destinations safely so traffic was moving at a slower pace. After what seemed like the longest car ride you've ever taken, you pulled into a parking stall at the airport and checked your phone to see that Mark had sent you the gate he was at, waiting for his luggage. You practically sprinted across the parking lot and road, having a few close calls with other pedestrians and a few cars. But you couldn't help yourself. You were finally getting to see him.

Arriving at his gate, you tried to catch your breath as you scanned the crowd around the baggage carousel looking for Mark. When the two of you finally made eye contact, you burst through the crowd and jumped into his arms. You thought you would tackle him down but he was surprisingly strong and not only caught you but picked you up, allowing your legs to wrap around him like a koala baby. People aw'd and some even clapped while others pulled out their phones to candidly capture your reunion.

"You're here." You choked back tears, breathing in his scent and making sure you locked it up in your memory for future use.

"I'm here." He breathed into your ear which triggered the tears to start falling. He placed you back on your feet but steadied you in the warmth and safety of his arms. He chuckled while he wiped your tears away, "why are you crying?"

"I don't know, I just missed you so much." You sniffled while looking up at him with wet eyes. It's been so long that you had forgotten that he was taller than you by more than a few centimeters. So when he leaned down to kiss you, you were surprised but also extremely comforted as a wave of warmth filled up the emptiness in your heart.

"My little crybaby." He placed another kiss on your forehead.

You clung on to each other until his suitcase dropped down from the chute. Hand-in-hand, you led him to your car. Amazingly, you navigated the whole way there while beaming up at Mark the whole time. He reciprocated but occasionally pulled you to the side to avoid running into someone else.

The car ride back to your apartment was just full of you two talking about anything and everything. From when he planned all of this and how he managed to get out of his activities to Johnny almost ruining the surprise when he struggled to say something that would both ease your worries but not let you in on the secret. The whole time, Mark's hand was on your thigh as you needed both hands to properly manoeuvre your car through the snow. You sometimes caught Mark looking outside with pure wonder and amazement as he took in the image of the city blanketed by the snow. The smile on your face never left as you tried to process every moment with him to keep in your memories.

"So how long are you staying?" You say as you take the elevator up to your apartment. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you had a feeling that your boyfriend who was usually uncomfortable with physical attraction, wouldn't keep a hand off of you the whole time he was there.

"I have to leave the day after Christmas." He says quietly.

Trying not to be upset by the short time together, you reminded yourself that it was better than nothing. "We'll make it work." You say simply to him while learning up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Mark felt overwhelmed by your apartment. The moment he stepped in, he was greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla and oranges. He tried to take as many mental notes as he could while walking around and taking in every single detail of your place. This was your home and he felt like every little knick-knack strategically placed by you was a piece of you.

"Here." You handed him a cup of apple cider to warm up.

"Thank you." He added a kiss to your temple. Suddenly remembering something, he let out a little gasp before placing his cup down on the coffee table and going to his backpack. He pulled out a box wrapped in red paper and a golden bow that was slightly flattened from its journey to the other side of the world to you.

"What's this?" You ask when he places it in your hands, taking a seat next to you.

"Just open it." He smiles. The excitement was practically bursting from him as he anticipated you opening the box.

"Your gift is probably on the doorstep of your mom's place right now." You sighed.

"It's okay baby, I can't wait to open it but just open yours now." He said.

The lid lifted to reveal a necklace with a delicate golden chain and a little purple gem dangling from it. "Mark…" you coo, your eyes welling up with tears again.

"Are you going to cry again?" He laughs and you playfully poke his side. "I know purple is your favourite colour… It's not much but I thought you'd like it." He said softly while he fixed it around your neck. You smiled up at him before you situated yourself in his lap, straddling his thighs.

"It's perfect." You kiss him, "what else did you get me?" You pull back when he tries to deepen the kiss.

"What do you mean?" He stared blankly at you.

"You said it's not much so where's the rest of my present?" You say mischievously.

"You said it's perfect but you want more?" He cocks an eyebrow up.

"Well… I haven't seen you in a year and a half, there has to be more." You tease.

"I'm your present aren't I?" He smirks, grabbing the bow from the box and sticking it onto his head.

"I guess…" you laugh while leaning in to kiss him again. "You're lucky you're cute." You say as he stands up, making sure to wrap your legs around him before turning towards your bedroom.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Yancy x Illinois - First Impressions Aren’t Always the Best

I decided to try properly writing Yanois, just to see how I’d manage it. After rewatching Illinois’ scenes, I think he would get on the nerves of the Yancy I write at first.

Word Count 2,122

(Read more because Illinois talks so much...)

-

Happy Trails Penitentiary was renowned for its rehabilitation initiatives. They had a wide variety of classes and visitors to help prisoners. Educational courses, chances to learn new skills, pen pal projects. Many prisoners would never have the opportunity for such experiences, and it was an integral part of helping them prepare for a better life outside of prison when their sentence was finished.

There was one visitor that most prisoners in Yancy’s ‘Gang’ adored. His name was Illinois, a renowned adventurer and archaeologist. Between his job in the university and research trips, he only had time to visit once every few months. It worked in his favour, as those that wanted to visit were able to to hear the various stories that Illinois was more than happy to tell. Not only that, it would encourage the small ‘fan club’ among the younger prisoners.

It was one of the few events that Yancy avoided. Something about Illinois rubbed him the wrong way. He was so arrogant and cocky, acting like the world revolved around him. It wasn’t an act, either. Yancy had spotted Illinois speaking to the Warden on his first visit two years earlier, and he acted the exact same way as he did in the talk that happened that day. After that, Yancy decided he didn’t want anything to do with the adventurer. But if Illinois were to ever become an inmate? Yancy would make sure Illinois had the snot beaten out of him within the first week.

Unfortunately, a lot of the Gang were of the opposite view, especially those around Yancy’s age. To them, Illinois walked straight out of an adventure movie and lived the ideal life. What prisoner didn’t dream of going exploring in uncharted territories? It meant that they would frequently share Illinois’ tales in rec yard when he came to visit. Yancy would roll his eyes, but keep quiet. Let them have their fun.

Today was the day that Illinois visited the prison. It had been over three months since the last visit, so there was an excited buzz among individuals in the Gang. Yancy spent the morning bracing himself. There was a talk after lunch that the others would go to, which would mean the rest of the afternoon and evening would be nothing but historical chatter and “Illinois is so cool!”. He would grumble, but he would keep that to himself. It wasn’t fair to deflate their excitement. He went to the library, found some random book and focused on that for the day. Then, once they had their excitement, it would die down and Yancy could enjoy more casual conversation.

Which was the plan… Until Bam-Bam pleaded for him to go to the last talk of the day. It turned out that his shift clashed with the talk everyone else they knew went to, and he didn’t want to go alone. Begrudgingly, Yancy closed the book, returned it to the shelf, and followed Bam-Bam. A flaw of being a loyal friend was knowing when to swallow your pride and do something you would rather not do.

-

When you go to something with low expectations, it can be incredibly difficult to feel the time was used in a worthwhile manner. Some might have memories of a teacher they hated, or a family gathering they had been dreading. This was a similar position to what Yancy found himself in. One of the ‘classrooms’ had been adjusted slightly to allow various displays to take center stage, with the chairs in neat rows in front of it. Bam-Bam and Yancy claimed two seats at the back, allowing the greaser to slouch in the chair with his arms crossed. Then, once more prisoners had arrived, the talk began.

On and on Illinois went, droning endlessly in that slow drawl. Yancy wished he had a TV remote to speed up the talking a fraction. Was Illinois focused on making sure everyone could understand him, or did he want to prolong the joy of hearing himself talk? It might have been more tolerable if Bam-Bam wasn’t genuinely engrossed in the lecture. They could have made amusing comments throughout. Instead, Yancy was stuck. Sure, history was interesting, but Illinois really drove home the stereotype of boring history teachers. The ‘adventures’ even sounded cliché and fake. Maybe he should have taken the book with him after all...

A painfully slow half hour passed. Once the talk was over, Illinois would literally open the floor to the other prisoners. The chairs would be pushed aside and those that wanted to look at the items Illinois brought were welcome to do so. Yancy was dragged along to view the pieces. Most of the articles were dated to be approximately eight thousand years old. What caught Bam-Bam’s attention was a stone carving that vaguely resembled a cat.

“Ahhh, I see the ‘White Jaguar’ has caught your attention.” Yancy had to repress a shudder at the smooth voice interrupting their own questions back and forth. Illinois stepped over, resting an arm against the perspex container. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? A miracle we even found her in the first place. She was why I wasn’t able to visit like I said I would last month.” Bam-Bam’s eager question had Illinois chuckle and shake his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure you two gentlemen have much better things to do than hear about how I nearly lost my right hand in my most recent adventure.” When Bam-Bam insisted otherwise, Illinois smirked (and Yancy nearly gagged).

“If you insist. While on our recent dig, I noticed one of the ruins had a floor panel that looked a little different from the rest. It took a little persuasion, but I got that pesky stone up. There, sprawled out before me, was a staircase leading down into the earth. I picked up one of the torches and made my way down. Slowly, I delved deeper into the darkness. One step gave way under me to set off a series of poison-dipped darts, but I was able to dodge them all without breaking a sweat.” Illinois continued, dramatically regaling every single trap that he encountered until he found the White Jaguar. When taking everything around it, he surmised that the owner of the house had been a thief. The jaguar motif was familiar, as he had noticed something similar in a nearby cave that had been repurposed at the time as a sacred spot.

“- Now, this heart of this cave was still guarded by ancient jaguar spirits. They rattled the large statues as I approached, obviously sensing the treasure I carried. In the middle, there was a jaguar’s head carved out of stone. Its jaw was open wide and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was just the right spot for this precious lady. But then, skeletons of what I assume were magic users from an era long gone by pounced and tried to wrestle the statue off me, but I was too fast for them. At last, I reached the carved head, put the White Jaguar in the mouth… and the stone head moved, trapping my arm in a ferocious bite!” He gestured to the cloth wrapped around his right wrist. It was unwrapped just enough to show the healing bite marks. “It had the strength to bite it clean off, but relented when it realised what I had done by offering my arm as blood payment to return -”

“Wait wait wait.” Yancy’s interruption had Bam-Bam elbow him, but it didn’t stop the objection. “That can’t be right. If youse managed to bring this back to where it’s meant to be, why the fuck is it here?”

“An excellent question. This is my recreation of it. I am no thief. I return artefacts to where they belong. Archaeology has a rotten connection with thievery, and I try to rectify the mistakes of my predecessors.”

“So then this entire thing could be bullshit!” Yancy scoffed. “Bam-Bam, this guy just got bitten by someone’s dog and has made this pile of baloney to hide that.”

“Are you accusing me of being a liar?”

“Well, I ain’t calling you a ‘truther’, that’s for sure!”

Yancy was ready for a proper argument. In fact, he was hoping for one. Instead… Illinois laughed, and it wasn’t that typical ‘cocky chuckle’. It was a bright, genuine laugh. He could almost see Bam-Bam go starry-eyed at such a rare moment. Typical Yancy. Getting more attention from Illinois when he wanted to rile him up.

“I suppose it all does sound rather suspicious when you put it that way. Let me show you something.” Illinois gestured for the pair to follow him toward a display of photographs. Instead of pointing to these, he instead reached for his briefcase. A small photo album was pulled out. Yancy noticed that it was dated three months prior. While Illinois flipped through it, both prisoners could see what looked like an area that had been dug up. It matched the pictures in front of them of an excavation site. At last, Illinois found what he was looking for.

“One Guardian Jaguar, complete with the White Jaguar in its mouth. As you can see, the teeth have fresh blood on them. It was an… Oddly tranquil sight, despite the unfortunate situation.”

“So then why act like these are the real deal? People just take youse’s word for it?”

“Normally those that attend my talks know that what I show are my artistic recreations for purely educational purposes. I suppose I do take for granted that those who attend here are invested regulars.” Illinois gave a small shrug. “It’s an easy mistake to forget to remind people who might be new to my talks. I’m sorry if you thought I was a fraud, but I am the real deal. Too good to be true, yet here I am.”

“Yeah yeah, ‘sucks that I’m perfect as shit’, I get it. Least you knows not to make that mistake again.” Yancy rocked back on his heel with the intention of turning and walking away.

“Now now. I can’t let you walk off like that. Take this.” Another item was pulled out of his briefcase. “I made this smaller model of the White Jaguar as a ‘first draft’. I was intending on using it as motivation to my first-year students but… I think it should stay here with you.” Illinois took the opportunity to reach for Yancy’s hand. The small clay model was gently placed in it before Illinois curled Yancy’s fingers over it to keep it in place. His hands stayed where they were as he continued, “We think the White Jaguar was a symbol of good fortune. Perhaps it might bring you some good luck.” He smiled at Yancy, only to have the moment broken by the guard announcing that there were five minutes before the prisoners had to return to their cells for the afternoon count. Yancy took the chance to quickly leave the room without as much as a ‘goodbye’. At least his friend, who introduced himself as Bam-Bam, quickly thanked Illinois before darting out.

A few more questions were asked of him by other prisoners and curious staff; and then it was time to tidy up to bring everything back to the university. It was only when he reached the White Jaguar model did Illinois hesitate. There was something about that abrasive prisoner he couldn’t put his finger on. Was it because he seemed uninterested in the adventurer? Or was there something else? It was a rare moment that Illinois wished he’d had an excuse to chat to the prisoner longer. Maybe not here, but somewhere quieter. Just the two of them.

Huh… Was this what an attraction felt like? He joked about others falling in love with him so often, he wasn’t sure if this was payback for never returning interest in others. He was drawn toward a prisoner that seemed keen to dismiss his hard work and reputation. And worse! Illinois didn’t even know his name!

Then again… A good adventurer always loves the thrill of a mystery. Maybe he could try and find that prisoner next time he visited. Now that the university was open again, he’d be able to drop by more frequently…

--

For what it was worth, Yancy also had a mystery on his hands.

Namely, how to get away from Bam-Bam - who would not SHUT UP about their prolonged conversation with Illinois - and half the gang - who were incredibly jealous Yancy got a gift from the Illinois!

He dropped his head against the chow hall table with a low ‘thunk’. This was the opposite of getting the others to stop talking about Illinois around him!

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {4/?}

part 4!! Hope you guys are liking this so far :) PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!! 

platonic stiles, derek and scott x reader in this part too :)

word count: 3.8k

warnings: blood, blood sucking? lmao idk, swearing i think that’s it? let me know if i missed anything <33

Taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom​, @cece-lives-here​, @chocolate-raspberries​, @belsandthings​, @dancing-tacos-23​, @truly-dionysus​, @britty443​, @tanyaherondale​, @furiouspockettoad​, @yunsh-17​, @random-thoughts-003​, @gloomybrieyxb​, @futuristicslimemongerbanana​, @linkpk88​, @big-galaxy-chaos​ let me know if you’d like to be added <3

FOLKLORE MASTERLIST

“You’re sure about this?” Stiles rolled his eyes at the question, the same question you’d asked four times already. Letting out a dramatic sigh the boy looked you dead in the eyes, “For the fifth time, yes! Now hurry up and stick your needle teeth in me before I change my mind.” 

A nervous giggle left your mouth before your could stop it and you grabbed the knife you’d brought with you from home out of the pocket of your jacket, looking at Stiles with an apologetic smile you gently pulled his wrist toward you, “I won’t actually get my fangs until after I feed…” You reminded softly, eyes searching his for any sign of uncertainty. 

You were currently sat in the passenger's seat of Stiles’ jeep, the sarcastic boy himself sat beside you in the driver’s seat, both of you had your seat belts unbuckled and your bodies turned towards each other as best you could in the confined space of the jeep that was parked on the outskirts of the woods.

The only feeling in your chest that didn’t belong to you was the nervousness that Stiles assured you was just due to the fact that he was alone in his car with a pretty girl and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact he was about to give a baby vampire her first taste of human blood. It was a good thing that Stiles had agreed to your request, though. To be honest you weren’t sure why he’d said yes but you were grateful nonetheless.

 Deaton had made it clear that in order for your transition to be as seamless as possible you’d need to feed on a human who didn’t share your bloodline, which obviously eliminated your parents from the running as well as Scott and Derek since neither of them are technically human. That left you with a choice to make between Isaac and Stiles and considering your decision to keep Isaac out of it, your options were limited.

Thankfully Stiles had responded to your text message of “I really need a favour” quickly and didn’t ask too many questions, he’d mentioned he would rather have you drink his blood than die and you couldn’t lie you were kind of moved by it. Who knew the sarcastic Stiles Stilinski was a sweetheart?

“Oh so we’re using a kitchen knife...fun. Very sanitary.” He commented, eyeing the knife with displeasure obvious on his face and in your chest. You offered him another apologetic smile and tried your best to send a wave of calmness his way- already having started learning how to use your empathic abilities.

When he let out a relaxed sigh, closed his eyes and let his buzzcut head fall back against his head rest you brought the knife to his skin. You cut quickly and as shallow as possible, wincing while he let out a hiss.

Blood oozed from the cut you’d created and suddenly it was as though the rest of the world had simply dulled around you, you could hear Stiles’ heart beat beating like a drum and every single drop of rushing blood sounded in your eyes. Throwing him one last questioning glance you waited until he nodded his head for you to go on before you cautiously raised his wrist to your lips, holding it with both hands and swallowing the saliva that had built up in your mouth at the sight of the red liquid.

Bracing yourself for what would happen next you took a deep breath in. Slowly, you opened your mouth and placed it over the cut you’d made on his pale skin, the taste of metal filled your mouth but it didn’t repulse you like it should have, it tasted good… incredible even. A hum of approval left your throat only to be muffled by an approving sound of his own coming from Stiles.

When you disconnected from his wrist to look at him your eyes widened, he looked absolutely blissed out. Head thrown back against the car seat and a dopey smile on his lips while half lidded eyes stared back at you.

“Are you okay?” You asked him in panic. How were you going to tell Scott that you broke his best friend?

Stiles nodded, his smile only growing as he giggled out his answer, “That felt really good. Really good.” He drawled out his words and you had to laugh, hoping to god that a vampire bite had some kind of euphoric effect and that Stiles didn’t just have some weird blood sucking kink. Although come to think of it you hadn’t actually bit him…

Shaking the thoughts off you sat with Stiles on the outskirts of the forest and waited for him to come down from his high so you could ask him what exactly had happened. After a solid forty-five minutes of staring out into the woods dozily and babbling nonsense as if he’d just smoked an unhealthy amount of weed, the boy beside you finally sobered up.

The first thing he did was look at you with wide eyes, “That- That was awesome.” 

“You were kinda gone for a minute there, I was worried I broke you.” You laughed, the noise dying in your throat as he shook his head frantically.

“No! It was like- like I actually don’t know… but when you started drinking it felt like something was injected into my bloodstream! It was like a drug or something, I swear.” He explained excitedly, the positive energy spreading to your chest and forcing a wide smile to grow on your lips.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” He asked jokingly, wiggling his eyebrows and smiling when you let out a hearty laugh. You shrugged casually, an innocent smile playing on your lips that were still stained red with Stiles’ blood, “I guess you were a pretty tasty midnight snack.”

*

Deaton hadn’t lied when he told you that your fangs growing in would be painful, you’d spent the entire night rolling around your bed in agony after you parted with Stiles. It wasn’t until the sunlight peaked through your curtains that morning that you were finally able to catch your breath, your teeth looking normal as you inspected them in the mirror, only forming fangs when you made an effort to bare them. When you met your own gaze in the mirror you played around with your newest feature, eyes widening as you realized that while you changed your teeth, something else changed too- your eyes. As you barred your fangs your eyes shifted from their usual colour to a glowing lilac purple. A shocked gasp left your lips and your brows furrowed in confusion. 

Vampirism seemed to be full of surprises and even still the most shocking thing about your reflection was how undeniably tired you looked. Staying up all night in unbearable pain would do that to you, you supposed sighing heavily and getting yourself ready for the day ahead.

“Hey kiddo.” Your father greeted, not looking up from the book he was reading as you entered the kitchen with your school bag thrown over your shoulder.

Leaning over his shoulder to see what he’d been looking at you let out a laugh when you saw the word written on the top of the page in a gothic black font; Vampyr.

“Some light reading, huh?” You asked teasingly, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen island and leaning against it while you waited for a response. 

The man let out a huff before shutting the book and throwing his head back dramatically, greying hair falling in his eyes as he did. “Just tryna figure out everything we can about your new lifestyle.”

A small laugh left your mouth as you made your way out of the kitchen, “Blood sucking and superhuman abilities, what’s more to know?” You called sarcastically, shutting the front door and climbing into your car.

*

School was loud at the best of times, even before being bitten you could barely stand it especially in the mornings, adding your enhanced hearing and total lack of sleep to the mix seemed like a recipe for disaster. You were ripped from your thoughts when a hand landed on your shoulder, “Oh hey, guys.” You muttered when you looked up from the ground to see Scott and Stiles looking at you with what looked like slight concern, with so many people around it was hard to tune in on what they were actually feeling. 

“You look terrible.” Stiles stated bluntly, receiving a light kick in the shin from you, “Yeah well your stupid blood activated my fangs and I was up all night in pain while they grew in.” You grumbled, giving him another light kick for good measure.

Scott chuckled before speaking up, “How did feeding go?” 

Before you could answer Stiles was already blabbering excitedly, “Dude! You have to let her bite you it’s like… other worldly!” Your eyes rolled at how over dramatic he made the whole situation sound, sure his blood had been incredible and your bite had put him in a state of pure bliss but for all you knew that could’ve just been a one time thing. Scott stared at Stiles with a suspicious look on his face as the two began to argue playfully, stopping once you cut in, “Alright you too, I’m gonna head to my locker. Stiles try not to think too much about how other worldly I am.” You teased with a wink before walking away.

Isaac had been watching the entire encounter, he’d seen you the second you walked in, he’d seen the way you laughed and chatted with the boys you were seemingly growing closer with and he definitely didn’t miss the wink you threw towards Stilinski before you began walking towards him. He wondered if he wasn’t in the picture would you be better off? His mind torturing him with that fact that since you were placed into different home rooms this year you’d already made a number of new friends. Maybe he was holding you back?

“Whatcha worrying about, Lahey?” Your soft voice shook him out of his quickly self degrading train of thought and when his eyes met yours all worries about himself went away as he focused solely on you and your tired eyes. 

“You…” He told you, eyes trailing over your face before coming back to your eyes. “Are you not sleeping?” He asked, concern dripping from every word. His hand found yours and you simply nodded your head, there was no point in lying to him about it when you knew damn well you were probably going to pass out at some point during the day.

“It was just last night, I had a really bad toothache.” Technically it wasn’t a lie and by the way his eyes glanced over your puffier than normal cheeks you knew he believed you.  

Isaac nodded his head, keeping his soft grip on your hand as he looked at you for a moment longer, “You sure here’s the best place to be?” He fretted, his eyebrows coming to a furrow. Worry began to build up in your chest along with every other feeling being felt by every other hormonal teenager who walked the halls. They crashed over you in waves, one after the other and relentlessly leading you to seriously consider Isaac’s question.

“(Y/n) I think you should go home, you’ve got the same look on your face as you did that night in the hospital…” Isaac pointed out as he let go of your hand.

Even though he was standing right in front of you, again like that night in the hospital, his voice sounded distant. Instead of excessive noise this time it was overwhelming emotions clouding your mind and as opposed to ringing in your ears all you could feel was a volcano of feelings threatening to erupt in your chest. There seemed to be something about Isaac- it was like he triggered your powers, whenever he was with you they were at their strongest and you didn’t know whether or not that was a good thing. 

As his hand slipped out of yours you felt yourself pulling it back to you as quickly as possible without triggering your new vampire speed, because while Isaac triggered you- you felt as though he was also the only thing stopping you from losing control.

“Hey, you ok?” His voice sounded again, prompting you to squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to gain some kind of leverage over the car crash of emotions flooding your every breath, you took a deep breath before you opened your eyes, locking your gaze with Isacc’s.

His eyebrows were furrowed together and the amount of concern he held for you in the moment would’ve warmed your heart if it wasn’t already crushing it. “I think I should wait a few more days.” You reasoned out loud, nodding your head mirroring Isaac as he nodded in agreement, adjusting your grip on his hand so you weren’t just grabbing on to it. He intertwined his fingers with your own and led you towards the school doors muttering, “Give me your keys, I’ll take you home.”

“If you miss school you’ll get in trouble.” You reminded him weakly, fatigue getting the best of you as you leaned against his side for support, not seeing him shake his head, “Nah, he won’t be mad if it’s about you. Didn’t touch me the whole time you were in hospital.” Isaac informed you as he snatched your car keys out of your jacket pocket himself, trying to fight a grin at the dopey look on your face as you stared up at him.

“He didn’t?” You questioned when the pressure in your chest began to release, only when you moved your gaze away from your best friend’s face did you notice that he had already brought you to your car, he opened the passenger side door and looked at you expectantly, motioning for you to get in, “Come on, sleepy head. Get in the car.” With a sigh of defeat you plopped yourself into the seat, watching as Isaac shut the door and made his way around to the driver’s side, quickly hopping in and leaving the school grounds so you wouldn’t get written up.

“Nope. Said he didn’t want me stressing you out with my ‘little accidents’” He kept his eyes on the road as he spoke and you tried your best not to make your staring too obvious. It was a rare sight though, seeing him with no scrapes or bruises, you liked it a lot. At least it meant he wasn’t hurting physically.

“Maybe I should get injured more often then.” You told him tiredly, head beginning to lull, soothed by the warm feeling spreading across your chest

Isaac laughed humorlessly, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead of him, “Honestly I’d rather get beaten black and blue than see you hurt for another second.”

The warmth in your chest only grew as you gazed at him, “I could say the same.” He laughed again only this time it was sweet, “How about we both try not to get our asses handed to us?” 

As the words left his mouth the car had pulled into your driveway, your mother’s car was out of sight and your father would’ve left for work by now so it seemed that you and Isaac would have the place to yourselves.

When you got inside you dropped your bag on the hallway floor and made a beeline towards the stairs, waiting for your best friend to follow you as he usually did only this time he didn’t move. Isaac stood rigidly in the doorway, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheeks as indecisiveness radiated off his form.

“Come on, I know you didn’t ditch school just to drop me home…” You tried to lighten the mood but your words only confused him further. He only stares at you in contemplation, his teeth moving to chew on his bottom lip. “What’s wrong?” You asked, voice dripping with concern.

Little did you know his mind was running wild with the same thoughts that had plagued him earlier that morning, maybe you didn’t want him with you… maybe you would’ve preferred Scott or even Stilinski. Before he could apply any sort of logic to the thoughts his mouth started moving, “Do you want me to stay? It’s fine if you’d rather- I don’t know call Scott or something?”

You felt bad for laughing, you really did but the question definitely had not been what you were expecting, his jealousy towards Scott and even Stiles was clear as day but you didn’t realize he was so blinded by it. “Isaac, I love you so much but that is the worst suggestion you’ve made all day.” You told him through a laugh, moving from the stairs back to the front door, shutting it after you pulled Isaac inside and looked him in the eyes.

Drowsily you placed both of your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes, “Don’t get me wrong, Scott and Stiles are great” You started, pausing to squish his cheeks together to drive you point as you finished, “But they’re not you.” Isaac smiled down at you sweetly, escaping your grasp to pull you against him in a hug and once again that warm feeling flooded your chest again. It was different that the others you’d felt so far, the others seemed to sit on your chest or weighed it down, but this feeling felt as though it was simply floating over it, it wasn’t heavy or overwhelming but light and comforting. You sunk into it for a second, eyes falling shut as you let out a hum of approval when Isaac’s grip around you tightened ever so slightly.

Pulling yourself away before you fell asleep right where you stood you grabbed his hand, leading him upstairs, “Alright dumbass, I need a nap we can cuddle upstairs.” You grumbled only to have him laugh and push your shoulder playfully, “You’re the worst, (L/n)”

“Mhm, and don’t you forget it, Lahey.”

*

“Call her. Now.” Derek growled out at Stiles demandingly causing him to throw his arms in the air in frustration, “And what’s she gonna do about it? Huh? Suck your blood?” Stiles retorted, sarcastically.

“No,” The older man once again growled, “She can heal it. Now, call her.”

“You suck, you know that right?” Stiles mumbled as Derek ignored him, clutching his arm in pain as the boy with the buzzcut finally began to dial your number.

After a minute, Stiles lowered the phone from his ear, “She’s not answering.”

“Then call her again.” 

*

You groaned into Isaac’s shoulder as your phone rang for the fifth time waking you from your longer than intended nap, groggily you grabbed your phone from behind you on the night stand as best you could without removing yourself from Isaac.

Finally grabbing hold of it you held it to your ear, not bothering to check the caller ID before answering, “Hello?”

“Finally. (Y/n) listen to me-” Your face contorted in confusion at the sound of the frantic voice on the other line, “Derek?” You questioned, still half asleep and Isaac’s hand running through your hair didn’t help with the matter of waking you up.

“Yes, (Y/n) it’s Derek-” “And Stiles!” “Shut up!”

You couldn’t help but wince at the volume of their voices, finally sitting up, “Both of you shut up. What do you want?” You grumbled crankily.

“Allison’s aunt shot me.” Derek told you bluntly causing your eyes to widen and your voice to pitch, “What? Are you okay?”

“I need your help.” He admitted causing your shock to grow significantly, “How the hell am I supposed to help?” You asked panicked, trying to calm your beating heart when it dawned on you that your best friend was right beside you.

Stiles voice cut in this time, sounding just as frustrated, if not more, than Derek, “Do you have to be so cryptic all the time? God. (Y/n) I’m taking him to Deaton’s okay? The pet clinic. Just meet us there alright?”

“Okay, got it.” You sighed, quickly hanging up and jumping out of your comfortable bed, letting out a laugh when you noticed the sun had long since set, you must’ve been asleep for hours.

“You ok?” Isaac asked. Standing now too.

“Yeah, Derek needs me for something.” You told him, irritation clear on your face. “I’ll drive you home.” You sighed and gave the boy an apologetic smile,

*

Hurriedly you made your way into the pet clinic after dropping Isaac off, eyes widening at the state Derek was in, “Jesus, you really got shot, huh?”

The wolf nodded with an insincere smile on his face, eyes narrowed in your direction, “Yes. Now come here, I need your blood.” Derek demanded, rolling his eyes when you recoiled in disgust, “Come again?”

Derek sighed impatiently, only bothering to give you a half assed explanation, “The bullet that shot me has a toxin in it, vampire blood will stop it long enough for Scott to get here.” He grabbed your wrist and pushed it toward your mouth, “Bite.” He instructed, hesitantly you bore your fangs, eyes flashing in the process, and bit into your wrist, wincing as you broke the skin before you removed your fangs and held the limb toward Derek who immediately attached his lips to the bleeding area, “Gross…” You murmured, scrunching up your nose as Stiles looked at the scene with as much distaste as you.

When he was finally done with your wrist you saw that the marks your fangs had left only a minute ago were gone and besides the spit from Derek which you wiped off on your shirt with a grimace, it was like nothing had been there at all. “What the hell?” You voiced in confusion, staring at your wrist.

“Okay, so vampires heal too.” Stiles deducted, nodding his head approvingly.

“They can heal themselves but they can also heal others. With their blood.” Derek finally explained coherently. 

“You’re not healing though.” You pointed out matter of factly, prompting the older man to let out a sigh, “There’s wolfsbane in my system. Your blood will dilute it but it won’t stop it completely, I need the bullet.” He said vaguely to which you only nodded, not bothered asking him any more questions, he sucked at answering.

Deciding to leave Derek to his brooding you made yourself comfortable next to Stiles, “So Allison’s aunt?” Stiles nodded, “Yep. Pretty funny considering Scott went over to Allison’s after school today to ‘study’” He told you making air quotes with his fingers.

“I gotta be honest Stiles… I don’t trust her.” You voiced your concerns, chewing on your bottom lip. Stiles looked at you with a confused glance, “Allison? Why not?”

You shook your head, staring distantly out the window as you mulled over his question. You couldn’t explain it but there was something about the Argent girl that just didn’t sit right with you, she felt volatile, confused even. Like given the right motivation she’d switch teams without thinking twice

Turning back to meet Stiles’ eyes you shrugged your shoulders, “Just an intuitive feeling.”

[kumkaniudaku]

Meet the Parents: Four

A/N: This is the last part of this series and a late Valentine’s Day entry. Enjoy another piece of the Chad and CoCo saga. I love you guys! 

Warnings: Not Proofread

Word Count: 5212

“Our parents are coming to visit next week.”

Tasha let the sentence fall from her lips like an observation about the weather and not a random declaration in the middle of weeknight dinner. Chadwick sat beside her on the couch, eyes trained on the television before turning his head for a view of the side of her face. Even in her profile he saw embers of worry smoldering behind her eyes. Chadwick quickly chewed the last bits of black beans in his mouth to answer.

“What?”

“Our parents,” she repeated, finally looking over at him. “They’re coming to visit next week.”

“Our parents? As in just your parents or -.”

“Both sets. Yours and mine. They are going to be in this house next weekend under the impression that we haven’t talked in years when we’ve been playing house for almost two months.”

“Yeah, so,” Chadwick added, not seeing the issue. “We’re grown. Shit happens.”

“My parents think that I’m getting married next fall, Chadwick. They think I’m still with Elijah.”

Chadwick stopped chewing to cough up pieces of rice that had shot to the back of his throat in surprise. “Shit.” He paused to gather himself as Tasha leaned forward to rest her forehead in her hands. “Okay, that explains your folks. How are mine involved?”

“My mama took it upon herself to contact your mama and, I think, they’re on a mission to help us reconnect like this is some family drama or something.” Tasha kept her lead low while her fingers placed air quotes around reconnect. A split second of silence hung in the air until quiet snickering caught her attention. “I’m glad you think this is so funny.”

“It’s too ridiculous not to laugh, baby.” Chadwick fought to stifle laughter as he watched Tasha stand and stomp off toward the kitchen. He hadn’t intended to belittle her feelings, but he wasn’t sure how to process the information. “C’mon, T. I’m sorry!”

In their shared haste to explore a new chapter of their relationship, neither Tasha or Chadwick had alerted their families and friends. Sure, a few people had made assumptions, but nothing that they speculated equaled solid proof. To call the lack of information a secret was too harsh. They preferred the term oversight. But now, with a visit from their families looming, the new couple needed a plan that included cleaning up said oversight without admitting to what would surely be seen as an outright lie.

Tasha stood in the kitchen angrily scrubbing at an empty sauce pot when Chadwick walked in and leaned on the counter beside the sink. He watched with a fond smile for a moment before reaching to grab her wrists and pull her close.

“Hey, look at me,” Chadwick requested, taking Tasha’s chin between his thumb and index finger. Hip lips pressed gentle kisses on her nose and mouth until she relented and returned his affection. “We’ll be okay.”

“You say that like you have a plan.”

Chadwick smiled and pecked Tasha’s lips. “I always have a plan, baby.”

To Chadwick the solution was simple: play along with their parents and finish the long weekend without giving up more information than was necessary. If their mothers wanted to believe they’d done a good deed, let them.

Together, they spent days fine tuning their deceit. Tasha made sure to remove any trace of her existence from Chadwick’s house, scouring the home for an out of place pair of heels or a wayward piece of mail in her name. Chadwick crafted an intricate script with details so precise that CoCo had begun to believe their lie.

The night before mom-eggedon, as Tasha had named their arrival, the couple lay tangled in bed tightening their story.

“So, we’ll have to delete each other’s number for this to work. It’ll look weird if my name pops up in your contacts.”

“How would they even see? I’ll go to another room.”

“That looks suspicious. You have to make the call in front of her.”

“Okay,” Tasha agreed, sighing as she scrolled through her contacts and reluctantly removed Chadwick’s number. “What else?”

“Make sure to grab your bonnet and headscarf before you leave in the morning. Or I can stash them in my drawer. Let me know.”

“You pick. I... need a break.”

Tasha’s sudden bout of anxiety was enough to end any and all conversation that night. She has resigned to the notion that she would have to come clean the minute her parents stepped off of the arrivals sidewalk and slid into the backseat of her car. Still, she was careful to use her best poker face in the off chance that she was home free. Chadwick didn’t share her worries, but he empathized. His parents weren’t nearly as invested in his personal life. He wasn’t the one due to be married in a year’s time.

Sun beat down on Tasha through the windshield of her car while she anxiously glanced in her rearview mirror for any sight of her parents. She hadn’t slept the night before and slipped out of Chadwick’s bed early to avoid any talk of the weekend. In her mind, if she left without speaking to her boyfriend, she could easily forget their connection. She was wrong. All she could think about was ringing his line for another dose of reassurance.

Tasha’s eyes followed a parking official making stops at each car along the curb, silently praying that her parents would emerge from the building before she was handed a ticket.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered, hoping she could will them outside. Her fingernails tapped nervously on the dash until, finally, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s traveling hat moving toward the sidewalk. She bounded from the driver’s side in a single motion and waved her hands for their attention.

“Mom! Dad! Over here!”

“My baby!” Elaine was the first to greet her oldest daughter, leaving Gerald to grab her rolling luggage and haul it to the car.

Tasha smiled as her mother pulled into a hug way too tight for her tense body. “Hey, mama. You travel safe?”

“As safe as I could, child. Your daddy complained the whole time, but we’re here now.”

“Set your old man up with first class tickets next time, Pumpkin. I need some room for these knees.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll upgrade you for the flight back. Let me grab those.”

Gerald tried to wave Tasha off, but he was too slow. Tasha had already started to channel her nervous energy into overextending her hospitality. Every question was answered with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. Neither of her parents noticed as they marveled at sights and sounds of Los Angeles. They sat with their faces nearly pressed against the car windows, rattling off questions and observations about the state of the city. Complaints about the traffic earned a laugh that was too loud for the conversation and a shared look of concern between Gerald and Elaine.

“So, how is Elijah,” Elaine asked, looking at Tasha through the rearview mirror with a smile. “We haven’t heard from or about him in about a month. Is he okay?”

Tasha’s foot stuttered on the break as she pulled into her driveway, making the car jerk in response. She took a breath and rolled her shoulders back before answering.

“He’s fine, I suppose. We... aren’t together anymore.”  Tasha’s jaw clenched at the admission and shook her head. She hadn’t said the words aloud yet.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you anyway, Pumpkin. His ears were too big to have nothing in between ‘em.”

Tasha chuckled as she shut off the engine and opened the driver’s side door. “Thanks, Pop.”

“I agree with your father. Now, you have more time to wait on the man that’s supposed to court you, not the other way around. You know, I know a guy.”

“Mhmm,” Tasha mumbled. “Here, let me help with that.”

Gerald stopped pulling suitcases from the trunk and kindly pushed his daughter’s hand away. “I got it, Pumpkin. Take your mama inside. She’s been dying to see your house.”

Tasha laughed at her father’s thinly veiled plea for alone time before ushering her mother into her home. Elaine stepped into the foyer and paused, taking a long look at her surroundings. Beside the door, a basketball rested by a black duffle bag.

“You’re playing basketball again,” she questioned.

“Every once in a while I play with the girls as the facility. No big deal.”

Elaine took another look at the oversized sweatshirt barely hanging out of the bag. “Hm.”

Before Tasha could address Elaine’s non-verbal judgement, her mother had moved on to the living room. Elaine stopped to examine photos and sculptures carefully placed on each surface, finding many of them to have ties back to home or family. Her fingers ghosted over awards from her daughter’s time away from home and she smiled. If Elaine was nothing else, she was proud of Tasha.

While she listened to her husband and daughter wrestle luggage into the house, Elaine carefully took a seat on the large sectional to rest her aching legs. The way she flopped against the plush piece of furniture surprised Elaine, making her giggle but stop when she got a whiff of the air around her. Beside her head lay a dark fleece blanket and she took a deep inhale to place it as a source of the masculine smell.

“This is a nice blanket, Nicole,” she complimented. “It looks warm.”

“It is. Got it on a trip back from Connecticut last year. Great naps have been taken under that thing.”

What Tasha thought as a random fun fact about her favorite blanket made her mother smirk with realization. She knew the smell of a gentleman caller when she encountered one. Though the information wasn’t enough to stop the plan she had in motion, she felt a strange comfort in knowing that Tasha was living a life that pleased her, something Elaine had drilled into her and her sister’s head since their pre-teen years.

“Dad, you want a drink. I have this expensive artisan beer that Ch... a friend left over. When they visited. A friend.”

Tasha stilled to slow her rapidly beating heart at her near mistake. Neither of her parents had seemed to notice and, for that, she was silently grateful.

“My girl is drinking beer now,” Gerald questioned with a wide smile. “Becoming just like your old man.”

“Yeah, well, I dabble. Gotta keep up with the white boys at the Lakers game.”

“Atta, girl. Beat ‘em at their own game. C’mon, show me.”

On one side of town, Tasha busied herself with introducing her parents to the wonders of pale ales and stouts, while on the other, Chadwick emptied grocery bags filled to brim with dinner ingredients. He spent much of the process silently scolding his parents for placing items in areas he knew CoCo wouldn’t enjoy. When his mother moved to place the entire jug of orange juice in the door of the refrigerator, Chadwick couldn’t resist the urge to stop her.

“Actually,” he started, intercepting her before she could place the jug. “I have some pitchers you can empty that into. They’re nice, I promise.”

His mother eyed him as he retrieved a monogrammed pitcher from the cabinet and rinsed it in the sink. The last time she’d visited, he barely had food in the refrigerator. Now, he had specialized pitchers for juice.

“Where did those come from?” Carol asked, trying to get a better look at the glassware.

“Crate and Barrel. I went with a friend a couple weeks ago and they suggested them.” Unlike Tasha, Chadwick had a solid grasp on his lines and practice keeping secrets.

“Hm. This friend suggest those vanilla candles in the living room, too?”

“Those were a gift. Want one? I have a few more in the linen closet.”

“No, I’m alright. Just... noticing some changes.”

“Like what?” Chadwick asked as he stashed breakfast meat in the refrigerator drawer.

“You live alone now. That’s new.”

Chadwick shrugged, seemingly unphased. “It’s been a couple of weeks. The split was mutual. We’re on better terms these days.”

That was an assumption on his part. Chadwick didn’t know the status of his friendship with Charmaine, but he harbored no ill will. Carol opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her husband walking into the kitchen with a big smile.

“Hell of theater you got back there son. I bet the big game looked good on that big ‘ole screen.”

“Wanna try it out? I think the playoffs start tonight.”

“What about dinner?” Carol asked.

“We’ll eat early. It’s just us right?”

Chadwick tried to avert his gaze once his mother started to look between him and his father. He didn’t want to let on that he knew more than she had shared.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about. You remember Tasha, right?”

“She was my best friend, ma,” Chadwick laughed. “Of course I remember her.”

“I know, I know. But did you know she lived here now?”

“She mentioned it when she sent a gift for the movie.”

“So, you two talk again?”

“We’ve talked once or twice.”

“Have you met up?”

“No.” Chadwick answered, keeping his voice flat to appear neutral. Carol smiled in a way that indicated she had information to share. Chadwick allowed the charade to continue.

“Well, I heard from a little birdie that her parents are also in town this weekend. Maybe you should invite them over.”

“Ma, I don’t know if we’re back on those terms yet. It’s been a while.”

“I know,” Carol answered, drawing out ‘know’ as she took steps toward Chadwick. She latched onto his arm and smiled up at her son. “But, what if she stopped by? Just for dinner?”

Chadwick looked between his parents, paying special attention to his father’s grin. He’d never known his dad to be invested in his private life, but there was always spark behind his eyes when Tasha was involved.

Finally, Chadwick pretended to relent.

“Alright, ma. I don’t have her number, though. How will I call?”

Carol clapped her hands like a giddy child and started a search for her phone. “Don’t you worry your head, boy. I have her number right here.” She extended her arm toward his face. “Go on. Call her. I wanna hear you.”

Chadwick felt his body tense and mind begin to scramble for a response. He had expected to make the call when a moment of solitude presented itself. Now, he was forced to go off script and risk throwing Tasha off balance. On a whim, he decided to grab his mother’s phone to make the call.

The phone rang once, and then a third time before Tasha answered.

“Hello?” she answered with a genuine question thick in her tone.

“Hey, Tasha. It’s me...Chadwick.”

Everyone listened as the sounds in the background became louder before CoCo responded. “Hey, Chad. I have you on speaker. My parents are here.”

“Hi, Chadwick!”

“How ya doin’, son!”

Both Tasha and Chadwick chuckled at her parents' excitement.

“I’m good. Good to hear from y’all. Welcome to LA.” Chadwick listened to Elaine and Gerald share various versions of thank you before continuing. “Hey, so, funny thing...my parents are here too.”

“Oh really? Give them my love. I know they miss me.”

“We miss you so much, sweetie! Why don’t you come eat dinner with us tonight.”

Chadwick chuckled at his mother’s excitement, “That was my line. She beat me to it, but the invite stands. We’d be happy to have y’all over.”

“We’ll be there!”

“Ma!” Tasha and her mother argued in hushed whispers on the other line, nearly making Chadwick forget that the whole conversation was a carefully planned charade. “I guess we’ll be there. You’ll send the address?”

As if she needed it. “Sure. You’ll get it from another number, okay?”

He wasn’t sure why, but Chadwick felt butterflies flutter in the pit of his belly as if this were truly the first time he was seeing the love of his life. He welcomed the feeling and smiled on the other end, making his parents join in on his happiness.

“Great. See you soon,” Tasha answered, a hint of smile in her voice to match Chadwick’s.

They hung up with promises to text for more details and inside jokes that made only them laugh. With a few white lies, they had tricked their parents, and nearly themselves, into believing they were set to embark on a glorious reunion between college friends.

Tasha spent hours rifling through what little clothing she still had at her condo, tossing outfit after outfit onto her bedroom floor until she came up with something she felt would catch her man’s eye.

Across town, Chadwick and his mother arranged and rearranged the dining table dishes to ensure that he was putting forth the best “first” impression. They settled on elegant china that Chadwick felt was a bit too formal for the occasion, but he let it stand. At the very least the flatware would impress Tasha’s parents.

As Tasha drove through Chadwick’s neighborhood, she made sure to maintain a facade of discovery. She didn’t take the normal shortcuts or skip the growing pothole on the street that tormented her each day on the way home from work. She pretended to be surprised at the ornate sculptures crafted from bushes at a nearby house and the amount of expensive cars in the driveways they passed.

“The boy is doing well for himself,” Gerald commented from the backseat.

“Very well. But, we always knew it’d be like this. Chadwick was destined to be big.”

Elaine spoke about Chadwick as if he was some utra celebrity and not the same kid that she had to constantly remind to slow down while he ate so that he wouldn’t choke on his food.

Tasha laughed as she pulled into his driveway. “He’s a movie star. It’s to be expected.”

One by one, the Greene family stepped out of the car into the crisp, early Spring air and started up the short driveway toward the door. Tasha hung back and examined the house from the outside, admiring how the two potted plants they’d placed on the porch were starting to go into one another like their namesakes.

Gerald rapped his knuckles against the door several times before Elaine scolded him for being rude as she pressed the doorbell. When Tasha caught up to her parents, the door opened and sent light from the inside spilling onto the front porch. Chadwick popped out of the house with his arms open wide.

“Family!”

He gripped Tasha’s parents into tight hugs, sharing familiar pleasantries as he welcomed them into his home. Elaine stuttered when it was her turn to embrace, taking a deep whiff of Chadwick’s shoulder and feeling transported to a moment earlier in the day. She kept quiet, but took note of his hug with Tasha as he moved on to greet the other members of the household. Elaine noticed the way he seemed to hug her like a man familiar with the curvature of his lover’s body and shared a look with Carol that spoke louder than words.

As a unit, they quickly fell back into familiar behaviors, catching each other up with life’s happenings and new discoveries. On the far end of Chadwick’s sectional, he and Tasha sat close enough to share side conversations that only they could hear.

“Just like old times,” Lawrence, Chadwick’s father, commented over his glass of water. “You two haven’t changed in over 20 years.”

“What you mean, dad? We’re just over here talking.”

“That ain’t just talking,” Gerald chimed in. “Y’all always had your little secret language.”

“And a knack for keeping each other’s secrets.”

Tasha looked over at Elaine who sat with a knowing smirk on her face that unsettled her daughter. Chadwick easily maintained his cool as he sipped from his wine glass.

“That’s how it goes when you’ve been friends this long. We are still friends, right?”

Tasha felt her cheeks become warm through her bashful smile. “Of course. Always.”

Both sets of parents looked on with fond smiles while their kids shared a moment of rekindling a little more than longtime friendship. Elaine and Carol exchanged winks to congratulate each other on a job well done.

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Carol spoke after clearing her throat. “But, I think the roast is done. Can we move this moment to the dining room?”

“Yeah, sure. Tasha, can you help mama in the kitchen? You need help right, mama?”

“I’ll take it wherever I can get it,” she laughed.

“Now, you know you don’t ever have to ask me for help. I’m right behind you.”

The group quickly dispersed to different corners of the house, leaving Tasha and Carol to explore Chadwick’s kitchen on their own. Tasha took it upon herself to reach into the drawer beside the stove and grab pot holders. Carol watched her move around the space as if she had been there a thousand times.

“Did you say you’ve visited Chad before?”

Tasha looked back as she opened the stove and shook her head. “No, ma’am. This is my first time.”

“Hm. Okay.” She continued to watch Tasha carefully slide the roast out of the oven and close the door with her hip. When Tasha turned around, Carol tried to recover a moment too late. Tasha smiled nervously.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Carol quickly answered. “I just...I thought...it doesn’t matter. I’ll grab another bottle of wine and meet you in the dining room.”

Carol’s pivot seemed to do the trick once Tasha carried the main dish to the dining room. Chadwick sat at the end of the table with a mixed look of boredom and relief once Tasha entered the room. He sprung up to retrieve the dish from her hands, but Tasha gripped his hands to stop him.

“Your mom is being weird,” Tasha whispered.

“Your’s too. She noticed that bottle of air freshener you always spray in here and asked where it came from.”

“What is she a fuckin’ bloodhound?”

“She is you,” Chadwick laughed. “I think I got us out of it, but be careful.”

Carol’s entrance forced the pair to separate and pretend to focus on different tasks. She eyed their charade for a moment before looking over to Elaine and their aloof husbands solely focused on dinner.

She took a seat beside Lawrence just as Tasha settled in next to Chadwick while trying to avoid eye contact.

“So, who’s going to say the blessing? Tasha?”

Tasha’s eyes grew wide, “Oh, I’m probably not the best person. You know how I am with words and this isn’t my house anyway. How about Chad?”

“Uh, sure. Everybody bow your heads.” Tasha squeezed Chadwick’s hand as a silent thanks and clamped her eyes shut to avoid the daggers he sent in her direction. Chadwick took a deep breath in search of words to fit the occasion. “Lord, thank you for bringing us together again tonight. Especially Tasha and I as long time friends. We-”

“Hope that you will use all of us to tell the truth about our love for one another. Please, don’t let this night pass without every feeling and overlooked detail put on the table. It’d be a shame for us to leave here holding on to what you put on our hearts to share.”

Amens, both genuine and forced, sounded around the table to signal the end of Elaine’s awkward prayer. The group sat in silence while scooping food onto their plates. Tasha and Chadwick attempted to remain inconspicuous.

“Chadwick, how’s Hollywood treating you,” Gerald asked between bites of food.

“Ah, you know how it goes out here. I go to work, come home and avoid all that foolishness in between. The pay is good though. I can’t lie about that.”

“You better be avoiding the foolishness. Tasha, now that you’re here, keep my boy straight.”

“Yes, sir,” Tasha laughed. “If I’m not good at anything else, I’m good at bossing him around.”

“Did Tasha tell you that she’s single now?”

“Ma! We literally just got here. When would I have had time to share that?” Tasha shot her mother a glare across the table and received a shrug in return.

“I only asked a question. Are you single Chad?”

Chadwick chuckled as he slipped his hand under the table and gripped Tasha’s thigh. “No, I didn’t know she was single and, yes, I am recently single. The last relationship didn’t workout quite the way she hoped.”

“Sounds like you two have something in common.”

“Oh you and what’s his name aren’t together?”

Tasha caught Chadwick’s obvious sarcasm and brushed his hand off her leg. He continued to laugh at her expense, leaving no room for her to unleash her frustration beyond a curt smile.

“You know his name, Aaron. And, no, we are not. That is my business to keep to myself.”

“Alright,” Chadwick answered. “Maybe I can hook you up with one of my actor friends. I hear Anthony Mackie is looking for someone your type.”

“I’ll pass. Actors aren’t my thing.”

“Hm. That’s not what I heard.”

Chadwick jokingly nudged Tasha’s shoulder, garnering a look from Elaine and Carol.

“What did you hear,” Carol asked. “Don’t the kids say something about the tea?”

“Nothing. Chadwick hasn’t heard a thing but a seminar on how to still be annoying after 20 years.”

He laughed and wiped his mouth. “I’m pretty good at it, too. You look a little flushed, though. Want more wine?”

A simple diversion pushed the conversation into talks of wine tasting and how to pair reds and whites, effectively ending all relationship talk for a stretch. Underneath the table, Tasha and Chadwick took turns letting their hands wander. The cat and mouse game quickly grew inappropriate with fingers buried between thighs and palms gripping sacred parts over thick denim fabric. Their parents enjoyed helping after helping of food until each person was stuffed and nearly falling out of their seats. Lawrence, however, wasn’t done.

“I could go for some dessert,” he mentioned during a lull in the conversation. “What we got in the kitchen?”

“Mama, you got that cheesecake I ordered, right? Tasha, wanna help me grab it.” Chadwick had been thinking about a way to briefly separate from the group to sneak a kiss or a hug and, finally, he’d found an out.

Tasha peeped the hint of demand in his voice and nodded. “For sure. You know you have butter fingers anyway. We’ll be right back.”

The pair didn’t give their parents time to reject the offer before they scurried out of the room. When they made it into the kitchen undetected, Tasha pulled Chadwick into a searing kiss. He chuckled against her lips while fondling her backside.

“Your joke was not funny,” Tasha mumbled before breaking the kiss. “Mackie? Really?”

“Gotta make it realistic, baby. You handled it like a champ.”

“Mhmm. Next time, I’m coming with jokes about your relationship.”

Chadwick allowed Tasha to slip from his grip and head to the refrigerator. He watched her hips sway for a second before reaching into the cabinet to grab dessert plates.

“Which ones do you usually use?”

“The white marble. Grab the gold forks to match the decor. You did a good setting it up by yourself.”

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my mama from moving stuff around?”

“Probably as hard as it was to keep mine out of my office. Why can’t they be like our dad’s?”

“Because then we wouldn’t love them as much,” he added. “Only a couple more days of this and then I can have you back in here with my shirts on.”

“Oh, so, we aren’t meeting up for some car sex tomorrow.”

Tasha stepped closer as Chadwick lifted a brow and watched her beneath hooded lids. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

“Now, Aaron. You know that ain’t my style. I’ll call you. We’ll call it lunch.” Balancing the tray of cheesecake in one hand, Tasha pressed a quick kiss against Chadwick’s lips before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Who wants cheesecake,” he hollered as he followed Tasha back into the dining room with a smile.

Both sets of parents watched the couple attempt to pass out slices without bumping into each other, taking note of the clear gloss making Chadwick’s lips shine. Lawrence tried to send messages to his son to wipe his mouth but all of them went unnoticed. Elaine and Carol shared smiles while Gerald stifled a laugh.

After passing out each piece of cake, Tasha and Chadwick took their seats and found all eyes on them.

“What,” Chadwick asked as he stabbed a fork into his cheesecake.

Lawrence cleared his throat. “I think you have something you need to share, son.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe Tasha will know,” Elaine added. Tasha forced a laugh and smiled.

“I don’t even know what’s going on right now. What are you talking about?”

“How about you start with how long you and Chadwick have been seeing each other. And be honest this time, Pumpkin.”

Tasha and Chadwick froze. In the mirror above his parent’s head and noticed the evidence of their secret still on his lips. There was no sense in preserving the farce. They were caught red handed. So, he smiled and shook his head. Tasha finally relented with a hearty laugh.

“When did you know, mama?”

“Child, as soon as I smelled man on your couch and hugged this one at the door. You have to be smarter than that.”

Carol chimed in and pointed at Tasha, “And this one went in the kitchen and started pulling things out of the drawer like she owned the place.”

“You don’t think we noticed the glassware in the fridge? You drink orange juice out of the carton and now all of a sudden there’s pitchers all over the place.”

“Since when do you drink beer, Pumpkin. I knew you either had a boyfriend or you were going through a midlife crisis like your mama when she only drank martinis for a year.”

Chadwick and Tasha listen to all the places they had neglected tiny details, feeling slightly foolish that they’d tried to pull the wool over the eyes of the people that knew them best.

“Okay, you got us,” Chadwick admitted. “This was all Tasha’s idea. I wanted to tell y’all right away. It’s been almost two months of this lie she made me tell.”

“Oh, hush! I just figured we would tell you when we were ready. Well, when I was ready. I’m sorry, y’all.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Carol answered.

“This just gives us more time for planning.”

Tasha raised an eyebrow while leaning into Chadwick’s side. “Planning what?”

“The wedding of course,” Elaine exclaimed. Tasha’s groan became covered by Chadwick’s boisterous laughter.

“Lay ‘em on me, Ms. Greene. What you thinking?”

“How do feel about a rustic wedding, Ooh ooh, let me go grab my phone. Did I tell you I have a Pinterest now?”

[kzuhadovey]

omg please i beg of you a part 2 of I Love You w Atsumu the amount of times I read it because it was so heart breaking yet just the right amount of yearning of that makes sense. I absolutely loved it 😍

I’m stupid for loving you... aren’t I?

character: miya atsumu x reader

type: angst??? fluff???

warnings: -

song rec: mr loverman - ricky montgomery

click this to read part 1!!

ahhh hello anon!! this is my first ever request, i’m so excited!! this took rlly long for some reason, i’m so scared to disappoint yall with this 😭😭 well here you go, a part 2 to i love you :)

You were doing fairly great after the incident. Life was peaceful, your grades were skyrocketing, you quit the volleyball team and chose to pursue fashion design- life was good. You graduated Inarizaki as one of the best students in your class and first place in the 49th Japan Fashion Design Contest. You could almost remember the feeling of graduating, on stage, receiving your diploma, being cheered on by your friends and family, with a particular blonde boy eye-ing you with adoring eyes.

The after-party was hectic, never-ending drinks, maybe a make-out or two, but overall, you were ecstatic. An interesting thing that happened during the party, was your interaction with Miya Atsumu. He was still as lively as ever, a bright smile on his face wherever he was. Once he saw you that night, a drink in hand and your arm over your friend’s shoulder, a small smile popped on his face. He went still for a second as all the memories rushed back and you spun around. You were sweaty and drunk, but in his eyes, you looked heavenly. You remember glancing at his eyes for a second, he still had that same honey-toned eyes, a slight lovey-dovey look in his eyes. That was the only interaction you had for the night, and what you thought was for the rest of your life. Or so you’d thought.

Life was pretty much hectic after graduation. College, then joining one of the most successful fashion designers, to actually having your own brand. Who knew design could be so stressful? You slump down in your office only to be greeted by more piles of fabric and paperwork. Another load of presentations to investors and other businesses- yet your company seemed to be going nowhere. “Excuse me, your 4 o’clock meeting is here.” Your assistant suddenly says, making you flinch. “Geez- at least knock first.” You say, standing up and fixing your outfit. This client was particularly important to your brand- they had asked for a possibility of sponsorship. It would be groundbreaking to collab with them- a grade-a sports team would be amazing to collab with. You just weren’t expecting for him to be here. 

“Good afternoon, Mister… Shugo?” You say, looking down at a clipboard with all your materials. Shugo was a familiar name- you’ve probably heard it somewhere on the radio. “Y/N?- I-it’s you.” The man says, standing up. You freeze. You knew that voice- it’s gotten much deeper though. His tone is laced with curiosity- it almost felt like a dream. You look up to be met by him. His honey blonde hair was slicked to the side better, a hint of softness in his brown eyes. “Atsumu?” You mutter unknowingly. A sense of nostalgia hit you as your eyes scanned him. He looks older- and he’s surely gotten buffer. It felt like a dream, really. To see your high school crush almost more than 5 years apart. Then it came back. The sequence of events that happened leading up to the fight. It still hurt, of course, but not as much. I suppose you’ve gotten over it. You snap back into reality when Atsumu coughs awkwardly. “I’m supposed to meet- Shugo. Shugo Meian. Wh- what are you doing here?” You mutter out. “Shugo sent me. I didn’t know- this was your company.” Atsumu says, tucking his hands in his pocket with a small smile. He was still as smug as ever. You nod hesitantly- you had to give him the benefit of the doubt though. “Take a seat, Mr. Miya. We should start talking about the offer.” You say, pointing to the sofa behind him. He nods, giving you a small smile. Gosh- his smile was just as captivating as it did in high school. You feel yourself getting uncomfortable from your own thoughts- after all, you were over him. Right?

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mister Miya.” You say, bowing. After around an hour of deliberating and talking, you ended up with a beneficial deal for both of you. Of course, despite your troubles, you stayed professional. It was slightly amusing how Atsumu’s eyes would linger on you- admiring your figure more than a mere business partner would. “I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” Atsumu says, smiling widely. “Hey- uh- do you miss… Suna? and Osamu?” Atsumu asks, a bit hesitant. He’s not sure whether you’d like that because of the incident- but your eyes light up in excitement. “Well, a bit,” That was an understatement, of course. “I assume Osamu became a chef like he always wanted?” You ask curiously. You recall Osamu sharing his dreams of being a chef at lunch, a bright smile on his face every time he thought of it. Atsumu nods and you sigh in relief. “Well- you should catch up with us! Osamu’s finally coming back to town.” Atsumu says- which caught you off guard. Of course, you missed them a lot, but- it would bring back a lot of unpleasant memories. Eh, whatever. Seeing them for a bit wouldn’t hurt. “I mean- sure- but-” “Great! Here’s my number.” Atsumu says, scribbling down his number on a random card. “S-Shugo's number is on there as well- by the way,” Atsumu says, chuckling awkwardly. You nod, taking the card. Would you regret this? I dunno.

That day, you ended up in one of the fanciest nightclubs in town, Energize. It was pretty popular amongst rich people and Atsumu had volunteered to pay for everything anyway. You were seated in a booth, quietly waiting for your ex-teammates. Your heart was beating in anticipation- would they look different? You were sure Osamu still had his signature gray hair and Suna’s soft floofy brown hair. Your main concern was if they would show up or not. It was 15 minutes over what time they agreed, and you were getting hesitant. Was this a mistake? Your mind flashed back to the pile of paperwork and you sighed. You took out your phone, checking your texts.

Y/N This is Atsumu Miya, I presume? Atsumu - High School Y/N!! you texted !! Y/N ヽ(￣▽￣)ノ Are we still meeting up tonight? Atsumu - High School yeah yeah ofc !! suna and osamu already said yes :) Y/N I’m excited to meet them :DD Atsumu - High School they’re excited to meet you too btw u don’t have to be that formal with me lol Y/N Ah, no worries. I like being formal. Where are we meeting up? Atsumu - High School Energize, 8 pm tonight don’t be late :DD Y/N I’ll be there. 

You cringed at some particular parts of your conversations- had you always been this dry? You huff as you look around further, looking for a huddle of boys. There’s no one in sight that looks like them- and with that, you roll your eyes. It was an empty promise anyways- he never meant anything he said anyway. You stuff your phone into your pocket and head off before- you heard something. “Oi Tsumu, where the hell are they? We’ve been looking for them all over the place!” A voice says- Osamu. You would recognize that voice everywhere- were they really that blind? You turn around before being greeted by 3 males, one of them being Atsumu. “Y/N? Is that you?”

The air felt awkward yet soft as you fiddled with your nails. Atsumu had rented out a private booth for the 4 of you, blocking out all the noise and music. You leaned back on your chair, trying to observe your friends. Osamu had darker hair now- with fluffed-up ends. Suna, on the other hand, still has his signature fluffy brown hair, it just has more volume in it. “Osamu, you’re a chef, Atsumu tells me?” You finally speak up, the silence getting overbearing. Osamu’s eyes light up and he puts on a small smile. “Yeah. Osamu’s Onigiris- Doesn’t it sound nice?” Osamu asks excitedly and you nod. “I’m happy for you, Samu.” You slightly cringe- it was too soon to use that nickname. “What about you? What did you end up… becoming?” Suna asks, leaning on his elbow. “I’m a designer now. I own a company- it’s pretty small though.” You say, chuckling. “I knew it. You’ve always been good at drawing and design and… stuff.” Osamu says, a proud smile on his face. You felt a bit comforted by them, a sense of happiness. It felt nice- just to escape reality for a moment and be with your old friends. Atsumu, however, felt a little different. His heart was beating quicker by the second, and you could swear you saw him blush when he saw you. You could say that he was crushing on you.

The loud music was deafening as you made your way through the crowd, hanging on Suna’s shoulder. Everything felt vibrant as you looked around- people dancing, making out, and having fun. It’s been a long time ever since you loosened up and had fun so this was great. Osamu was laughing his head off about something and Atsumu was blabbering about how he was plucking girls from all over the country. After that awkward encounter, Atsumu had volunteered for heavy drinks and well, this was the outcome. “Mmmh- I think I need another drink,” Osamu says, pointing to some chairs. “Yes. Let’s get a few shots- then go home- because I feel like throwing up.” Suna says, a slight smirk playing on his face. “Mister bartender! 4 shots of vodka please!” Atsumu shouts as you all slump against the table. “Yo, Y/N, question… are you single?” Osamu asks as the shots arrive. You nod your head. Your love life so far has been a little boring… just a few hook-ups and dates along the way but no one really stuck. “Ah, you’re the same with Tsumu then!” Osamu says, giggling. Atsumu rolls his eyes and downs the shot in an attempt to push out what Osamu just said. “I mean- ever since you broke up with him, his girlfriend literally broke up with him too- and he never got over you- aFTER 6 YEARS!” Osamu says, chuckling. Atsumu nearly choked on his drink as he processed what Osamu just said- “Excuse me?” You questioned, glaring at Osamu. It takes Osamu a big fat second to realize what he said before a light blush colored his cheeks. “Hey, Suna! Didn’t you say you wanted to check out the toilet earlier?-” Osamu asks suddenly, standing up and picking Suna up by the hoodie. “Wait what?-”

“That was an interesting comment… wasn’t it, Atsumu?” You muttered, downing your shot. Atsumu shoots you a small glare before his cheeks flare in embarrassment. “I mean- Osamu is- a bit correct- I’m still single- but- that wasn’t true, I’m over you- pfft-” Atsumu said, giggling nervously. You chuckled because you’ve noticed that he’s grown more transparent over the years- you can see by the tone of his voice. “Are you sure, Tsumu?” You ask teasingly, leaning in slowly. Atsumu’s eyes widen before downing the rest of his shot. “Y-yes- I’m sure- of course-” Atsumu stutters, a light pink blush on his cheeks. You could just remember that Atsumu did the same thing to you, in high school. The way he made you flutter and smile joyfully- it was amusing. “I’m joking, Atsumu.” You said, giggling as you saw his flustered reaction. “Mmmm- I feel sleepy.” You said as your eyelids feel heavier. “Would you like to go home?” Atsumu asks, fixing your hair a little. He’s grown softer over the years, definitely. Honestly, at first, you’d be very mad at Atsumu if you weren’t drunk, but you were tired. It had been a long day- a small ride home would be okay, right?

“I’m sorry I ended up dragging you to my house.” You said softly, turning on the lights as you stumble into the apartment. Wasted, was the only thing that was right to describe you. Atsumu was right behind you, hoisting your arm up even though he was drunk himself. “No worries Y/N. I wouldn’t want you to stumble over and hit yourself.” Atsumu says as you lay down on the sofa. “Do you want me to get you a cup of water? Some meds, or anything?” Atsumu asks, observing you. You shake your head softly, yawning. “I’ll get you some food, wait here a second,” Atsumu says, standing up. Your head feels heavy against the cushions of the couch- and you feel worn out and tired. “Here you go- some bread, and meds- to avoid headaches,” Atsumu mutters, handing you a pill and a plate of chocolate bread. “Thank you, Tsumu.” You say, starting to eat up the bread. Atsumu’s heart fluttered at your nickname, a visible blush on his cheeks. “Hey, Tsumu, was Osamu really telling the truth? Back at the bar?” You ask softly. You’re currently leaning against Atsumu’s arm, him visibly flustering around your touch. He was definitely caught off guard by your question- a light blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah. Sure. I guess you could say he was telling the truth.” He chuckles, hoping you wouldn’t kick him off the couch. “Why?”  was the only thing you could say. He sighed softly, sitting you up- a serious conversation, you noted. “I mean… somedays, I just remember how I treated you like shit. How I used you for my own benefit- it’s funny, really, how my feelings have grown over the years. I remember that day, the day you snapped- I was okay with it at first- I saw you as merely a game- but sooner or later I missed you- I missed the way you’d laugh at my cringy jokes, the way you attended every practice I had.” Atsumu mutters, looking down. His tears are threatening to spill and he lets out a breathy chuckle. And it’s so stupid because you can’t love me back. Not after the way, I hurt you and the way you ran off like that- I’m so stupid for loving you… aren’t I?” Atsumu asks. He looks up at you, a small smile playing on his face and he’s on the brink of tears. Back then, he could lie to you so easily- it was as if your feelings didn’t matter to him- but you were surprised to find out that the feelings you had for him… were returned. After all these years, he was willing to give his heart to you. You felt bad for him- of course, he’d think you hate him. You did, really, that day, you cried- you considered moving to another school- but here you were, sitting in front of Atsumu after he had just confessed. “Please say something. I- I won’t be mad if you say you hate me.” Atsumu mutters quietly. You sigh- what do you say?

“Atsumu. Look at me, please?”

He raises his head up to be met by a soft smile. “Tsumu. I don’t hate you, okay?” You say. Even if you’re drunk, your opinion on Atsumu was clear enough. “Yes, I was hurt. You had a girlfriend and you were flirting with me- of course, I was hurt.” You quickly said, looking down. “But I don’t know- you make me feel safe. Even after all those years and I saw you- my feelings all erupted once I saw you. Not gonna lie- it felt shitty- the man who broke my heart stand right then and there.” You gave out a breathy chuckle. Unknowingly, Atsumu was staring right at you with hopeful eyes, hoping for you to say that you loved him back. “Atsumu… I like you, aswell- but I just wanna know if you’re playing games with me. I don’t wanna be some kind of rebound- I don’t wanna raise my hopes up just for you to destroy them.” You muttered softly. “Yes, of course! I- I actually like you this time. You make me so happy, I promise-” Atsumu says, leaping into your arms very suddenly. You yelp at the sudden hug, feeling- inflicted.

“I never got to apologize for my actions- I’m so so sorry- I love you, I love you,” Atsumu mutters into your neck, causing you to giggle. It was amusing- to see Atsumu so flustered over you. “Tsumu. It’s okay, I forgive you.” You mutter softly, petting his hair. Atsumu pulls away, a drunken smile on his face. “C-can I kiss you? I didn’t get a chance to last time…” Atsumu asks slowly, a red blush on his face. You giggle softly- goddamn if he wasn’t cute. “Okay, you can kiss m-” You say slowly, before being interrupted by Atsumu’s lips on yours. His lips are sweet tang against your tongue, and his breath is warm and messy against your lips. You’ve dreamt of this moment since you first laid your eyes on him- his lips against yours, and you’re both a warm ball of happiness. Another life came quicker than expected for Atsumu, but he wasn’t complaining. He got to be with you anyways.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

New Girl. Kuroo Tetsurou

//new girl. kuroo tetsurou//

Warnings: None. 

Word Count: 2.2K

It took you less than a week at your new high school to learn that you hated Kuroo Tetsurou.  He was a serial flirt with too many rumors about his love life that he was honestly the last person that you wanted to befriend.  You would watch him in class, slide in close to some random girl that he knew had a crush on him, give them a few boldly executed flirts, and smirk as they fell even harder in love with him, sliding over the answers to the worksheet the second the request would drop from his lips.  

It took less than a week for Kuroo Tetsurou to take a special interest in you.  You never stared at him, didn’t bother trying to talk to him.  You acted like he didn’t even exist.  But, boy, was he going to change that.  He loved a challenge and breaking your composure to watch you become a flustered mess before him seemed to be the perfect one.  

In your second week, your new friends would laugh at your immediate eye roll at even the slightest mention of his name.  The lunch conversation had drifted to him as your friend sat down announcing that he had been asking about you.  

“What did he ask?!” One of your friends squealed, taking it upon herself to obsess over the volleyball captain for you seeing as you seemed completely disinterested.

“He just wanted to know what I knew about her.  So, I told him.”

“You told him about me?” You groaned a little.  “I was happy knowing that I could’ve gone my entire high school career without him even knowing my name.”

“Sorry, Y/N, but you know how he is.  It’s so hard to say no to him,” she sighed, reminiscing on that perfect moment of the brief interaction.

“What’s so great about him anyway?  He’s hot, but that’s really it.”  You’re waiting for your friends to respond, but they’re silent, staring mindlessly over your head.  “What? It’s true!”

“So, you think I’m hot, eh, princess?” 

You turn to come eye to eye with the infamous boy smirking down at you, his lunch tray with the remnants of his meal in his hands. “Yeah, I do, but so does everyone else.  It’s not like you’ve never heard it before,” you retort, rolling your eyes as you turn around.

“Well, for all intents and purposes, I think you’re pretty hot too,” he whispers, leaning down so you can feel the breathiness of his words against the side of his face causing you to scrunch up your face in distaste.

“Cool, but I don’t need your approval to know that I’m hot.”

“Oh, look at you.  Little miss confidence, huh?  I like that.”

“Again, I don’t need your approval.  Now, can you leave?  You smell like a pre-teen boy who just discovered cologne and it’s giving me a headache.”

This was going to be harder than he thought.

This same behavior was patterned over weeks.  He would ask people about you.  He would confront you, trying to make you crack, and you would just shoo him away like an annoying fly.

“Why do you care so much?” Kenma asked, not looking up from his gamepad while the two sat on the train to get to their respective neighborhoods.

“She’s different.  It’s this exciting, new challenge to see if I can get her to finally crack.”  Kuroo shrugged.  “It’s just fun.”

“I don’t see what’s so fun about using people for your amusement.”

“I’m not using her for my amusement, I-”

“Yes, you are,” Kenma interrupted.  “You’re playing with her emotions so you can get a good laugh when you watch her be disappointed when you tell her that you’re not into her.”

“You don’t know that that’s what’s going to happen.”

Kenma allowed his eyes to leave his game for a brief second to offer his friend a knowing glance.  “That’s what always happens.”

“Okay, what’s your point?”

“Nothing.  But, someone’s going to play your own game against you eventually.”  Kenma stood up from his seat, shouldering his bag.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kuroo,” he said, not even bothering to wave goodbye as he was already entranced in his game once again as the train slowed to a stop to let him and the other passengers off.

Kuroo slid down in his seat, a small groan escaping his throat.  Stupid Kenma and his logic.  He had never thought about his flirtation that way.  It was always just plain fun.  He liked making the girls of the school feel special and he liked to see them get flustered around them.  He never stopped to realize that he was leading everyone on.  Every rejection that left his mouth with an “I’m sorry” attached never meant anything to him and he never stopped to think that he was hurting everyone who came up to ask him on a date.  But it’s just harmless fun.

He rolled his eyes.  It’s not a big deal.  He wasn’t really hurting anyone.  Kenma was just making this a bigger deal than it needed to be.  The train slid to another stop and Kuroo blended into the crowd of people trying to get off and finally go home.  He slipped his headphones into his ears, desperate for any sort of noise to keep his mind from feeling guilty as he made the final stretch home.  

“Y/N!  Look at this frog!” A small voice squeaks off to his right.  Kuroo can’t help but turn his head.  He catches you squatting down next to a boy that can’t be more than eight years old.  The two of you are staring at the ground, examining the frog that the boy had found.  “Can we keep it?”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be happy living in the apartment.  Now, come on, let’s go home.  Mom probably has supper about ready,” you say, standing up and readjusting your bag.

The boy shrugs, starting to walk off with you not far behind him.  “Did you know that boy back there?  His shirt said Nekoma.”

“What boy?” You turn around to see who your little brother is talking about and your shoulders droop in exasperation as you notice the volleyball captain further back on the sidewalk.  “Sadly,” you say, turning back to your brother.

“What’s his name?”

“Kuroo.  Why?”

Before you can stop him, your brother has stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.  “Hey! Kuroo!”

Kuroo’s head snaps up from his phone and he takes an earbud out of his ear.  “Yeah, kid?”

“You know my sister, right?”

He gives you his famous smirk before smiling down at your brother.  “Yeah, I do.  We’re in the same class.”

“Kyo, let’s go,” you say firmly, refusing to take another step towards Kuroo Tetsurou.  This was just your luck.  You couldn’t believe you were so unlucky to live in the same neighborhood as him.  Now he’d probably try to sit with you on the train every morning on the way to school.  You scrunch up your features in distaste at the mere thought of such a thing happening.  

“Where do you live?  I could walk you home,” Kuroo suggests.  Seeing your disgusted look in response to the fact that he would ever suggest such a thing, he stutters over his words, trying to explain himself.  “It’s just- It’s starting to get dark.  And it’s uh- not really safe? For girls to walk by themselves after dark.”  He gives you an awkward smile as he watches your features soften.  So that was it.  The nice guy act. It seemed easy enough.  If it meant that he could get you to swoon over him, he’d do it.

“We’re in the apartments on ninth,” you say, turning away from him and continuing to walk, leaving him and your brother to jog to catch up with you.

For a while, there was just comfortable silence, the cicadas playing their songs to provide the background music to the evening.  “So, why’d you come to Nekoma?”

“My mom got transferred to an office in Tokyo.  Nekoma was just the closest to the apartment.”

“Not because you heard that they have a ridiculously good looking volleyball captain?” He jokes.

“Funny,” you say, rolling your eyes.

As such the conversation continued.  He asked questions, you would answer, a dumb comment from him only to be shot down by one of your snide remarks.  More than once, he caught himself smiling, not just out of politeness either, but because he was genuinely happy.  You were funny and you cared about your family.  You liked to go for hikes, but you couldn’t do that when you lived in the middle of the city.  You missed being able to see the stars and having late night picnics with your friends, counting the shooting stars and making foolish wishes beneath them.  You used to play basketball, but an injured shoulder kept you from playing in your third year.  The more you talked, the more Kuroo smiled.  Not the fake smile that he lets everyone see either.  It was soft and subtle, just a slight quirk in the corners of his mouth that made his eyes crinkle ever so slightly.  A breathy sort of grin that he wouldn’t be able to fake if he tried.  This was it.  This is what Kenma was talking about.  This was how every single other girl felt after having the typical teasing encounter with him.  His palms felt sweaty as his nerves start to get to him.  He never expected one brief conversation to ruin his whole resolve, his whole plan, but here he was, becoming a flustered mess beside you.

The conversation comes to an end outside of a door that was being pushed open by your brother, leaving you alone in the cool evening with Kuroo Tetsurou awkwardly running his hand over the back of his neck.  “So, this is it, huh?” 

“Yeap.  This is it,” you confirm, nodding a little.

“It’s uh- It’s a nice place.”

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

Kuroo met your eyes, tilting his head to the side.  “Dropping you off at home?”

“No, I mean,” you pause and Kuroo watches as you search for your words in a series of shifting feet and heavy sighs.  “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the poster child for stereotypical high school jerk?”  Kuroo just scoffs at your accusation.  “Why did you offer to walk us home?”

“I told y-”

“I know what you told me.  I also know that my brother and I have been walking home alone for weeks and have never had any problems.  What game are you playing?”

“Why does everyone think I’m playing some kind of game!”  He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it to make it stick up more than it already did.  He turned his back to you, taking a few steps away.  You could see him biting his nail as his foot tapped up, down, up, down, up.  He groaned, shoving his hands against the railing in frustration.  “This is stupid!  Why do I feel like this?  Why are you making me feel like this?  I’m not the one who’s supposed to be catching feelings here, okay?  You’re supposed to have a crush on me! So, why does my head go all fuzzy when I look at you?  Why do I immediately smile when you laugh?”

“Aw, that’s cute. Kuroo’s got a little crush,” you cooed, leaning on the railing next to him.

“This isn’t fair.”

“It sucks, doesn’t it?  Falling in love with somebody who’s just going to reject you with a smile and an ‘I’m sorry?’”  You smirk at him, watching as about a hundred emotions cross his features.

You had done it.  You had beat him at his own game and he never even noticed you were playing.  Kuroo’s cheeks begin to warm and he hides his face in his hands so you can’t see the frustration and embarrassment of finally being bested.  

“How’s it feel, Kuroo?”  You purr, your words filtering directly into his ear, the sensation of your body pressed against his causing his breath to grow unsteady.  He’s pulled from that moment of temporary bliss when you lean back against the railing and smile at him.  “You’re my bitch now.”  The sweet tone of your voice matched the cute smile on your lips, looking genuinely proud of yourself that you had won.

“Okay, yes.  I’m your bitch now.”  Kuroo rolled his eyes, letting himself laugh a little.  Boy, was Kenma going to get a kick out of this later.  He slid closer to you so your shoulders were pressed against one another, his amber eyes cast towards you.  “So.”

“So?”

“So, do I get to take you out or what?”

“Friday.  I’ll see you at seven.”  You push yourself away, moving towards the door to your apartment.  “Don’t be late,” you say, winking at him as you walk inside, closing the door behind you, one smitten kitten in your wake. 

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar (Ch. 12)

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic

First two chapters

Previous (Ch.11)

Ch. 12 - Everything Has Changed

There was a long tradition of wearing white during the vernal equinox. While Amy had always celebrated on her own, not having known anyone in the occult community personally, it didn’t stop her from wearing a floaty white gown to welcome the sunrise most years. And just her luck- it was meant to be warm the next day during the festival! She had just the dress.

She pulled a gauze sundress from her wardrobe, hanging it on the back of her door in preparation. She smoothed out its long, sheer sleeves and flowing skirt, admiring its pristine appearance. It had been purchased over a year earlier for a picnic that never happened- date plans that fell through or were possibly never really finalized. It was typically how it went with Sonic.

With a sigh, Amy set out the rest of her outfit and changed into loungewear for the evening. It wasn’t late, but she also wasn’t doing anything until morning- very early morning. She had already decided to welcome the sunrise on her own, but it was going to be a long day at the festival nonetheless.

The living room was empty when she stepped out. Metal was reading on the back porch when she slid through the doorway, and he acknowledged her with a quick glance and nod. Amy had handed him the 300-page novel about an hour earlier, but the page was already turned halfway through the book. She probably shouldn’t have been as impressed as she was, Amy thought, but it was still a sight. I thought I was a quick reader.

After a few minutes of breathing in the night air and listening to the quick page-turning behind her, Amy turned to Metal’s cross-legged figure on the floor of the deck. “Are you enjoying it?”

Metal nodded without returning her gaze. Another page turned.

Amy leaned on the deck railing, listening as distant waves crashed ashore. It was a pleasantly cool night- she wasn’t shivering without her blanket as she had been for months. She also welcomed the faint scent of rosemary that sprouted from her small garden, having smelled nothing but salt and snow since last autumn. Another crisp page turn.

“You don’t have to finish it in one sitting, you know.” No response. She faced him. “Do you wanna watch a movie with me?”

Metal held up a pointy index finger, signaling to give him a minute. Amy couldn’t help but snort at this gesture, knowing he’d seen someone do it on TV not long ago and was quick to pick up communication cues. There was another brief silence before Metal closed the book, having reached the end of the chapter.

“Do you like it so far?”

Metal gave her a pronounced nod. He was intrigued, reading about the long chain of events leading a triumphant hero home after a conquest overseas. The many adventures and accomplishments described in the writing were compelling, and Metal found himself engrossed in the power fantasy.

Amy nodded. “Thought so. It’s one of my favorites.”

The first time she’d said this, Metal was surprised- but after seeing another side of her at the arcade, he understood. The book’s protagonist was powerful, clever, determined... perhaps she related. Or maybe she was just a fantasy adventure buff; He appreciated the recommendation either way.

“So, about that movie-” Amy was interrupted by a loud ringtone coming from inside. She hurried back into her room to pick up the call.

Admittedly, a movie sounded pretty mundane after everything Metal had read that evening. Most of what he’d done in the last weeks had been mundane. It was strange, being directionless, just waiting for the opportunity to recover his memory. And then what? He was getting used to experiencing unfamiliar affairs; the novelty was wearing off. He could continue waiting for something big to happen- to remember his past life, or have an encounter with his creator- but he knew it ultimately wasn’t what was keeping him there. The real reason peeked through the back door and beckoned him in.

“Tails wants to talk to you,” Amy said as she handed him her device.

“Oh- hi Metal.” Tails still found a certain degree of awkwardness in speaking to the robot directly. He had hoped for Amy to interpret. Metal raised a hand in greeting from the other end. “Hey, would you wanna come over tomorrow so I can take a look at a few things?”

“Tails...” Amy scolded gently from off-screen.

“O-oh right. Uh… how are you?” After seeing Metal look off past the screen with a confused beep, Tails continued. “There’s this chat function if you need it- here.”

A speech bubble came on screen. Tails: Hi!

Metal was less worried about how to communicate than what he would actually say. How do people usually answer that question? He tapped gingerly at the screen.

Amy: Operating normally.

“Ah, that’s good.” There was a pause. Amy had insisted Tails talk to Metal personally, emphasizing that she thought it important to let him speak for himself. Manners and pleasantries were also mentioned, but Tails had a feeling Metal didn’t have a lot of those skills going for him either. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better myself…”

Metal didn’t have a lot of experience with conversations, but it did seem logical to repeat the question. He made a note to do this for next time. As for answering Tails, Metal held his hand in a thumbs-up on screen. The signal seemed to him quite versatile.

“Okay. Anyway, I was wondering if you could come over tomorrow for a checkup? And, maybe we can replace your, you know.”

It had been on Metal’s mind ever since he began to remember seemingly random moments from his past. And he would be in need of recharging and refueling soon, anyway. There was, however, a conflict- he looked up at Amy.

“Are you okay with going to Tails’ by yourself after you drop me off?” she asked.

Though he’d promised her a ride, Amy would be away for the afternoon either way. It didn’t seem to interfere with her plans, so he nodded at Tails and typed a short message.

Amy: 1:25 PM

“Oh,” Tails responded, “that’s… precise. Works for me, I guess.” Another uncomfortable pause. Usually one would continue the conversation in some way, at least acknowledging the agreement, but neither Tails nor Metal really understood what the other was looking for. “Okay, well, see you then. Bye.” Tails chuckled awkwardly before hanging up.  

Amy clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Looks like you have plans for tomorrow! Great.”

Metal wasn’t sure if he considered sitting idle in a lab “plans,” since Tails deactivated him last time and it wasn’t the most pleasant feeling. It was just simple maintenance in his eyes. He shrugged casually, placing the communicator aside.

Hands innocently clasped behind her back, Amy leaned in with her usual charming grin. “Still up for a movie?”

--------

Amy’s taste in films ws, evidently, not like that of her favorite novels. She shoved popcorn into her mouth absent-mindedly as they both sat watching from her couch, Metal’s  perpetually confused state causing him to shift focus from the television to Amy and back. “It’s a romantic comedy,” she’d told him. “The main characters are work rivals who really like each other but neither will admit it. It’s pretty funny!” It was no wonder neither of the characters admitted their affection for the other- they were constantly at odds, combative even. Amy swooned every time the two leads competed or argued over something petty and one became flustered.

Perhaps it was his limited understanding of relationships or romance but Metal had been under the impression that couples generally enjoyed one another’s company. But when the film’s protagonist decided to move far away and faced little opposition from the romantic interest, the duo seemed to compete over who could appear more cool and unphased. Just as Metal thought he could predict the ending, Amy chimed in. “Oh, here comes the grand gesture!” Sure enough, one of the characters stopped the other from leaving at the very last moment and feelings of affection were finally shared. “Aww,” he heard Amy sigh dreamily. Watching 86 minutes of tension between those two only to become a couple in the end was beyond vexing.

Amy stretched her arms as the credits rolled. “What did you think of the movie? Cute, right?”

Cute wasn’t the word he would have chosen. Did it really only take a single gesture for people to fall in love? No, they were hiding their affection- but why? He scratched at his forehead instead.

“Confused? Is it ‘cause they were rivals?” she chuckled. Metal bobbed his head around, thinking that was pretty obvious. “Love is complicated,” she stated as matter of fact. “Trust me…” Amy trailed off with a huff before hopping off the couch. “I’m not very sleepy, can we watch another?”

There wasn’t much point in disagreeing, so Amy quickly put on the next film and made herself a hot cup of camomile as the intro began. “This movie’s also a romance, but it’s more of a drama. It’s kind of a tear-jerker,” she giggled.

Did that mean she was going to cry? Why would she be so cheery about that? Whenever Metal thought he began to understand, some little, bewildering nuance made itself known. He would have been annoyed had Amy not plopped herself back down next to him with a flushed smile and excitement in her virescent eyes.

The leads in this film did look to be more interested in each other than the last. They’d spent some time together one spring before becoming separated, and the romantic interest then spent the rest of the movie trying to recapture the protagonists’ affections. It was incredibly long- much slower paced than the last. Amy began yawning about an hour in, and by the time the second act was wrapping up, she’d laid her head on the couch. “I’ll head to bed after this…” she started, but ended up fast asleep on a throw pillow just minutes later.

Metal couldn’t keep himself from glancing at Amy’s sleeping form every few minutes.  It became increasingly difficult to concentrate on the television the more he checked on Amy- noting her breathing pattern, heart rate, temperature. A bit cold. He pulled the blanket she kept draped on the back of the couch over her body, resting his head in his hand as he observed her. U nable to focus, he wondered why he was even still watching the film at that point and was about to switch it off when the current scene caught his eye. The couple must have reconciled, as they were now sitting together on a picnic blanket, one’s head laying in the other’s lap. The love interest’s fingers were buried tenderly in the protagonist’s hair as they enjoyed the scenery together.

He gazed back at Amy. She lay with her head inches from his lap, curled up comfortably in her warm blanket. Breathing steadily. Hair splayed out over her makeshift pillow. Metal had to stop himself as he lifted a hand in her direction, shaking his head and fixing his eyes back on the TV. The last scene had apparently been a flashback, as the leads were now much older. One sat at the other’s bedside in a hospital, recounting the memory. The protagonist died moments later. That was… certainly a dark turn. It must be what Amy meant when she mentioned the sorrowful theme.

Metal laid eyes on his friend once more as he contemplated the ending. At least, he attempted to. The scene of the lovers on a picnic blanket was the only thing capable of occupying his mind at that moment. It seemed so peaceful, so quiet. Metal found himself enjoying those tranquil moments during his own day; doubly so if Amy happened to be near. It was what one could call relaxing. And she did seem incredibly comfortable around him - as he did with her. As credits rolled on the screen, he leaned in a little closer to Amy, inching his hand toward her tousled hair. It looked soft and silk-like; inviting even. Would this wake her?

As gently as possible, Metal touched the end of Amy’s quills with his fingertips. They were smoothly brushed down, tapered bluntly to be minimally prickly. He’d often noticed her combing her hair so it laid sleekly out of the way, even seeing her trim the ends once. Though her quills couldn’t scratch or prick him, the mildly wooly texture felt pleasant in his hand. Metal’s fingers crawled up the length of her short bob and towards her scalp, where he combed down any stray pieces that had slipped out of the neatly styled locks in her sleep. Amy stirred slightly and Metal swore his engine stopped functioning for the split second he thought to have awoken her. To his relief, she just nuzzled her face into the cushion a bit before laying still once more.

Her bangs covered her sleeping eyes now. Metal brushed the short wisps away from her face and gazed at her reposeful expression. This is what regular people look like when they rest- tranquil, relaxed, with small, gentle movements. Still but alive. Metal supposed his own idle body was more of a lifeless prop and tried to imagine what actual sleep felt like as he separated thin strands of her hair, letting them glide between his fingers until the ends slid out of his grip and floated back down.

After some time, he checked his clock- it was just past 2:00 AM. Metal was unsure what it meant, but he’d understood Amy wanted to “welcome” the vernal sunrise. He doubted she’d hear the alarm from inside her room. Sunrise would occur at 7:34 AM. She took about 30 minutes to get ready, on average. A few more minutes to travel to the appropriate location. Setting his internal alarm for 6:15, Metal resolved to ensure Amy awoke in time for her strange ritual. He smoothed down any quills he’d misplaced on her head and switched off the TV. It was probably time for him to “rest” as well; but something about Amy sleeping at his side kept him lucid and he sat awake with his thoughts for hours, peeking over at her when she entered his mind. He did this every few minutes.

There was still so much for him to consider. He hadn’t remembered anything new since Amy recounted their last story back on Angel Island. She’d even told him about other times they encountered each other over the years, though they didn’t interact with one another directly for some time. It was fruitless. To Metal, it sounded as if he’d been dragged along on his creator’s various schemes only to lose every time- but none of it was familiar in his mind. If he could think freely, if he could crave autonomy, then why had he stayed with Eggman for so long? How did the man manage to keep Metal on his side for nearly ten years? There must have been something in his memory that could provide an answer. He needed to understand his past perspective.

Metal’s alarm was due to go off in another minute. It was the longest he’d sat on his own, just thinking- no, not on his own; with a friend by his side. Even separated by consciousness, Amy’s presence felt comforting and provided him some fortitude. Metal heard Amy’s alarm go off faintly from her room. He was pleased with himself for predicting just the time she planned to wake up. It didn’t seem to reach her ears, as she continued to snooze, so he tapped her on the shoulder softly until her eyes half-opened.

She grumbled groggily for a moment before shooting up unexpectedly. “Did I- is it the next day?” She looked around frantically. Metal chimed to get her attention and she whipped her head around as her face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh my gosh- did I fall asleep here? I’m so sorry!”

Metal watched her scramble out from under the blanket and grope under the couch for her missing slippers. He was waving his hands in front of him dismissively, but Amy was too panicked to notice. “I probably missed my alarm,” she thought aloud. He finally took hold of her shoulder to get her attention. Then he cocked his head in the direction of the digital clock beneath the TV. 6:17 AM. It was early.

“Oh, I still have time,” she exhaled. Wearing an apologetic smile, she turned back to her friend. “Thanks for waking me. Sorry I kinda took over your bed…” It wasn’t the most eloquent way to put it. Amy could feel her cheeks warming up again. “I should go get ready!”

Amy’s exit from the living room was never complete without tossing the blanket over the back of the couch, which she did more haphazardly than usual before slinking away into her bedroom. Metal sank back into the cushions, now staring out the back door into the predawn darkness. Well equipped to see through the night, he watched absent-mindedly as some palm trees swayed in the distance. The sunrise “woke” him daily, but he supposed this would be his first time observing it. He was sure he’d get a front row seat of the dusk horizon first…

In her room, Amy groomed her hair hastily, still red-faced and slightly shaken. Falling asleep on the couch when you live by yourself is one thing, but it was definitely rude with a roommate present. Wait, roommate? Was Metal living with her really becoming that official? She did her best to perish the thought as she combed her lashes with mascara.

Amy dug up an old wood-beaded necklace and tan belt from her wardrobe, accessorizing her otherwise monochromatic outfit. She slipped on her lightweight dress, tugging on the underskirt as she noticed it bunching in the mirror. She spent far too long adjusting the billowy sleeves and repositioning her belt, still a bit embarrassed to face her house guest. It was a quarter to seven now. Time to get outside and start the ritual before it became too late.

Pulling a small saddle bag over her head, Amy stepped out of the room quietly. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said as she scuttled toward the back door. To her surprise, Metal was waiting for her just by the exit, leaning against the wall.

Amy floated into the room, looking ethereal in the airy ensemble. Certainly a change from her usual colorful garments and the bulky outerwear she sported to keep her warm. Metal tried to hide the strange delight he felt at the sight of her and casually pointed a thumb out toward the dark outdoors, offering her a ride. She lit up.

“Oh! Did you want to come?” Amy hadn’t expected him to join her, much less after worrying about the awkward situation she found herself in that morning. Finding that Metal didn’t seem to mind was a weight off. ”Well, it’s nothing fancy since I’d have to hike pretty far to get to where you can see eastward clearly. I usually just do it from the beach,” she shrugged, not wanting to get his hopes up. “It’s still nice to watch the sky, though.”

A small miscalculation. Metal assumed Amy would ask for a ride and already knew where they were going- it was obvious to him, anyway. The taller hills on the other side of the valley gave an unobstructed view of the eastern coastline, and there was still time to fly there. He shook his head, offering Amy his outstretched palm. She understood immediately.

“You wanna fly somewhere? Is it close?” He nodded. “Well…” Amy placed a hand over his, feeling herself blush for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, this time backed by a much more pleasant warmth.

-----

Dawn’s first light illuminated the horizon in soft gray tones as the sun got ready to emerge. Amy’s pale figure practically glowed against the dim morning. She’d adorned herself with a light shawl against the cool air and every inch of her attire trailed behind in the gentle breeze. Metal watched as she wrote in a journal and took clockwise steps around an imaginary circle before sitting on her heels to meditate. It was an unusual ritual, the point of which was lost on him; but learning about the tradition was interesting to Metal, if only because it was so to Amy. After a few minutes, she invited him to sit with her and wait for sunrise.

Metal crossed his legs as he sat by her. He looked ahead into the horizon, but was still observing her rhythmic breathing and occasional soft sigh. “Thanks for bringing me here- it’s definitely a step up from sitting a few feet from the house,” she chuckled. “I usually do this alone. It’s kinda nice having someone to share it with, though.” He nodded at this with a soft, mechanical tone. She turned to him and continued. “The point of doing this isn’t just to watch the sunrise, you know. It’s supposed to help you reflect and get in touch with your surroundings. You’re pretty attentive already- maybe you can try seeing how many sounds you can hear.”

On the surface, it sounded silly; There was hardly a moment when Metal wasn’t contemplating something or listening to his surroundings. Yet he recalled the first time Amy advised him to reflect all those years ago, when the world was new to him. He was just as directionless again now. Back then, he’d ignored all the signs, all the guidance- and from what little he could remember, it didn’t appear to land him anywhere worthwhile. Metal glanced at Amy momentarily before concentrating fully on listening to what occurred around him. Despite the overall quiet, leaves rustled and birds chirped in the distance. The ocean swayed calmly below as little animals scuttled about high in the trees behind him. And then there was Amy- her steady respiration and the light billowing of her dress in the breeze. It was grounding, somehow- Metal’s mind was clear for what felt like the first time in his life.

“It’s rising.” After spending quite some time mostly listening, there was now something to see as well. The sun inched over the horizon, warming the sky with its red and orange light.

Amy pulled out her small journal and scribbled some notes before raising her face toward the rising sun. The sunrise was beautiful, but Metal found himself watching the scene through the reflection in Amy’s shimmering eyes rather than putting much attention to the sky.

“I’ve been thinking,” she finally faced him, “it feels like everything has changed lately. Having you here has been really… different. In a good way.” She paged back and forth through the book with her index finger absently. “But, change can be scary, sometimes. I remember one time...” Amy shook her head anxiously, staring straight out into the ocean. “Well, I guess you could say... you rebelled? Against Eggman.”

Metal listened to her with intrigue. He had hoped that the next thing she’d recount would lead to answers, but so far it was only causing further confusion. If he had rebelled against his master at some point, something in her nervous eyes told him it wasn’t for the better.

The colors up ahead shifted steadily from magenta and lilac to greyish blue as the sun made its way past the horizon. A bright golden column shone in the sea and as Amy squinted in the yellow light, she lowered her eyes to its watery reflection below. Just as she parted her lips to continue, a distinct ZIP came from behind the pair. Amy jerked her body around to look over the other side of the cliff. Metal’s engine was already whirring in annoyance as he predicted what came next.

The breeze turned to a whirlwind momentarily as Sonic skidded to a halt in front of Metal and Amy. The sudden gust sent her dress billowing wildly and the shawl she wore across her shoulders floated up and away, past the eastern edge of the cliff. “Woah!” Sonic jumped for the scarf but it was out of his reach before he could catch it. “Uh, oops,” he chuckled remorsefully.

Amy was about to bemoan the loss of her silky stole when another sudden gust blew back her hair and skirt once more. Metal propelled himself off the cliffside to go after it. Amy and Sonic watched as it drifted just out of Metal’s grasp a few times. Sonic received a dirty look from her when he appeared far too amused at the sight. Metal finally managed to catch it, returning it to its owner.

“Thanks, Metal,” Amy reached out and took hold of her scarf, which, to her dismay, made a harsh ripping sound as she pulled it back toward her. She gasped slightly when she realized it had become  unfortuitously caught in Metal’s claws when she attempted to take it back. A lamentful ring came from him in realization. “It’s okay! I can fix it when we get home, don’t worry.”  Amy gave her friend a reassuring smile, dawning the scarf over her shoulders once more and folding the tear out of sight. “Thank you, really.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” Sonic apologized from the sideline.

“It’s fine,” Amy exhaled. She didn’t want to sour the tranquility of the morning altogether by having a tantrum. All in all, it was still a nice surprise to see him. “You’re up early.”

Sonic rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s 7:30 in the morning. You really haven’t slept all night?”

“Nope,” he snickered. “Hey, am I interrupting? I need to talk to you.”

“Well,” Amy sighed, turning back to Metal. “Let’s talk later, okay?” If Sonic was looking for her, it must have been important.

Metal looked from Sonic back to Amy with crossed arms. He would have made some sassy response if she didn’t return his gaze so pleadingly, preemptively beaming with gratitude. With a nod, he offered her a hand getting up that she graciously accepted.

Sonic cleared his throat. “Sorry, mind if we get a little privacy? I’ll walk you home so we can chat.”

Even though she knew his intent wasn’t malicious, Amy still frowned at Sonic’s request in the wake of how rude it must have sounded to her friend. “Could you meet me back home, Metal?” He simply returned with a reluctant nod which she thanked him for. Amy waved him off as her and Sonic started down the hillside.

“You’re good with walking, right?” Sonic nodded toward Amy’s open footwear, which didn’t seem the most comfortable for a hike.

“I’ll be fine! Is everything okay?”

“Well…”

Their voices drifted away before Metal could catch anything significant; not that he was looking to eavesdrop. It would be at least a 30-minute hike down, then another few minutes before they arrived at the beach. Metal stared into the horizon for the better part of that time, trying desperately to remember something- anything- about what Amy had begun recounting. He’d rebelled. It was as Metal suspected: he hadn’t remained completely loyal all those years. Wasn’t it the same as what he was doing now? Why hadn’t Amy said anything earlier? Metal raised his palm to eye-level, examining his sharp fingers and wondering uneasily what suffering came at those cold hands.

.........................................................

hi babes- thanks for reading as always. reminder i’m adding songs to the playlist each chapter and if you have a suggestion, shoot it my way

oh and someone asked if this is on a03 and it is! in case you’d like to bookmark it. i post here first though!

xo

[cosmichoneyedblossoms]

Good At His Job

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.6 K

Warnings: it’s smut, what do you expect?

“Another flop of an appointment?” Sana’s melodic voice radiated from the corner desk of your shared room as you slammed the door behind you.

“What gave it away?” You groaned, dragging your feet to your bed. She swiveled around to stare at you, and she leaned back into her chair, crossing her legs as if she was an expert in your body language.

“The scuffed steps, the fact your hair is still kept, your clothes aren’t a mess, and well, you’re just giving off this ‘dude gave me terrible dick’ aura.” With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed.

“I swear, I just don’t think I’m meant to have this mind-blowing sex that everyone gets to have. Every guy I sleep with is just… lacking everywhere… whether it be the size or motion of the ocean—they are just terrible…” Sana couldn’t help but giggle at your frustration seeing as she was in your position once before.

“Have I ever told you about the Stimulation Study Group?” Her question had you pulling your head from your blankets to look at her; her eyes were sharp, and her expression seemed timid but also curious.

“Stimulation Study Group?”

“Yeah! There’s this group of eight guys who will either take you on dates and or offer you a special service…” Sana watched your brow arch up like you were wondering what she meant, “The special service being sexual training.”

“Hold on—” You sat up quickly, leaning in close to her, “So you’re telling me these guys will straight up just sleep with you?” Sana nodded her head a little.

“Well, kind of, they teach you how to get pleasure out of every sexual encounter you have.” Setting down her pencil, she replaced it with her phone, and she pulled up the campus study group app and found the group labeled ‘SSG,’ and then flipped the screen towards you, “Chan, Minho, Changbin, and Hyunjin are the ones who actively offer sex.” She flipped through the photos of the guys, naming one after the other, “Han, Felix, and Seungmin are just now opening up for more than dates, and well Minho is still new to the group, so he’s still doing dates.”

“And you’ve been with one of these guys?” You asked, taking her phone from her hand and flipping through the pictures once more.

“I got the honor of getting to “study” with Felix not too long ago, and well, even for a novice, he’s still amazing.” You flicked your eyes up to hers, their darkness showing disbelief, “Hey, all the girls in this house have used them.”

“Even Chaeyoung?” You furrowed your brow, surprised at the sudden news, and Sana nodded her head, “Chaeyoung, Momo, Mina, Jeongyeon, and Nayeon have all used them.”

“You lie.” An audible gasp escaped your lips.

“No lie here. We were all tired of bad sex, so we searched for help.” You let the idea roll around in the back of your mind as you put your attention back to the pictures when one stood out to you.

“I know him.” Flipping the screen towards her, she took in the picture of the guy.

“Changbin?”

“Yeah, he’s in my Intro to Music Study. He’s the most attractive one in the class.”

“Perfect! It’ll be easier for you guys to click!” She grabbed her phone from her hand, and her fingers started to get to work on a message.

“Hold on—”

“Nope! I’m going to get you some good dick, Y/N! Don’t fret!” You slumped back down into your bed, knowing that once she had her heart set on something, then it was almost impossible to get her to change her mind.

[19:00] Changbin: Hey Y/N, Sana gave me your number for me to message you.

[19:02] You: Ah, okay, cool

[19:14] Changbin: Would tonight work for you to come over and study? Sana let me in on your little situation, and I have the house to myself tonight since the guys have other dates they’re on.

You stared at the message on your phone, speechless. It had only been two days since she reached out to him, and he didn’t approach you in class, so why was he eager to help you out now?

“Is it a text from him?” You looked up from your phone to see Sana’s head poking out from the top bunk of her bed.

“Yeah… he wants to meet up tonight…”

“Finally! Took him long enough!” She squealed and practically jumped from her bed to run to her closest, “What kind of look are we going for? Sexy? Slutty? Oh! What about ‘cutie that wants to get plowed’?” She kept tugging at random articles of clothing, but you had yet to decide if you wanted to go through with it.

“Do I really want to go and sleep with some guy who may get me addicted to his dick?” Your question seemed like an idiotic one because she scoffed.

“Yes! It’s so worth it! Tell him you’ll be there around nine!” Sana pulled out multiple clothing options as well as lingerie for your little romp that apparently was going to happen.

[19:30] You: I’ll be there around nine. Send me the address.

As nine approached, you were already standing at the address he had given to you in the outfit that Sana dolled you all up in—a tan sweater, a black jean skirt, paired with some black fishnet tights, and some black heeled boots. Sure it was just going to end up on the floor in a few minutes, but “appeal is everything” or so Sana says.

“This is so stupid… why am I even here…?” You grumbled, and as you started to turn away from the door, it began to open.

“Oh, Y/N, did you just get here?” Changbin’s voice from behind sent shivers through your spine. Turning back to face him, dark eyes looking you up and down made your heart skip a beat as well as conjure an ache between your legs.

“As a matter of fact, I did.” You could feel your cheeks heating up under his hungry gaze; you’d seen him every day for the past four months, so why was his stare making you feel things you’ve never felt before?

“Come on in.” He moved out of the way to let you walk in when your eyes found a younger boy asleep on the living room couch.

“I thought you said you had the house all to yourself tonight…” You hummed as you pulled your boots off.

“Minho ended up finishing up his date early, so he came home and passed out.” Changbin gently put his hand at the small of your back and led you to the dining room and pulled a chair out for you, “Would you like anything to drink?” You glanced down at the chair and then back up at him, confusion clear on your face, “I bet you’re nervous, some conversation I’ll help calm your nerves.” He wasn’t wrong. You were beyond nervous. Getting to sleep with the finest guy in your department was kind of a dream of yours, but there was no way you would ever let anyone know.

“Can I have some water, please?” You licked your lips a bit, and Changbin’s eyes fell to them.

“Of course…” He slipped into the kitchen, and you sat down in the seat he pulled out for you, breathing a sigh of relief that you got a second away from him. A few moments passed before he returned with your glass of water, “Here you are.”

“Thank you.” Taking the glass from him, your fingers grazed over his. His fingers surprised you, not because of their warmth, but you barely touched him, and your body was already aching to feel more of him. Lifting your glass to your lips, you began to take a drink of it while watching him.

“So…” Changbin breathed as he took the seat across from you, “Why did you decide on using the SSG? Or should I ask why did you choose me?” You choked on your water at his blunt question.

“Why?” You wheezed through a cough while trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah, why? There’s eight of us, why me? There has to be a reason.” You didn’t technically pick him, Sana did.

“Well… Sana actually picked you, I just told her you were the most attractive guy in my class…” You turned to face him a bit to catch the once hungry stare turn darker, almost ravenous.

“You think I’m the most attractive?” He husked, starting to stand from his seat.

“I-I do…” You stuttered, watching him approach you.

“Well, let me make sure that this is worth your while.” Changbin’s fingers gripped your chin, tilting it up to him, and pressing his lips to yours. With your body already aching, his kiss was like ecstasy, igniting every single nerve in your body. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, you let out a quiet moan as his tongue caressed yours. You’ve been with plenty of men, but none of them were as skilled with their tongues as Changbin was.

“Changbin…” You whined as he pulled away and disappeared behind you. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled up your sweater along with your bra, exposing your breasts, “Just as I thought. You do have a very sexy body…” Hot hands massaged your skin, his fingers lingered over your nipples—pinching and rolling them between his rough fingers, “Tell me what you want…” He whispered into your ear. His words had the ache between your thighs turning painful the longer he teased you.

“Touch me, please…” Your wanton whips had his hands dipping in between your thighs and spreading them to grip at your fishnets tights.

“Sorry about these…” He growled while ripping the little fabric there was to rub over your already soaked lace, “I’ve barely even touched you’re this wet?” Moving your panties to the side, he slid two fingers into your dripping pussy, them immediately finding your sweet spot.

“Oh god—” You gasped, the feeling of his fingers caressing the place only you could find was making you drip like a faucet. With every plunge of his fingers into you, the more you became undone.

“Your insides are gripping my fingers so hard, Y/N… you must be really turned on.” Pulling his fingers from your hole, strings of your juices clung to him, “How about I make you feel better?” He hummed, coming around to pick you up and sit you down on the table.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t take this to your—” Your words were silenced as he dropped down to his knees and dipped his tongue into your sopping folds; he wasted no time delving into you, making sure to lap up your leaking juices. You couldn’t help let out raspy moans as your hips bucked against his mouth, begging for more friction.

“You have such an erotic pussy…” He hummed, his deep voice sent vibrations through your body, bringing you closer to your high, “Does it turn you on knowing that Minho could wake up any minute and see your slutty hips riding my tongue?” Hearing his muffled words made you look towards the couch to see Minho’s sleeping body.

“W-wait—” Changbin yanked you closer and slipped his fingers inside you once more, this time they roughly attacked your sweet spot while his lips and tongue sucked on your throbbing clit, “Wait—I’m cumming!” You squealed, unable to hold your voice back any longer. Your body trembled as your high took over you; legs wrapped over his shoulders tightly, fingers gripping fistfuls of his sandy blond hair, your arousal dripping from his face. This was the first time a man ever gave you an orgasm, and the only thing running through your mind at that moment was: you could get addicted to the feeling. Coming down from your high, your eyes found Minho again, and it finally hit you that you practically screamed when you watched him flip over on the couch. Instinctively, you pushed Changbin’s face away from you and attempted to cover yourself when he started laughing.

“Don’t worry. That kid sleeps like the dead when he drinks.” Changbin got up to his feet, and his hands quickly unbuttoned his black jeans, “I don’t know about you, but I’m at my limit…” Tugging his pants down, his cock sprung free of its holdings, “I’ve been dying to be inside you since I saw you…” He whispered, lining himself up with your entrance, “Now you’re mine for the taking.” You expected him to at least let you adjust to his size, but Changbin wasn’t about it; he pinned your legs back and thrusted deep inside you, stretching you out.

“You’re so big…” You whimpered, the knot in your stomach started to tighten as he repeatedly ravaged your insides, “It feels so good!”

“My dick is perfect for your greedy pussy, Y/N… With any little movement, I can have you a mewling mess. Like right here—” Changbin made hard pointed strokes to your sweet spot and watched as you covered your mouth and tossed your head back in pleasure, “I can feel your about to cum from the way you’re gripping my cock.” He was right, your body felt like it was on fire like if he kept going, you would be set aflame, but it felt too fantastic to have him stop.

��Changbin—”

“I know, cum for me.” He rasped, thrusting into your g-spot harder while rapidly rubbing your clit. Your back arched off the table as your second orgasm hit you, this one harder than the last; your juices coated the table under you as well as soaking Changbin’s pants. Your high left your body shaking in pure ecstasy, but he wasn’t entirely done with you, “Bend over the table for me.” Without hesitation, you got down off the table and bent over for him; you were dying for more, practically begging for it as you spread your holes for him. Sliding his cock back in, this time, he reached deeper than the last time.

“God, yes!” You mewled, your mind and body finally giving in to the pleasure he was giving you. Changbin didn’t even move, your hips were already greedily pushing back against him, “Your cock is so good, please fuck me more.”

“Turning into my little whore now, huh?” Gripping your hips, he rammed his cock roughly into you, causing your juices to squirt from your sloppy pussy. With every thrust, the puddle between your legs grew bigger, “From now on, come to me to release all your frustration…”

“Please, always make my pussy feel good, Binnie!” A mischievous smile appeared on Changbin’s lips as he wrapped his hands around your thighs.

“You’re so sexy, Y/N… How about—” Lifting you, he walked over to the living room to stand in front of the couch that Minho was sleeping on, “... we let Minho see how sexy you are?”

“Ah, n-no!” Your walls clamped down on him as you stared at Minho with your pussy gobbling up Changbin’s cock on display.

“Let’s show him how you cum.” He growled and continued to thrust his cock into you; he knew exactly where to attack to have you moaning and drooling mess in seconds.

“I’m gonna cum—” Your voice choked out as you tossed your head back onto his shoulder, “Don’t stop—make me cum, please—” You begging had Changbin hitting his limit, he was aching to cum.

“Cum for me, Y/N… Show Minho how you cum for me…” He rammed his cock into your sweet spot before pulling out to cum. As his cock splurted his warm cum onto your skirt, your pussy squirted juices onto the floor as well as some on Minho’s face. Through a panted breath, Changbin chuckled, “Was this worth it?”

Yes, it most definitely was.

[begrudginglytumbling]

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Time for the next installment of my Bai Yu Sitting Project.

Unlike Part One, this'll focus on just one drama because the damned thing is 38 episodes long and I'm pretty sure the man spends a large majority of his time sitting, leaning, and/or lounging.

It’s called Grow Up, a medical drama that I cannot find English subtitles for, and it's been around long enough that I doubt I ever will. But, hey, things like this are the whole point of trying to learn the language, right?

So, those willing to join me in the continuation of whatever this is turning out to be, get yourself comfortable and head on under the cut, this is gunna be long.

For little weirdos like me doing nonsense projects like this,Grow Up is a veritable treasure trove. I mean the man does this in the very first episode.

He makes them put the box down and immediately sits on it and pulls a leg up. And he’s making a point, I get it, I mean I don’t understand it, since, y’know, it’s all Chinese and I can only pick out a few characters, but why did the leg have to go up? He could’ve sprawled, done a bit of manspreading that I know he is fully capable of after watching this. But no. Leg up. Only one foot may touch the floor.

So, yeah, it’s a treasure trove of sittings and leanings and loungings. Even though his character, Xie Nanxiang, is technically only a ‘support role’, I’ve still managed to gather about 70 screenshots, and that doesn’t actually catalogue every time he sits, leans, and lounges.

I was going to try and whittle the screenshots down, but I couldn’t bring myself to really do it. I think I managed to cut about three? So when I say this is going to be long, I mean it’s going to be long and pretty image heavy.

I have however made attempts at organisation. So instead of just a random array of images, I’m going to group them under sets...that’s filming sets, not position sets.

We’ll start off with the nurse’s station/desk. You know those tall desks you get on wards? Yeah, if they were on that set then it was pretty much guaranteed Bai Yu would be leaning on it. And if he wasn’t leaning on it initally, then he would be by the end.

I didn’t take a screenshot every time he leaned, I managed to rein my madness in enough to not do that at least, but I’ve catalogued the different kinds of lean.

The first is the common arms crossed lean, which, I will grant you, makes sense to use, considering I don’t know anyone who hasn’t leant on this kind of desk like this.

The second is the single arm lean. He didn’t need to lean here. Would’ve been fine to stand. But this is Bai Yu we’re talking about. So lean he did.

Third is the casual backwards lean. He probably shouldn’t be leaning here. I’m fairly certain that’s one of the chaps they refer to as Laoshi talking to them. Everyone else is standing respectfully. Bai Yu? Nah mate, Imma lean.

And lastly - if a surface is at butt leaning height, Bai Yu will take advantage.

Something I’ve noticed while watching this (and bear in mind I skipped most of the non-Bai Yu parts), more often than not, Bai Yu is the only one to be leaning/sitting/whatever posture he’s taking. It’s kinda fascinating.

The next set is the hospital in general, so corridors and rooms that aren’t the staffroom because that’s a whole set in and of itself.

This one made me giggle, because the moment the woman he’s trying to impress left, he practically flung himself back on this bed and got comfy.

Like, did he need to do that? Probably not.

Was that going to stop him? Of course not.

Just as a side note, is patient privacy a thing? Like, yeah, they’ve the big curtains to draw around the bed. But that’s a big window, with no curtains, no frosted glass, and a path beside it. Are you inviting the general public to a show? The lack of cover is just begging nosy passersby to look in.

Of course leaning is a common occurrence in the hospital. But if you put a bar at Bai Yu butt height you really can’t expect anything different.

Also it always throws me when he turns sideways in the doctor’s coat. From the front, it gives him a width he doesn’t have, then he turns and suddenly goes flat, and you have to blink because for a moment you’d forgotten just how damn skinny the man is.

I dubbed this the ‘no help. just lean’ shot. Those are his parents, yet why would he help packing when there is a convienient windowsill at butt leaning height?

The vending machine is also a favoured leaning post, both in sickness and in health.

For the final lean of this set, can you spot him? This is an example of Bai Yu leaning while everyone is standing. It’s a legs crossed side lean.

And look at this. He gets up shortly after this, but of everyone in the room, he’s lounging on the sofa. He could’ve been standing like the rest of them. But that wouldn’t have the same effect now would it? I’m beginning to wonder if Bai Yu’s penchant for leaning, sitting, and lounging is not just him being...well him, but also an indicator of Bai Yu being a very clever man and a rather good actor.

Now then look at that face. Regardless of how ridiculous this Project is, I shall always be grateful to it for giving me the expressions Bai Yu has in this scene. His pouty, disgruntled, get-me-off-this-ride face makes me want to squish his cheeks.

I also find it endlessly amusing that although he is topless in this scene, great efforts seem to be made to keep him more or less covered as this is not one of Those dramas that have a Designated Bath/River/Body of Water Topless Scene.

Also injury and illness counts because he gets to spend his time lying about on a surgery table.

And finally for the general hospital set we have...this.

Everyone else is sitting on chairs and stools.

Bai Yu?

Weird animal toy thing.

He could’ve sat on a chair, a stool, even the floor. But no. He chose to sit on this. How is that even remotely comfortable?

(Still with me? We’re almost halfway...kinda. Maybe I should split this drama into two posts. We’ll see how long the next set is first)

From inside the hospital we move to the outside, because that’s natural progression right?

Outside the building we can encounter things such as the common sprawling lounge. He seems to enjoy hooking his elbows over things.

Then he will head to some planetarium type thing where they have the screen on the ceiling. And, just, I know he’s having some kind of emotional issues, with angsting over failed relationships and whatnot (ok to be fair I’m only assuming that’s the case given everything that’s going on, even though I don’t understand what’s being said). But! Bai Yu, sweetie, precious, dearest darling man, get your goddamn shoes off the headrest of the seat in front of you!

I want to bundle him up in a cuddle and thwack him with a rolled up newspaper at the same time.

Bai Yu and cars.

I’m becoming vaguely convince the man has a magnet or something in his arse.

And just look at this.

Bai Yu, sir. What’s that saying?

Once is chance, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.

Y’know, I don’t know why, but I was actually surprised he could do sit-ups.

He was doing them before he was interrupted by the girl, then he ended up doing more with the bloke. Of course he didn’t get his arse off the ground when the bloke, one of the teachers/mentors, turned up. Unlike the girl who popped up to her feet.

There is something oddly appealing about the image he makes laid out on the grass though.

I mean, she looks like she’d probably welcome the sweet release of death, and if they’ve just done exercise then same, girl, same.

But he just makes you want to curl up next to him and have a nap or something.

This bar scene...*sigh*

He could sit in a chair.

But no. He chooses to lean on the pillar.

And when he does decide to sit. Does he pick a chair?

No.

No he does not.

The angsty roof, where people seem to go to have a bit of a cry or emotional stare off into the distance.

For a bit of context, this is how people tend to be on that roof.

They stand, they might lean. They have their angsty moment.

But Bai Yu?

Bai Yu is not built for this boring sort of crying angst.

No no no.

He must do more.

So he sits on the bloody wall, crossing his legs over the thin metal bar that is probably cutting off his circulation, while he has his emotional moment.

How did he even get up there? That is not a short wall. You can’t boost yourself up like it’s a kitchen counter. The pair standing next to each other in the context images? The taller one is Bai Yu, just look where the top of this wall comes to. There is no boosting onto this.

So did he hop up onto the table, then the wall, and walk around the edge until he got to this spot for his angsty moment?

*sigh* this man.

Last ones for outside the hospital.

They are, oddly enough, of instances where Bai Yu isn’t sitting.

I know, weird right?

But look, he could be sitting. The sofa is right next to him, and he falls asleep there not long after this. And it would make sense to sit on the sofa, or at least the arm of the sofa because that photo he’s looking at was on the table top, not on the shelf below it.

This is an instance where he probably should be sitting.

But no. Bai Yu goes against that and instead he just crouches. Because that makes sense right?

Then here!

Everyone else is sitting.

He has the perfect place to sit right behind him.

But he remains standing for the entirety of this scene. There is not even a hint that he might sit down in such a fashion as I’ve come to expect from this man.

But maybe, just maybe, that’s the point.

A point I’ll look at more in Part Three, because the length of this would be truly ridiculous if I kept going.

So! Next time on the Bai Yu Sitting Project! Dorm Rooms and Staffrooms! Awkward angles and did-your-roommate-seriously-just-tuck-you-in? moments!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 17

Warnings: angst, alcohol abuse, anxiety, heartbreak, police violence (potentially triggering encounter, please heed the warning), language

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Well, here it is. All I can do is say...I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll fix it. I decided to go ahead and post this tonight because I haven’t gotten to write much lately, I’ve been working constantly and now I’ve got a second job - so I just love getting to write and post when I can. Thank you for sticking with this story. It’s almost a year old now! As always, let me know what you think!!

“I dunno, Mom - I mean it’s not like I planned this-”

“Well, no, honey,” her mother huffed over the phone. “It doesn’t seem like you planned any of it.”

Y/N winced at the sting of her words but didn’t argue. With her phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder, she grabbed another stack of underwear and socks from the dresser and turned back towards her bed, where a suitcase lay open. A few pairs of jeans and a couple of sweaters were already folded inside. Off to one side, her toiletry bag was stuffed full - skincare and toothpaste and hair products she might not even use but tossed in anyway in her flustered packing frenzy. Her grip on the socks in her hands tightened to keep her fingers from trembling.

It had been 2 days since her fight - breakup - with Bucky. For the first 24 hours, she fell into an anxious, disorganized catatonia; she shuffled from room to room in her house, pacing and biting her nails, opening cabinets at random then promptly closing them. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her thigh, and her heart raced at a breakneck pace. If a single clear thought managed to arrange itself from the scattered clutter of her panic, it was only Bucky’s face, red-eyed and tear-stained as he pleaded with her. After splashing some water on her face and changing into sweatpants, she had put herself to bed, settling in for the longest night of her life. She tossed and turned, hearing the minutes tick by from the clock on the wall. At around 3 am, she threw off the covers in heartbroken frustration and stalked to the kitchen, setting the kettle on for tea and raiding her cabinets for any treats she could find. Thank God she still had that fancy dark chocolate she’d gotten last time she went to the city; it was the only thing her cupboards could provide in the way of comfort food. Armed with a steaming cup of lavender chamomile and an entire half-pound of dark chocolate she settled back under the covers and grabbed the T.V. Remote from her nightstand. If nothing else, she prayed Netflix could distract her, fill her mind with different faces, different voices - drown out the one that wouldn’t leave her.

She managed to doze off towards the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, tearful confessions playing in the background of her not-quite-dreams, and woke just before 7. A cold, clear morning greeted her through the window, the air in her room practically frigid, but something in it settled her. Quieted the static that had blurred out all thought since Bucky walked through her door the day before. With a deep breath, she threw off the covers and swung her feet out of bed, leaving the tea cup and chocolate wrapper to deal with later. It was her running shoes she reached for.

An hour and 10 kilometers later, she jogged back up her front porch steps, breathing heavy and feeling light. Her cheeks were charted from the wind, and her nose was running, but the grip on her heart had shaken loose. And as she clambered into the shower, stinging hot and billowing steam, new thoughts began to string together - thoughts for tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that.

Still in sweatpants, hair dripping, she’d scribbled down a list while she sipped her coffee. Names, to-do’s, a seed of a plan. In order, she phoned the clinic, her best friend, her residency program coordinator - and now, at last, her mom.

“I’m driving up to stay with Kat for a few days - maybe a week,” Y/N sighed, ignoring her mom’s comment. “Just to…clear my head, you know?”

“Sure, sure,” her mom agreed. “Though I don’t know why you couldn’t come here…I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving-”

“Mom.” She closed her eyes, one hand settled on her hip. “It’s not a vacation.”

“No, sweetie, but it doesn’t hurt to come let your mom take care of you…”

Knuckles pressed to her eyelids, Y/N sat down on the edge of her bed. The old mattress creaked, as it had every night she slept in it for the last several months.

“I-I just,” she licked her dry lips and tried to swallow. “I need to be alone for a little bit, Mom. Once I’ve got it all figured out, I’ll let you know. And maybe…who knows, maybe I can come visit soon.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice on the phone is tired, resigned. “Why do you always try to do these things by yourself? You don’t have to be alone.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pants. She breathed slowly, warding back the lump that threatened to close off her voice.

“I’m sorry, Mom. But this time I do.”

**********

“You’ve got to go in there and wake him up-”

“I’m not doing it - I wouldn’t touch him with a 10 foot pole when he’s like this.”

“Well, someone’s got to. We’re bugging out in just a couple days-”

Heavy-eyed, and feeling like death warmed over, Bucky stirred at the sound of the voices outside his bedroom. Harsh winter sunlight burst through the blinds over his window; even before he opened his eyes it hurt. Something throbbed inside his skull, and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his parched mouth. Why the hell did he feel this bad? He couldn’t remember the last time he drank like this, to the point of blacked out nausea. His stomach roiled as he turned over, and he felt far too old to be drinking like there was no tomorrow, like he hated himself-

And then he remembered.

Y/N.

Suddenly he had no interest in getting up, getting water, getting something that would settle his stomach. He covered his face with his hands, fingers pressing firm against his eyelids and blocking out any light that came through. It was hot in his room, the combination of heating and a pile of blankets that someone had tucked him in with, but he didn’t move the covers, choosing instead to sweat underneath them.

How had he fucked up so badly? The best thing that ever happened to him - and now she was gone, baby, gone. It would’ve been alright, maybe, if Natasha had allowed him to talk to Y/N himself, but-

Natasha. Just the thought of her set his blood on fire, and he sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes flying open - only to immediately regret it as a stronger wave of nausea threatened to claim him. He quickly folded himself in half and put his head between his knees. When his head finally stopped spinning, he propped his elbows up against his knees and threaded his hands through his hair.

Already, he felt a thread of shame and guilt tugging at his gut. It wasn’t right to blame Natasha. He knew that. The lies were all his own; all Nat had done was reveal the truth.

But, God, the look on Y/N’s face - she had never looked at him that way, not even in the beginning when she was afraid he might be a criminal. It chilled him - right down to the marrow of his bones - the cold anger, the mask of disgust and disinterest that she wore to hide the way she hurt. And she did - he could see her pain cracking the ice in her eyes, no matter how she tried to hide it.

He hated himself for it.

A soft knock at the door, and Steve’s blond head poked in.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows jumping in surprise. “You’re awake.”

Bucky’s scowl deepened as Steve and Sam kindly let themselves into his room and took up post at the foot of his bed.

“Yeah - thanks to you two. You wouldn’t know how to whisper if your life depended on it, Wilson.”

To his credit, Sam didn’t respond - merely rolled his eyes and cast an exasperated glance at Steve. With a sigh, Steve crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes down on the soft blue quilt Bucky had haphazardly wrinkled during the night.

“Look, I understand that you’re really upset right now.” Steve’s voice was soft, barely more than a murmur. “I know…I know how much she meant to you.”

Bucky felt his eyes starting to burn as he stared at his friends, and he hastily scrubbed at them with his palms, sniffing.

“But,” Steve continued, licking his lip. “We’ve got our marching orders - we’re on standby to pull out any day now. We - I - can’t have you going on binders, AWOL for 24 hours, and then stumbling in here piss drunk at 3 in the morning.”

“We thought you were dead, Barnes,” Sam added, clenching his jaw. “We’re on fuckin’ suicide watch, man. You’re gonna drink yourself to death over a breakup? Huh?”

Growling, Bucky reached behind himself for a pillow and hurled it at Sam’s head.

“Shut the fuck up-”

“No, Buck, Sam is right.” Steve’s brows were knitted together tightly. His eyes were sympathetic, but the rest of him was unflinching as stone. “You can’t do that again. What if you’d run yourself off the road, or gotten hit by a car?” Bucky scoffed, but Steve didn’t back down. Raising his voice he went on. “No, I really want you to think - would you be better off dead? Is that what you want? Is that what she would want?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Bucky saw her face right before him once again, her smiles, the way she used to look at him. The panic in her eyes during his parking lot showdown with Rumlow, the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating on something, how sleepy her eyes were in the mornings - each little piece of her, precious secrets he had tucked away in the hidden corners of his heart. He had thought, dreamed, that he had a lifetime to collect them all, fit all her parts together like a puzzle one piece at a time, and love every moment of it. Now, though. These lone pieces are all he has left, and they will never be enough.

What did she want? He knew only one thing for sure - that she was the only person who could say.

“I don’t think it matters to her either way, punk.”

**********

A few miles outside of town, just past the last lonely gas station, was the exit ramp to the interstate. The road had seen better years; the pavement was pitted with potholes and cracks, haphazardly patched with uneven lumps of asphalt that left drivers weaving between lanes and wondering which would do more damage to their tires. But, since this part of the state saw less traffic than other areas, infrastructure money was slow to trickle down towards repair and reconstruction.

Y/N had driven this road a handful of times - as she moved into town, and then when she had taken the drive a couple of times to visit her friends in the city. It was desolate enough to be a slightly depressing drive; nothing but scorched fields for miles on either side of the road, and the steep ditches that banked it on either side were overgrown with wispy stalks of dead grass. Overhead, a grey and overcast sky shadowed everything, promising a winter day best spent indoors.

She tuned in and out of a true crime podcast while she drove, hardly seeing the road in front of her. Her mind was too far gone on the events of the past few days - and everything she had to do with the coming ones. But there was something comforting here, in the grip of the wheel in her hands, a travel mug of coffee still steaming in the cupholder, an open road ahead of her. She felt…awake, present. Bruised, but not broken. And ready to get back up.

Of course, it shook her when a cop car pulled out of the overgrowth on the shoulder of the exit ramp, putting on speed to keep up with her. Mentally she reviewed her driving - still only 5 over the speed limit, her lights were on and working, her tags were in date. They had no reason to pull her over, she rationalized.

And they didn’t. The car stayed right behind her for the next 10 miles, quietly driving at her speed, keeping a couple car lengths’ distance between. No flashing lights, no sirens.

So why were her palms sweating?

After 20 miles, the sirens finally started blaring, blue and red flashes blinking in her rearview mirror. Despite being raised to respect the law, she felt nervous as she glanced back at the car, easing her foot off the accelerator, but not quite braking to pull over. She bit her lip, hesitating another few seconds as the alarm grew louder behind her. Her stomach clenched nervously.

Stop freaking out. You’re just worried about getting a ticket. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she scolded herself and gently pulled her car over to the side of the road, careful not to get too far into the muddy grass along the shoulder. Fingers fidgeting nervously on the steering wheel, she watched as the officer got out of his car and strolled up to her window at a leisurely pace. His head was shaved, and he wore dark mirrored sunglasses, in spite of the gloomy light of the day. As she rolled down her window, she squinted at his face, trying to recognize him from the adrenaline-blurred memories of the night Bucky killed Brock Rumlow - but the low slope of his cheekbones, the clean-shave, the firm-set frown are all unfamiliar to her.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he greeted her, one hand on his hip. It drew her eyes down towards his gun. “License and registration please.”

Instinctively, she nodded and reached towards her wallet lying in the passenger seat to dig out her license. The officer was silent, propping one hand against her car while he waited; she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears and willed herself to calm down.

Clearing her throat, she gathered her courage and spoke up.

“Excuse me, officer-” He barely glanced up from where he was perusing her car registration. “Why did you pull me over?”

He looked up at her fully at the question, shifting his stance and licking his upper lip.

“One of your tail lights is out,” he said, shoving her papers back through the window. “That’s a real safety issue.”

“My tail light…?” Her tail light - which had been changed only a month ago. She knew, because Bucky did it himself. He had always been worried about her safety; every time she was going somewhere without him, he did a full inspection of the car, testing brakes and changing the oil, going over every last inch of it and then filling up the tank with gas before she left. Last time, she’d sat in the garage nursing a cup of cider as she watched him fiddle with the lights…

She shook her head to lose the thoughts of him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but my tail lights are working just fine, I just had the bulbs changed.” She leaned forward in the seat, peering up at the officer. “Are you sure that there’s something wrong with them?”

Frown deepening even further, he crossed his arms and widened his stance.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the car?”

“Excuse me?”

“Get out of the car, ma’am.”

“What? Why?”

“Please, just calm down and get out of the vehicle.”

“But-” her protest broke off as he shifted his stance back, one hand inching towards the mace in his belt. She glanced at her phone, sitting in the unoccupied cupholder with her aux cable connected to it. Her fingers twitched - for a microsecond, she contemplated the very bad idea of reaching for it, refusing to get out of the car, calling-calling…someone. Someone.

But surely, if she cooperated, this would all be worked out with just a minor headache, or maybe a ticket, she reassured herself. She repeated it in her head as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, climbing out of the car carefully, her hands held out to her sides where they could be seen.

Once she was out of her car, the officer took a step forward and pushed on her door, shutting it with a resounding click.

“Okay, I’m out of the car…”

“Turn around and put your hands on the hood.”

“I’m sorry, what?” she exclaimed, hearing her voice hitch in alarm. Her eyes cast up the road and back towards the exit ramps - there were no other cars in sight. No witnesses. “Am I under arrest?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, out of patience. His hand went to rest on his gun now. “Turn around and put your fucking hands on the hood of the car.”

Her fists curled and she stood her ground. She willed away her thoughts of Bucky.

“No. I haven’t broken the law, you can’t arrest me for having a tail light out-”

In a blink, his gun was up and trained directly on her.

“Put your hands on the fucking car!” he yelled, loud enough to make her wince at the volume. Her thoughts tunneled on the barrel of the gun aimed at her chest.

Wordlessly, she turned and planted her hands on the cold metal, shivering in just her sweatshirt, her winter coat tossed in the passenger seat while she was driving. The tips of her fingers went numb and her eyes watered, stung by the wind. Her dry tongue pressed against the backs of her teeth - if she tried to swallow she’d choke.

“Who are you?” Her voice shook, but she managed the words. Scared and alone, but she’d fight, goddammit. She’d fight. He would want her to fight. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“Shut up.” A firm, cold point of pressure between her shoulder blades as he pressed the gun against her back. There was a faint buzzing sound and then the rustle of fabric; when he spoke again, it clearly wasn’t to her. “Yes, sir?” He answered his phone. “Yes - we’re on schedule. I have the package. Will confirm when its secure and en route.”

Her heart raced wildly and her mind went white with fear. What was he talking about? This had to be some kind of mistake, a misunderstanding-

Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, the butt of his gun came down against the back of her head; her vision exploded in stars, and then faded to black as she slumped against her car. Barely conscious, she felt herself being dragged away down the road, lifted and shoved into the backseat of the squad car, unceremoniously dumped with her face down against the cold leather. The engine hummed to life; a seatbelt clicked - not hers.

“Sir?” He spoke again from the front seat. “Package is secured.”

She wondered if Bucky was coming to find her. He would, she told herself. He’d come.

And then, nothing.

[when-they-write-stuff]

From the random prompts, how about (17. “I’m telling you. I’m haunted.” or, or (unless you want to combine them)... from the kisses part, 6. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys? If you feel inspired, no pressure of course.

It started after their encounter with the witch.

See, Stiles was especially good at two things; being loud and being bait. He didn’t know when the pack had put two and two together and decided that made him good bait but at some point, they had. And Stiles was not impressed.

But this time, instead of trying to kill him, the witch was… friendly. It was as unexpected as it was strange and instead of having to get violent, the pack came out of the trees and they all had a nice conversation.

Or… something.

She’d done something, Stiles was sure of that. Because after they’d convinced her to leave Beacon Hills, she’d taken his hand, smiled like they were sharing an inside joke, and then proceeded to give him the most startling shock of static electricity Stiles had ever experienced.

His hair had nearly fried. He’d smelled like smoke for the rest of the day.

The rest of the pack didn’t think anything was wrong, though. They all waved it off as an accident and even Derek didn’t seem too concerned when Stiles yelled at him about it. Of course.

The point was, Stiles was sure something had gone wrong. He just didn’t know what. 

Then he started to hear them. The voices, that is.

It started out small. He’d hear a whisper here and there and spin around, certain someone was talking to him. But Stiles was always alone; or no one was close enough for him to have heard.

It started getting weird when he heard voices in the shower. Voices before he fell asleep. Curses and shouts following him out of the waking world and back into it.

Stiles was pretty sure he was losing his mind. 

“I’m telling you,” he shouted, shoving into the loft the very next day. “I’m haunted!”

The betas all looked up from where they were sitting squished together on the couch, the TV playing something bright and loud. Derek sat in his armchair reading and didn’t even glance up from his book. “Sure, Stiles.”

“Don’t ‘sure’ me, you asshole! I’m hearing voices. I’m haunted!”

“Do you see dead people too?” Erica asked, pausing the TV and grinning from ear to ear. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Haha, very funny, Catwoman. Shut up.”

Boyd growled a little but Stiles ignored the sound, moving across the loft and grabbing Derek’s book, yanking it off his lap. Derek looked up with flashing red eyes and slightly bared teeth. A small shiver ran down Stiles’s spine.

“Listen to me, Sourwolf,” he said, clapping the book shut and dropping it onto the coffee table. “I’m hearing things. Voices. And I swear to god, they’re making me lose my mind. I can’t sleep!”

Derek narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be listening to something; and he was, Stiles realized. His heartbeat. He huffed as Derek’s face cleared a little and the man finally started looking concerned. “What’s wrong with you?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here! Well, I mean, I probably would be here, but that’s not the point—”

“Stiles.”

“I’m hearing things, Derek,” Stiles said softly. “And I don’t know why.”

Derek hesitated, and then nodded. He pushed himself up and gave his betas a quick look. “Call Scott and tell him to meet us at Deaton’s. I want to get this checked out.”

Boyd nodded quietly and Stiles stepped back as Derek started toward the loft door. He glanced at the betas before following, a little relieved and a little surprised. He’d expected it to take more persuading than that.

“The voices,” Derek said as they climbed into the Camaro. “When’d they start?”

“Remember that time I got electrocuted by the witch and none of you believed me when I said she’d done something?”

Derek rolled his eyes at that. It was a little more normal, at least.

“Yeah, well, they’ve been getting louder ever since then,” Stiles said. He picked at the sleeve of his shirt, a lump forming in his throat. “I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s getting louder every day.”

Derek was quiet at that. When Stiles glanced back over, the man's brows were drawn together and he looked a little constipated. 

They drove the rest of the way in silence. The parking lot was empty when they arrived and Derek got a message that Boyd hadn’t been able to reach Scott. Stiles chuckled weakly at that.

“It’s probably an Allison thing. It’s fine.”

Derek didn’t look so convinced, but Stiles didn’t wait around to hear what he had to say, stumbling out of the car and ducking into the clinic. Deaton was behind the counter working on paperwork and he glanced up with a raised eyebrow as they both entered.

“Boys. Is something the matter?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Something’s wrong with Stiles.”

Deaton’s eyes flicked over and Stiles grinned weakly. Deaton studied him for a moment and then nodded, pointing them toward the back room. Stiles ducked into it with a nervous chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“I mean, I don’t what’s wrong exactly,” Stiles said, suddenly feeling a little bit like a crazy person. ‘I’m, uh, hearing things. How possible is demon— or witch— possession?”

Deaton’s eyebrows flew up. “I’m sorry?”

“I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Derek looked sharply away, jaw ticking, and Deaton studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think you’re going crazy, Mr. Stilinski. Might I ask how this happened?”

“A witch. And static electricity.”

Once more, Deaton looked curiously amused. Stiles shrugged.

“Don’t ask.”

“In that case, I would cross out possession,” Deaton said, moving forward and thumbing at his eyelids. Stiles squawked as he lifted one, then the other, and then studied his face. “A spell is most likely. Though I’m not sure what kind would make you hear voices. Did she say anything?”

“Uh, no,” Stiles said. “She just smiled a lot.”

“Curious.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Derek said in a growl, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. Deaton glanced over at the werewolf and then shook his head.

“I’d imagine it’ll fade on its own. It might have been an accident or it might have been the residual of a previous spell. Unless it starts harming him, Stiles should be fine.”

“I’d rather we know what happened before it starts harming him,” Derek said.

“There’s a chance it won’t.”

“Only a chance?”

Deaton gave the werewolf a long, unimpressed look. Derek broke eye contact first, growling and turning away, stalking out of the clinic. Stiles quickly hopped off the metal table and moved to follow. He shot a quick wave over his shoulder.

“Thanks for the help, D! Very elusive, as always!”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Derek was waiting in the Camaro, looking as grumpy as always. Stiles quickly pulled himself into the passenger side seat, shooting the man an exasperated look.

“Very mature, Derek, thank you for that.”

“He wasn’t any help.”

“He was doing something,” Stiles said, not having it. “Now we know I’m neither going crazy nor possessed, so I’d call that a win!”

“But we still don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Derek growled. Stiles flinched and then sighed.

“Sure, yeah, right. Very positive.”

Derek rolled his eyes and started the car. Stiles was surprised when they went right instead of left; heading back toward the loft instead of heading toward his house. Seeing his obvious look, Derek’s ears turned a little red. “You’re staying where someone can keep an eye on you until we figure out what this is.”

“Aw, Sourwolf, it warms my heart when you care.”

“I don’t care.”

“All other facts point to the contrary. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Derek ignored him. But Stiles grinned a little, sitting back in his chair and shifting around until he was comfortable. He was feeling pretty good about himself— other than the voices, that is.

And then everything went downhill.

Stiles heard the gunshot before something outside of the Camaro made a strange noise— like a pop— and then a loud screech filled the air, and they were flying off the side of the road. Stiles yelped and grabbed the arms of his seat, and Derek swore. The Camaro jerked as Derek hit the breaks and then silence fell over the air.

Stiles looked over in confusion; right as the voices crashed over him.

“The Alpha’s been compromised. We’re moving in.”

“Take out the kid too, if needed.”

Stiles’s blood went cold. He didn’t realize he was grabbing Derek’s arm until his fingers were curled deep into his sleeve. “Hunters.”

“What?”

“They’re hunters,” Stiles said, voice hoarse. “That’s what I’m hearing.”

Derek looked confused but then he shoved out the door, moving around and yanking Stiles’s open too. He pulled him out and they started in the opposite direction down the street; right as another gunshot rang through the air.

Stiles started running, Derek right at his side. Stiles had no doubts the werewolf could easily outrun him, but he didn’t. Stiles’s heart was in his throat as they hit the more populated area of town again and Derek started a little slower down the sidewalk.

Derek’s hand suddenly wrapped around Stiles’s arm and the man yanked him into the nearest shop; a clothes shop. Stiles nearly stumbled over his own feet as Derek pulled him down the main aisle and then ducked into a smaller one, ducking his head and glaring at the women’s array of t-shirts.

Stiles blinked a few times. “Seriously, dude?”

“How are you hearing them?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Stiles said, throwing his hands up. Derek grabbed one and yanked it back down and Stiles lowered his other one too. His face burned red. “But they were hunters. And they’re after you.”

“Can you hear them now?”

Stiles turned his head slightly and listened. He could hear what sounded like a whisper. Then more of a murmur. Then, ‘find the wolf and take him out. That’s an order.’ and Stiles felt his face pale.

“They’re getting closer. I can hear them as they move closer.”

“How the hell did the witch know hunters were in town?”

Stiles tried to think back to the conversation they’d had with her, but he didn’t remember a single moment where she’d offered any hint that she might know more than she was letting on. Or that she was planning to help.

If this counted as helping.

Suddenly, the shop door opened again and the bell overhead rung as two burly men stepped inside. Stiles didn’t see any weapons on them but they both wore giant leather jackets, so he had no doubt more was hidden that they couldn’t see. Quickly, he spun around.

“Derek.”

The man was already grabbing a hat and yanking it over Stiles’s head. Stiles made a noise of protest before he saw Derek doing the same and then he couldn’t smother a small snort.

Derek shot him a withering look in return.

The hunters moved in their direction and Stiles followed Derek in the other one. It was only when they found themselves at the end of the aisle and the corner of the store that panic started to rise in his throat again. 

The hunters wouldn’t try anything here, would they? Though Derek couldn’t fight back if they did; not without giving himself up. 

He glanced nervously over his shoulder. One of the hunters held a blade in his hand, half-concealed by his sleeve. Stiles’s heart leaped into his throat.

“Derek, dude, they have knives—”

“Shut up and look at me.”

Stiles spun around and before he could even react, Derek was grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pressing him against the wall. It was so familiar to years ago, Stiles nearly squeaked in protest. But then, instead of getting in his face, the man was moving closer than that.

And then he was kissing him. Derek was kissing him.

Stiles made a strange noise at the back of his throat and pulled at Derek’s shirt. He wasn't sure if he was trying to get a better grip on the situation or attempting to pull the man closer, but his head wasn’t exactly working right. 

He totally hadn’t imagined this before but if he had, he’d always thought Derek would taste like mint or cinnamon or something. He hadn’t expected the sharp feeling of Derek’s stubble brushing against his skin or the smell of him— pine and aftershave— to crash over Stiles like a wave of cold water. 

But he didn’t… mind it. Derek’s lips were against his, his hands were curled in the front of Stiles shirt, and he was growling lowly at the back of his throat. The vibrations sent shivers down Stiles’s spine.

‘They’re not in here,’ a voice said. ‘Keep moving.’

“D-Derek,” Stiles said, fighting the urge to card his hand through the man’s hair. “Derek, they’re gone, they’re gone.”

And abruptly, Derek drew back.

His eyes were a little glazed, his face was red, and Stiles was pretty sure he looked the same. He couldn’t help the way his stomach sank at the sudden loss of contact. Or the way he felt a little sick at how quickly Derek had yanked away, as if he was grossed out by the very action of having to kiss Stiles.

“Uh, I, uh—”

“Sorry,” Derek said, dropping his eyes. “I thought that’d divert them.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, a knot forming in his throat. “Yeah, right.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Sure.”

For a moment, they both went quiet. Stiles shuffled his feet and felt a little bit like he could scream; which was stupid. But seeing Derek’s face and the obvious discomfort in his eyes, suddenly all Stiles wanted was to be very far away.

Say something, he thought raggedly. Don’t freak out, just say something.

“You kiss nice.”

Derek’s eyes widened and Stiles flinched. Not that! “What?”

“Nothing, nevermind. I didn’t say anything.”

“Stiles—”

“Nope,” Stiles said, trying to duck around him. “Come on, Sourwolf, we have to go warn the rest of the pack. I don’t know how much longer this witch-y hearing thing will last but if the hunters are after you, then they’re probably after the rest of the pack and—”

“Stiles.”

Stiles wilted and glanced back over. “Don’t say it, Derek.”

“Don’t say what?”

“Don’t say it was an accident. Or a mistake. Don’t say you didn’t mean to.”

Derek just stared at him. Stiles reached up to run a hand through his hair and realized he was still wearing the stupid hat Derek had put on his head. Chuckling humorlessly, he yanked it off and set it on the nearest shelf.

“It was for the hunters,” he said quietly, each word feeling like a punch to the stomach. “I get it, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

Derek just looked confused. Stiles started to turn away again when a hand suddenly caught his wrist and Derek pulled him back around. Stiles couldn’t quite meet his eyes, sure he was about to hear something he really didn’t want.

“Derek—”

And then the man was kissing him again.

To say that was the last thing Stiles expected would be an understatement. He squeaked and then Derek was cupping the back of his neck, pulling him closer. 

Stiles reached up blindly and yanked off the other hat on Derek’s head, throwing it somewhere to the side. Carding a hand through the man’s hair, he melted into his touch and whined softly at the back of his throat.

That made Derek growl again.

And then someone cleared their throat. 

The kiss was over much too quickly but Stiles couldn’t help a startled noise leaving his mouth as he stumbled back, Derek yanking away too. One of the cashiers stood a few feet away looking both tired and done™ as she glanced between them. 

“I’m sorry, sirs, but unless you’re planning on buying something, I’ll have to ask that you leave.”

Stiles nodded silently as she turned away. Then, the moment she was gone, Stiles glanced back at Derek who was looking utterly terrified. And unable to stop himself, he burst into laughter, nearly dropping to the floor from the full force of it.

“Oh my god, dude, you should see your face. Can I take a picture? I’m going to take a picture.”

“Stiles,” Derek growled. When Stiles glanced up, his face was still red and the man didn’t hold his gaze, dropping his eyes to the floor. “Sorry.”

“Sor— sorry? Oh, hell no, Sourwolf, you’re not allowed to do that. We are kissing again. Very soon. Like, after this current threat is taken care of, very soon.”

Derek looked at him in confusion. Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned forward, brushing his lips against the man’s ear. 

“You kiss nice, Sourwolf.”

And Derek’s hand shot out like he was going to catch Stiles by the neck and drag him into another kiss again. But Stiles squeaked and dodged out of the way, his back bumping against the wall. 

“We can’t stay unless we buy something. Didn’t you hear the rules?”

Derek moved closer, eyes dark. Reaching over, he grabbed the hat Stiles had placed on the shelf earlier and tugged it back over Stiles’ head. “We’re buying a hat.”

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to protest before the man was kissing him again.

- -

So, this got kind of away from me. Like, over 3k words of fluff away from me. But I had fun! I just had to do both prompts, I couldn’t resist ;) Thanks for the prompt, my friend!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer