#bottom of the friend group issue

[zyuyea]

[imperfectlibrarian]

I’m not a moralist regarding any drug consumption (or a hypocrite tbh), but I wish it was easier to make people take constant alcohol abuse more seriously.

[dorkszn]

7 MINUTES IN HELL + satoru gojo

SYNP — getting stuck with your ex-boyfriend during a dumb game of seven minutes in hell heaven

WARNINGS — amab reader, dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!gojo, brat gojo, porn w plot, forced proximity, pet names, dunk sex, drinking, smoking (weed), closet sex, fingering, orgasm denial, anal sex, college au, implied commitment issues, implied toxic relationship, gojo’s kinda an asshole, degradation, creampie, minor feminization | 3.8K words

A/N — my first time writing top reader i think 🥹🥹 I’m actually so proud of this

Everyone knows when and why the two of you broke up. If you can even call it a breakup. It was more of a tear-filled yelling session between a pair of friends with benefits. That’s how he described it. One where Satoru ended up walking out your front door and you dropped onto your couch with angry tears in your eyes.

Nobody questioned you guys afterward though. Suguru kept quiet, listening to Satoru whenever he ranted. Shoko sat beside you, sharing a cigarette and takeout with you. Haibara kept his usual self, forcing everyone into group activities. And Nanami who kept to himself, per usual.

The house was full to the brim of loud, drunk college students. Music blaring and the stench of alcohol intoxicated every inch of the air. Your typical party. Some people play beer pong in the basement of the home you knew all too well, some make out in the corners and crevices, and some dance with their friends in the middle of the living room you’d hung out in many times.

Haibara wasn’t particularly known for his parties but he had thrown a few good ones in the past few months. Some you had attended and some you decided to miss out on. You couldn’t miss this one though. No matter how badly you wished you could. Shoko dragged you here because she couldn’t say no to Haibara’s invitation. Which for some reason meant that you couldn’t say no either.

Currently, you stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as a girl you recognize as a lower classman speaks to you. “But yeah, Mr. Yaga is just—“ her words are interrupted by a small hiccup. “Such an asshole, you know? And I don’t even have his class!” She’s been stumbling and stammering the whole conversation but for some reason, she’s one of the only bearable people here.

“Ain’t that the truth,” You blandly chuckle, sipping at your drink and emptying your red solo cup. “Be right back.” You tell her through the boisterous tune playing through the house. You slide past a few people to make your way to the fridge.

You open it and let the cool air abduct you. A nice break from the stuffiness of the crowd. An arrangement of alcohol sits in front of you. Your gaze runs through it, trying to pick whatever stands out. A singular white claw catches your attention. You reach for it only to be interrupted by another’s hand grabbing it.

“What the he—“ you whip around to face the thief. Of course, it’s this bastard. White hair and black, circular sunglasses greet you along with a stupid signature grin.

“Oops, did you want this?” Satoru hums. He cracks the can open and takes a dragged-out sip of it. You roll your eyes at his typical antics, shutting the fridge.

“Fuck off, Gojo.” You scoff.

“Ow, last name basis, baby?” He hums, drinking from the can once more. You feel your blood beginning to boil in your veins. You push past him, knocking him back ever so slightly with the force.

“Don’t call me that.” You grumble. You make your way to the basement where you know Haibara would have more alcohol. Gojo chuckles and trails behind you.

“We’re playing some games upstairs if you wanna join.” He offers. You glance back at him with narrow eyes.

“With you? No thanks.” You hum, jogging down the stairs. A cup pong game runs in the large basement, a crowd building around it. The well-known jocks stand in the middle, being hyped up by their teammate.

You hold a prolonged stare at one of the jocks. He’d always caught your eye. “Really? Jocks don’t give a good fuck. I know they seem like it but they don’t.” Gojo suddenly speaks up again.

“Do you ever stop and think that some people want more than a fuck-buddy?” You hiss, turning to look back at the man. He gives you a softer look. Your past flashed through his mind. He sits in silence. You sigh and continue to the box of beer in the corner of the room. You grab a can and crack it open.

“Go find something to do, Gojo.” You mumble, leaving him in the basement.

An hour or two and a few more drinks in, you find yourself watching a UNO game running at Haibara’s dining table. Utahime sits in front of you, holding three cards in her hand. She might be the only other person that Gojo irritates more than you. A focused aura surrounds her, keeping you just a foot away from her.

“You got money on this game?” You ask her, glancing over her cards through slightly hazy eyes.

“Of course she does. As do I,” Another voice speaks up. Mei Mei sits just one seat away from Utahime, she holds just two cards in her hand. You can’t help but chuckle. Of course. Utahime is too competitive for her good and Mei Mei is one of the freakiest gold diggers ever.

Suddenly a hand lands on your shoulder. You turn at the weight and see Shoko. She holds up a plastic ziploc bag, with a small bundle of green inside of it. “Holy shit, Sho.” You slightly gasp with a grin.

The woman smirks back at you. “Found out my guy was here. Plus it was free, beat him in Smash Brothers for it.” She explains. If there was anyone to count on to find something to smoke, it was Shoko.

“Wanna go up? I hear Yu’s room is open.” She questions, gesturing to the stairs. You nod and give Utahime an encouraged pat on the shoulder. You and Shoko find your way through the crowd, squeezing past people kissing, and dancing. You finally make it to the stairs where two students sit at the bottom, one sitting in the other lap. Everyone’s gonna feel like shit on Monday.

You somehow make it up the stairs and follow Shoko’s guide. You find your friend’s room but Shoko stops you before you can open the door. “Don’t freak out, okay? I know that’s unlike you but still.” She murmurs.

You shoot her a confused look before shrugging. “Okay?”

Shoko nods and grabs the knob, opening the door. Haibara’s bedroom looks how it usually does. Suguru and Gojo sit on the bed, sharing a bag of chips between the two of them. Haibara is on the floor beside Nanami, running a game of shogi. You look over at Shoko and she furrows her brows. You sigh.

“Hey, I found y/n.” She hums to the group before closing the door behind the two of you. You awkwardly wave to your group of friends and join Shoko on the floor against the wall.

“Y/n, will you tell Kento that this can't move diagonally?" Yu huffs, showing you one of the game pieces.

“You know I don’t know how to play shogi.” You reply. Yu facepalms before nodding and turning back to the blonde. You watch as Shoko quickly works to roll the weed into the paper. You think she could do this in her sleep if she tried.

When done, she passes you the blunt and reaches for her lighter. “Shit.” You hear her mumble.

“Suguru, got a lighter?” You ask, focusing your gaze on him and only him. You see Gojo watching you out of the corner of your eye but ignore him. Suguru digs through the pockets of his baggy sweatpants, finding his old-fashioned flick lighter. He tosses it to you and you catch it in your right hand.

Shoko cups her hand around the flame as you hold it to the paper. It lights and you shut the lighter. Gojo’s staring at you, you can feel it. You place it between your lips and tuck the lighter in your pocket. You look back at him as you take a drag of the drug. You pass it to Shoko and gently blow out the smoke.

Gojo’s face flushes a soft pink before he turns his attention back to Suguru.

“Oh my god!” Haibara suddenly outbursts. You all turn to look at him. “Ok! Ok! Let’s play something else.” He seethes, frustration written on his face.

“Jeez, grab a beer, dude,” Shoko says, blowing smoke out from her lips.

“What d’you wanna play?” Gojo hums, clearly amused by the idea. Haibara ponders for a moment before his eyes settle on a hat on top of his dresser.

“I have an idea,” he smirks. He stands and grabs the hat then a piece of paper and a marker.

“I don’t like this.” Nanami groans, dragging a hand down his face. While Yu begins ripping up the photo, the door bursts open. An angry Utahime and a grinning Mei Mei enter.

“How’d the game go?” You hum, turning to the two girls. Utahime simply glares at you and you smile back.

“I ran her pockets of course,” Mei answers with a smug grin. Before Utahime can remark, Yu calls out.

“Ok! Everyone write their name on a piece of paper and put it in the hat,” Haibara tells you all, handing everyone a small piece of paper and Suguru a pen.

“We’re not children, Yu-Bara,” Shoko scoffs.

“Exactly. That’s why we’re playing big games,” he says excitedly. “Spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.” Everyone groans or sighs at his antics, except for Gojo. He laughs.

Reluctantly, you all scribble your names down and drop the folded papers within the hat. You all form a circle in the middle of Haibara’s room floor. Shoko on your right, Kento to your left, and the white-haired bastard across from you.

An empty beer bottle is placed in the middle of the circle. “Let’s keep this fun, guys. No fighting or arguing, alright?” Yu hums. You all nod and he grabs the bottle. It spins rapidly between you all. Everyone’s eyes trained on it. The bottle comes to a slow before stopping, the mouth of the bottle pointing at you.

A cloud of smoke leaves you with a sigh. “Of course.” You mutter. Yu then replaces the bottle with the hat of names. You look at the antsy expressions on your friends' faces before closing your eyes. Your fingers shuffle through the papers then grab one.

A combined “ouuuu” from Haibara, Gojo, and Mei Mei fills the room as you open your eyes. You roll your eyes at their childishness. Slowly, you open the small piece of paper.

‘Satoru ;)’

You’ve got to be fucking kidding. Your facial expression must’ve given away your thoughts because everyone stares at you oddly. Shoko leans over and reads the sheet. “Oh shit.” She gasps slightly.

You look up to meet blue eyes then flip the paper around for everyone to see. Numerous reactions leave the group. But you focus on the grin that covers Gojo’s face. “Well, isn’t it your lucky day?” He quips. He stands and holds his hand out to you. You take one last drag of the blunt before standing and ignoring his assistance.

“Sure is,” you mumble, smoke flowing through your words. Yu trails behind the two of you to the closet. You walk in first, Gojo following.

“Be nice guys! Have fun!” He waves with a taunting grin before shutting the door. You hear him push a chair up in front of it, preventing your escape. “Your seven minutes start now!” He yells, his voice slightly muffled by the door.

You hesitate through the darkness, trying to space yourself away from Gojo. “Just stay on your side for the next 7 minutes and we’ll be fine.” You sigh. Gojo pulls out his phone and turns on the flash, shining the bright light at you.

You wince at the light and put a hand up to shield your eyes. “You see the space we got? There aren’t any sides, sweetheart.” He scoffs, showing you the minimal space of the closet. He stands just about a foot and a half away from you. The proximity almost made your skin crawl.

“Why are you such an asshole?” You question, dragging a hand over your face.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Most people disagree with you, y’know?” Satoru hums, flashing you a grin.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss again. “Plus, most of those people don’t know you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it the first time,” he snickers and you glare at him. “Besides, are you implying that you know me?”

“No, I thought I did but clearly not.” You grumble, folding your arms over your chest. Satoru ever-so-slightly frowns at this.

“C’mon man, it was just a misunderstanding,” Satoru sighs, pushing his snowy hair out of his face. A misunderstanding was a severe understatement. You couldn’t tell if it was the closet or the alcohol in your system but anger began to fuel your body. “And it’s not my fault you were naive.” He adds.

Before you can think about it, you’re grabbing his shirt and shoving him against the closet wall. His phone falls to the floor with a soft thud, the light illuminating the closet from the ground. Satoru swallows and looks at you with wide eyes. His hand grips your wrist.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to get you all worked up,” he apologizes with a smirk, gently tapping at your wrist. This bastard.

“I can’t fucking stand you, Satoru.” You seethe, bringing your face close to his. You didn’t want the others to hear and think something was going on.

“You say that and you still haven’t found anyone better than me,” The male replies, putting the two of you just inches apart. A sudden warmth surrounds you, your heart pounding in your ears. “You know you love how I make you feel.” He whispers.

He wasn’t wrong there. Every fuck after him just felt dull and you were left feeling bad for whoever you were with. And nobody pushes your buttons quite like Satoru does. Nobody makes you feel like he does. And you hate it.

“Fuck you,” you finally stammer out with a shaky breath. He lets out a low chuckle.

“You miss that, don’t you?” Satoru murmurs, his grin just inches away from your lips. You’d like to blame the alcohol for your next actions. But both of you know, your mind and body were craving the man in front of you. He was addicting.

You finally took him into a rough kiss, pulling a small sound from him. His lips feel so natural against yours. They feel no different than a few months ago. The two of you move so knowingly with each other, lips in sync. Satoru’s hands grip your shirt, slightly pulling at the fabric. One of your hands finds his waist while the other makes its way to his hair.

You tug on the snowy tufts, pulling a wince from the man’s throat. You slip your tongue past his lips, taking in every inch of him for the first time in a while. Your mind has every part of him engraved in it but your body longs to re-explore him once more. The taste of alcohol lingers on his tongue, matching yours.

You want to breathe him in more. Use him as your oxygen source instead of the small air supply of the closet. However, you pull on his hair once more and pull away from him. A string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your chest heaves up and down, pressing against his. You wonder if he can feel your racing heart.

“Missed you too, baby—“

“Shut up.” You say, voice stern. You pull at his belt with one hand, the other wrapping around his throat. Satoru lets out a weak groan as you undo his belt buckle. You move to his pants until they’re both loose around his waist. The waistband of his boxers reveals itself, as well as the slight bulge in the cotton.

You don’t loosen your grip on his neck when you lift two fingers to his lips. “Get 'em’ wet.” You mumble to him. Your fingers slip past his shining, pink lips and into his mouth. His tongue pressed against your fingerpads before swirling around your digits.

Satoru’s eyes stare straight into yours over the edge of his sunglasses. You feel your dick slightly twitch in your pants, making you swallow harshly. “So you do listen,” you hum. You pull your fingers out with a small ‘pop’ from him.

“When I want to—“ his words are interrupted again when you turn him around, his back facing you. You make quick work of pulling down his pants and boxers. Satoru’s back naturally arches when the cold air hits his skin.

You snicker in response with a small hiccup. “You’re such a slut, Toru,” you tell him as you reveal his hole to you.

“Shut the hell up.” He replies, his words breaking down into a moan when you spit on his entrance and push two fingertips past the ring of muscle. You push your fingers further, prodding at his walls.

“Shit, has anyone stretched you out since me? You feel exactly how I left you.” You grin cockily. Satoru grumbles curses in response and rolls his eyes. You scissor and part your fingers inside of him, stealing lewd noises from the man.

“Yeah… tons, guys way better than you.” Satoru pants, a faltering smile on his face as he glances back at you. You lean forward and bite down on the sensitive spot of his neck. His cry is like music to your ears, making you smirk against his skin. Your tongue laps over the reddening spot as your hand moves to his mouth, covering it with your palm.

“Quiet down, will you? Everyone already knows you’re a whore,” you hiss. You feel Satoru tighten around you, making you groan and his eyes roll. He’s close. “Gonna cum already?” You hum, quickening the pace of your fingers. Your digits curling inside of him.

“Ngh— fuck off,” Satoru mumbles, slightly moving his hips to fuck himself on your fingers. But you pull away, watching his entrance clench around nothing. A small gasp escapes the man. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He examines, turning his head to look back at you with a deep glare.

You scoff before reaching for your belt. “Nothing nearly as bad as whatever is wrong with you.” You reply, undoing your belt buckle and your pants zipper. You pull down your boxers that are slightly stained with your precum. Satoru swallows as he looks down at your growing erection, mouth practically salivating at the sight. A hungry lustful look in his bright blue eyes.

You tease Satoru’s entrance with your tip, just barely pushing into him and pressing kisses to the ring of muscle. Satoru lets out an annoyed whine, his hips squirming and pushing back against you. You groan when he desperately grinds against your length. “C’mon, just put it in.” He pleads.

“Such a needy boy,” you murmur. You push into him and his eyes roll back in his head as your cock fills him. Your breath shakes as it passes your lips, his walls tighten around your length. So warm and holding you just right. “Fuck Toru, you’re so tight.” You hiss in his ear, pressing a kiss against the skin.

“Just fuck me already.” He scoffs weakly, his chest slightly heaving against the closet walls. You wrap a hand around his throat and grip his hip with the other, your fingertips surely bruising where they sit. You pull out of him agonizingly slowly, taking inch by inch away from Satoru.

You then slam back into him to the hilt, a choked whimper leaving him. “Not such an arrogant bastard anymore.” You murmur before picking up your pace again. His muffled sounds don’t go unheard as you focus on the way your cock disappears into the plump flesh of his ass.

A harsh clap echoed throughout the closet with every collision of your hips. “agh— sweetheart, s’too good.” Satoru pants, hands clawing at whatever fabric was closest to him.

“Yeah? Who fucks you the best?” You hum, relentlessly as you buck your hips forward. Your leaking tip punctuating every time you hit that certain spot inside him. A spot you’d never forget.

“Shit, you do. You fuck me the best.” The snow-haired male whimpers. You shift your hand around his throat, pulling him right against you. A pornographic moan erupts from his throat. A noise everyone outside the closet definitely heard. Two of your fingers find their place in Satoru’s mouth again, pressing down on his tongue.

“Shh. Don’t want everyone to hear how much you love my dick, right?” You coo, running your tongue along the exposure of his neck. A muffled “mhm-mhm” leaves Satoru as his tongue focuses on your fingers occupying his mouth.

However, this can’t distract from the feeling of slamming into him. Spreading him apart and filling every centimeter of his insides, reaching sensitive spots he never knew even existed. The feeling of Satoru’s hand pushing against your abdomen doesn’t even register in your mind for seconds as you get lost in his cunt.

You take hold of his wrist and move it off of your flushed skin. “Take it, Toru. You know you can.”

“Can’t, m’fucking— gonna cum.” He babbles.

“Yeah? Go ahead, cum around my cock. Make a mess for me.” You tell him through a smug grin. Your hand drags down from his mouth to his dick, wrapping around it and pumping him to the rhythm of your thrust.

“Fuck, baby, missed you so so much.” Satoru groans before ropes of cum spurt from his tip. His eyes squeeze shut so tight and his body trembles against you. His seed coating your hand and fingers.

“So fucking sloppy.” You mewl, feeling your balls clench as you stuff yourself into Satoru to the hilt. You bite down on his neck as you release in him, stuffing him to the brim with your cum.

A weak whine pulls from Satoru when you finally pull your teeth out of his neck and lap your tongue over the spot.

The two of you sit in your mess, the smell of sex and sweat intoxicating the small space. You can feel Satoru’s heart racing in his chest. You just sit for a moment until you go limp within him before pulling out. Satoru leans against the closet wall, lips glossy with spit and eyes hazed over with lust.

Suddenly, he gives you a weak grin. And you can’t help but drunkenly smile back. Idiot. You glance down and see your cum beginning to dribble out of him. Satoru grunts when you push a finger into him, assuring your seeds place inside of him.

“Missed you too, baby.”

[mr-ribbit]

something fascinating to me about egg discourse is how often tme people Also joke about or question their friends potential to be trans, and it's literally never talked about like this.

my cis and tme nb friends routinely joke about celebrities or characters that have big "nonbinary energy" or who otherwise exhibit behavior we would associate with ourselves. i have tme friends and acquaintances who have approached me or my wife and straightforwardly said "something seems trans about you, have I asked for your pronouns recently?"

similar friends have even talked about other still-cis friends in our circle this way, or joked about "when are you going to transition like the rest of us?" or "yeah cis people are a minority in this group, just give it time" or "no wonder you have queer friends with how comfortable with being gnc you are" or etc etc examples like that

even the actual examples of people in my life that I can think of as being the most "invasive" or presumptive about gender have been tme people:

it was my cishet friends who outed me and my wife as trans to everyone at their wedding, including their boomer parents and hundreds of strangers, and called it "the most queer wedding party ever"

it was my tme nb friend who kept saying they could "always tell" her transfem cousin was trans before she came out, and then proceeded to randomly give us extremely personal details about her bottom surgery

it was my transmasc friend who refused to call me and my wife anything other than "little enby beans" after we met and introduced us with our full genders+sexuality labels to every single person one by one at a party

it was my transmasc nb friend who kept insisting my wife could "still be nonbinary" when she was first considering identifying as a trans woman instead, and it was THAT idea that actually slowed her down from making changes to her life that she wanted

it was my cis friends who approached me arm and arm and cornered my outside of a bathroom at a party right after I took a piss to suddenly ask me what my pronouns were because they "heard something" at the party

like, transfems deserve robust support against this trash so a lot of our defensive discourse has ofc been about how it IS okay for transfems to talk about eggs and be jokey about it and non-invasively approach others about being trans

but i swear to god none of these weird people have even stopped to make their discourse ABOUT anyone BUT transfems. it's so clearly targeted!!

no one has EVER approached *me* as a tme nb person and suggested i was pressuring gnc people with my egg jokes. never. nothing even remotely similar. i joke about other people being trans all the time and no one has ever treated me the way you all are treating transfems over this issue.

important note: my examples are all things I recall as being invasive and awkward, and I'm sharing them to make a point about how often rude behavior comes from the same tme people pointing fingers over this. but I still don't think any of them are worth the crucifixion people are treating transfem egg discourse with.

even when my friends were weird to me in the above examples, my reaction was either to confront them about it as friends who I trust to be able to communicate with, or to cut those individuals off after they proved not worth a relationship in the long run. at no time did I desire to make a call-out post or spread rumors about them or publicly declare all of their gender as a screeching menace to society.

my point here is that even when I do think about moments where others crossed a line, acting like this is a "issue trans women have" is blatantly transmisogynistic garbage that only exists to serve the woman-hating machine at the heart of our society. fucking cut it out

[lightsoutletsgo]

flowers are a language of their own — mv.1

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 4.2k warnings:  slight angst

four times max gives you flowers and the first time you reciprocate, a childhood friends to lovers oneshot this is basically inspired by gwen and for gwen 😭 @verstappen-cult once again thanking you for my max brain rot bc these conversations are just DOING something to me skskksjsj but MWAH! I hope you like it my love 🤍 happy reading! mimi

i. daisies; new beginnings, innocence, cheerfulness (age 6) You hadn’t been at your new school very long, having moved to the town recently. You’d struggled with making new friends, the new language making things even more difficult. But this had really ruined your day. Your bottom lip jutted out and began to wobble as you looked at your drawing you’d spent the whole morning perfecting before tidy-up time. What had once been a beautiful explosion of scribbled crayon colours across one page now lay in two halves. It was more than your poor six year old brain could handle and so you immediately burst into tears. Wailing and sobbing, your teacher hurried over to see what the issue was. Between gasping inhales and snotty sobs you pointed to your crumpled torn drawing. She picked it up and turned to address the class of wild six year olds, “Alright class, does anybody know what happened to Y/N’s picture?” Your teacher’s voice was gentle, “You won’t be in trouble but our friend is very sad so we need to apologise and make it right okay?” Your bottom lip wobbled as your sniffles quietened a little and a small voice could be heard from the back of the classroom, “I didn’t mean to!” A small boy stepped forwards, bright blonde hair with blue eyes and you glared at him. He looked down at the floor as he awkwardly scuffed his shoe against the carpet. The teacher approached him and crouched down, “Thank you for being honest Max… Can you come and say sorry?” He nodded and took the teacher’s hand as she lead him over to you, “I’m sorry…” His apology was accented by a slight lisp and you frowned, arms crossing in front of your chest. “Thank you Max, Y/N? Max said it was an accident and that he’s sorry okay?” You let out a slight ‘hmmph’ as the teacher straightened up at the sound of the lunch bell. Max was quick to run out of the classroom with his friends but you plodded behind the group, still sad about your artwork. 

You grabbed your lunchbox from your locker and looked for a chair in the lunch hall. Spotting your favourite yellow chair you couldn’t help but gasp as your little legs headed over as fast as they could carry you. You sat down and opened your lunchbox, legs swinging under the table. You’d barely taken two bites of your sandwich before a boy approached the table. You looked up and saw Max standing there, his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry I broke your drawing.” Max did his best to speak so you’d understand.  “‘S fine.” You grumbled, annoyed he was talking to you. Six year old you could really hold a grudge… His cheeks tinted pink as he removed his hands from behind his back to hold out a small bunch of daisies he’d clearly picked from the playing field. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. “Here, for you…” He took a step closer and you held your hand out for him to gently place the flowers in your palm. Your eyes looked at him and you noticed how his knees were slightly muddy and there was a streak of dirt on his cheek. You giggled and he beamed back at you, you suddenly felt very shy,

“D-do you want to sit here?” You patted the seat next to you, “We can eat lunch together?” Max nodded, racing off to grab his lunchbox. He dashed back and sat next to you, unzipping his lunchbag to compare the contents with yours. “Are we going to be friends Max?” He nodded enthusiastically, taking your hand in his, “Mhmm! Best friends Y/N! So you can call me Maxie!” 

ii. yellow amaryllis; pride, happiness, strength, determination (age 18) “Smile!” You stood with your friends, taking pictures in your graduation gowns and giggling together. But your heart panged, something - or rather someone - was missing from your day. Your eyes scanned the hall, desperately looking for a familiar blonde head. Despite knowing he was currently halfway round the world at a Grand Prix, “Boo!” A hand covered your eyes and a grin spread across your face at the familiar voice, “Maxie!” Turning around, you jumped into his arms and he laughed out loud, “Easy there bug!” You could hear your friends and family laughing and taking pictures of the two of you behind you but you still didn’t pull away, too embarrassed to let anyone see that you had tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it…” Max squeezed you a little tighter, “I left as soon as the race was over, there was no way I was missing this!” You pulled back and he wiped the tear that had slipped down your cheek. He let go of you and extended his arm towards you, holding out a beautiful bouquet of yellow amaryllis flowers, complete with yellow and white ribbons. 

“Max,” you gasped “they’re so beautiful!” he nudged your shoulder with his, “Hey, you deserve it. They stand for pride, strength, happiness and determination.” “Determination” You spoke at the same time, finishing the sentence together. His eyes stared at you so adoringly, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. The moment was broken by your parents urging you to stand together for a picture. “What a beautiful couple!” You heard a teacher say as they walked past, “Oh no we’re not-” “Me and him? No way-” Both you and Max spoke over each other, completely missing the knowing looks your friends and family all gave each other. You couldn’t help the fresh wave of giggles that overtook you as Max pulled you into his side. You could have sworn that for the briefest of seconds, butterflies took flight in your stomach but you quickly brushed it off, blaming it on the excitement of the day. 

iii. - yellow roses; friendship | bluebells; comfort (age 22) Max couldn’t deny the way that panic flashed through his entire body when he answered your call and heard nothing but your sobs on the other end. “Maxie!” You hiccuped, “Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?” He stood up, not caring that he was interrupting an important team meeting. His alarm grew even more when your only response was to cry even harder. He looked back at the group of people sat around the conference table, “I’m sorry but it’s a family emergency, I have to go.” He raced down the corridor and poked the elevator button far more times than was necessary. “Talk to me bug… I can’t help if you don’t explain what’s going on.” “He cheated Max! I went to his place and he was in bed with my roommate.” Max felt a weird combination of calm and anger wash over him at the same time. Calm because he knew you were safe and anger because who the fuck did your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, think he was? Fuck the elevator, Max headed for the stairs, wanting to get to his car and book a flight to you as soon as possible. “Oh Y/N…” “Said he only did it because he knew that I’d been cheating on him with you.” You heard Max scoff, “God he’s so fucking dumb Y/N… I never really liked him, you know that right? You’ve always been too good for him…” You heard Max sigh on the other end of the line and you curled up into an even smaller ball in your bed, pulling Max’s hoodie up even more as your nose inhaled the comforting scent of him, 

“Can we move to facetime? Just wanna see you.” You choked out and he obliged, quickly filling your request. Max felt his heart breaking as he looked at you in your bed. “Hey! Is that my hoodie, bug?” You nodded with a sniffle as he did his best to cheer you up even just a little, “Traitor! You told me you didn’t know where it had gone…” A watery smile spread across your face. “Look, I’m gonna come see you okay?” You sat upright and stared at him hard, “Max Emilian Verstappen, you cannot do that! You have important meetings this week.” “Ooo full name?” He hissed through his teeth, “I am in trouble.” You shook your head at him, “You’re incorrigible.” “Big words we’re using today hmm?” You flipped him off and he laughed, “I’ll be there soon, bug okay?” You nodded and he smiled at you once more, “Just hang in there for a little longer.” He ended the call and immediately your smile dropped. In those brief few seconds you’d forgotten why you’d even called him in the first place. But now in the quiet of your apartment, the sad feelings crept up once more, smothering you and dragging you down. 

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep the night before, but the combination of the doorbell ringing and the knocking on the door jolted you awake. Rushing to the front door, you threw it open, still slightly disorientated from your rude awakening, “Hey bug.” “Maxie!” You felt wide awake staring at Max who now stood on your doorstep, a warm smile across his face. You immediately felt like bursting into tears once more and Max was quick to see that, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you as he rested his head on top of yours. “It’s okay bug,” you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.” He waddled with you in his arms, through your doorway and into the hallway to close the door and give you some privacy. As he held you, he felt his heart race a little, thinking how he would never make you or let you cry like that if you were his girl - wait what? Now was not the time to be thinking about those kinds of things! Max held you until your sobbing had quietened down again, “Sorry,” you sniffed all snotty and he just poked your nose and laughed gently, “It’s okay Y/N.” His hand gently rubbed your arm as he watched you take a few deep breaths to compose yourself, “Here.” He pulled a somewhat squished bouquet of flowers out of what seemed like nowhere, “Sorry, they got a little uhhh… too involved in the hug?” You let out a breath of laughter and took them from him, a finger gently tracing the petals, “Yellow roses? For friendship right?” Max nodded with a smile, “Yellow roses, because I’m always gonna be your best friend who has your back and bluebells because they’re comforting.” You couldn’t help the way your heart clenched hearing his words. It seemed that Max not only bought you flowers often but he even thought of the meaning of what he was buying. For some reason, the thought had those pesky flutters appearing in your stomach but you quickly reprimanded yourself and shook them off. You hadn’t even broken up with your ex for more than 24 hours yet, but here you were thinking about Max romantically? You shook your head, that was a line you could never think of crossing, no matter how much it seemed to be crossing your mind more and more the older you got. 

iv. pink tulips; perfect love, affection (now) Now that you were living in Monaco, not too far from Max, movie nights were a common occurrence, with evenings being split between your apartment and his. Food would be ordered and wine would be drunk, movies would be played but barely watched as the two of you would end up talking into the night and continue long after the credits had finished rolling. If there was one thing you could count on Max for, it was his promptness and so when the clock read seven o’clock exactly, you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before you heard his footsteps down the hallway to your apartment. You were proven correct as Max let himself into your apartment, calling out as he did so, “Hey bug! It’s just me!” “In the living room!” You called back, smiling as he appeared in the doorway, holding something behind his back, “What have you got there hmm?” Max’s smile wavered for a second and you frowned, sitting up on the couch, “Max?” He exhaled and bit his lip nervously, “Maxie?” You tried again much more softly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, “I’m about to say something and…” He sighed, “I just want you to let me finish okay?” You nodded confused as he came to sit next to you, holding out a bouquet of pink tulips as he did so. You felt yourself gasp as you stared at the flowers, admiring the pretty wrapping and how the ribbon matched the flowers. You wracked your brain as you stared, desperately trying to recall the meaning, Max always gave flowers with meaning. Appreciation? No, apology? Nope not that... No. It couldn’t be? Could it? “Affection?” You didn’t even realise you’d spoken the word out loud but a sharp inhale from Max was enough to tell you he’d heard you. Your eyes shot up to his face and noticed he wouldn’t even look at you, instead choosing to gently trace over the bouquet ribbon, “Yes.” His cheeks were pink and you could have sworn you stopped breathing. It was silent in your apartment. The only noise coming from the traffic outside and the thump of your neighbour as their work boots clunked over the floor before their door slammed. The noise pulled you out of your silence as you stared at Max, “What did you just say?” Max finally dared to look up as he gazed into your eyes, “Pink tulips, affection, perfect l…” “Perfect what?” There was no way he was going to say what you thought he was going to say… “Perfect love.” You stood up from the couch, immediately pacing back and forth as your hands started to fumble together, “Max…” You breathed, finally stopping to look at him sat staring at you. “Okay so this is the part where I need you to listen…” You let out a laugh of disbelief but said nothing as he swallowed, hands nervously rubbing the legs of his jeans. “I like you.” You froze as he continued, “I like you and I think I honestly have for a while… I know that this might not be the best time to tell you but I just can’t keep kidding myself anymore. The feelings I have for you? They’re not things I would be feeling if you were just a best friend to me Y/N. God I think I always knew it was you… From the day I ruined your drawing and then when I surprised you at your graduation… And then that horrific breakup,” You both winced, “I swore then that I would never let you cry over another man like that again. Because I wanted to be the only man that you had from then on.” Your lips parted as a nervous exhale left you. He stopped his rambling, panting slightly as he looked at you, “If you have anything to say, now would be a good time to say it…” You looked at him. Max, your Max. The boy that had been there for you through everything, your best friend.

“No…” You whispered out, your own heart breaking at your words, “I can’t…” Max looked absolutely crushed, “No?” His voice was quiet, “Why?” You shrugged, bottom lip trembling, “I can’t risk losing you.” Max scoffed, “Losing me?” “What if we break up hmm? You’re telling me we would be able to go back to being best friends like nothing ever happened? What if it doesn’t work hmm?” Max shook his head as your spoke, “You think I would say this to you if I didn’t think it would work?” “I-I… I don’t know!” You exclaimed as Max stood up, “You won’t even try?” “I’m too scared to Max…” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you stared at him, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, “Me too.” he said before turning and walking out. The door hadn’t even closed behind him before you’d collapsed to the floor, your legs giving out. You’d never cried so hard because of him before. Not when he’d ripped your drawing, not when he'd surprised you at graduation, not even when he’d held you after your breakup. 

You stared at the pink tulips as they lay on your couch, their bright happy hopeful colour taunting you. You stalked over to them and picked them up, heading straight to the trash, pulling your arm back to throw them away but you found yourself physically unable to do it. 

i. flowers are a language of their own You weren’t sure whether it was convenient or not that Max had a double header after that conversation. Usually you would spam him while he was away and he would pick things up when he could. Often late at night in his hotel bed, a goofy grin plastered across his face as he opened your fit pics and food diary pics of the day, reading through your spam about work, friends and cute cats you’d spotted on the street.

But this time there had been nothing. From either of you. It had been strange and hurtful. You sighed as you checked your phone again for the millionth time that day, already knowing there would be no new notifications from him. Why would there be? The guy you liked had confessed to you and you’d broken his heart because you were too scared he’d break yours. Groaning you dropped your head to the kitchen counter, thumping your forehead against it a few times in the hope of gaining some sense of clarity. It didn’t work. You sighed and stood up straight. You were still kicking yourself for shutting him down so quickly. Yes, he was your Maxie, your best friend, but wasn’t that the point? He knew you so well, he cared for you and loved you, in whatever capacity. He would never intentionally hurt you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, there had been a continuous pull in your stomach and a slight ache in your chest the longer you went without talking to him. You knew if you could do the situation over again you would give a completely different answer. You didn’t want him to break your heart but now you had lost him completely. 

Your head shot up as a plan began to form in your head. Grabbing your phone you looked up plane tickets for the country you knew Max was in at the moment. You knew things would be tricky without his help and you didn’t even know if it would work out, but for him you had to try. Selecting your seat you rushed to pack a bag, noticing how the now dry and dead tulips still lay on your bedroom vanity, the pink now much less vibrant and tinged with brown. Your stomach flipped and you hoped to god it would all work out. You knew which hotel the team usually stayed at when they were racing in that specific country and so after making a quick stop you headed straight there, planning to just wait until you were spotted by someone from the team who recognised you and took pity on you. You didn’t have to wait long as one of Max’s race engineers was exiting the building just as your taxi pulled up. Clambering out of the vehicle as you spotted him, he smiled and waved, “Hey! Didn’t know you were coming this weekend? Max usually says something.” “Ah,” you shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to give anything away about your strained relationship, “it’s a surprise!” His eyes widened and he grinned at you knowingly, especially when he spotted what you carried in your arms. “Well… Seeing as it’s you, I’ll give you his room number.” After obtaining the information you needed you thanked him and headed inside, getting on the elevator and pressing the button for his floor as you thanked whatever higher powers there were that so far the plan was working. As the bell dinged for your floor you gulped, a whole new wave of nerves and anxiety washing over you. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he got angry with you and sent you away? But what if he heard you out? Oh crap, what were you gonna say? 

Through your internal rambling, you had somehow managed to walk to his door and now you stood frozen. Unable to knock and unable to move. Swallowing the lump in your throat you knocked the door gently. You heard a crash and then a curse in Dutch came from inside and you winced. Oh god, if he was already in a bad mood… This wouldn’t help. The door swung open and a tired looking Max stood there. Dressed in cosy sweatpants and navy hoodie, no logos in sight but still fitting his team colours. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in front of him.  “Y/N?” You gave the softest of smiles nervously, “Hi Maxie.”

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you saw him. You’d thought about how he might yell or cry or get mad or slam the door in your face but you certainly hadn’t expected him to grab your arms and pull you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, “Fuck, I missed you so much I’m so sorry…” You sniffled, pulling back and looking at him, “Why are you sorry?! I’m sorry! I never should have doubted you-” “I never should have pressured you-” “You didn’t! I never should have jumped to conclusions about how things would end. God. It’s been so miserable without you…” You noticed his eyes growing tearful. “Here, come in.” He gently pulled you into the room and closed the door behind you. Your eyes swept the room and zeroed in on an object on his bed, “Is that my t-shirt?” You asked incredulously, mouth gaping at him slightly as he rushed to shove it in his suitcase, “N-no!” “Max Emilian…” Your voice was low, “M-maybe…” You gave him a pointed stare and he relented, “Okay yes fine it is.” He sighed, “I found it at my apartment that night when I got back and… I just… I didn’t have you and it was the closest thing…” He trailed off, sitting on the bed. You padded across the room to take a seat next to him, one hand gently rubbing his back, “I know Maxie… Me too.” His head rested on your shoulder and you inhaled shakily, it was now or never. 

You looked back across the room at where your things lay in the entrance. You stood up and made your way over, picking up what you needed before turning back to him with your arms behind your back. “I’m about to say something…” His head shot up to look at you, “and I need you to let me finish.” You gave him a tearful smile and he swore he felt his breathing quicken as you practically echoed his words from a few weeks ago. You approached him and offered him the bouquet from behind your back. He stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked up to look at yours.

“Red roses?” You nodded, unable to keep looking at him - partly shy and partly terrified of his answer, until he gently held your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze once more, “Red roses.” “You know what they mean don’t you?” “I picked them for a reason.” He stood up and gently took them from you, one hand sliding round your waist to pull you into him, “Baby’s breath?” “Baby’s breath.” You looked down, breathing your answer as his face got closer to yours. “Is this your speech then?” You let out a breath, “I figured I would let the flowers speak for themselves, god knows you’ve been doing it long enough.”

His lips were practically on yours and it took everything in you to keep standing as his next words were brushed against your lips, “Is this your answer then?” You nodded, “No schat, please… Let me hear you say it…” His eyes closed as he felt your shuddering breath, “Yes, Max. Yes, I want to try with you, I love you and that’s enough to tell me we should try-” Any further words you had were cut off by Max’s lips meeting yours. His grip around your waist tightened, the flowers sliding from his other hand to the floor as he gently cupped your face, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheek. You couldn’t help the way you smiled against his lips and he laughed at the feeling, the two of you giggling and grinning between kisses like the lovesick idiots you were. 

Red roses; declaration of love, Baby’s breath; eternal love.   

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[pretzel-box]

I love you writing! Could you do something with jealous Sebastian?

A joke too much

words: 1,3k

status: non-proof read

tags: established relationship, sebastian is jealous, random nameless guy to fill in for the plot, comfort & bad diving suit jokes

sebastian might be a bit ooc but that's nothing new lol

Despite all the horrible things that had happened so far in the drastic depths of the Hadal Blackside, you were more certain than ever that hardships are easier to overcome with a group of co-workers—or, in this case, familiar victims of the expendable project that Urbanshade had set up to retrieve a simple crystal.

One of those people was a fellow inmate who shared a punishment similar to yours, which made it easier to bond over the shared misery. Their sarcastic way of lightening up every dark situation was a refreshing change of pace amid all the horrors and violence that usually surrounded your group.

"I would have worked harder on my bikini body if I knew I’d end up here," the fellow prisoner joked, gesturing to the basic diving suit Urbanshade had issued as minimal equipment. The ill-fitting suit clung awkwardly to his frame, adding a touch of absurdity to an otherwise grim situation.

"Ah yes, these diving suits definitely highlight all the right curves," you hummed back in amusement, trying to suppress a grin.

The lighthearted banter continued as you both navigated the dim, foreboding corridors. The small, wholesome moments of connection were a welcome reprieve from the relentless tension. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the growing dread at bay, if only for a little while.

Eventually, you found yourselves standing before Sebastian's signature vent—a crude entrance that had become all too familiar. With a quick push, the piece of metal flew across the dark floor, clattering noisily. From the other side, Sebastian's disinterested voice echoed in the narrow passage.

"Welcome back, you... and you," he muttered, his tone flat as his ear fins twitched slightly, betraying his annoyance. His gaze flicked to the person next to you, clearly sizing them up. "Another day, another poor selection of team members, huh? Shame I don’t sell good ones either."

His joke, dripping with sarcasm, didn’t go unnoticed, but it didn’t have the desired effect either. You could see the faint lines of irritation on his face when he noticed your unimpressed expression. His usual wit seemed to fall flat in the current circumstances, and even he seemed to sense it.

"Really, Sebastian?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your new companion stifled a chuckle, but you could tell they were a bit wary of the sea-serpent’s mood.

Sebastian sighed, leaning back slightly as if trying to shake off the tension. "What can I say? The company down here isn’t exactly what I’d call inspiring," he retorted, though there was a hint of resignation in his voice. He glanced between you and your new friend, his irritation giving way to something softer, almost like concern and you didn't missed the way his tail moved, showing how bothered he actually is without speaking it out loud.

“Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to send us down here with nothing but these glorified wetsuits?” Your team mate joked trying to get the comfortable atmosphere from earlier back by continuing his joke, shaking his head in disbelief. “If I knew I’d be stuck in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean, I might’ve packed something a little more comfortable.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the palpable tension. “At least you’re making it work,” you said, playfully nudging him with your foot.

Sebastian’s ear fins twitched at the sound of your laughter, and own claw-like fingers digged themself uncomfortably into his own palm. Without a care, he spoke, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of laughing at this situation.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Sebastian’s mood. He pushed off the wall and took a step closer to you, a lighthearted smile still on his face. “Hey, we’re all just trying to make the best of it, right? No harm in keeping things a little less... bleak.”

Sebastian finally faced him directly, his eyes locking onto your friend with an intensity that made the room feel even smaller. “If you’re so focused on keeping things light, maybe you should find somewhere else to do it.”

The words were laced with a possessiveness that took both you and your friend by surprise. The room fell into a heavy silence as Sebastian’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “Or is this how you’d rather spend your time?”

You swallowed hard, sensing the unspoken conflict. “Sebastian, we’re all stuck in this together. We don’t have to turn on each other.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stuck together, sure. But don’t pretend like this is just another day at the office. We’re not exactly a team, are we?”

Your friend cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he was caught in the middle of something much deeper than he’d anticipated. “Look, maybe I should just... give you two some space,” he suggested, glancing between you and Sebastian.

Before you could respond, Sebastian stood up and slithered across the room, positioning himself between you and your friend, his tall frame blocking the view. “Yeah, maybe you should,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

The air in the room was thick with tension as your friend hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Right. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later,” he mumbled before slipping out of the room by crawling back throug the vent behind him.

Once the two of you were alone, Sebastian didn’t move, standing with his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could feel the cold emanating from his body, but there was also something else—a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Sebastian,” you started softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t turn around either. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “Because I’m tired of watching someone else take care of you when I’ve been the one keeping you alive all this time.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you suddenly understood the depth of his jealousy. It wasn’t just about the other guy—it was about everything you’d been through together, everything he’d done to protect you. He was scared of losing you, of not being enough and being replaced with someone you just met.

You stood up and stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “I know, Sebastian. I know you’ve always been there for me. And I’m grateful for that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension drained from his body. Slowly, he turned in your arms, his cool hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you, his expression softening. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”

Sebastian’s gaze searched yours, and after a moment, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms and tail around you in a protective embrace. The coldness of his body was no longer unsettling; instead, it was a familiar comfort.

For a while, you just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the room, the earlier tension dissolving into a peaceful silence. Finally, Sebastian pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath cool against your skin. “I didn’t mean to get so... possessive.”

You smiled gently, your hands resting on his chest. “It’s okay. Just... remember that we’re in this together. Both of us.“

Sebastian nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

[subwaysurf45]

She’s Not Mad

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways. 

Words: 9k (if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been...)

Warnings: Bucky has mommy issues, mentions of oral sex, nudity, angst, fluff, college!bucky, slow burn

A/N: thanks for the patience! 

Masterlist

A Couple of Weeks Ago…

“So, you’re not a thing?” Bucky asked as he shoved his laptop and notebook back into his bag, grabbing the handle of his water bottle and choosing to carry it with him for the walk. 

The two boys were higher up in the rows of the lecture hall as they peered over the two girls talking to the professor. Steve had his eyes drilled into Natasha, the girl standing off to the side as her friend went over a question she had. 

“She told me she is still figuring out her feelings since her last serious relationship,” Steve sighed as he packed up as well, “and I told her I’d wait- apparently this guy’s parents had given their family engagement ring and everything.” 

Bucky pulled the corner of his lips out tight as they began to walk down the stairs, “who’s the other girl?” 

“The one that was just asking the question is Y/N,” Steve watched as both girls left the room, “good friends, met last year, live together now.” 

“She’s cute,” Bucky said purely, no smirk or innuendo.

********

You sat over your laptop in the library with both hands acting as a brim to cover your eyes from the people around you. Tears rolled down your face as you studied the practice question, you felt pathetic and you tried to sniffle as quietly as possible. If anyone saw you silently bawling you’d drop out, it was stupid enough already when the librarian walked over and dropped a tissue box off without saying a word. 

“What do you mean?” you whispered to the page for the hundredth time, hoping for some answer. 

You had done the homework, you went to the study groups, you even extended your prof's office hours because you wanted to make sure you were doing everything right. Yet here you were, sitting alone on a Friday night because you still can’t do the practice assignment. Quitting felt like the only option, it wasn’t like everything was going to click; it was too late. 

This was just going to become the thing that you could never do, simple as that. Sometimes there are subjects that no matter how hard you try, you don’t have the flair. It was a tough pill to swallow but you’d never be able to do any work if you’d continue to hold yourself to a high standard, it was a win to get the little things right, not the entire question. 

The idea of failing was new to you. The jump from high school to college was still something you never adapted to, you always expected nineties on everything and not the mindset that C’s get degrees. 

Trying to do the question was like beating a dead horse, you needed a break. You ran your hands over your face and leaned back in your chair, hearing pops from your back as you did so, until you were leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. When you looked straight you saw someone already staring at you. 

He had longer brown hair that hit his jawline, blue eyes that jumped out at you, and a very concerned look on his face. He was familiar but you didn’t know what it was from. 

“Are you Natasha’s friend?” The guy came up to your empty table. 

“Yeah?” You wiped away your tears, extremely confused as he pulled out the chair right beside you to sit at the eight sided table. 

“I’m good friends with Steve, I think the two of them have something going on- not important, but I kind of know you and I'd rather not leave someone I kinda know alone crying, so…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you rolled your eyes and faced your computer again, “the absolute last thing I need is something watching me cry, alright?” your bottom lip wobbled as you kept your eyes away from his at all times. 

He was still staring at you, “come on,” he sighed and moved his hand to comfort you but thought otherwise, “I’m not going to laugh at you or run and tell everyone I know I saw a girl crying in the library- y’know what they’d say?” You could see him tilt his head, “they’d say what’s the big deal, haven’t we all?” 

You scoffed, “no they wouldn’t.” 

“You’re calling me a liar?” 

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Bucky,” he stuck out his hand, “Bucky Barnes.” You shook his hand, “and since I am a Barnes and was raised by my ma I simply can not let this continue, it’s my obligation to either cheer you up or take you home.” 

You scoffed again and tried your best to hide your smile, “and I’m Y/N, and in my family we stress about everything and never give up so I can’t leave until I get this question, so…”

Bucky’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he flipped the laptop to face him a little better, “this is the class all four of us have together, alright,” he read over the question and immediately furrowed his brows before looking at you again, trying your best to hold it together. He knew the answer but couldn’t bear to see your reaction, it was painfully obvious you were beating yourself stupid over these questions. 

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked like he was talking to a child. 

“I barely know you, dude,” you crossed your arms and ripped your laptop back to face you, “and I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to come in here and explain everything to me, alright, I’m going to figure this out on my own and I don’t need you, okay? So just head home, tell Steve I say hi.” 

Bucky took a deep breath himself, “that question isn’t marked on the homework, the reason you can’t get the answer is because the way to get it has most likely not been taught yet,” he paused and saw your face crumble, “and I didn’t want to freak you out because you look like you’ve been here a while and you seem to be beating yourself up and I just couldn’t-”

“Stop,” you whispered and covered your face with your hands, “just stop talking.” 

And he did. 

Trying your best to calm your breaths, it didn’t work. So fucking stupid, unbelievable, there’s no way you just spent close to an hour staring at a problem you didn’t even have to do in the first place. 

“Can you walk me home?” you squeeked. 

“Of course,” Bucky stood up right away and started helping you pack your bag, “I have some water, do you want it?” He held up his water bottle. You nodded and began drinking as you both made your way outside and towards your off-campus house. 

“Did you need to study?” you asked as you screwed on the cap. 

Bucky laughed and looked up at the night sky, “I was going for a walk because I heard there was a blood moon tonight, and there is, look,” he point up and saw the red mood looming above both of you, “and I just happened to walk past the library, I looked in the window and recognised your laptop as well as your hair, funny enough,” he laughed as he looked forward again. 

“So you just came in to see me?” you needed to make sure you were hearing this right, it’s not like it happens often. 

“I was going to introduce myself to you actually,” Bucky shrugged and looked over at you, “I know Steve and Nat are trying to figure things out and I thought friends of two people who might date should know one another. Then I saw you crying so I changed my game plan.”

You just nodded, slightly brushing into Bucky’s arm as you walked. It was hard to stay straight with the exhaustion taking over, every now and then you’d brush your knuckles past Bucky’s. He was a cute guy, and something about him being oh so caution around you made you feel important. 

“This is me,” you said later as you walked up the steps, “thanks Bucky, I hope we can be friends.” 

Bucky smiled and stood at the bottom of the steps, “if you ever get in your head again like that and need someone to pull you away, let me know- even in the middle of the night, alright?”

“Alright,” you laughed with your hand on the door handle. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. I look after the people close to me, I look after friends of friends like siblings,” there was no joking in his tone, it seemed other people doubted him on this promise. “I’ll give you my number,” he hand reached out for your phone. 

“I’ll be fine, you seemed to have good luck running into me,” you giggle and open the door to your house. Before it fully closed you felt resistance, looking over your shoulder you saw Bucky holding open your door. 

He was smiling, “then give me your number for another reason.” 

“Oh?” you turned and placed a hand on your chest, “you’re rather forward. 

“Well being cryptic didn’t work, did it?” He laughed and held out his hand again, “come on, I might need a study buddy one day- or even better, a lunch buddy.” you laughed as he tried to duck to meet your eyeline, “you don’t want to be my lunch buddy?”

“I’ll be your lunch buddy,” you giggled and handed him your phone, he wasted no time adding it in. “Goodnight,” you whispered and made it into your house, leaning back and resting against the door. You thought for a moment before breaking into a massive smile, replaying how he tried to keep eye contact with you. Or how he’d been so proud of how his mother raised him- “son of a bitch,” you whispered. 

He walked you back home and cheered you up. 

Just like he said he would. 

A Few Days Later…

Your phone must be hacked or something because your weather app said it would be completely clear today and sunny in the afternoon. As you sat in the cafe you thought it would clear up but it was only getting worse. 

All you needed to do was brave the rain and make your way home, but waiting for the perfect time when everything would let up for a moment was pointless. 

Walking as fast as you can with your head down, you saw your grey sweatpants become a darker shade instantly. It was a straight downpour with absolutely no sign of letting up, you swore you heard thunder when you waited at the crosswalk. Due to your phone lying to you, you had not brought a hooded article of clothing or umbrella so you just had to deal with everything going wrong. 

There definitely was thunder and the lightning was right above you, it seemed like you were the last person on Earth because everyone else was smart enough to stay inside right now; but not you. Down your little street you began to run, trying to get away from the lightning that was chasing you. 

If you could guess you’d say most people who had been struck by lightning most likely thought they were too far away, in denial as the sky opened up from above. It was hard to admit you were actually a little scared at that moment, rain getting in your eyes as you sprinted down to your house that was now in view. 

With your key at the ready you fell inside, slamming the door behind you. 

Natasha rounded the corner, “you idiot, I was trying to call you!” She screamed and saw your state, “Steve and Bucky are over-they drove over they could have picked you up,” Natasha got in your face to peel off the sweater, taking it off right over your head and leaving you in your bralette and those drenched sweatpants. 

“You took off my shirt when there’s boys here?” you whispered as you began to shake, covering your chest with crossed arms. 

“We guessed you were walking back so we put towels in the dryer,” as if on cue Bucky rounded the same corner with your fluffy towel ready, “thank you Bucky,” Natasha wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Hi, Bucky,” you squeeked, “glad we keep meeting like this.”

Natasha had walked upstairs, most likely getting different pants. Bucky got down on one knee and slipped off your shoes, “like what?” he asked as he looked up, he reminded you of a little puppy somehow. He was as big as a great dane but there was an underlying softness that made you want to hug him or just let him wrap his arm around you. 

You huffed as you pulled the towel tighter, “when I’ve just done something embarrassing and you’re there to save the day.”

Bucky stood up with his arms crossed, “only you would think crying or getting caught in the rain is embarrassing,” he shook his head and reached out to rub your shoulder that was covered by the towel, “I like helping and I like making sure people I know are okay, you know this.”

“I do,” you whispered and walked further in your house. Before you could get anywhere near comfortable Natasha whisked you away to change your soggy pants as well as throw on a sweater, they had also been thrown in the drier, everything was very toasty and warm.

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intensely at the football game going on. Natasha guided you back in and towards the couch. There was enough room for four of you but you knew thighs would be pressed up against one another, you were okay with that if Bucky was sitting beside you. Though you don’t see him often it was nice when you did even though you made it seem like it was embarrassing. Something about having someone who loves taking care of people take care of you so well caused you to crave it a little more. 

Bucky came around the couch with a mug, “hot chocolate for you,” he whispered and took the spot beside you, next to the arm rest. You thanked him and let your hand slightly burn on the mug when you held it, liking how the warmth began to spread up your arms. Natasha found her spot on the other side of you while Steve stayed on the edge, leaning forward and never looking away from the game. 

“This is really good,” you sipped it and whispered to Bucky, he just smiled and leaned into your side for a moment. 

“What were you working on?” he asked after a moment. 

“I was at the cafe for a little treat but before I was doing my elective course,” you spoke softly. It seemed like everything happened for a reason because you only got food at the cafe which left room for this hot chocolate now. 

“And that is?” Bucky giggled as he leaned forward again. 

“Art history,” suddenly, you were coy. Most people thought your elective was a bird course but to you it was actually interesting, it wasn’t often you were met with a positive response. 

His eyes got wide, “that’s sick!” Bucky readjusted himself off the couch, “I would have never even thought of that course, wow, that’s really cool. So, like, what do you-”

“Bucky, I love you, brother, I really do but-” Steve sighed, “can you please be quiet, this game is very important.” 

“I didn’t think the Big Game was on today?” you asked as you took another sip. 

“It’s not that,” Steve places his beer down, “it’s the State Cup Finals, it’s college football.” 

Natasha smiled and looked over, “his team’s the underdog and are actually on the road to winning the entire thing!” She giggled and linked an arm with Steve who was happy to cuddle up with her, “it’s actually very exciting once you learn the ins and outs of it.”

You just nodded and faced forward again, seeing Bucky out of the corner of your eyes rubbing his thumb on the neck of his beer bottle, staring off into space. The moment you leaned your head on his shoulder he looked over at you, your heart broke when you saw a sad smile. He was just trying to talk to you, he got excited for you and here he was being scolded. 

“Do you want to come look at some of my notes, or are you into this game?” you whispered and saw his eyes light up, both of you quickly stood and headed up stairs with your bag slung over your shoulder. 

The moment you walked into your room you felt everything slow down, Bucky slowly walked in and looked around. He was smiling to himself as he l took in your photos on the walls or posters, even your to do list seemingly growing on the white board you have mounted to one wall. 

You sat on the corner of your bed as he flipped through your notes, “so you’re, like, breaking down these paintings, it's not just the history of when they were painted?”

“Oh yeah,” you fiddled with the hem of your dry sweater, “most of these artist go insane and we look for that in the work or even just what was happening during the time with stuff that you’d learn in a normal history class but we look at if and when it get put into art,” this was your little thing you could talk about for ages, “very cool stuff.” 

Bucky nodded and flipped the pages, “your notes are amazing,” he whispered, “you’re a pretty good student, huh?” he looked over his shoulder and saw you sitting there, just staring at him as he made his way around your room. “What?” he giggled and made his way over to you, holding his hand out to get you to stand up. 

“Nothing,” you tucked your chin to your chest, getting coy at the attention. “You’re just…y’know, sweet.” 

Bucky just smiled and rubbed your arm, giggling as you both stared at one another for a moment. “Do you want to go back down?” 

“Sure,” you nodded and leaned forward, smiling as you both made your way back downstairs. 

The rain still worked its way down your windows as the beers and wine kept flowing. The game had ended a while ago but Steve and Bucky didn’t see a reason to leave, it was a good moment that no one wanted to end. You had finished your hot chocolate and moved onto wine, sipping it slowly as everyone talked. It was nice to be brought into this group even though it stemmed from Nat and Steve, there was good chemistry between the four of you. 

Talking to everyone was effortless, you didn’t need to act like someone else to fit in. no one was yelling over someone else to get their point across, there weren't any passive aggressive tones in anyone's jokes, it was carefree. It was relaxing to have people this easy to talk to. 

The only thing that wasn’t relaxing was the amount of times you caught Bucky staring at you. Everyone had migrated to the floor with their backs against different furniture so you could break out the board games, Bucky was sitting adjacent to you on your right and Steve adjacent on your left, Nat right in front. Every single move whether it be placing a card down or moving your little object around the board Bucky would find a reason to look at you. 

“Good one,” he’d pat your shoulder. 

“Let me move your piece for you,” he’d say before you could reach across the table. 

“Sorry…” he’d smile before taking your little object and moving it back four spots. 

He was very attentive, always watching and scanning. But the more you noticed it the more you figured out he was doing it to everyone, including Steve. Something happened whenever Bucky would either move Steve’s piece for him or go get another beer so he wouldn’t have to stand up, Steve would give this look. It seemed as though he was silently telling Bucky he knew something or he was pointing something out that had been a topic of conversation before. Bucky would try to laugh it off but Steve was very protective of Bucky, you just didn’t know why. 

The games had slowly come to a close, everyone not drunk but a little more than tipsy. Giggles flowed freely around the table as the conversation resumed again, your eyes were growing heavy as you traced the rim of your glass. 

“I’ll be back,” Bucky muttered as he headed to the washroom. 

The moment the door closed Steve sighed, “this kid.” 

“What?” you were getting protective, why was Steve about to talk shit about his best friend? 

Steve just shook his head, “It’s hard to see how badly Winnie fucked him up.” 

Your heart plummeted. Any tiredness had left your body faster than the little gasp escaped your lips. Who was this Winnie girl and why did he mess Bucky up? The thoughts circled your head, was he in an abusive relationship? Natasha looked like she didn’t know either, pouring more wine into her cup. 

When Bucky came back he sat closer to you and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrapped your arm around his. He must have been a little surprised but you rested your head on his shoulder and continued on like it was nothing. 

You were half asleep when Bucky tried to do something for Steve, maybe get him another beer but whatever it was it left Bucky looking like a sad puppy because Steve said, “Buck, relax, I can get my beers, thank you, but I got it, alright?”

Steve's tone was soft but also commanding, he wasn’t annoyed at all. With your eyes closed you pieced it together that Steve was trying to help Bucky in some way, maybe get him to relax a little more. It was out of love but Bucky was very quiet for the rest of the night. 

********

You and Bucky had started hanging out a lot more on your own. There were a lot of late night drives or study sessions, Bucky always came to the library to walk you home if you stayed late or had turned your brain into mush during your studying. 

What Steve had said stuck with you more than you thought it would, it didn’t impact how you saw Bucky but it made you more aware of his people pleasing tendencies. You wanted to do the same as Steve, tell him it was okay but you weren’t as close. You saw how hurt he was the last time and you just couldn’t do it to him. 

Currently you were both sitting on his bed, the movie was wrapping up. Half of his laptop sat on one thigh and the other half sat on Bucky’s, your arms were linked and there was a steady brushing of your thumb on his forearm. In all honesty, you thought you were lulling him to sleep when you looked up five minutes ago to see him fighting his dropping lids. 

When the movie faded to black both of you sat there for a moment, content with the sitcom that was coming up next. You looked up again to see him with his face scrunched up, his other hand was on his back. 

“What is it?” you asked and leaned over, he was rubbing a specific spot on his lower back with his thumb. 

Bucky held his breath as he leaned forward to move his hand, “I was working out this morning and there weren't any belts left for my deadlifts and I did something to my back.”

“Do you want a massage?” you offered, he’d do the same for you. 

“I’m okay, thanks,” he looked down at your head resting on his bicep. 

“I didn’t know you worked out,” you smiled, “you don’t have the, like, bodybuilder physique.”

Bucky laughed and wiped at his eyes, giggling to himself before answering. “I don’t want that look, but…” you could see the boast on the top of his tongue, he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek. 

“Tell me!” you sat up, taking the laptop off your lap so you could fully face him now, “are you, like, ripped or something?” you both laughed as he hugged himself so you couldn’t feel or see anything, “you are, shut up!” you placed both hands on his shoulders, his face so red from laughing and embarrassment you just wanted to take a bite out of it. 

“Steve calls it a sleeper build,” Bucky managed to wheeze out, he was trying to play-fight you off of him. 

“What the fuck is that?!” you gasped as your hands reached out but he copied you and intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“It’s when someone has muscle but you can’t really see it in normal clothing,” his face was calming down as well, but that stupid smile was still on his face. “It just kinda happened, just how I am.”

You tried to move his arms around but you couldn’t, his fingers were still tightly woven with yours. You just laughed and fell back into him, cuddling up again. “I had a friend's mom who was an actual masseuse, so…” you shrugged, “I actually know what I’m doing because she’d give me massages and walk me through her process.”

“You just want to take my shirt off, don’t you?” Bucky taunted. 

“I want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable the entire time we hang out and for the rest of the week,” you giggled before snuggling into his arm again and watching the show that had come on randomly. 

It took three days before Bucky came back for that massage. 

You were hanging out again like normal and he was still trying to relieve the ache in his lower back. It was becoming sad to see him so uncomfortable so you kept reminding him of your excellent massage skills. After what you counted as his third groan of pain you just looked at him and soon enough he was asking you to turn around so he could take his shirt off and lie down. 

Choosing your angle to stand with your back to him was a science, you wanted to make sure you had the mirror to look at but you also didn’t want to make it obvious. Part of you hated yourself for wanting to catch and peek at his body but it was infamous now, you just had to look. 

And my god was it worth it. 

It wasn't an obnoxious amount of muscle that made it seem like the strength drained from his brain and into his arms. The sleeper build comment was right, you had no idea. His chest made you feel comfortable and protected, the kind of chest you’d want to fall into when the subway starts up too quick and you’re not holding onto anything. His arms were, and you already knew this, amazing at covering so much surface area for hugs. They were secure and trustworthy, you knew that when you hugged him he had you; it also helped to remember when he’d whisper it in your ear. 

“Okay,” his voice was muffled by pillows at the top of your bed. 

You turned around and were greeted by his back which was also an amazing sight, the kind of body sculptors would use and their go-to subject if no one else was there. “I have some lotion on my hands,” you warned and pressed your palms onto his back and quickly began spreading the lotion around. 

Though this wasn’t a proper table and he was resting on one cheek instead of face down you knew this was the best he’d get for a college kid. You started all over and slowly worked your way to focusing on his lower back. When you felt the knot you knew you found it, the thing was massive. The low groan Bucky let out was close to pornographic as you dug into him. 

Something about seeing him grip the sheets, making his veins pop out, did something to you. At first you only really saw Bucky as another friend or a good member of the friend group you stumbled your way into. But the more you spent one-on-one the more you realized he was your perfect guy. Any guy can be perfect physically but his personality enhanced your view for him, it made you appreciate his looks even more. 

His laugh always brought out the crinkle in his nose and those pretty teeth, the sound of him giggling was music to your ears and also was the perfect accompaniment to his squinted eyes or broad smile. The same with his little fist pumps he does when beating you at a game either around a group of friends of a video game, that stupid celebration he does every time causes him to flex his bicep but that’s secondary to the little circles he makes with his fist.  

You kept working away and looking at his rested face once in a while, seeing his eyes closed and the relieved look on his face. There was something so pure about watching the guy your slowly obsession over fall into simple relaxation all because of you, it was a treat. 

“How’s that?” you whisper, “Bucky?” trying to make sure your pressure wasn’t too hard for him you wanted to check in, but he had fallen asleep. With the opportunity in front of you, you reached out and placed your bent knuckles along his cheek, feeling the stubble tickle your fingers. 

You found him blanket on his bed and covered him up so he wouldn’t get cold with his shirt off, before leaving you placed a kiss on his forehead before heading downstairs for a snack. You also wanted to give him space, let him sleep peacefully. 

Steve was down there when you got there, another roommate of his cooking as you found Bucky’s section of snacks to choose from. 

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked as he looked over his shoulder, not for long due to the football playing on the TV. 

“Sleeping upstairs,” you ate the goldfish as you rounded the couch to watch the game. 

He seemed taken aback at your casualness, “what did you guys do…?” he slowly looked over, most likely trying to see if your hair was disheveled or anything was blossoming on your neck. 

“I gave him a massage,” you shrugged and fell back onto the couch, “his lower back has been killing from his workout a while ago.” 

You could see Steve look over his shoulder to see if his roommate was also hearing this, he looked over at you again and squinted. “So- and correct me if I’m wrong here- you gave Bucky a massage and put him to sleep and now you’re down here getting a snack?” 

“You would be correct,” you smiled, “would you like to do a once over of my neck for hickies or maybe rummage through the trash for condoms?” you sassed and plopped a few more goldfish in your mouth, “I was helping him.” 

That statement made Steve look over his shoulder again. The roommate just shrugged with a smile before heading down to his room in the basement, noodles steaming from the cup. You just looked at Steve as he tried to piece together everything, it was actually funny to see him try to understand. 

“Bucky doesn’t accept help from anyone,” Steve turned to face you, “it’s his thing to never want to be in debt with anyone when it comes to favours of any sort.” 

“Well,” you just sighed, “I’ve been picking up on that too but I got to him I guess, he let me do something for him.” That was all you could say because you didn’t have a full background of why Bucky didn’t accept help from anyone you just knew he didn’t; the only clues you had were Winnie and her role in this. 

“That’s good,” Steve quickly added, “I’m far from saying it’s bad, trust me, it’s just he’s been in a funk for a while when it comes to that stuff, it ebbs and flows.” 

“Do you think he’ll ever tell me?” you asked as you watched the game, too embarrassed of the question to look at Steve. It seemed there was this vital piece of information that made Bucky who he was that was dangling right in front of your face, you were falling for him but that thing that made him him was out of reach. When Steve first made the statement he siad that this Winnie girl fucked him up which implied something bad much have happened and that can also mean something isn’t necessarily right. You were never going to fix Bucky but you did want to understand so you could help be a better friend to him and not unconsciously get in the way of his mindset. 

Steve nodded, “he’ll definitely tell you,” he looked over and smiled, “I mean, you’re all he ever talks about, this kid is head over heels for you  it’s just…some guys have hard times coming to terms with their past, he’ll get there though.” 

“I know,” you nodded, “I’ll obviously never force it out but I do want him to be aware I’m here to listen, y’know?” 

“He knows,” Steve laughed and stood up, going to the cupboard and grabbing a little snack for himself as well. 

You took a deep breath before standing up and heading back upstairs, you were guessing Bucky was still fast asleep. When you opened the door you found him still laying on his bed in the exact same position, only now there was little snores coming from him. 

With a pout you crawled back onto the bed and sat next to him, placing your hand on his back and sliding it down to his arm that was bent up so his hands could rest under the pillow. Your thumb gently rubbed his arm for a moment before pulling out your phone and scrolling through it. 

The boredom ate away at you, instead of scrolling through your phone you went to his dresser to find some clothes you could change into so you could crawl under his sheets and sleep over. When you pulled open his top drawer you were met with his underwear and socks as well as a box of condoms tucked to the side, you just giggled to yourself at the painfully college male sight in front of you. 

Something about wearing his boxers made your face heat up, that was a level of intimacy you wanted to reach with him one day but you didn’t know if it was time. Looking over your shoulder after a particularly loud snore you smiled to yourself and picked up a black pair, as you held it up you remember seeing the waistband sticking out of his jeans while he reached above his head to grab something for someone - you weren’t focused on his actions at the time. 

Quickly slipping your pants off and pulling up the boxers you maneuvered to his closet, finding your favourite hoodie he wore very often. This moment of intimacy, moving around Bucky’s room while he wasn’t aware, caused a surge of confidence to shoot through you. Though you had never talked to Bucky about what the relationship between you was, you knew both of you could agree there was no room for girlfriends or boyfriends for either of you, this was the time to build the foundation for something better later. Having this idea of only being the girl in his room you took off your bralette and tucked it back in his top drawer, across from the condoms.

You didn’t choose this bra specifically but you were wearing a slightly lacey bralette, it was far from lingerie but the lace added something to it. Making sure you put it where it wouldn’t be obvious but also not hiding it, you grew giddy at the image of Bucky finding it. 

Before getting in his bed you tugged and tugged the sheets under his body before managing to get the covers fully out from under him. You scooted in and pulled the sheets up to cover both of you, it seemed he really needed the sleep because nothing was waking him up, not even the little hug you gave him before turning off the lights and falling asleep beside him. 

********

You were sitting in class aimlessly scrolling through your phone during your five minute break in your lesson, your art history professor was one of the best teachers you've ever had. She was funny but also well informed, she also had a big heart and didn’t need a eulogy as a form of proof if someone asked for an extension due to a funeral service that day. 

Bucky: What the hell is in my dresser? 

Without knowing the tone or context your heart dropped. You read the text with Bucky’s voice as if he was screaming at you, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. It was in your head, you didn’t know if it was a flirty tone either. 

You: Just my bra, when I stayed over a couple of nights ago I changed into your clothes and just absentmindedly put my bra in your top drawer. I probably was just going through the motions and thought I was at my place. 

Bucky: Can I pick you up from class, when does your lecture end?

Something about him completely disregarding your explanation - lie or not - gave you the worst feeling in the world. Ice poured down your back as you watched your prof make her way back up to the little stage she teaches on, you couldn’t keep the conversation going and just needed to deal with it later. 

You: sure, it ends in an hour. 

Bucky: I’ll be there. 

Part of you didn’t want to leave when your lecture was over, you stayed in the hallway for a moment and thought of every single end of the world situation that could happen in the car. Bucky didn’t seem like a guy who hit women but your anxiety didn’t let you leave out that thought. He also didn’t seem like the guy who’d reveal he’d been dating another girl the entire time but who knows, he could be in a three year long relationship as you stood there. 

With all these terrible situations playing out in your head you decided to face it head on, you’d walk in there and wouldn’t let him talk; just saying your apologies with your eyes closed before he could get a word out. 

You walked down the steps and to the right to find Bucky’s car parked in front, coming up in the blindspot. You took a moment to take a deep breath, opening the door and sitting down as quickly as possible. 

“Do you-”

“Bucky,” you put your hand out but kept your eyes casted down, “I am so unbelievably sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I don’t know if you already have a girlfriend and she found it and it caused a rift in your relationship, or if you like to sleep with other girls and one of them found the bra and got jealous so you lost your credit. I don’t know what made you angry but please, I am so sorry for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I just put it in there and I-...” you just held your mouth open as you looked at the center console, you had run out of things to say. “Um,” you slowly looked up to see him frozen in shock, mouth still slightly open from when he began to say something, “sorry, you were about to say something?” 

Bucky had to physically rattle his head to get out of the shock he was in, “do you want to get some coffee?” 

Your eyes flicked up and it was your turn to stay frozen, “what?” 

Bucky pulled his brows together, “I was making a joke about the bra thing,” he seemed concerned at your extremely anxious state, “I don’t care what you leave at my place, I really don’t,” normally someone would laugh in awkward situations but Bucky didn’t, it felt like it made everything worse. “Do you want coffee?” 

“What is going on?” you couldn’t believe the situation you had put yourself in, nothing was making sense. 

“Don’t get all mad at me,” now it was time for him to scoff, “you’re the one that thought I was sleeping with multiple women while I’m actively pursuing you, you idiot.” 

“Don’t call me an idiot,” you huffed and faced the front of the car, crossing your arms after putting on your seatbelt. 

Bucky laughed as he reached over and turned your face so you’d look at him, “that’s what you took from that statement?” He giggled, “babe, I just said I was pursuing you, does that just fly over your head?” 

“Wait, what?” you grew more interested, “you want to date me?” 

Bucky nodded, “have I not made it obvious?” You just shrugged and began to feel small, curling yourself further into the seat of his car, “I would like to take you out and I would like to continue to collect little pieces of you at my place while doing the same to yours, does that make sense?” 

“Then what were those condoms for?” 

“The same reason our house keeps tampons in our main bathroom,” Bucky put the car in drive and began working towards to coffee shop, “if you ever need a tampon you go and grab one, if Steve ever needs a condom and he’s out of stock in his room he comes to me,” Bucky looked at you at the stop light. 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

“But let me get a few things straight,” Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, “I’m not sleeping with other girls, I do not have a secret girlfriend, I am not mad you left your bra in my dresser and I tried to make the text seem flirty, and finally,” he went at the green, “I really like you and I would like you to be my girl whenever we get there.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’d like that too.” 

“Then it’s settled,” it was a short drive to the cafe, “let’s celebrate over coffee, shall we?” 

You looked down at his hand on your thigh, “yeah, we shall.” 

********

Your body felt like it was floating, your legs tingled and it was hard to catch your breath. As you laid on your back with your hands on your bare stomach Bucky worked his way back up from between your legs while leaving kisses on your hip bones as well as your stomach when you lifted your hands. 

“How was that?” Bucky asked breathlessly, licking his lips before kissing you. 

You kept your answer waiting, probably because he knew it already, kissing him slowly as he wanted. He was fully in control right now, setting the pace and tone of this entire afternoon. When he pulled away for a moment you complimented him like always, your hands reached up to his shoulders and tried to push him to lay on his back but he stayed strong. 

“Flip over,” you whispered and ran your hands down his chiseled stomach, working your way up to his shoulders as your fingernails raked up his back. 

“I’m all good,” he shrugged. 

“But you’re painfully hard,” you tried again to get him to move but he just fell beside you on his stomach, not allowing you to touch him where he was in fact, extremely hard. “Come on, you always do this.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled and pulled you down with him. 

“I just want to do something nice for you, you never let me do anything for you or give you any favours,” in your head it seemed like a normal observation, it was true that Bucky didn’t let anyone do anything for him while he actively tried to help everyone in anyway he knew how. 

That seemingly struck a nerve, “alright then,” he sighed and got up from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he left you naked and alone on his bed, the most lonesome feelings in the world. 

“Where are you going?” you sat up, grabbing your shirt from the edge of the bed. 

“Going to go jerk off in the shower,” he said as he closed the door. 

“You can’t be serious,” you quickly stood and made your way to the bathroom that was connected to his room. You opened the door to see him already adjusting the tap before starting the shower. “Bucky, it’s the truth, it’s who you are but it’s the truth and as your girlfriend I want you to feel good, I want to give you pleasure like you do to me.” 

You reached forward and placed your hands on his back, slowly working your way to his shoulders so you could turn him around. There looked like shame had overtaken him as he stood before you, though he was larger in size he shrunk himself down to look small. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, he didn’t know what to say. 

“If I can’t give you head then can I come in the shower and wash your hair?” you didn’t even put on the shirt you grabbed, it was dropped to the floor. “Come on, honey, it’ll feel so good.” 

Bucky only nodded before stepping into the hot shower with you. You made sure he got most of the stream on him, you stayed in front and made sure his hair was soaked before getting any product. You could see his tenseness at first but the moment your hands made contact with his scalp his eyes rolled back, his shoulders relaxed. In that moment it occurred to you that you had actually never seen his relaxed state before. 

“Doesn’t this feel good?” you whispered, making sure you used your nails to really cleanse his scalp. “Doesn’t letting yourself relax and breathe feel so good, Buck?” 

“Yeah,” it came out quiet and broken. 

Your eyes were focused on his hair the entire time, making sure you lathered up and took your time. You needed to savor this moment for both you and Bucky, you wanted him to be relaxed for a s long as possible as well as taking advantage of doing him a favour; never knowing when your next opportunity would come up. 

Gently tapped his forehead, you got him to lean back. The water immediately took off the top layer of suds but you needed to rub out the deeper layers as well. Your fingers scrubbed until the trail of water rolling down his body was pure water and had no shampoo in it. 

“I’m going to- oh, my gosh Bucky,” you reached out and saw his red eyes, “when did you start crying?” 

“I can’t remember,” he whispered and tilted his head down, the water pushed his hair to cover his eyes. 

You pushed his hair back and pulled him out a step further so the water hit his back, your thumbs quickly wiped away a mixture of water and tears off of his face. He couldn’t stop crying as you tried your best to keep his face clear, “honey, what’s wrong?” 

“I-” he choked on his own words, “I’ve never let my guard down this much,” he admitted before breaking off into harder sobs, you swooped in and pulled him tightly against your chest. 

“I know it’s a new feeling,” you whispered, “but I want you to be able to do this all the time, let your guard down around me,” it was a shot in the dark by saying this but you did it anyways, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll never take advantage of your guard down, love.” 

It must have struck something because his knees buckled, his hands gripped tighter as he desperately kept you close to him. You didn’t know if you were making him feel better or worse but the act of letting go was needed for him, you kept holding him until there was nothing left to cry. 

When he pulled away he stayed close, close enough that you kissed him under the gentle rain of the shower and played with his hair at the base of his scalp. His hands stayed on your back and held you close to him, making sure you were always touching him in some way. You tried to get a good read on him but he kept his head low and gently ran his hands up and down your sides, just feeling you. 

“You’re very safe,” you whispered. 

Bucky looked up at you for a moment before keeping his eyes down for a while, his brows pulled together and it seemed like he was trying to say something but didn’t know how. Both of you were open and vulnerable, naked in the hot shower. Tears threatened to spill over at the picture of Bucky crying in front of you. 

“It was my mom,” Bucky whispered, “the one who broke me-”

“You’re not broken,” you quickly corrected, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb, “don’t say that.” 

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m the oldest, I have four sisters younger than me - all different dads.” Bucky took a deep breath and pulled you closer, “my mom…Winnie was an interesting woman who never wanted to be pregnant but somehow always ended up pregnant anyways, it also didn’t help none of the guys wanted to stick around.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him the easy opportunity to hug you if he needed to. Nodding along, you encouraged him to keep going. 

“When my mom realized I could do the dirty work she would take advantage of that. I basically raised my sisters and somehow she managed to worm into my head,” he let out an angry laugh, “she’d say she loved me if I did things for her and I was a bad boy if I couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, she would say I didn’t love her if I didn’t change my sister’s diapers or bathe them while she sat on the couch.” 

“Bucky,” you were the one to instigate the hug, “that’s awful.” 

“And I’m aware of how I act now, all I’ve ever known is helping other people to make sure they love me,” he laughed again, “and it sounds stupid but I can never break out of the cycle, I always think I’m doing a good job or not being overbearing but then I start to second guess myself, you know?” he pulled away and looked at you, you quickly nodded. “I start to think about what people are saying behind my back and so I keep doing what I’m doing to stay on the safe side, I know it’s fucking annoying but I can’t help it.” 

“It’s not annoying, baby” you leaned past him and turned off the water as it grew cold, “and if you’ll let me I can help with that, I don’t want to fix you or change you, I just want you to be comfortable in this relationship and not think I’m secretly mad at you because you didn’t get me a glass of water.” 

Bucky nodded, stepped out of the shower with you and grabbed two towels. The conversation had naturally ended, Bucky didn’t have anything else to say. It was hard not to think he was overthinking again, the idea that you were causing him to stress out stressed you out. You were being truthful when you said you wanted him to be relaxed in this relationship, the last thing you wanted was underlying tension. 

Back in bed Bucky rolled over and cuddled into your breasts, holding you closely as you watched his head rise with your breath. You had no idea if he was asleep or not, you knew he wouldn’t mind either way if you played with his hair. 

“Thank you,” was all he whispered before falling asleep. 

********

You all sat around the couch to watch another big game. Though you had no idea what was going on you were just as into it as Steve. Half time had just started and you all took a collective breath, the two college teams were close. 

“Want another beer?” you asked as you stood up, looking at Bucky who was sitting on the couch. Steve and Nat had already filled up, you wanted another cooler and Bucky was almost done. 

“Yeah,” he quickly downed his final sip of beer before handing the bottle off to you. 

There was this anticipation in the room, you smiled and took the bottle and walked past Steve who was already looking at Bucky. The room seemed still when Bucky didn’t move, just pulling out his phone to look at something while the commercials played. Before making it into the kitchen you looked over your shoulder and saw the back of Bucky’s head, you bit your lip to suppress the smile that was growing. 

The moment you got back and sat next to him Bucky took your hand and pulled it into his lap. He fidgeted with your finger before looking over at you, “how’d I do?” he whispered. 

You laughed and leaned into his side, “how much did that make your cringe?” 

“I was in pain for a moment,” he answered as fast as possible before giggling with you as you clink your glasses together and take a long swing. With a deep breath he looked back at the game and kept your hand in his. Bucky must have not been paying attention but his phone buzzed, illuminating and accidentally showing his lockscreen. 

It changed from the photo of the two of you to a black background with white writing on it: 

Trust me, she’s not mad at you.

********

Thanks for reading, feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr​ @tylard-blog1​ @readingbooksanddrinkingtea-blog​ @linzc-reader​ @hotleaf-juice​ @honeybunchesofbucky​ @seybox​ @yaszx​ @happyt0exist​ @striving4averagegirl​ @searchf0rtheskyline​ @aya-fay​ @wbyss​ @luvrsbian​ @albertdabuttler​

[elsiewritesss]

can you do a smut abt riding vinnie?

omg i have the PERFECT one that i wrote before i started this account.

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

Golfing with Vinnie

pairing: bf! vinnie x gf! reader

warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap that thang), fingering, riding, public sex

Y/N sat on the passenger seat of the golf cart, book in hand as the slight breeze softly blew through her slightly wavy hair. It wasn’t unusual for the girl to join her boyfriend and his friends on one of their many golfing days.

Y/N heard the group of boys laughing, turning her head seeing the four of them laugh as the small white ball misses the hole and rolls past it.

Vinnie turned his head, making eye contact with his girlfriend before smiling and sending her a wave. Y/N smiled back before returning her attention back to her book as she crossed her legs, the white material of her small skirt falling over her thighs.

Vinnie gazed over at his girlfriend engrossed in her book, eyeing the way her skirt rested higher on her thighs as her legs were crossed. Her baby pink top fitted her just right, hugging every curve of her which drove him crazy.

“Yo Vin, you’re up.” Reggie broke the boy from his train of thoughts as Vinnie turned his head and walked towards his ball with his golf club in hand.

Y/N glanced up from her book and watched as Vinnie set his stance next to his ball. The way he rolled his shoulders back as his arms flexed made her unintentionally clench her thighs together. She loved his arms. The way they always felt tight and secure around her, the way his muscles flexed whenever they moved, the tattoos scattered across, they’ve always been her favorite part of him.

“What’s going on in that head of yours pretty girl?” Y/N’s head snapped up fully, meeting the deep brown eyes of Vinnie, a slight smirk resting on his face as he placed his golf clubs in the back of the cart.

“Hm? Oh nothing.” Y/N shook her head as Vinnie nodded his head slowly not believing her.

“Mhm, okay.” He replied, sitting in the driver seat of the golf cart as his right hand found its home on Y/N’s thigh as he began to drive to the next hole following behind the other boys.

Y/N sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth lightly as she looked down at Vinnie’s hand placement. Vinnie seemed to notice her gaze and smirked to himself, slowly inching his hand further up her thigh.

“Vin,” Y/N spoke softly, knowing what he was doing as she wrapped her petite hand around his wrist.

“What baby?” Vinnie asked, playing innocent as his hand went further up, this time slightly going under her skirt as his fingertips ghosted over the inner part of her thigh, making goosebumps arise on her skin.

Y/N was quick to grab his hand and move it back to its original spot while placing hers on top of his. Vinnie let out a chuckle as Y/N shook her head while glaring at him.

“You’re evil.” She said as Vinnie came to a stop behind the boys in front of them.

“Yeah but you love me.” Vinnie responded while hopping out of the driver seat and leaning over to plant a kiss on her lips before grabbing his clubs from the back.

The girl simply shook her head as she clenched her legs again as she felt the bottom of her stomach get that warm feeling as the goosebumps on her skin began to fade. Leave it to Vinnie to make her horny in the middle of public.

Y/N opened her book again, trying to occupy her mind in order to not focus on the aching feeling in between her legs of needing some type of friction. If they were home, Vinnie wouldn’t have wasted time solving that issue for his girl. With this golfing game, it would be at least another hour and a half until they were done.

Y/N let out a sigh mixed with a light whine as she slammed her book shut and set it down on her lap as she placed her head in her hands.

Vinnie saw Y/N slam her book shut as she put her head in her hands. At first he was confused by the actions, until he saw the way she clenched and unclenched her thighs together. He bit back a smile as he ditched his club and walked over to the cart.

“You okay baby?” He asked as Y/N looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as her lips turned downward into a pout.

“No.” She spoke, crossing her arms over her chest as she uncrossed her legs and turned towards him slightly.

Vinnie simply smiled at the sight, loving the effect he has on her even from such a small touch.

“Need me to make it better?” He asked as his smile turned into a smirk. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. Surely he can’t be serious. No way in hell are they going to fuck in front of his friends.

“You’re joking. We’re not having sex here, so no you can’t make it better.” Vinnie’s eyebrows shot up at her tone, taking it as a dare. He slid into the driver seat, and looked at her.

“Watch me.” Y/N’s eyes widened as she glanced back at the other boys who turned to look at the two.

“I’ll be back guys! Y/N has to go to the bathroom!” Vinnie hollered as they gave a thumbs up in return, resuming their attention back to the game as Vinnie started driving off away from the hole.

Y/N sat in silence as she tried to process this. Vinnie took a right turn once they were far enough, leading them behind some trees that blocked them from another one of the holes, which currently no one was at.

Vinnie stopped the golf cart and placed it in park, not wasting any time as he put his right hand at the back of Y/N’s head and brought her closer before smashing his lips against hers.

Y/N jumped slightly at the quick action, placing her hands on his shoulders as her lips responded to the action, feeling arousal throughout her whole body. Vinnie’s hand traveled down until it rested on her hip, squeezing slightly as she inched closer to him.

Y/N pulled back slightly, disconnecting their lips as she shook her head, tossing one of her legs around his as she arranged herself on his lap before wrapping her hands around his neck as she connected their lips again.

Vinnie wasted no time as he placed his hands on her thighs and traveled them up until his hands were covered by her skirt. Y/N groaned against his lips as his hands touched the waistband of her lacy underwear, feeling herself get more wet at the feeling of his hands being close to what she needed. She moved her hips back and forth, trying to get some sort of friction as she traveled her hands down his chest.

Vinnie moaned as Y/N grinded against him, stopping her movements by gripping her hips as her hands tried to undo his belt frantically. Vinnie pulled apart, looking at her swollen lips as her eyes locked with his, lust filling them.

“Patience baby.” Vinnie spoke lightly, making her lips tilt downwards as the whine escaped. That’s his girl, bratty and inpatient until she gets what she needs. Vinnie freed his left hand, planting a small but firm smack to her ass as she jumped and slightly squealed at the action.

“Lose the pout or we’ll go back to the guys.” He told her as her lips pressed together and the pout disappeared. Y/N felt her heartbeat in her ears as she waited for him to do something, anything to help relieve the aching feeling in between her legs. The feeling that he caused himself.

Vinnie leaned forward, attaching his lips to her jawline as she sucked in a breath. Vinnie’s hand reached her inner thighs where they were earlier when he first made her feel this way.

“Vin,” Y/N lightly moaned out as she moved one of her hands up to the back of his head, lightly tugging at the small curls as he placed open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

Vinnie detached his lips from her neck as his thumb brushed over her clit through her underwear, making her gasp at the feeling.

“Alright you need to be quiet if we’re going to do this. We’re still in public okay?” Vinnie spoke, his eyes never leaving her face as she opened her eyes to look at him.

“Mhm.” Y/N nodded her head rapidly as Vinnie added more pressure to her clit, making her move her hips around. Vinnie took this as an opportunity to move her underwear to the side, running his fingers along her slit as she tossed her head back letting out a breathy moan.

“Damn baby, so wet for me.” Vinnie said, his voice laced with lust as Y/N let out another moan at his choice of words. One thing she picked up with dating him is he has a way of words during sex that made her head spin.

Y/N gasped as she felt him ease two fingers into her, curling and instantly hitting that sweet spot inside her. He knew her body and knew what she liked in order to get the reactions he wanted.

“Shit Vinnie.” She breathed out as she gripped his shoulders to steady herself. Vinnie worked his fingers in and out of her, gaining a steady pace as he pressed his thumb to her clit for added pleasure.

“Oh my god,” Y/N moaned out as her thighs clenched around his thighs as she felt her climax becoming more present.

“That’s it baby.” Vinnie softly spoke as he felt her clench around his fingers, a sign that told him she was close as he removed his fingers, earning him a loud gasp and a glare.

“Relax, relax.” He told her as her eyes began to narrow into daggers at the denial of her orgasm. Vinnie reached his hands in between them, undoing his belt as he slightly lifted her onto her knees to give him the ability to pull his pants down just enough so he is able to free his dick, guiding Y/N’s hips so she’s hovering over him.

“Remember, gotta be good and be quiet. Got it?” Vinnie asked, boring his eyes into hers as she nodded her head, a quiet “Yes” leaving her lips as she reached in between them and gripped his hard member, lining herself up before she began to sink down on his length.

Vinnie closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the back of the seat. Surely they had been gone long enough his friends probably knew what they were doing, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck baby,” Vinnie moaned out as he felt her inch her way down until her thighs were flush with his again.

Y/N moaned as she began to grind her hips forward, her eyes squeezing shut as she latched onto her bottom lip to keep herself from screaming out her boyfriend’s name.

“God Y/N, you’re..doing so good baby.” Y/N felt the warmth rush to her cheeks at Vinnie’s choice of words. She began to lift her hips up slowly before sinking back down, creating a steady bounce as Vinnie helped guide her hips.

“F-fuck Vinnie!” Y/N let out a high pitch moan, feeling herself clench and unclench around Vinnie as she felt her orgasm pooling back into her lower stomach.

“Yes Y/N…taking me so well.” Vinnie breathed out as her name danced off his tongue continuously as he felt himself chasing his own orgasm.

“I-I’m…close.” Y/N whined as she felt a slight stinging pain on the inside of her thighs from being in this position for too long, but the pain didn’t matter given the intense pleasure she was feeling.

“Come on baby…make a mess on my cock.” Vinnie spoke, his breathing uneven as he felt Y/N clench around him, squeezing him as her orgasm crashed into her, slowing down her movements as she felt her legs tingle. Vinnie gripped onto her hips and began to thrust up into her, the girl steadying herself by holding onto his shoulders as she felt overstimulated.

“Vinnie!” She squealed, trying to lean backwards without falling off him as she squirmed.

“You can take it. Come on sweet girl.” Vinnie spoke, keeping his grip firm as he held her still while he continued to thrust up into her as he felt his orgasm nearing.

Y/N felt her head spin as Vinnie kept his thrusts steady, feeling him twitch against her gummy walls as he reached his own orgasm, her name spilling out of his mouth mixed with profanities as she felt his thrusts slow to a stop.

Y/N let her head fall forward, her forehead resting on his shoulder above his heart as the two of them caught their breath, chests rising and falling in sync as their breathing evened out.

Vinnie leaned his head against Y/N’s planting a few small kisses into her hair as he felt her chest rising and falling in a steady pace. Vinnie reached over to Y/N’s small purse sitting next to her book and grabbed the small travel pack of tissues she always carried with her.

“Here baby, let’s clean you up.” Vinnie spoke softly, placing his hands on her waist as he sat her upright, and eased her off his lap.

Y/N whined at the feeling of Vinnie lifting her off him, the feeling sending a shock of overstimulation through her.

“I know, I know. You’re okay.” He cooed, reaching in between her legs with a tissue wiping up the milky white substance leaking out of her before fixing her underwear and skirt back around her. He then cleaned himself up and fixed his pants before hopping out of the golf cart and to the trash can a few feet away to discard the, now sticky, tissue.

“You okay love?” Vinnie asked once he got back on the golf cart, putting the golf cart into drive as he began to leave their secret spot and head back the way they came, hoping his friends were still around.

“Yeah.” Y/N responded, scooting closer to Vinnie as she wrapped her arms around his right one. She knew they wouldn’t be able to do their post-sex ritual of cuddling and watching a movie due to their location, but being close to her boyfriend was just enough for her.

They pulled up to the group of guys as they just finished playing the last hole.

“Hey fuckbirds!” Josh called out waving over-dramatically as Vinnie held up his middle finger in return.

“Bathroom my ass.” Reggie spoke as he brought Vinnie’s golf clubs over to the back of the cart.

“Shut it, Reginald.” Y/N mumbled, snuggling closer to Vinnie’s side as Reggie’s face scrunched up.

“Hey now I give them props they didn’t get caught.” Jett spoke up, shrugging his shoulders as Vinnie chuckled to himself.

“Okay okay. We get it. Can we leave now?” He spoke, eying the three other boys as Y/N nodded her head.

“Yeah. Maybe next time, fuck beforehand so we can finish the game.” Reggie spoke and Y/N sat up.

“I will beat your ass.” She spoke, eying the younger boy as Vinnie let out a laugh, planting a kiss to the top of her head.

[archangeldyke-all]

Reader who's been hired as more muscle for the gang? Maybe Sev is a bit jealous and/or is mean to reader, but the reader plays this off by flirting/teasing Sev. And ends up topping her.

Jfdjhggj I need more bottom Sev in my life lmao

bottom sevika is the loml actually

men and minors dni

you cannot, for the fucking life of you, figure out why sevika hates you so much.

you've been working for silco for about six months now, and it's been great. the best job of your life. sure, you're constantly committing crimes and dodging punches, but silco pays well, you get unlimited drinks at the last drop, and you've found a great group of friends in all his other goons.

well, all of the goons except sevika. she despises you, and you've got no fucking idea why. you've been nothing but pleasant and respectful toward her, but lately your patience is starting to wear thin.

"everyone was great at the dropoff today, boss. ran saved us half an hour with some quick thinking and knife skills, and deckard was surprisingly accurate with his math."

"that's what i like to hear. any issues?" silco asks from his desk, where he's puffing on a cigar. your stomach sinks-- you know what's coming.

sevika's silver eyes flick over to you, a small smirk on her lips while she speaks. "the fuckin' rookie forgot to fill the van with gas." she says.

you scowl and scoff. "i did not! that was your fucking assignment-- i was in charge of driving!"

sevika's smirk turns into a grin-- it seems like the only thing she likes more than bothering you is when you fight back. "are you seriously speaking to your superior in that tone right now?" she asks.

"my 'superior'?! as far as i'm aware you're just the bitch at work who makes my life fucking miserable."

all the air gets sucked out of the room, and behind you ran mutters something under their breath. "wrong move, rookie."

sevika's sneering at you, and you get exactly one second of warning before she's grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and is dragging you out of the office, a series of 'oooooh's following behind you.

"oh, great, now she's gonna fuckin' kill me before i can even get paid for today's work." you mutter to yourself as sevika drags you to her office, slamming the door shut behind her. she shoves you against the wall hard, and you grunt. "fuck! what is your fucking problem!?" you shout, shoving at sevika's shoulders. she barely budges.

"you talk too much for your own fuckin' good, y'know." she growls.

you sneer up at her. "and you'd be a lot more attractive if you learned to play nice."

sevika freezes, her anger melting into a shocked expression. you giggle a little-- it looks like you've finally found a way to fight back with sevika-- flirting. "sh-shut up." she mutters eventually. you snort.

"what's wrong, sev, got you tongue tied? that's all it takes, huh? a little compliment and you lose all that bite?" you tease.

sevika doesn't get angry like you expect her to, though. instead, she gulps, and her eyes get wide. you burst into giggles and sevika blinks, her shoulders hunching up. "shut the fuck up." she tries to sound scary, but her voice is too shaky for it to work.

"oh, shit!" you laugh. sevika hunches in on herself even more. "holy shit! you've got a crush on me!" you cackle, pointing an accusing finger at sevika. you watch in fascination as a blush creeps all the way up her neck to the tip of her ears.

"n-no i don't." she tries to deny. you're still reeling from your discovery, giddy and flabbergasted.

"you totally do! holy shit how did i not realize this before!? you're an emotionally constipated shithead, of course you don't know how to flirt! you probably didn't even realize, did you? just wanted to tug my pigtails and get my attention somehow huh?" sevika blinks at you owlishly-- more surprised than you've ever seen her before. you snort. "everything makes sense now." you chuckle to yourself.

"f-fuck off." sevika mutters eventually. you cackle and smack her on the shoulder.

"i've got you all worked out, hah! monday's gonna be a breeze." you laugh to yourself as you make to leave. sevika reaches out and spins you back around before you can open the door fully. you raise an eyebrow at her. "yes?"

sevika looks flustered and confused and slightly scared of you. you giggle a bit as you watch her try and fail to come up with anything to say, before rolling your eyes and giving her a little help.

"figure out a nicer way to flirt with me and you might be surprised, sev. until then, leave me the fuck alone unless you want me telling the gang why you've been picking on me so much." you say, then turn to leave again.

this time you make it halfway out the room before sevika's pulling you back in the room, slamming the door shut and shoving you against the wall again. for one horrible second you worry that you've read the whole situation wrong and you've only managed to enrage sevika even more with the suggestion that she might like you-- especially when sevika's hand wraps around your throat-- but then she freezes and takes a shaky breath. her fingers unwrap from your neck, slowly trailing up to cup your face.

"shut up." sevika whispers at what must be the cockiest, pleasantly surprised smile on your face. you just snort.

"make me." you demand.

sevika swoops forward to kiss you, and you giggle against her lips.

she's like putty in your hands, letting you guide her hands up and down your body, moaning against your lips. when you sink a hand into her hair, she shivers, and you manage to flip the two of you so you're pressing her against the door.

sevika's panting and staring at you with stars in her eyes. you snort at the sight-- endlessly intrigued with her now that you've figured her out. "oh, you're sweet aren't you?" you tease.

sevika tries to glare at you, but it falls flat with her eyes blown so wide they're black and her hands desperately clutching at your hips. "no, i'm not." she denies. you giggle and lean forward to start sucking a hickey against her throat-- the idea of sevika wearing your bite on her throat in front of the gang tomorrow making you dizzy.

"you are." you say. "bet you're fuckin' soaked for me, too, aren't you?"

sevika whimpers. you have to kiss her again to keep from laughing at her. she's pathetic. it's so fucking hot.

sevika grabs your hand and tries to shove it down her pants. you laugh, pulling away from her and grabbing her chin-- forcing her to look at you. "sevika, take a breath, babe." you request. she moans at the petname, and you laugh. "fuck, you're cute."

"fuck off!" sevika growls. you snort.

"i need you to use your words before i can take care of you, honey."

sevika shivers, her voice shaky as she speaks. "fuck... please fuck me."

you raise an eyebrow at her, and sevika actually stomps her foot. you laugh. "and why should i?" you ask.

sevika sputters, then cringes. you watch her mentally debate whether or not she's horny enough to communicate-- and you're surprised when she takes a deep breath, rolls her eyes, and then speaks. "b-because... because i've got a stupid fuckin' crush on you, okay!?" she shouts.

you grin and lean forward, kissing her cheek. "okay." you say simply, shoving your hand down the front of her pants and boxers. sevika whimpers, leaning forward to bury her face against your shoulder as you gasp. "oh, baby-- you're soaked." you coo.

she bites your shoulder. "would you just-- shut the fuck --ah!" she gasps at you sink two fingers inside her. "f-f-f-fuck!" she whines. you laugh.

"you better shut up or everyone's gonna know what's goin' on in here." you tease. sevika whimpers, and leans back-- shoving a fist in her mouth. you snort and lean forward, nudging her hand out of the way with your face. "move that. i got a better way to shut you up."

sevika's hand wraps around you, clawing at your back as you start to kiss her. it's uncoordinated and sloppy-- both of you too focused on her cunt to care much about your lips-- and it's the hottest kiss of your life. especially because sevika keeps whimpering into your mouth.

you manage to muffle most of her moans and groans, but when she cums, sevika leans back and shouts. "oh, oh, oh fuck!"

you giggle against her throat-- there's no explaining that away-- but you think sevika might've done it on purpose. you have a sneaking suspicion that sevika's going to be a possessive lover if the way she's clinging to you as she catches her breath is any clue. you don't mind.

"you're a fucking mess." you tease. sevika grunts and pinches your ass.

"shut up."

"that's rich coming from you. think the walls shook with how loud you were squealing."

"shut up!" sevika growls. you laugh.

"you don't scare me, baby. 'specially not when your cunt's still squeezing my fingers." you say, wiggling said fingers just a bit. sevika growls and bites your shoulder again, and you giggle. "are you gonna go back to bein' a bitch to me now or have we moved past that?" you ask.

sevika huffs and picks her head up, peeking up at you with puppy eyes. "i'm... sorry." she mutters. you smirk, raising an eyebrow at her, and sevika groans and straightens up. "i am!" she whines. "i just-- y'know." she says, waving her hand at you. you giggle.

"i do know." you say, nodding. "you're a mess."

sevika huffs. "yeah, basically."

"it's okay, sev. you're a hot mess." you tease. she snorts.

"i can't believe i like you." she groans. you just laugh. sevika huffs and you pull your hand out of her pants and straighten her out a bit. you make to leave and sevika squeaks. "wait!" you pause in the doorway, and sevika gulps, cringes, and groans. "fuck. fuck! fuck, i don't... just-- what're you doing tonight?" she asks.

something inside you flutters and you shrug. "you tell me."

sevika smiles a bit, her eyes darting away from you as she reaches up to rub the back of her neck. "...i won a shitload of money in cards last night... i could take us up to the promenade?" she asks. you grin.

"pullin' out all the stops, huh?" you ask. she shrugs.

"'s an apology."

"i like it. you've got yourself a date, sev."

sevika grins.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[kpopscruggles]

can I request ab jaemin/haechan fucking you in the bed (kinda rough) while his friends are out there? one of them even complained that he might also get off to the sound of you two. he makes you feel so good that you struggled to keep your mouth shut, but your man was playfully teasing you and telling you to just let the moan out as loud as you could because he loves it. after all, he takes care of you so gently that it becomes a reason why you always listen to him like the good girl you are.

thank you!!

Hope you enjoy!! MWAH

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

You nor Jaemin had no problem with admitting there was a high sex drive, and it solved a lot of issues you two sometimes had. Sex was just a way for you two to grow, trusting more, loving more, understanding more. With it was also easy to just get riled up and want sex, Jaemin thought he had reached peak when he got jealous seeing you talk to Haechan so casually last month but no, this was new. You had just finished a late-night dinner, walking to his car down the block after also shopping at the few shopping centers before they closed.  

Jaemin watched as you admired the cute chocolate colored jacket you had just got, only few inches ahead of him as he held the bags and looked at the group chat about how haechan complained. You were too loud? Haechan couldn’t get sleep? Meanwhile the others laughed but Jaemin grew so happy he couldn’t, He knew Haechan had a soft spot for you and in that dorm, it was just a competition between the two of assorting that bit of dominance, Jaemin was in the lead, and he was going to stay in the lead.  

Opening the passenger door, he lets you sit before getting things situated and driving back. He turned to see your eyes glazed on the lights of the city, soon seeing the pier to the beach. You looked so fucking sexy to him, placing his hand on your inner thigh, and giving a small squeeze he watched you glance at him with a smile “Something holding you up?” He tensed at your words before biting his bottom lip and nodding “I can see it through that thin ass dress, the baby blue set? Wait till we get home.  

When you got home everyone was asleep, which was perfect. Haechan’s room was right next to his, his headboard also in the same position as Haechan’s. Laying you on the bed it was too easy to peel your clothes and the pretty set gone to reveal you. Your hardened nipples, Thighs rubbing together only to soon peel apart to show that wet cunt. That’s all it took, it was like Jaemin was going to lose it, which he was. HIs clothes soon removed before watching you bury your head in the pillows, hands and knees, ass up. A chuckle leaving him “No, no baby, lay on your back.”  

His cock stretching your cunt slightly but bottoming out into you was so easy. Your legs wrapped round his waist only for him to put them on his shoulders. Pulling away only to slam back into you he watched your breath hitch but that wasn't enough for him. His thrust turned into pounds, his hands on your breasts gripping them tight, the headboard hitting against the wall, all he needed was you, he needed to hear you. “Common baby~ Don't be shy. I love to hear you....” You kept your moans low, His face only inches from yours as he kept his rough pace “Cmon~ be a good girl for me~ Moan for me baby, my sweet girl..” 

A smirk leaving his lips immediately after he could hear your moans completely. Your back arching makes Jaemin smirk. Feeling your gushing cunt take every inch he could give you. If Haechan wasn't awake..., who was he kidding, he would have been awake. This only made him go harder, knowing haechan was listening, pumping himself wishing he could fuck your creamy cunt. This sent Jaemin to the edge, he knew he was so close to filling you deep with his cum. Only seconds went by for you to cover his cock in your release, your gummy walls Coating him, he had it. Pushing in deep he felt his cock twitch before filling you with every drop. Your moans echoing the bedroom with each spurt of cum he could give. Jaemin would never admit it to you, but he knew that he definitely established to Haechan that you were his.  

[xoxo-sarah]

Easy Street

(Gif by @amazingmaeve)

↝a/n: not completely accurate but I didn't feel like rewatching the episode rn. Also didn't have a good title for this...Enjoy <3

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

↝warning: based on season 7 episode 8, after Daryl escapes the sanctuary, easy street mentioned, soft/ sad Daryl, reverse comfort, Daryl not use to comfort, bathing, getting underdressed (Innocently / non-suggestive), angst, fluff idk, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 7.18.24

Daryl Dixon Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Feeling the dirt under your fingernails, you continued to pluck the vegetables from the garden of Hilltop. Ever since the night your group was forced on their knees to endure your friends getting murdered, it wasn't the same. You felt hollow. Daryl getting taken only added to that feeling. But you tried not to think of him much, it only made everything worse. Staying in Hilltop with Maggie was the safest option. You had someone to look after, something to do to not go out looking for Daryl yourself. Maybe even try to kill Negan with your own hands. Hearing a commotion coming from the gate, you stood, dusting your hands off on your pants as you went.

Looking up, you saw Daryl stumbled off of the motorcycle that wasn't familiar with Jesus by his side, being greeted by Maggie. His eyes were downcast, trying to hide the vulnerability that threatened to spill over. You watched from a distance, your heart aching for him. Blinking back the surprise, you approached slowly, not wanting to startle him.

Daryl looked up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. Whatever he endured during the sanctuary shown in the bags under his eyes, the glaze in his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.

Feeling your arms gently wrap themselves around his middle, he was hesitant to reciprocate- as if you were the one that had been through everything. Your hug was the first real comfort he'd felt in a long time, and he clung to it, fighting back tears.

Looking up at his face from up close, you could see the grime, dirt, and blood coating him. You figured you were the same. Busying yourself with gardening and killing any walkers you see outside the walls was therapeutic, well, as much as it could be. It got your mind off of the issues at hand for a minute or two.

Pulling away, you grabbed his hand, nodding at Maggie and Jesus, before dragging him with you.

Silently, Daryl let you lead him to a small trailer in the corner, and to the even smaller bathroom. He watched as you began running the water, pushing his hair away from his sticky forehead. There was a mixture of gratitude and hesitation in his gaze, as you caught it.

Here you were, running a bath for him after you, yourself, had the posture to say you needed warmth to seep onto your bones just as much as him. But you didn't say a word, putting his discomfort as a higher priority.

The picture of you, kneeled down on the rocks and dirt entered his mind. Your eyes that, no matter how hard you tried to mask it, showed how scared you were. The shellshock you went through when Lucille struck down the first time. The tears that cascaded down your cheeks when Daryl had stood, anger getting the best of him. The sob that escaped your lips when he was dragged to the back of a car and carried away. He couldn't imagine how you felt when he was away.

He would listen to Easy Street a thousand times over if it meant that you would never have to go through anything of that sort ever again.

After standing in silence, watching his brain wonder, you stepped forward, hands tugging at his dirty clothes. Gently, you helped him peel his shirt from his body, along with every other article of clothing.

As you kneeled beside the tub, you carefully washed away the grime and blood. You began speaking in soothing tones, "Wanna talk about it?" You knew the answer. He didn't like talking about stuff like that, stuff that happens to him, stuff that hurts him deep down. That just wasn't him, as much as he wanted to be, for you, it seemed impossible to open up like that. To be vulnerable. Shaking his head, he let the tension in his shoulders slowly ease as he relaxed under your care. He wasn't going to tell you the hell he went through, the things he saw. He certainly wasn't going to tell you that you were the only thing on his mind while he was kept in the stale building, in the cold little cell.

Not much else was said, only your humming and Daryl's thoughts swimming in his head.

Once he was clean, you helped him get dressed, tracing at the scars on his back, reminders of all he's been through. He was strong, you made sure he knew it. He hopes you know you're just as strong, if not stronger, than him. Words died on his tongue when he looked down at you taking care of him. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, "Thanks." A simple tight-lipped smile let him know that you knew that one word has a thousand confessions behind it. He wasn't the best at speaking his feelings but he didn't have to be with you. You just knew.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— to tame a demon

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: none

summary: a new mid-semester arrival in the face of the gloomy addams girl meets the resident demonic student who's all witty remarks and tusked grins, and something inhumane draws her in

word count: 4.8k

"There are many flavors of outcasts here," Enid began, hands behind her back as she guided Wednesday through the yard, "but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners, and Scales," she counted, pointing to the table where a group of neat-looking students sat, sipping at some bottled red liquid, "Those are the Fangs, a.k.a, vampires. Some of them have literally been here for decades."

The girl moved on, and Wednesday's unimpressed glare flicked to another group of students.

"That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, a.k.a, werewolves. Like me!”

The fuzzy-haired teens sitting at the table howled at the mention, greeting their kin.

"Oh, you see that girl? That's (Y/n) (L/n). She's not a werewolf, but a close thing. An oni demon.”

The young woman was sitting at the table next to the Furs, hitting her werewolf friend in the shoulder to get him to stop with the loud noise. She didn't really stand out — the girl wore a set of the standard issued uniform, her jacket and a few top buttons of her shirt unbuttoned. But one thing about her appearance really did catch Wednesday's eye — her canines, both top and bottom, crooked at the ends and big enough to protrude from a small slit between her lips. Despite the effect they had on her mouth, the tusks didn't make her face look inhumane, and, as the demon looked up to wave at Enid, Wednesday noticed a pair of snake-like slits in her (e/c) scleras.

The ravenette caught herself thinking of how pretty those eyes were.

"A close thing?" She wondered out loud, making a show of gazing somewhere away from the face of the oni girl, as if she was asking the question out of sheer curiosity.

"Yeah, well, she doesn't exactly "wolf out", per se. Think of her as... a girl with unresolved anger issues who lets her inner demons out every Blood Moon. So like, basically all of us," the blonde said, giggling at her own joke, "Dunno if it affects her looks, though... No one has ever seen (Y/n) during one of her demon furies."

Wednesday looked back at the oni, catching sight of the girl talking with her friends, a small grin on her face as she listened to their energetic rambles with amusement.

What an interesting creature.

Wednesday wasn't extremely enthusiastic about botany lessons. Thanks to her mother, she was practically an expert in the field of carnivorous plants. But skipping just wasn't her style, and she walked into the classroom, hoping the disinterest she had in the subject was clear on her pale face.

As the girl looked around the class to find herself a seat, her eyes quickly traveled above the heads of her classmates. She noticed Enid next to Yoko, so sitting with a person she was at least a bit acquainted with was off limits. Wednesday felt far from sad about the fact - having to neighbor with the hyperactive blonde in the dorms was enough excitement in her life.

Her gaze then suddenly fell on the two half-empty desks in the second row. One of the vacant seats was right next to Xavier, and mulling her decision over she realised she would prefer to sit next to a wolfed-out Enid rather than the miserable artist. Quickly making up her mind, Wednesday walked up to the other desk, and felt Xavier's gaze on the back of her head as she sat down, taking her backpack off to place it at her feet. She still had a few minutes before the class started, she could indulge in some macabre reminiscings of hers before the actual torture began.

"Oh. Hey," the gloomy girl heard a voice call out on her right, and turned to look up at her neighbor. Her breath hitched as she realised it was the oni girl, her cheek leaning against her fist as she smiled at Wednesday lazily, her top lip rising to her gums slightly to bare the intimidating tusks. If she was trying to scare Wednesday away, it certainly didn't work, "You're Wednesday, right? Enid wasn't exactly secretive about her new sombre roommate. I was hoping I'd get a chance to meet you."

The girl offered a clawed hand as a greeting, "I'm (Y/n)."

Wednesday took a moment to look the demon over. Her (h/c) hair was put up in a messy ponytail, some of the locks falling in front of her pointed ears, framing her face, and her (e/c) cat-like eyes were staring down at Wednesday with a playful glint. She was wearing the same uniform as the rest of the class, and the undone buttons exposed the top of the girl's collarbones.

What an annoying habit. Didn't she know what formal dress code was?

“Huh. The teeth don't seem to affect your speech, despite their uncomfortable positioning,” the ravenette noted, shaking the taller girl’s outstretched hand, finding it rather warm in contrast to her own dead-cold skin. If the demon found the temperature or the rather rude comment off-putting, she didn’t show it, “I hope I didn’t intrude.”

“No, no, you’re good,” (Y/n) reassured, leaning her elbow back against the seat, “And those? Yeah, I’m not an orc, you know. You should see how big they get when I... on second thought, you probably shouldn't." She stopped her rant bashfully, cheeks warming slightly at the realization of a rather sensitive topic not being suitable when meeting someone new.

"Not a pretty sight?"

"Outrageous."

"Hm.” Wednesday looked away from the other girl’s face, staring at the board in front of the class.

“I think I'd love to see."

That made (Y/n) chuckle, “You do seem like the type to enjoy outrageous and hideous things.”

Their conversation came to an end when Ms. Thornhill entered the classroom, holding a big pot in her gloved hands, and both girls turned their attention to the teacher.

(Y/n) had to admit that hers had seemed to switch to her new intriguing neighbor a few times. She watched Wednesday from the corner of her eye, taking in the girl’s frigid expression as she listened to the lecture without any interest, and found it hard to refocus on the lesson again.

It was the early hours of morning as Wednesday walked to the dining hall, completely devoid of any appetite but having nothing to do in this ungodly time. Most of the students were still asleep, and the halls were empty, letting the gloomy girl enjoy her solitude, her platformed shoes the only sound accompanying her.

Seemingly enjoying the peacefulness too much, she didn’t notice another person coming down from the other side of the stairs, and bumped into them, the collision powerful enough to tear her out of her thoughts.

Ready to put the culprit into the hospital for the rest of the school year, Wednesday looked up, and her emotionless gaze met the (e/c) - colored one.

“Good morning, Wednesday. Up to tackle people to their deaths so early?” (Y/n) chuckled, straightening her jacket before looking the smaller girl up and down, “You alright?”

“Peachy.” Wednesday deadpanned and turned around without another word, continuing on her path to the cafeteria. Much to her disappointment, she heard the other girl follow her, catching up to her smaller strides with ease.

“Were you walking to breakfast too? What a coincidence. A perfect morning for an early snack, I’ve been feeling hungry myself.”

Wednesday didn’t answer, and it was silent again, for which the ravenette was thankful. She could even say she enjoyed walking in the presence of the demon, as long as the latter kept her snarky toothy mouth shut.

"So, do you prefer your human flesh rare or straight from the limb?" The smaller girl asked suddenly without looking at her companion.

"Why, you got some to share?" (Y/n) chuckled, "Nah. I'm more of an animal meat kinda girl. Some of my ancient ancestors did have their man-eating tendencies, but they didn't exactly wear uniforms or went to school either."

"Sounds about right. Otherwise Nevermore would be an all-you-can-eat restaurant for you. Maybe even the whole Jericho town."

The oni laughed at the statement, a loud rough guffaw that almost made Wednesday’s ears bleed. Except it didn’t.

Wednesday found herself standing in the center of the dorm of her demon friend, hands dutifully by her sides as she looked around, catching the smallest details of (Y/n)’s lair. Her bed was made neatly, and some of her notebooks and papers seemed to had been hastily put in a messy pile on her desk, an obvious last-minute measure to make her working space look presentable.

Before she left to get the textbooks she had forgotten at Yoko’s the last time she had a sleepover with the vampire, the girl pulled up a stool to the desk, inviting the other girl to sit down and make herself comfortable, then, before Wednesday could utter a single world, sputtered some nonsense about her awful hospitality and gestured at her own, admittedly much bigger and softer chair, kicked the stool away, and left the room as fast as she could, promising to be back in a flash.

The girls had agreed on studying for the upcoming exam period, and, considering Wednesday was in no need of preparation, let alone tutoring, she made it the most heartfelt gesture to help the (h/c) – haired demon not fail any subjects. The ravenette told herself that she had no choice, that the oni wouldn’t stop whining and pestering her about how much work there was to be done and how little time she had left, but in reality (Y/n) had to only ask once.

Wednesday agreed, but not without grumbling about how annoying and tiresome the demon’s presence was.

Addams moved to take off her backpack and placed it on the desk, taking some books out of it before she took a seat in (Y/n)’s chair. She looked up at the opposite wall, examining the different posters and trinkets hanging on it. A small bonsai tree was sitting on the table that stood against the wall, obviously tended to caringly every single day, if the flourishing green leaves were anything to go by.

Noticing a much more imposing decoration, the girl stood up to get closer to a stand where two samurai swords were displayed in a matching daisho set, a katana and a smaller wakizashi sword. The sayas were of black waxed wood, golden kashiraes mounting both in peculiar bows. Wednesday moved to take a closer look, noticing a face of an oni demon neatly engraved into the scabbard of the katana.

"Something caught your eye?"

Wednesday turned around and away from the sword stand to look at the oni who had managed to sneak up on the other girl, but didn't scare her in the slightest.

"It's nice craftsmanship." Wednesday deadpanned, staring up at her.

(Y/n) looked somewhat pleased with the comment.

"I'm glad you think so," her slitted gaze moved from Wednesday's face to the kake, and the (h/c) - haired girl sighed, her hands behind her back and her shoulders tense, "It's been a while since I've last touched the blade. Don't exactly have a reason to train right now. Peaceful times." She said, almost with a hint of sorrow.

"Why didn't you join the fencing club?"

"Because I deem my swordsmanship a resemblance of my bloodline's ancient traditions, not a sport or a hobby." She answered firmly, but her tone held no offence.

"Strange. I'd see it as an opportunity to be undefeatable at something."

And to outdo Bianca again, no less. What a pleasurable thought.

Wednesday watched the other girl chuckle sheepishly and move her hand up to scratch at the back of her head.

"Well... My thrusting speed has been slacking lately. I'm more into powerful crushing slashes, you know."

"Hm." Wednesday seemed lost in thought, her gaze distant, before she turned to the taller girl again, "You and I should fence sometime. To keep you in shape."

The demon looked taken aback, both at the proposal and the intensity of the ravenette's gaze that wasn't there before. Then she smiled, her eyes warm.

"That'd be an honor. And you know I how I feel about that thing."

Wednesday stared up at the top shelf, aggravated, as if the glare adorning her face would make the book budge and fall into her hands.

She was at the library, looking for the Nightshades book, or anything that would lead her a step closer to the mysterious society. She wished she had brought Thing along. Tall bookcases wouldn't be a problem for him.

Frowning deeper, the ravenette tried to raise her hand a bit higher and jumped, the tips of her fingers barely grazing the spine of the book she assumed was the one she was looking for. She huffed, crossing her hands on her chest and looking around the room for some stool or a ladder.

"Wednesday, good evening. Up to some late night reading?"

Wednesday looked up at the entrance of the library to see (Y/n) going down the stairs, a smirk on her toothy lips as she observed the scene in front of her.

"Yes, I am, actually."

"Which one do you need? I'll get it for you."

Wednesday pouted for a few seconds, then pointed at the top shelf where the dark - purple book was sitting, taunting her.

The demon raised her hand to reach for the book, "Honestly, how are you so tiny?"

"(Y/n), I'm at a perfect height for breaking your kneecaps. I won't hesitate."

"Mhm, I'm sure you won't," grabbing the book, the taller girl took it off the shelf, but didn't hurry to hand it over to Wednesday, "Now, what's the magic word?"

"I don't have time for -"

"Wrong, Addams. Try again." The oni grinned, clearly enjoying herself.

Wednesday glared at the girl, her gaze murderous, but after a few moments she complied.

"Would you give me the book, (Y/n). Please."

"There, was that so hard?" (Y/n) pressed the book into the ravenette's hands, and the shorter girl quickly looked over the cover, exasperated when she realised it wasn't the one she was looking for, "Are you up to a research or something? Do you need an extra pair of hands, maybe?"

"Why would you want to help me?"

"Isn’t that what friends are for? And maybe it's the lack of anything better to do."

"You're such a slacker. I have no idea how you're still in this school," She put the book on the first shelf she could reach for, then turned around and headed for the exit, "Let's go."

The (h/c) - haired demon shook her head with a small smile before moving to follow the busy girl.

"I want to punch Xavier in the face," (Y/n) grumbled, her hands folded on her chest, a brush covered in yellow paint sticking in between her clawed fingers as she stared daggers at the pair of young people a few feet away from her.

"Huh? Why?" Enid looked up from the boat she was painting on, crouched on the ground, confused at her friend's sudden violent statement.

"Because he's a creep and he has a stupid face with that pitiful look of his." The oni muttered, furrowing her brows as she watched the young man bother Wednesday, the ravenette's expression and body language doing little to tell whether she was irritated by his presence, which pissed (Y/n) off even more.

Enid followed her gaze and smirked when she realised what the source of the demon's sour mood was, "If you think he's giving her a hard time, why don't you come over and talk to him?"

"I'm pretty sure Wednesday isn't the type to be sly and subtle when someone's vexing her." The oni huffed in reply.

"Well, doesn't that mean that... On second thought, I shouldn't be the one to judge the situation," the werewolf quickly stopped herself, noticing (Y/n)'s scowl now directed at her, turning away to continue painting the boat nervously.

The (h/c) - haired girl sighed, "You're right, actually. Maybe that means she doesn't mind his company. Or maybe she doesn't want to kill a guy in broad daylight," the brush the demon was holding finally snapped under the pressure of her grip, and she gnashed her teeth, seething, "I could."

"That's the third brush today, (Y/n)," Yoko chided from Enid's side, clearly tired of the oni's behavior.

"Sorry," (Y/n) turned her gaze away from the scene she was watching, her eyes like that of a kicked puppy's as she sat on her knees next to the vampire, taking a new brush from her outstretched hand, "Thanks."

Yoko hummed and resumed painting, "You should really talk to her, you know. Before it's too late and she's snatched from under your nose."

"Yoko's right. You jealously watching her like a hawk won't do either of you good. It's kinda weird that Wednesday herself hasn't noticed the heart-eyes you constantly have whenever she's around."

The demon grunted, trying to busy herself with lining out a yellow cat eye on the side of the boat.

"Seriously, (Y/n). Tell her. What's the worst that could happen? You don't seem like the type to be afraid of rejection," Enid grinned at her friend, winking, "Personally, I'm rooting for you. I’m sure you can make my roomie happy, well, to an extent, you know.”

Except the demon was afraid of rejection her whole life. And considering Wednesday wasn't the type to give any signals, (Y/n) wasn't sure where she and the gloomy girl stood.

She tolerated her presence, at least. That was a start. But she seemed to tolerate Xavier’s, too. God, what an enigma Wednesday Addams was.

The Rave'N Dance was at its peak. The music was loud, and most of the students had long since hit the dance floor, enjoying their time in groups and pairs.

Wednesday herself was feeling rather out of breath, the collar of her black vintage dress clinging to her neck uncomfortably as she stepped into a closed-off room to escape the noise of the party for a bit.

She was alone as she sat down on one of the couches, a sigh of relief escaping her mouth as she felt the pressure leave her sore feet.

Well, despite the abruptness of it all, Wednesday would lie if she said she wasn't having at least a bit of fun.

“Hey.”

Wednesday looked up to see (Y/n) come into the room, moving the blinds out of her way carefully. She smiled at the smaller girl, and the ravenette realised she was seeing the oni for the first time that evening.

The demon was wearing a black and white haori over a crisp white high-collared blouse paired with black hakama pants, and the combination of formal wear in different styles made the girl look very dapper. She had winged eyeliner on her face, (f/c) eyeshadow framing her lids gorgeously, and her lipstick was smudged on her canines just a bit, no doubt from all the talking and drinking the oni had done throughout the evening.

(Y/n) walked over to take a sit next to the smaller girl, letting her back slump over the couch with a grunt.

“Out of your notorious inhumane stamina already?” Wednesday asked teasingly.

“Uh-huh. Thought the girls were gonna dance me to death. I needed a breather,” the oni opened her eyes and straightened in her seat, looking around the small closed-off space, “Where’s your date?”

“You could say I needed a breather too. These shoes are killing me, and not in an enjoyable way.”

The demon hummed, her eyes moving from Wednesday’s legs up her face. Their gazes met, and (Y/n)’s didn’t falter.

“You look deadly beautiful yourself, Wednesday. Very much so.” She muttered quietly with gentle admiration, and Wednesday felt her stomach flip.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from you this whole evening, was what the demon wanted to say. I wish I was the one to share the dance with you, wish I could tell you how much I adore you, and how badly I want to hold you close, to feel your touch. Me, not anyone else.

The girl averted her gaze again, moving to stand up, "Gotta go before they think I've ditched them. No patience with the vampires. Ironic, huh?" She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, and went to the exit, looking back at Wednesday one last time.

"Have a good night, Addams."

"Is there something on your mind? You've been very quiet for the past hour, I've gotten a lot done. It's getting unnerving."

(Y/n) smiled slightly, huffing out a laugh through her nose, her elbows resting on the stone railing of the balcony as she turned her head to look at the ravenette, "Nothing much. Just... things, I guess."

"Are they bothering you?"

Never. When I'm thinking of you, it's never a bother.

"I think I'm in love with you, Wednesday."

For the first time ever, (Y/n) saw the gloomy girl get caught off guard. Her eyes were wide open, but she didn't say anything. Her gaze traveled up to the face of the demon girl, and she stared at her, unblinking, like a hunting cat expecting a sudden attack.

"You'll get over it."

"You think so?" (Y/n) chuckled, looking out at the dark scenery in front of her, "I never thought I'd get to say that you might be wrong."

It was silent between them again. Wednesday seemed to be lost in thought as she observed the side profile of the taller girl, noting all her features lit by the dim moonlight.

"When have you started to feel this way?" She asked at last, as if a doctor examining her sick patient.

"A while ago, I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I was afraid of... how you'd react. And I didn't want to overwhelm you. You seem to have a different type of obsession going on." (Y/n) looked at Wednesday, eyes gleaming with honesty.

"I hate you." Wednesday deadpanned, unconsciously moving closer to the taller girl.

"Really? Why?"

"I hate the way you make me feel. Your mere presence is what constantly overwhelms me."

Barely any inches were left between them as their gazes met, electicity going through the sudden connection.

"Do you want to stop feeling this way?" The oni whispered, barely audible through her heart thumping in her ears.

"No."

(Y/n) froze, and Wednesday leaned forward on her tip toes to meet her, pressing her plush lips against the demon's. The kiss was soft and warm, and (Y/n)’s stomach was instantly swarmed with butterflies, the heaviness leaving her shoulders. She felt the hand of the smaller girl move closer to hers, and Wednesday pressed a finger on top of her palm gently, before the cold touch engulfed the whole hand of the oni as their fingers entwined.

“It’s been an hour already, Wednesday.”

“I know.”

“It’s getting late. We should get to bed.”

“Do as you wish, (Y/n). I’m not finished yet. Good night.”

The demon groaned at the words, standing up from the bed to walk over to the smaller female where she was typing away, the clicking sounds almost enough to lull (Y/n) to sleep. But she couldn’t, not without the presence of the other girl.

Draping herself over Wednesday’s shoulders, she watched the typerwriter print the letters at a steady pace, Wednesday’s brows furrowed in focus.

“Come on,” the oni whined quietly, “This can wait until tomorrow. You have to rest.”

“(Y/n), I’ll suplex you out the window if you don’t stop bugging me.”

(Y/n) sighed, burying her face in the smaller girl’s shoulder, “You’re so mean. You know I can’t sleep without you.”

The typing paused, and Wendesday turned to face the demon who was still mumbling something into the fabric of her sweater, blunt tusks scratching at the clothed shoulder as her mouth moved. The shorter girl exhaled tiredly before turning back to the typewriter, finishing her last sentence and taking the paper out before putting it into a neat stack next to the device. Then she turned to (Y/n) again to press a light kiss on top of her head.

“Fine, you big baby. Let’s go to bed.”

Raising her head, the demon smiled, straightening her back and taking Wednesday by the hand, pulling her up and to the bed they shared now that (Y/n) was allowed to sleep next to Wednesday instead of the hardwood floor. It was a long process, but the ravenette was able to get used to the presence of the other girl, comfortable enough to push her boundaries to an extent.

“Want me to do your hair?”

Wednesday nodded, and (Y/n) sat down on the bed, taking a black brush from the nightstand before motioning for the smaller girl to sit between her legs. When they were situated comfortably, the demon started to unbraid Wednesday’s dark hair, careful not to tangle her claws in the tresses, before brushing it gently. Wednesday closed her eyes at the feeling of the oni’s hands in her hair, goosebumps raising up her neck as she leaned back into the bigger girl’s body.

This was nice. She could get used to this.

Skipping was never Wednesday's style. She was a responsible student, dutifully attending every single class and never missing on her extracurricular activities. Not like she'd ever want to, anyway. She liked spending time with the bees, even if the girl herself would never admit that.

So what was Wednesday doing, away from her class during school time, hidden inside a barely lit broom closet as she pressed her mouth against the resident demon's, kissing her feverishly and licking over her tusks?

Oh, if only her parents could see her right now. They'd probably be ecstatic.

"Fuck, Wednesday," (Y/n) sighed against the smaller girl's mouth, hands on her waist as she pressed the ravenette closer to herself, wanting to leave no space in between them.

"Make no sound," Wednesday scolded the (h/c) - haired girl, biting at her lower lip and sliding down to place a chaste kiss along her jawline, "We don't want to get caught, now do we?"

The only response she got was a quiet whine, and she smiled against (Y/n)'s neck, pressing a few kisses there, right by the jugular, and feeling her pulse quicken under the cold touch, the demon's clawed fingers digging sharply into her hips.

The ravenette moved away, and the taller girl breathed in sharp sighs through her mouth, skin tingling and positively on fire.

Wednesday kissed her again, just for the lovesick look in her eyes.

"I'm afraid we have to go before someone notices our absence and thinks I've kidnapped you to torture for fun."

The oni girl huffed, running her hand through her (h/c) hair both to fix it and to relieve the tension that was clearly still there, her other hand resting on Wednesday's waist, rubbing her thumb against the cloth of her uniform affectionately.

"You're such a tease," she sighed, lowering her face a bit, slitted eyes glowing and hopeful, "One last time?"

Wednesday pressed her palm against (Y/n)'s cheek and got on her tip toes to gently kiss the other, lingering there before pulling away completely, leaving a small but noticeable mark of her dark lipstick color.

"There. Let's go."

The oni grinned, cheeks still red, and Wednesday couldn't fight the warm feeling bubbling in her stomach at the way the taller girl looked at her.

"Let's hope Ms. Thornhill doesn't get too mad," (Y/n) chuckled, moving to open the door of the closet, letting some bright light in through a small slit. Then she closed it with a sharp twist of her arm, eyes wide and panicked.

"Wednesday, we've skipped the whole period here."

"And?" The ravenette deadpanned.

"The class is over!"

"And?"

"What do you think! The halls are filled with people right now. There's no way in hell we're getting out of here unnoticed."

"Why would we need to do that?"

The demon girl tore her gaze away from the door, looking down at Wednesday as if she was mad, making the ravenette roll her eyes.

"You're stupid. Come on."

Grabbing (Y/n)'s hand, she opened the door and led the girl forward, tugging when she felt resistance and heard the oni groan.

"I can't believe you sometimes," (Y/n) muttered, embarrassed.

"For someone who seems to always act so cocky and aloof, you care too much about what others think. Besides," she turned around to glance at the frustrated girl, a small smirk on her lips, "the color looks good on you."

(Y/n) didn't answer, too busy avoiding the amused stares of her fellow students passing by.

Oh, they were certainly not going to let her live.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

did you know that…

while autism functioning labels never really had set diagnosable descriptions like autism levels & autism itself in DSM, so different clinicians may have different definitions, but—

did you know that for many of them (more than you imagine, even now), what different between high functioning & low functioning is just. intellectual disability?

way they use is:

high functioning autism = autism without intellectual disability

low functioning autism = autism with intellectual disability

(so back in asperger’s vs autistic disorder diagnosis days, asperger’s & high functioning autism/HFA & low functioning autism actually all mean slightly different things)

.

yes, one thing tumblr autism community tend get wrong is: unlike autism ADHD learning disabilities, intellectual disability (as single disorder) *directly* affect *everything* about person. from conceptual/cognitive/thinking/learning/etc to social to daily living & adaptive functioning to everything you can think of. and autism community tend downplay ID & ignore autistics with ID. so someone with even mild intellectual disability can be quite different than someone with similar presentation of autism but without ID. however—

intellectual disability being only criteria for medical label, that follow you n impact you for rest of life, that claim to describe how much you overall “function” (want everyone imagine be told by everyone that you function lowly). is wrong.

am nonverbal. have high support needs & need 24/7 someone close by. diagnosed with autism that border level 2 & 3. have many severe symptoms, very impaired theory of mind & often do not even understand people exist & have own different thought n feelings that not like my own, have little to no interest in social, cannot mask n is visibly autistic, have behavioral issues, motor skill lower than bottom 1% of age group, etc etc

& another autistic with maybe mild ID, who with support & hard work is living more independently, who struggles but can speak by mouth, who have job, who with right guidance have enough social skills to keep some good in person friends

am would be called high functioning. n second person, low functioning. all because they have ID while me, don’t.

so, me get “very fortunate (sarcasm)” experience of be grouped in category n be black sheep n be expected assumed able to & be questioned why can’t do things other “high functioning” autistics can do, because they have lower support needs than me & lower autism levels than me. while second person get assumed they not able do things it too dangerous too risky & others be shocked about them do every small thing, simply because they have ID & thus must be low functioning, not because they actually cannot do it.

though. even if there someone like me but have ID. still don’t think anyone should be told they so terrible at functioning they “function lowly.”

diagnoses can be important & having comorbid disorder especially something as general as ID can mean different things compare to someone without that comorbid disorder. but language about person should be individualized based on each person, not something general that only look at diagnoses n not the person. and, that language need be actual respectful about person, because that who we are: people. even if some of us have a LOT of struggles where we physically depend on other people 24/7.

(n everytime talk about autism functioning labels, feel need to say: forcibly labeling someone with functioning labels problematic because everything just said. not because all autistics same & by same, mean verbal low support needs)

[hwaightme]

Timezone

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🎸 pairing: rockstar!fiance!seonghwa x gn!reader 🎸 genre: fluff, long distance angst, established long-term relationship 🎸 summary: "Only thing that keeps us apart // Is a different timezone" - TIMEZONE by Måneskin; during a long tour, the only thing seonghwa wants is to come home to you, and to hold you in his arms 🎸 wordcount: 3.2k total 🎸 warnings/tags: not edited, language, songfic, enamoured simping activated, seonghwa misses you intensely, he is one step away from swimming to you, seonghwa has tattoos and lip piercings, lyricist producer musician rock singer hwa good luck to us all, words of endearment/pet names (baby, angel... etc) 🎸 taglist: at the bottom of the hcs 🎸 a/n: this is for @starrysvn the most wonderful, beautiful soul. thank you for being who you are, ilysm. and may this small manifestation of our shared delulus bring some sunshine~

There was no salvation for a heart that was on the verge of breaking. No call could replace the sensation of a lover’s whisper, no video could replace the feeling of skin against skin nor of a warm and reassuring embrace. The myriad of details that made you who you were seemed to be slipping through Seonghwa’s fingers, and he was a desperate man drowning in quicksand of responsibility and routine.

Every chord was a strike of the coldest and sharpest blade on his tired body, and the sweat trickling down his face as he yelled his emotions to thousands masked the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was unbelievable, how in the faces of millions the only features he could ever make out were those that resembled yours. In every cheer he could only hear you, how you could make his name sound like magic. The lyrics – a simple selection of syllables, words, always fell short of describing how he felt, and every song appeared trivial compared to the fire in his heart, to your existence in his life.

Too many miles separated you, and he would be damned if he were to say that he was fine with it. This was the unbelievable curse of his work. An artist, a singer, a musical innovator who had evolved from being in a group of hoodlums with a dream to being in a star-studded collective, a band that was paving the way for many others and inspiring loyal and new fans to reach the stars with them. But where was his star? Even when surrounded by the speakers, side by side with his friends on those grand global stages, this question never left Seonghwa’s mind. Losing sight of what he truly desired, he ran into an oblivion.

After the concerts, it was customary for the young man to spend some time with his fans, still on an adrenaline rush and thus were expecting interaction, further connection, and insights into the most recent performance. However, tonight, he could not even begin to find the energy to press the right button. Claiming that he was feeling a little under the weather, Seonghwa delegated the role of publicity man to another member and hobbled to his hotel room, collapsing onto the bed sheets not caring for the state of his clothes, his hair, nor for the creases that were undoubtedly going to form. This was no issue.

The electric guitar, his trusted comrade in composition and emotional turmoil, was left in a black case on the floor. Stickers marking the cities he had visited decorated a portion of the surface, while the rest was another depiction of you. Scurrying off the bed, he erratically shot to the case and brought it up with him, letting it rest by his side so he could admire the artwork more closely. Over many days, you had decided to surprise him by painting the dark leather, echoing famous renaissance pieces and intricate flora. Impeccable, incorporating nods to his and your lives through symbolism, be it in the hint of a star ship, a guitar pick, or a paintbrush hidden in foliage, it was a reminder of a life that he always wanted to live and to keep close.

He wanted to destroy the walls of his room. He wanted to break the glass, fight the agony of the sorrowful monster eating away at his soul with physically radical action, anything to take his mind away from the fact that you were thousands of miles away, and that when he was cursed to be awake, you were in dreamland. He could not even protect you from the nightmares that you sometimes had. He could not keep you close. You were unable to run your hands through his inky black, long and tousled locks as a way to calm yourself. Why was he doomed to sacrifice the heavenly touches and sweet words in favour of roaming the globe like a madman, screaming the same things into a microphone until they lost all meaning? Seonghwa missed you. Violently. Painfully. Aggressively. If it took raising hell to elevate him to your heaven before he would ultimately crumble, he would choose to do so in a heartbeat.

His hands inadvertently travelled into the pocket of his flared jeans, fishing out the device which he had been glued to for the full duration of his tour. At any spare second. Lockscreen – your smiling face, surrounded by the scenery of his hometown when you two went for a visit over the holidays. Tapping in the date of your birthday, he came face to face with a photo where you two were together – a candid picture snapped by his closest friend and fellow band member during a celebratory dinner; you two laughing at a joke shared between yourselves, so in love that every part of you and him were intertwined. Seonghwa wanted to break himself apart. Take his heart and mind out and douse them in cold water so that at least for a moment he could have some space to breathe before ultimately repeating: you, you you again. Fingers flying to tap onto the messaging app you preferred to use most often, though the two of you had conversations going on almost every piece of social media, he scrolled through your chats, relistened to the voice messages and scrutinised every photo until it was re-imprinted in his brain. As if he could ever forget in the first place.

He would likely be a laughingstock, wouldn’t he? A man with the world at his feet, wanting nothing more than to collapse at the feet of another. Sure, his fans were no strangers to the fact that there was ‘a special someone’ in his life, though since he made sure to keep his private matters truly secure, no one knew who was the reason why he woke up even when the day was promising challenge and turmoil. The only sign of his undying devotion that he dared to expose with shameless pride was the tiny red band around his pinkie, a simple line alluding to the string of fate, of soulmates. One night, not too long ago even though it seemed that you knew each other for your entire lives, when you had the chance to spend time together without worrying about work matters and could let time trickle past while stargazing, he proposed. Perhaps it was not traditional, the four words uttered only in passing after you had already blessed him with your agreement. Instead Seonghwa had suggested the permanence of a tattoo as a symbol for your love, and revealed his faith and devotion. Written in the stars, he found his guidance in you. Just like the constellations, galaxies and mythical creatures permanently etched on his skin, he wanted to live the neverending story with you.

As he shifted his grip on the phone to glance at the red band, Seonghwa could not help but imagine what you could be doing right this second. Could you be stirring from sleep? Could you be getting ready for another day at work? How was that one personal project you picked up going? He hammered out letter after letter on driven by what had to be an external power, so much mightier than him. The rockstar bit his lower lip, feeling a tug on one of the piercings, but that made him simply bite down harder.

I’m losing my mind.

Without hesitation, he sent the message into the void, hoping that you would not be too worried and simply accept it as one of his eccentricities as an artist. Finally, he tugged off the leather jacket that had been clinging onto his body, suffocating him, and collapsed back onto the bed. Exhaustion was a beast weighing down on him and pushing him into the mattress. Nothing but a lonely carcass, Seonghwa imagined himself as carrion left for the devouring by devious promoters, producers, agents and the like. Freedom was an interesting concept in his industry. Did he have it? Or was it the case that as soon as he gave into a dream, he signed his very being away to be an offering for the money-hungry world? He was definitely going mad. He needed you. Seonghwa missed you. Feverish, anxious, he grabbed a fistful of the duvet with his free hand and counted the passing seconds, too many of them, but not as much as the distance between where he was supposed and wanted to be, and where he currently was.

A loud ringing jolted him out of his paralysing ruminations – his phone. He rolled his head to the side, and upon seeing the incoming video call could not be faster in wriggling to rest on the headboard and answer. So you were awake, and in a couple of seconds… there you were, hair in a loose side braid, a familiar vintage t-shirt adorning your shoulders. You were at the desk – your home office, cradling what had to be a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Nothing. Just how you liked it.

“Hi baby,” you greeted him with the warmth of a thousand suns, and soon enough, his smile returned to him too, though still a little weak, beaten down by the weeks spent apart. It was still dark where you were, while for him it was already dark. It was easy to face when with you, however – nothing could be brighter than you.

“You’re wearing my old clothes?” Seonghwa could not help but ask, too curious to refrain from the inquiry. You looked down at the shirt momentarily before lifting your head and nodding.

“Yep. There’s been a change of plans so I am working from home today. And… I wanted to have a day-long hug from my fiancé.”

“You always wear them better, and I wish it were me and not the tee, angel,” he sighed, eyes trailing down what part of you he could see. He might be wrong, but you appeared to be a little tired, dark circles more prominent under your gorgeous eyes, and movements a fraction more lethargic than how they would usually be in the mornings.

“Is that what you were losing your mind over?” you attempted to lighten the mood, but Seonghwa could not play along when the joke was a reality. You caught onto this quickly enough, and paused to look at him more closely.

Seonghwa could feel the intensity of your inspection. It was as though you were reading him like one of the many books you had collected. Basking in the attention from his lover, he leaned further back onto the pillows and let himself think out loud.

“We have another flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, next is the third to last concert, right-”

“I want to fly to you,” the young artist cut you off, staring at nowhere in particular as he voiced his one wish.

“It’s not too long now, Hwa, and then we have a whole month to ourselves. No touring. Home.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love. But also, I am proud of you. You are bringing dream to reality-“

“Fuck what I’m dreaming. What does all of this mean anyways?” he retorted, making you raise an eyebrow before leaning onto the desk.

“All of this means that you are yourself. You are an artist. A light for so many souls. And if you cannot hear this, then let me remind you that I love you, the you who is so driven, so talented and so hardworking. Park Seonghwa who has been destined to become a star and give hope to millions. You are yourself, and that is what is so precious and iconic about you.”

You had a way with words. You always did. Stepping in when he was at his lowest and managing to drag him out of what he had assumed was an abyss, you were his biggest supporter, cheerleader, muse. When he was afraid to put pen to paper or deemed a melody worthless, you were the one to encourage him to experiment, try things out regardless, and with such strength that now it was a philosophy he abided by; it never hurt to try, and perfection was impossible. What was achievable, however, was satisfaction and happiness with the self. It was more than enough to try. And now, you were the one fearlessly bearing the catastrophic mass that was his worries with the last tour dates.

“Oh how dare you…” he mumbled, lips trembling ever so slightly as he pushed out the words. Involuntarily a mist settled over his eyes, and Seonghwa’s surroundings began to blur.

“No, baby come on, don’t cry, or we’ll be crying together. Let’s stay strong for each other, yeah? Like the dragon you have? Let’s leave the tears for later, and hopefully make the source of them a happy one,” you cooed, your own heart being torn apart as you witnessed your lover’s vulnerability, raw misery expressing itself as the hard exterior of a professional rockstar fell away. The hint at one of his many tattoos made Seonghwa’s mouth twitch into a tiny smile, an adoring gesture to remind your fiancé that you could draw each of the masterpieces from memory, having spent many nights tracing them with your digits.

“I-… Y/N I… I love you so much, you know that, right?” The confession turned query was choked, feeble, fragile, an offering made of the thinnest glass. One that you would protect with your life.

“Hwa, I love you too. So much…”

“Everything makes me think of you…” fatigue was evident, coating his vocal cords thick with a somnolent huskiness.

“Soon, you won’t have to remember me. You will have me in real time. Will you look forward to that for me?”

“Always.”

One topic, another, talking about nothing and everything at once. Trivial matters transformed into beautiful tales. In what had appeared to him to be no time at all, you had to rush into your first meeting of the day, while he was left a little less lonely in the hotel room continents away from you, with only his guitar and your reassuring love to keep him company. A hope, an excitement rekindled in his chest, bubbling up and flying across the bloodstreams into a tingling sensation in the fingertips, and a pleasant, hazy buzz in his brain. Caught between what had to be sleep and delirium, Seonghwa moved exclusively on instinct. In a few movements, he produced a tattered notebook and pen that had listened to his every confession and flipped it to an empty page before setting it down on the sheets.

Carefully, he took the guitar out of its case, and upon checking that it was properly tuned let a few notes hang in the air. The longer Seonghwa stared at the wall, the more confident he became in the fact that he could see you standing there in front of him, and as the words began to pour, it was you who he was confiding in. When with you, he was not afraid. When dedicating yet another song to you, he could not care less for the lack of rest, for how he greeted the dawn. He had a week until the last show, and he sure as hell was going to make full use of it.

The arena was silent aside from a few yells, before they too, succumbed to the suspense. The spotlights were almost blinding, and Seonghwa suddenly felt grateful for the fact that his image allowed for sunglasses. Elegantly perched on the bridge of his nose, they masked his anxiety as he adjusted his microphone, setting it back onto the stand while the rest of the band was exchanging glances and making the last checks before the grand finale, what he had decided would be the last ‘official’ song of the concert, and therefore the tour. Of course, the audience would ask for an encore. Of course, he would step right back out on stage to perform it – the act had already been planned in advance. But it was this song, one that he and his closest friends had spent night and day finalising, recording, even sending off to be made commercial, that would be his final word.

“Distance is measured in miles, and in how strongly you feel them. This is ‘Timezone’,” following the brief introduction, he momentarily shut his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. In that split second, he did not exist. He was not on stage, he was home. Seonghwa could feel your hand on his shoulder and could float in your perfume. This was no different to how he would play for you in the living room – anything you wished for, he would either perform or learn on the spot or even create. So, maybe, just maybe, you will be able to hear him now, too. And how he was calling out for you, and was counting the seconds until he could see you again.

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

A roar overtaking expressions of gratitude. With every bow the crowd grew wilder and wilder. Chants praising the song were unfathomably strong, and Seonghwa had no doubt that the videos would go viral. Would you see them? Would you message him after? He did not need the answers to these questions. Not when he almost dropped his guitar as he saw you standing backstage, arms open wide, a staff lanyard around your neck. He was thankful for how you did not mind his sweat-covered arms, his glistening forehead as he pressed himself against you. He was enamoured with how your lips fit perfectly together, piercings and all, as he planted one kiss after another, each one bringing him back to life. He was eternally devoted to every moment with you.

“I told you, soon, didn’t you?” He could not respond, instead choosing to nod lest he break down in the midst of his overwhelming elation, “same timezone…” you altered the lyrics – sunlight after a rainstorm.

“I’m home, Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair before pulling you even closer to him, arms wound tight around your body, fingers dancing on your back as though he was still in disbelief that you were here.

“Welcome home, my love,” he leaned into your hand that reached for his face, letting you cup it. With nothing to keep you two apart, Seonghwa let himself get lost in your eyes, the string of fate winding tighter and tighter until his, and your heart were both glistening in a healing gold, the hints of cracks sealed and more beautiful than ever, standing the test of time, of space, of dreams.

🎸 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

enjoyed? please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. thank you, much love!

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, sexual themes/situations, masturbation

A/N: The series will heavily follow the timeline and events of the show but there will be additional non-canonical events/injuries/etc.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You sat quietly in the passenger seat of Daryl’s truck after the caravan had stopped for a problem with the RV. There had been introductions after you had gathered your bearings during the last stop, and your trauma-addled brain was working overtime to retain the information. 

Along with the RV’s issues, the group was currently saying goodbye to one of their own. It seemed too intimate an affair for you to include yourself, an outsider. The man had been bitten. It was your understanding they were all headed for the CDC in Atlanta, desperate for a cure before the sickness could take him. 

But the fever had won, as it always did.  

You watched as the frail man was carefully moved to the base of a tree, but then averted your gaze as they bid him farewell. They were all affected, heads down as they returned—one by one—to their vehicles. They intended to leave him, per his own wishes. You weren’t sure if that was a choice you could make were you the one in his predicament. It was both admirable and ludicrous. 

Daryl returned to the truck, remaining quiet as he climbed behind the wheel. He hadn’t spoken a word to you, which left you with a tight feeling inside your chest that you couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. You wondered if you were only there because of the possibility that his baby was growing inside of you. It hadn’t been mentioned. 

I told ya she’s good.

He hadn’t given the group any information. They knew your name per your own admission, which alone was enough to twist the archer’s face into a scowl. You were a dirty little secret. You had placed your remaining fragments of hope in Daryl after losing everything and he was treating you like he’d left a few loose bills on a dresser after fucking you in a sleazy motel. 

You scrutinized him from the corner of your eye; the way he was tapping the tip of each finger against the steering wheel as he drove. His other arm was resting on the door, the window down, while he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. The broken skin on the sides of the digit suggested that it was indeed a habit he turned to in times of stress. He was consciously trying not to indulge. 

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes on the back of the vehicle in front of you. “I’m sorry about your friend.” You dared a glance at the same time he gave you a once over. 

“Weren’t no friend’a mine.”

Lie. You could clearly see he was affected. It was borderline offensive that he’d even try to deny it. “Right. Well, I’m sorry anyway.” The uncomfortable silence stretched on, leaving you with vivid images of your encounters with the redneck. Even after you had told him you might be pregnant, there hadn’t been this thick tension in the air between the two of you. “Thank you.” He looked at you again, barely moving his hand away from his mouth. “For saving me.”

He hummed, this time parting his lips to nip at the irritated skin of his thumb. You wanted so badly to reach over and guide his hand away, but you knew that was a bad idea. 

“Ya take one’a them tests?”

Ah, there it was. Your back slid down the seat while you nervously twisted the hem of your flannel around your index finger. “Uh, no. I lost them when I ran from the camp.” He shot you a look so quickly you thought he might have given himself whiplash. 

“Y’fuckin’ serious?”

You nodded, expecting an outburst, but you still flinched when his fist came down on the doorframe, keeping it clenched when he brought it back to his mouth. “It was an accident. I wasn’t exactly thinking of them when I was wrestling a geek for my bag. Lost most of my clothes and my canteen, too.”

He let out a condescending humph from behind his hand. “Ya sure it’s even mine?”

Now it was your turn to pin him down with a look of your own. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Means exactly what I said.”

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, along with the urge to throttle him right where he sat, regardless of the fact that he was driving. “Well, there was that other hunter I’d meet at dawn and then the one that would wait patiently until you got your rocks off first.”

“Ya think your funny?”

“I’m not trying to be funny, asshole. If there’s a baby, unfortunately, it’s yours.” His piercing gaze met your narrowed eyes, only holding for a moment before he had to look back at the road. “Can you pull over?”

“Gonna puke again?”

“No.” You snapped, angling your body toward the door. “I want to get out.”

“Why?”

“Because being trapped in such a small space with you is going to make me puke. Now, pull over.” 

To his credit, he did slow down. “Nah.” He pressed the gas and easily caught up with the car in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, Daryl. I won’t tell anyone your secret.” You hissed the word with such venom that you swore you could taste the remnants of it on the tip of your tongue. 

“Settle down. Ain’t lettin’ ya out so ya can get your fool self killed.” 

You threw yourself back against the seat with more force than necessary, crossing your arms. You wondered if you suddenly began to pray that god or whoever was listening might possibly just see fit to bestow upon you the monthly occurrence that most women deem as a curse. 

This was the reason the time between you in those woods was so limited. No feelings involved. Little to no social information exchanged. You liked the Daryl that made it priority to worship your body and fuck you senseless, his only words being filthy encouragement that would catapult you to and over the edge. Even when he accompanied you to the pharmacy, his presence wasn’t a negative contribution to the journey. You had actually felt oddly—comfortable. 

But the Daryl that you were currently trapped inside a beat up old pickup truck with had spoken all of seven sentences and you wanted to shoot him in the groin. You couldn’t imagine having a child with that man. Didn’t want to imagine it. If only your baser instincts hadn’t been so prominent over common sense when you saw him in the woods that third time. 

You could vomit now when you thought back on that specific meeting. You quite literally propositioned him while stalking toward him and simultaneously ripping off your shirt. He had looked so confused at first but caught up quickly. He was deep inside you while you straddled his lap less than five minutes later. Why hadn’t you at least had the brain power to tempt him just enough and send him to get condoms first? Nope. You jumped straight on his dick like a horny teenager. 

“For the love of fucks sake.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, ashamed at how recalling the carnal moments spent with the man across the bench seat from you had heat pooling at the apex of your thighs. You shifted, crossing your legs and pressing one down on the other, the tough inseam of your jeans rubbing just right over your clit to send a jolt of pleasure all the way down to your toes. You only barely stifled a moan. 

A quick glance found Daryl still watching the road, lighting up a cigarette. Yet another thing you didn’t know about him. You shifted your hips while casting quick, discrete glances. He was seemingly oblivious. Biting your bottom lip, you turned your face toward the window and continued the careful side to side of your hips, very slowly but very steadily working toward what would undoubtedly be a quick and not totally satisfying orgasm. Still, it was better than the alternatives of either sliding your hand into your panties or asking the man beside you to slide his hand into your panties. 

You noticed your breaths quickening and inhaled deeply through your nose to try and calm both that and your heartrate. The hot coil burning in your lower belly was tightening, pulses of pleasure bleeding out to culminate at the swollen bud that your jeans were stimulating. You were so close, almost there—

Daryl cleared his throat, flicking his smoke out the window and unintentionally bringing a sudden halt to any progress you had made toward release. You openly glared at him. 

“What?” He huffed, sneering at your obvious resentment. 

“You’re an asshole.”

It was near dusk when the caravan finally pulled up to the CDC. There had been stops to siphon fuel, take bathroom breaks, and go over plans and strategies. You had remained inside the cab of the truck, not trusted enough to be privy on their plans. You couldn’t really fault them. Even if they had included you, nothing they had said could have prepared you for the devastation outside the government building. 

“We’re really going out there?” You asked, feeling nauseated at the thought of seeing the bodies up close. 

“Yep.” Daryl replied casually, already outside the truck. He was holding his crossbow as well as a shotgun and was looking at you expectantly. “C’mon. Get the lead out, woman.” 

Puffing out your cheeks in a forced exhale, you opened the truck door. The stench of death and rot was even worse when you stepped out onto the pavement. Flies and maggots were in abundance, feasting on the fallen littering the ground. You gagged behind your hand, ushered forward by a surprisingly gentle hand from the redneck. 

“Can’t stop here.”

When you caught up with the group, the one called Shane was directing everyone like a traffic cop, trying to keep fear and panic to a minimum. “All right, everybody. Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let's go. Okay, keep moving. Stay together.”

Rick joined in, urging everyone forward while Jacqui and Shane tried to keep the group quiet. You were at the rear of the main cluster of people with Daryl following closely behind you. You could hear the commotion before you saw Shane pounding on the shutters that were keeping the entrance blocked. 

“Walkers!” Daryl called out, firing a shot that made you flinch. 

“Walkers?” You blurted before realizing exactly what he meant. “Oh fuck!” You had no weapon, absolutely no method of defending yourself. Before you could protest, Daryl had reached back with one arm and pushed you behind himself. You didn’t have time to think too hard on it before he was yelling. 

“Ya led us into a graveyard!” 

Your hands had fisted into the back of his shirt, subsequently allowing him to guide you where he needed you without sacrificing his focus. 

“He made a call!” Shane sounded from somewhere behind you. 

Daryl growled harshly, the sound vibrating your hands against his back. “It was the wrong damn call!” He shouted. The commotion continued, blame and orders being thrown about in shouts and pleas you ignored in favor of burying your face between Daryl’s shoulder blades. You had survived; lost your entire family and stayed alive only to die with a handful of strangers and a man you almost wished you had made more of an effort to get to know. Amidst the crying children, the screaming women, you could clearly hear and focus on Rick’s desperate declaration:

“You’re killing us! You’re killing us! You’re killing us!”

“Daryl.” You sobbed before you could stop yourself. 

Then, something unexpected but no less of a miracle. 

The shutters began to open, dousing you all in a most blessed light.