#genuinely so annoyed i feel i have a very loose grip on reality in all seriousness atp

[3416]

this is why everyone saying 'don't rush him back' pissed me off so badly bc that's never been the leafs problem. it's so personally annoying to me how they've handled this like just fucking say he's gonna be out til the playoffs then for fucks sake. clearly not a priority to get him back

[yunhostinyuyu]

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

[alexwritesfiction]

Heyy bestie , I was wondering if you could write a Byler fanfiction where it's a very cold night and Mike is playing at Will's house. But it becomes very cold so Joyce insists Mike to sleep in Will's room. But Will cannot resist himself from watching Mike sleep, so he stays awake and later he cuddles Mike

I hope you'll write xx 🥺🤞

Wish I Were Heather (byler fanfic)

Read on AO3

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of Angst | Pairing: Mike Wheeler/Will Byers (otp <3) | Words: 2029 | Requested: @your-local-book-worm345 

A/N: Here it is! the softest ship i can imagine, i love you for sending this in <3 hope you have a good read! 

Requests closed | tag list at the end, ask to be +/-

------

“Can we play DnD now?” Will asks for the umpteenth time as Mike took a bit of a pause from his rant. He was pretty bummed about how El had dumped him. What had he done wrong, he kept asking Will. Will The Wise, for the first time in forever, had nothing to say.

He’d wanted this forever, for them to be apart so that he could have his chance. But it broke him to see his best friend sad. He couldn’t relish in joy while Mike suffered.

“Yeah, okay.” Mike said distractedly, surprising the living lights out of Will. He’d expected to hear an annoyed “not yet”.

He looked at Mike to confirm he hadn’t heard something wrong, only to see Mike already pulling the game board from under the bed. Before he could even question how it had gotten there, a strong wind thundered outside their window. Mike dropped the game, cringing at the spilt contents on the floor. He was just reaching to pick them up when Joyce’s voice filled the hallway.

“Boys, it looks like it’s going to storm tonight,” she said, concern etched on her face. It was clear she didn’t want either of them going out.

Mike looked at Will, a smile on his face. This confused Will, he couldn’t understand why Mike would be happy he wouldn’t be able to go home tonight. As much as this made hope flutter in his heart, he crushed it down as a simple occurrence.

Will thought about his chances of staying over would be over if he'd still been with El. He didn’t hate El. He really didn’t, but oh how envious he was of her. She had it all, the looks, the brains, the powers, Mike. Everything. Just for once, he wanted to see how it felt like to be her. He wished he was El, just to experience how it would be when everyone you loved, loves you back, counted you as important. He wanted to see how it felt to be in a relationship with Mike Wheeler, to be everything he wants.

“I can stay over tonight, if that’s okay, Mrs. Byers?” Mike voiced out his request, now staring hopefully at Joyce who looked conflicted. She knew Karen, as reckless as she was, cared about Mike and Joyce didn’t know if she’d be okay with the impromptu plan. She shook her thoughts away and focused on the two boys sitting on the bed with their board game yet to be played. d made will extremely sad.

Her lips curled into a genuine smile. She reminisced how long it’d been since things had almost gone back to normal and Will had finally been happy after a long time. Without thinking, she uttered a quick okay, but snapped back to reality when she heard a whoop from the curly haired boy.

Like always, Will expected Mike to leave. He'd stopped staying over at his house since some time, and made will extremely sad.

“Don’t get too excited, I still need to call Karen,” she shushed, taming them down, even though she knew he'd be staying over. The boys shrugged, grinning as they planned out their campaign. They knew she’d relent with enough sweet talk and reassurance.

Will eyed his Will The Wise costume beside his desk but dismissed it quickly. They were probably going to stop playing in just a little while. Will’s mind debated with itself. On one hand, he was delirious that Mike had decided to stay over, but he didn’t know if he'd able to stop himself from acting on his feeling for him. This night could either make him and Mike even closer, or taint their friendship, but nothing could lessen the extent of what he felt for Mike.

Joyce watched the boys for a moment, her gaze lingering a moment more on her son’s nervous face which quickly fizzled into excitement when Mike shook him to show him the game. She’d known he had some feelings for the boy next to him, but she didn’t want to ask him about it. She could see he was extremely touchy about the topics, but she was internally happy that after a long time he was in a dilemma that was actually of his own age and not about a monster being his end.

She sighed softly, leaving the room and calling the Wheelers’. Five minutes later, she was about to knock on the boys’ door when she heard deep laughing from the other side. She figured she’d let them be. She wrote out a note for them saying they could feast all they wanted from the snacks, and then slipped into a much needed peaceful slumber. She wasn't haunted by fear that night like always, but still she thought about a familiar bearded man who sacrificed himself for everything.

She still felt like he was alive, sometimes, like he was just there, trying to reach her. It was moments like these that Will knew to be there for his mother. After all, he knew very well how it was to feel like that.

“Do you want to set up another campaign?” Will asked roughly five hours later, as he slowly started to pack up the game. They’d played DnD late into the night and Mike could feel his eyes drooping heavily with sleep. He covered himself up in the stretched out part of Will’s blanket up to his nose, so that only his eyes were visible. Will was wide awake, he didn’t want to miss a single moment with Mike. Not when this was probably the only time he had Mike all to himself, even for just a while.

“No, I think I'm going to pass out,” Mike groaned, facing the other side, away from Will. Will smiled at how adorable he looked, all wrapped up and about to sleep. A gentle smile spread on his as he quietly watched him. A few beats passed and Mike’s eyes finally closed of their own accord, only to open a second later. His body jerked as he slowly sat up once again. Will frowned as Mike looked at him, and it was different. He looked at him with so much intensity it scared Will.

Mike still had the blanket wrapped around him as he stared into Will’s eyes, biting his lip nervously. He heaved a breath and Will could barely keep his restraint from crushing Mike into his arms, but he didn’t have to, because in the next two seconds, Mike had his arms wrapped Will, enveloping him like he'd never want to let go. He buried his face into Will’s neck and inhaled softly. Will was as still as a statue, not quite comprehending what just happened.

The warmth radiating off of Mike snapped him out of his trance and he hugged him back, with loose hands at first but as soon as he felt Mike’s small smile on his neck, he returned the embrace with just as much force. He felt at home, they both did. It felt to Will as if heaven had come own to greet him as he barely helped himself from choking up. He rested his head softly against Mike’s shoulder, his small frame completely lost in Mike’s lanky posture.  

They sat there for god knows how long, just breathing each other in. The moon watched over them as a few silent moments passed, the sounds of their breathing creating a serene atmosphere in the room.

“This is nice,” Will finally managed to voice, still not letting go of his grip on Mike. It felt too real, and he wanted to dream so bad that maybe Mike did reciprocate his feelings. He wanted to dream of being with him, holding hands, sharing everything with him, being more than just friends. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he couldn’t while Mike was still tangled into him. So he didn’t, deciding to just let the moment be.

Mike hummed in agreement to Will’s comment. His hands on Will tightened again before he took a long breath and whispered words into the air that would be the breaking of Will Byers.

“I'm sorry,”

Will frowned at the words, chest aching as he realized why he'd said it. But Mike could feel the confusion radiating off of him.

“For what I said that day in the rain. I didn’t mean it. I'm sorry, Will. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have pushed you away just because I found a girl. You were so right. I love her, but she could never make me feel the way you do. She’d never be the same as what your friendship means to me, Will.” Mike uttered out in a small voice, as he realized just how true it were. Will was more precious to him than anyone. He'd always felt like he was Wil’s protective shield, and he loved being it. He loved how Will trusted him, how he could feel free with him, everything.

“Mike-” he tried to say, but Mike cut him off.

“I missed you,” Mike said, almost breaking from the comfort he felt in that moment, finally saying the words he'd wanted to as soon as he'd stepped into Will’s house. The force of his words shattered Will,  and he drew in a shaky breath before retracting his arms from Mike’s neck. Mike tensed, fearing he’d said something to push him away but relaxed into Will’s touch as soon as he clutched his arms around Mike’s torso, his head now gently resting just near his heart. It didn’t feel awkward at all, rather just deepening the bond between them.

“I missed you too,” Will whispered into Mike’s warmth and he barley caught it because of how inaudibly he spoke. His feeble voice showed how vulnerable he felt, as he held onto Mike for dear life.

They let a minute pass before Mike finally ended the hug, Will wanting for it to last forever. He reluctantly straightened up, giving Mike a small smile as he watched a large grin appear on his face. He looked at Will with pure adoration shining in his eyes.

He grabbed Will, bringing him in for one last hug that only lasted barely three seconds before pulling away and slowly compelling the smaller boy to sleep. He muttered a soft goodnight as he turned to the other side once again, making sure to leave half of the blanket for Will.

Will chuckled, shaking his head as he watched him sleep. In no time, soft snores escaped Mike, making Will smile at how much he felt comfortable with him. He observed Mike’s sleeping form. How his chest rose and fell gently, how there was a crease between his eyebrows, how his lips were in a pout, how is cheeks were a little more chubby, how he looked like an angel resting.

He slid down beside him, wrapping himself in the rest of the blanket. He closed his eyes for a second as if to gain confidence. Without thinking, he intertwined his hand between Mike’s side and his hand resting on his side, so that now he has circling his waist, impossibly close. Will’s eyes snapped towards Mike’s face to see if the sudden action had woken him up. His heart melted with cuteness and relief as Mike slept just as heavy.

Will dared to do something he'd longed to do, feeling brave. He pulled Mike close so that his face was less than a centimetre away from his curls, his body pressed up against Mike’s back. His hand tightened its  grip on Mike, but careful to not hurt him. His legs tangled with Mike’s under the warm blanket. He never would have thought in a million years that he'd get to be big spoon with Mike, that he'd get to caress his cheek like he was now.

He couldn’t quit describe how he was feeling, just that it was something that he never wanted to stop. He finally felt like he belonged, right there cuddled up to Mike. He felt loved, he felt comfortable in his own skin, with Mike. And he couldn’t be more grateful.

----

Taglist: @petitpancakes @skinni-ciggis @bubblegum18 @cbfjdx @fckingpernico  @dumbsouvenir @i-like-5sos @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-book-worm345

[minewako]

Heart of Stone - Chapter One

Summary: Following the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky are accompanied by a new friend.

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language. If there are any mistakes please tell me so I can fix it.

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Bucky was sick of it. Not all of it, of course. But sick of this feeling. Sick of the guilt. Sick of all the stuff he did. Being reminded of it again today was no exception. The food was great as always and he enjoyed the old man’s stories. He even got a date planned, first since 1943. And still… He would never get used to this feeling. He did not know what time it was, neither did he care. He was lost in his thoughts, asking himself how he should confront Yori about his son. About how he should explain what the Winter Soldier had done to him. He barely even registered his surroundings as he took the long route home, He thought that somehow the rain could wash away his guilt. It never worked, of course. A female scream pulled him out of his trance and he immediately jumped into action. Sometimes he thanked the serum for his enhanced hearing as he could easily locate the screams origin. He rounded a corner and saw a man that was forcibly holding a woman in his embrace. The woman struggled to get free and was about to do something when her eyes fell on Bucky and she stopped all of her actions. In complete contrast to her, Bucky lunged forward with such a speed that he was just a blur. He grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it into an angle arms shouldn’t be in and pushed him to the ground. The woman, now free, scurried a bit away and Bucky didn’t register the way her eyes went wide. “Hey man, ouch, hey, be a bit gentler!” the man screeched and it made Bucky wince. “Just as gentle as you were to the lady over there. I guess you didn’t intend to hurt her and were just messing around, right?” “Yes! Yes, of course!” the man was near to a panic attack as Bucky released his grip, pulled him upwards and pushed him away. He nodded with his head along the street, signalling the man to get lost, which he gladly did. As Bucky turned around to the woman, he mustered her for a second. She did not look injured or otherwise affected. Her green hair was a bit messy and her business costume wrinkled but otherwise than that nothing caught his eyes. Well, nothing besides her almost golden like eyes, that were staring straight up at him. “Are you alright” Bucky found himself saying, stepping closer to the woman and reaching out his hand as if to touch her arm in a comforting way. She just folded her arms and smiled, showing her rows of white teeth. “Yes, thanks to you I am now.” She either was not bothered by the situation at all or was just immensely good at hiding it. “You should not walk around alone at this time. There are many people that will get advantage of that.” As he said these words, he picked up the umbrella the woman must have dropped during her unpleasant encounter and hold it up to her. She muttered a quiet thank you and took the umbrella, quickly covering herself as if it would help anything with her already soaked up state. “I’m usually snuggled up in my blanket with a hot cocoa at this hour but, you know… business and all.” She laughed nervously and paused for a moment, looking along the street, her brows furrowing for a second, before she turned to Bucky again, beaming up at him. “Thanks again for your help. I didn’t know how it would have ended if you didn’t show up. So, uhm… yeah. Thanks.” She turned and began to walk away. Her heels clicked on the stone, barely audible due to the rain. As Bucky stood there, he watched the woman slowly getting away. He did not even make a conscious thought about his next move, just followed his instinct. In just a second, he was by her side, keeping a decent distance though, and fell into step with her. She chuckled and a smile spread across her face. “So, you’re my bodyguard now?” She turned her head to Bucky and found him already watching her. One of the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Told you, it isn’t safe to walk alone at this time.” He simply stated while shrugging his shoulders and focusing his gaze ahead the street again. “What are the chances that I encounter a thief twice at the same night? Or…” she stopped abruptly and brought her hand dramatically over her golden

necklace that was loosely hanging around her neck. “Are you trying to rob me as well?” Bucky whipped his head into her direction and his look must have been so confused that she just began to laugh. “Oh, I was just kidding. Please don’t take it too seriously. I have terrible humour, sorry.” Bucky huffed and a chuckle left his throat. The woman shifted a bit closer so that their shoulders were mere inches apart from touching. She just did that so she could hold the umbrella over his head as well, protecting at least some part of him from being rained on. They walked along one another for quite some time, rounding corners and passing streets. They finally arrived in a part that was familiar to Bucky and he immediately got annoyed because this was actually pretty near to were his therapist is. Luckily for him, they slowed down and stopped before an old building that was slightly towering over the others. He immediately checked the parameter and was surprised to find large windows to his side giving away the view of a gallery. The woman however did not turn to the door of the gallery but rather to the one that was probably a side door to the building. “Thank you for walking with me. I felt a lot safer.” The woman said while underlining her sentences with a genuine smile. Bucky returned the smile and nodded. Fumbling for her keys, she holds the umbrella to Bucky for him to hold. He took it hastily and did not even register how fast the woman had the door open and winked at him while saying: “Keep it, don’t want my saviour to get soaked. Or even more, that is. Good night.” Before he could protest, she gently shut the door and the faint sound of heels against floor was heard from inside. He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before he turned around and began his journey to his own home. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he met the woman before. But the longer he rummaged through his brain, the more it started to hurt. * * * Bucky zoned out. He was just so tired and the rambling of his therapist did not help with that. He had another nightmare. Nothing unusual but he definitely was not in the mood to talk about it. “So, did you make any progress with your list?” This question brought Bucky back to reality. He shook his head. “It’s a bit hard tracking down some of them or rather getting to them without breaking two of your rules-” “Not my rules, James. Your rules. Those rules are not for me, remember?” The brunette interrupted him. He just rolled his eyes and hummed in annoyance. Yeah, definitely helped him a lot. One hundred percent. “Any other progress? What about the trust thing we talked about earlier?” One of her eyebrows was raised as she watched every muscle on Bucky’s face. He knew that and he knew that even the tiniest twitch could make her interpret something into it. So, he just stared blankly, expressionless as so often. The therapist let out a resigned breath and grabbed her notebook a bit too annoyed. “Oh really? That again? C’mon Doc.” “You know the drill, James. You won’t talk so I write.” Bucky rolled his eyes again, a common thing for him now. “Okay.” He finally gave in and the scribbling sound immediately stops. “It has nothing to do with my list. Or my trust in other people, which is fine, thank you very much. It’s more like something that felt… right to do.” He paused and fumbled nervously. He was not used to talk about such things. It would be comedic if it wasn’t that sad how he could kill this woman in front of him in about 37 ways with just the things in this room and not bat an eye, but is not able to open his mouth. After what felt like too long, he cleared his throat. “There was this woman. She was in a… not so great situation. Without thinking about it I helped her. And she did not care about the way I handled the situation. I mean it was the right thing to do. But… seeing her not afraid after all that happened, it was… weird.” Bucky did not know how to describe the situation and he definitely did not want to tell how he accompanied the woman home. The brunette just stared at him, her

face not giving away anything. She just gave him this look, this calculating one that send shivers down his spine. “You rescued a damsel in distress and felt good about it.” She concluded and Bucky blinked a few times about her bluntness. “That is a very noble thing, James, and something you should be proud of. You did not hurt anyone though, did you?” “No, of course not.” Bucky lied and got an approving hum from the woman across from him. “Thank you for sharing that with me, James. Now we can focus on that feeling that you had.” Bucky just grunted. * * * He exited the building where his therapist trapped him so often and flexed his metal arm. He heard the hissing and whirring it made and closed his eyes for a moment. He hated it. His grip tightened around the umbrella he still caried with him every step he goes. He told him himself that he would return it to the woman every time he left his home. That didn’t work too well so far. He grinded his teeth and searched his brain for any excuse to not go and return the umbrella. To be fair, he did not even know her name, nor if she were at home this time around. And it would probably let him look like a stalker if he just turned up on the doorstep or even worse, waited there. While he was collecting those thoughts, he was already moving into the direction of where he left the woman. He tried to curl into himself, which was actually pretty hard considering his form. Passing some fancy stores and shops on his way, he finally arrived at the gallery he remembered. He looked inside and saw a light flooded room with several walls that had some paintings on it. Bucky wasn’t an art critic but even he saw immediately that the main focus of this gallery wasn’t the few paintings that were probably just decorations but the various sculptures that were highlighted by spotlights around them. The former assassin shook his head and sorted his thoughts. He wasn’t here to look at some art. Just as he wanted to move past the gallery and on to the door beside it, he saw a flash of green from the corner of his eyes. His head snapped in its direction and his assumptions were confirmed. Inside the gallery stood the woman, wearing another business costume, her green hair flowing over her shoulder. She was currently talking to a pair in front of a sculpture. Now or never soldier. With nervous steps he entered the gallery and looked for possible escape routes and threats. Old habits die hard. Light classical music played in the background emphasizing the fact that this was a higher ranged gallery. A look on one of the statues prices only confirmed that. How could someone pay half a fortune for such things, Bucky would never understand. He didn’t mean to, but he just tuned into the conversation that the group of three had. It was a business talk, of course, and the pair was about to lose half a fortune. “Thank you so very much! I guarantee you both this sculpture will just look lovely in your living room. I’ll contact you concerning a date for the delivery after this beauty here is packed and ready.” Her smile never faltered and her eyes lit up while speaking the words. Bucky feigned interest in one of the stony images as the woman tapped on her tablet and then accompanied the pair to the door. In the corner of his eyes, he could see that she glanced at him for just a millisecond, registering his presence. After another thank you to the customers and exchanging goodbyes there was silence for a long stretching second. Bucky did not know how to proceed, his mind going blank. “Took you long enough to finally make the way inside.” The woman declared with a smirk that was clearly audible in her voice. Bucky didn’t really know what to answer and as if she sensed his confused mind, she elaborated while turning to him. “I’ve seen you strolling around the gallery for quite some time. Was wondering if it was coincidence or if you were actually interested in art.” Her smirk turned into a smile and he scratched his neck. “Well, it’s actually on my way to… work.” No need for her to know that he was seeing a

therapist. Not that it mattered anyway. “So, what can I help you with, Mr…?” She slowly approached him, raising her eyebrows at the end of her question. “Bucky.” He simply stated. The woman furrowed her brows. “Mr. Bucky? Sorry to say, but I’ve never heard such a surname.” ”Oh, uhm… no, Bucky is my normal name. Well, it’s actually James Bucky Barnes. But Bucky is just fine. Just Bucky.” He rambled and a light chuckle left her throat. Man, he really lost his charm. “And I just wanted to return your umbrella. Thought you might need it back.” As he holds the umbrella out to the woman, he noticed the slight widening of her eyes when he saw his gloves. He actually expected a remark about it or something like that but the woman just pushed his outstretched hand back and quirked up a brow while smirking mischievously. “Keep it. I have a feeling that it’s going to rain today. Just return it the next time you come and grab your coffee.” Was she really doing what he thought she was doing? He must have misheard that last part. Or at least he tried to convince himself of that. The last date he had a few days back didn’t went too well. And he didn’t know if he was okay with another one going downhill in such a short amount of time. “Yeah, that sounds good.” One of the corners of his mouth raised upwards as he first watched his fingers and then up again into the golden eyes of the woman. She just smiled in approval and opened her mouth to say something as the door opened and an older man strutted inside. She immediately turned her attention to that man and told him that she would be there in just a minute. “It’s a promise then?” her eyes were wide and full of hope. Bucky just had to nod. Without another word she turned around and started to tend to her new client. He awkwardly waved at her as a goodbye which she returned and then felt the gallery. That went better than expected. As Bucky set off to his home, he felt a few droplets of water fall on his face. It was starting to rain. He smiled to himself as he opened the umbrella, a small business card falling out of it. He picked it up and observed it. On the one side was a head with snakes around it, shimmering golden. A twist of the card revealed white letters that formed a telephone number and a name. Althaia Laskaris.

[akirakurusuimagines]

Day 1: Deal with the Devil

@p5auweek​ day one: Mafia + Role Reversal AU (based loosely on @thehuggamugcafe‘s mafia au!) 

Was this really a good idea? Akira couldn’t tell anymore. To try and strike a deal with a devil was a low he never expected to let himself get to, but he didn’t exactly have another choice⁠— at least that was what he decided to tell himself to comfort his anxiety a little. 

His head ached terribly and his vision was pitch black, the bag over his head suffocating every breath he tried to take. He was pushed around and shoved, the cuffs that kept his hands secure dug harshly into his skin as he was pulled forward by the chain connecting them. His legs felt weak already, sore and bruised. 

Akira tried to pay attention to the number of steps he took, to the turns, to the smells and sounds, but it was difficult when he was on the brink of collapsing. He was beginning to regret his decision to call upon one of the most powerful leaders in the underworld. At the very least, he didn’t expect to be handled so roughly by their hooligans. But he bit his lip and didn’t utter a sound, simply praying to any god that would listen for his life to be spared. 

“We’re here,” a gruff voice finally spoke up. “Boss’ll be out shortly. Stay put.”

Akira didn’t register what the voice had said until his shoulder was gripped and someone jabbed their finger into his skin, forcing him on his knees. He kept as still as possible, only swaying slightly as he tried to keep his consciousness. He was grateful that the floor seemed to be some sort of carpet, easing the ache a tad bit. 

In the silence, his mind began to wander. What would this ‘boss’ even be like? Would they accept his request? What sorts of payment would he need to make? In this world, nothing comes for free, especially not a bold request like he was making. He was a tad bit hopeful that they would accept, after all, from the research he dug up on this particular branch of the underworld, it didn’t seem like organ harvesting and human trafficking were things they did. And they had summoned him for a reason, right? 

“What’ve we got here?” A new voice made him lift his head, though it wasn’t like he could see anything still. He figured it was the boss, though was surprised to find the voice didn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he thought it would’ve been. “Huh… right, you’re that kid I called for. Hold on.” 

Akira squeezed his eyes shut as the bag was pulled up from his head, revealing his messy black hair and crooked glasses, an overall reserved appearance, for someone who was so bold as to come to the mafia willingly. The light inside the room was blinding, and it took him several moments to adjust before he could open his eyes, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw your face so close to his, examining every inch of him as if he were a commodity.

What predominantly captivated him was the intrinsic mask you wore, covering most of your face, but leaving your eyes on full display, reeking with power and authority. There was no doubt in his mind anymore about who you were. Seeing how different you were in reality compared to his imagination of you was a little comforting, despite knowing what you were capable of. 

You took his chin between your gloved fingers, tilting his head this way and that, the irritation on your face as clear as day as you saw the hazy look in his eyes and the bruises on his face and neck, likely spanning down to the rest of his body. “Those fuckers,” you growled, finally looking down to his wrists, which were red and raw from the tight handcuffs. You pulled out the keys your subordinate had given you and unlocked them, pulling them away and letting him have that freedom. You figured he wasn’t stupid enough to try anything to hurt you, if he even could, that is, considering how he seemed to be barely-conscious. “I explicitly told them not to harm you, but you’re completely banged up and bruised.” 

Akira winced as he cradled his injured wrists, genuinely surprised at your apparent kindness. He watched as you waved away the two brutes that stood by the door and glared holes into his back⁠— Akira didn’t want to anger them, lest those holes be made of bullets. “Uhm…” his voice was slightly slurred, the throbbing in his temples stopping his train of thought. 

“Oh, so you can speak. That’s good. They really roughed you up… can’t do much when you’re in a state like this. Come on.” You extended your hand to Akira, who stared at it and back up at your masked face for a few moments. “I don’t offer my hand to just anyone. Take it.” 

Licking his drying lips, he grabbed a hold of your hand and let out a noise of shock when you pulled him up with ease, causing him to stumble a little. Luckily, you caught him by the waist, steadying him as you walked him over to the couch. 

“Rest up. I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re my guest,” you reassured him as he practically collapsed onto the plush, clearly luxurious couch. “I’ll need to teach those shitheads a lesson. We’ll talk when you can form a cohesive sentence.” He heard your voice and barely processed your words, his eyes feeling heavy and closing despite any attempt he made to stay awake, drowning in the comfort of supposed safety. 

.

Akira shot up suddenly, gasping for breath, and quickly clutched his head. It ached, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as before. His vision was temporarily blurry, adjusting to the sight of the vaguely-familiar elegant office. He looked around and caught you sitting at your desk, leaning back in your chair with your feet on the mahogany table, casually taking a drag from the cigarette between your lips. 

When your eyes met his, still slightly obscured by your mask, you smiled. It sent a shiver down his spine⁠— something particular about that calculating smile of yours made his veins run cold. Or perhaps it was the splatter of blood on your cheek that made him swallow hard. “You’re awake, finally. You’ve been knocked out for a good few hours. I was getting bored.”

Akira didn’t speak for a moment, dodging your gaze as he sat properly on the sofa, his eyes catching sight of several bloodstains across the room he was almost positive wasn’t there before. 

“Come over here, let’s talk business.” 

He figured he didn’t have much of a choice, considering his position and the kindness you’ve been treating him as a host. Akira was still a little wobbly, but made his way to one of the chairs that sat in front of your desk, making himself comfortable. 

You stared at him for a moment before snorting, swinging your legs off the table and standing up, heading towards a portable bar that rested against the wall. You pulled out two glasses and an expensive bottle of whiskey, pouring you each a glass. “You look like you need it. I don’t blame you.” 

“Thanks,” Akira muttered as he slowly grabbed the drink you slid to him, taking an experimental sip. “...Can I ask what happened?” 

You sighed, though your eyebrows were hidden by your mask, it was clear by the curve of your mouth and narrowing of your eyes that you were annoyed. “I taught the boys who disobeyed my orders a lesson they won’t soon forget. That’s all you need to know about that.” It was clear you didn’t want to say anything else on the subject, and Akira didn’t want to push it. “Now,” you set your glass down, resting your elbows on the table and leaning in, chin resting on your intertwined fingers. “you don’t seem like the type to call upon someone like me so boldly.” 

Akira took that as a hint to start talking. “I don’t have another choice,” his grip on the cup tightened ever so slightly, bubbles of rage building up in his chest as he remembered those he lost to the injustice of society, and specifically, that man. There was a fire in his eyes that sparked to life as the words fell from his mouth, laced with poison. “Masayoshi Shido,” he watched you stiffen a bit at the mention of that name, “he needs to be brought to justice.” 

“Justice?” you scoffed, mocking the very word. “You came to the mafia in search of justice?” 

“He’s untouchable otherwise,” Akira retorted. 

“I’m well aware of that. Though I have to say, I’m not a fan of you painting over your own vendetta with the concept of ���justice’.” You crossed your legs and stared at the black haired fellow, who looked at you with just as much intent. “The price to pay for me to target a big-shot like him is going to be immense.” 

“I’ll do anything.” 

“Is that so…?” You pondered his words for a moment before your lips cracked up into a smirk, extending your hand towards him once more; this time not to lift him up from the floor, but to drag him down completely into the underworld. “In that case, do we have a deal?” 

Without a moment of hesitation, Akira took your hand and shook it with a nod, not particularly caring about the state he ended up in, so long as the bastard who ruined his life in every possible way paid for what he did. 

“Rule number one:” you held up your finger, mischief striking your gaze. “never strike a deal in which you don’t know what you’ll be giving up in return.” 

Akira’s throat ran dry and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at you.

“Relax,” you chided with a laugh, letting go of his hand and lifting up your half-empty glass of whiskey, as if to celebrate. “I won’t do anything unseemly to you. I think you’ll find my terms to be rather agreeable. All I ask of you of this moment, is to swear your loyalty. So long as you follow my orders, we’ll be getting along well.” 

“What?” 

“You’ll be staying here,” you explained, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I’ll send someone to fetch your things. Not to worry, I’ll take care of everything. I have a feeling that you’ll be someone of… great use to me after all.” Downing your drink, you got up from your seat once more, leaving Akira to process the conditions of his new life. “I’ll send someone to show you around. It’s best you get accustomed to things quickly. The moment the lead gets shot into that fucker’s brain, you’re being put to work.”

He didn’t say anything, simply staring into the honey-colored liquid as he swirled the cup around. 

“I’ll see you later,” you paused for a moment, stopping at the door, something seeming to have struck you. “Joker.” 

Akira turned around just as you closed the door to your office, leaving him alone in the suddenly chilly room, choking down the ball in his throat as he processed everything. He struck a deal with the devil, after all, and he was going to pay for it. 

[chestnut-b]

Clueless (Art + Fic)

Iruka’s sense of self-awareness has never been his strongest suit.

“Good afternoon Iruka-sensei.” he greeted. Kakashi turned to the back of the room. “A busy day in the mission room I see.” The silence was deafening. “There are some reconstruction projects near the Forest of Death that could use some extra manpower. Anyone keen?”.

In all his years in the mission room, Iruka had never seen a room clear out that fast.

He’d been receiving his second report of the day when he felt the sudden release of tension, but Iruka was nothing if not professional. Without even skipping a beat, he pulled his hitae-ate to his neck, tucked the curtain of hair behind his ear and out of his face. Iruka issued a quick apology to the Jounin before him and smiled amicably as he put away a freshly approved report. But the shinobi, whom Iruka had known to lack a chatty disposition, had not moved immediately as he usually did, and instead opted to stare at Iruka in a way that made him feel just a bit self-conscious.

He must have looked more of a mess than he thought.

“Is there something else I can help you with, Jounin-san?”

Iruka only received a mumbled thanks in response before the ninja quickly removed himself from the room. Quickly, he dug into his new vest pocket and felt absolutely nothing. He groaned inwardly, realising that in equipping his newly issued vest, he’d neglected to include his supply of spare hair ties.

“I’m getting a bit too complacent now that the war’s over.” he chided himself. It was too late to excuse himself to look for a spare; Iruka could only sigh as he ran a hand through his  now loose, tousled hair, attempting to make himself look, at the very least, presentable for the day’s duties. So lost in his own thoughts he was, that he failed to notice the sudden dip in chatter that usually filled the room.

The back of the mission room had always been a bit of a watering hole for the returning shinobi of the village, but as the hour passed Iruka was starting to wonder if he’d missed a memo somewhere. Between reports he took the chance to scan the room. Too many people whom he knew had no business here, some weren’t even on active duty at the moment. Heads kept peeking through the entrance and disappearing just as quickly. As he read the latest report before him, he resisted the urge to grip the knot of tension that had been building up at the back of his neck. But of course, by the time he could look up any shinobi worth their salt wouldn’t be caught dead looking in his direction.

Two hours in, and Iruka was starting to get annoyed. The line stretching in front of him was not only growing, but seemed to move at a snail’s pace. He’d had to engage in more than the usual small talk, and for some inexplicable reason, received three invitations to drinking parties and just as many invitations to a meal or tea.

While it was nice to see that Konoha’s peaceful days were bringing good business to the village eateries, the proposal for a new Academy roadmap he was to present to the Rokudaime and elder council in the coming week wasn’t going to finish itself. He’d had to politely decline each invitation, prompting a chuckle and snicker from Kotetsu and Izumo, who were manning the table beside him. The pair looked disturbingly amused by it all.

Speaking of the Rokudaime - he glanced at the clock across the room. It was about the usual time he’d spot the Hokage wander past the mission room door on what Iruka guessed, was his afternoon break. If Iruka knew anything from having assisted Tsunade-sama in her bureaucratic duties before, it was that Kakashi must have been drowning in more paperwork than the former jounin sensei had ever seen in his life.

The teacher smiled to himself; it didn’t feel like that long ago since he’d last received reports from Kakashi right across this very table. While the man wasn’t the most meticulous shinobi in that regard, Cell 7’s reports always made for an entertaining read (when they weren’t missions gone horribly awry, anyway), and Iruka found himself looking forward to receiving them on their return. Their argument during the Chuunin exams naturally caused some awkwardness between them, but when Naruto had left to train with Jiraiya, it was to Iruka’s pleasant surprise when of his own accord, Kakashi offered to buy drinks on the rare occasions Naruto wrote back home. Iruka hadn’t known what to expect, but their conversations had flowed as easy as the sake on those nights.

A sound of shuffling papers made Iruka pause. Hmm. The heat of the late afternoon sun on his back was making him feel unusually nostalgic today.

There was one Autumn, he remembered, when the first saury had come into season; Iruka passed a home-made bento to the older shinobi, along with an omamori containing soldier pills from their village shrine. Kakashi was due for a long mission that would see him away for a few months, and Iruka had wanted to thank him for all he’d done. Naruto’s absence had been unexpectedly hard on him, and Kakashi’s efforts, he’d realised, had kept the worst of the loneliness at bay. He’d regretted not bringing something for the rest of his accompanying team though, because Gai-sensei, upon witnessing this exchange, burst into a flood of tears in front of the village gates.

Really, he never knew Kakashi could look so pleased. Naruto was right, his sensei really did have a soft spot for saury.

Dragging his mind back to the present, Iruka added another report to the stack. The kunoichi before him was looking strangely flushed, but he just couldn’t muster the energy to suggest a cautionary visit to the infirmary. When she’d finally scuttled away, Iruka’s musings continued. Could a mere teacher and desk worker be friends with a Hokage? He wasn’t quite sure. But he did miss the conversations they’d shared over the letters in those years. Pein’s attack and the war had brought the meetings to an unfortunate end.

The reality of their situation; the new shinobi age, and Kakashi’s appointment as Hokage meant they couldn’t just pick up where they left off, Iruka thought. It’d been only two months since everyone had returned from the front lines. Many people were still mourning, but many were trying their best to move on with their lives.

Perhaps that why he’d received so many invitations. Iruka felt a twinge of guilt at the possibility of this, but remained firm in his decision. It would simply have to be another time.

As Hokage, Kakashi made few appearances in this room now, but on the days Iruka spotted him slouching past, the former jounin would send a surprisingly enthusiastic wave in his direction. Though the teacher never felt quite comfortable casually waving to the leader of their village in the middle of work (and a room full of shinobi), he never failed to send a genuine smile of acknowledgement back. An interaction that lasted mere seconds, but always gave Iruka the boost he needed to finish his shift.

Something he could really, really use right about now. That, along with a cup of tea. His throat was uncomfortably dry from all the extra talking he had to do today. The line at least, was making some progress.

Mere minutes later, as if summoned by an unsaid wish, a silver headed figure ambled by the door. Having noticed him out of the corner of his eye, Iruka looked up, ready to return a smile he was sure was waiting for him. However, there was none to be seen (though with the mask on, he couldn’t be completely sure). Instead, Iruka could only blink as he made eye contact with the man, who had stopped dead in his tracks at the door, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and weirdly enough, a tinge of......panic?

What?

He wasn’t sure if it was a teleportation jutsu or just sheer speed, but in the next moment, the person standing in front of him wasn’t a stammering chuunin, but one Rokudaime.

“Good afternoon Iruka-sensei.” he greeted. Kakashi turned to the back of the room. “A busy day in the mission room I see.” The silence was deafening. “There are some reconstruction projects near the Forest of Death that could use some extra manpower. Anyone keen?”.

In all his years in the mission room, Iruka had never seen a room clear out that fast. His line mysteriously looked shorter too.

Looking rather pleased, Kakashi turned back to face him.

“Working on a new image?” The Hokage beamed at him, gesturing to his own head of silver. Two grey eyes, Iruka noticed, the same colour as his new vest. It suited him well. Two eyes though, he’d have to get used to that. Kakashi emoted so well with one, that two seemed a bit overwhelming at this point. Iruka felt his face grow warm. To be seen in such a disheveled state by his leader. How embarrassing.

“Please forgive my attire, it was certainly not my intention.” Iruka apologised, with a slight bow of his head. Kakashi merely shook his in response.

“No need, sensei. If anything, I should be the one apologising for interrupting your work, but it wouldn’t do to have everyone so distracted.”

Kakashi turned to Kotetsu and Izumo, who’d been enjoying their front-row seats to this scene a bit too much. 

“Kotetsu-kun, could you kindly take over Iruka-sensei’s duties for the rest of his shift?”

“As you command.”

“Do you need something from me, Hokage-sama?” Iruka was getting more confused by the minute. This wasn’t how he’d imagined their first proper conversation in months going. Kakashi merely nodded. Kotetsu took no pause and began shooing him away from his seat.

“Regarding the Academy proposals next week. I’d like to hear your thoughts about it so far. If you have the time to spare, of course.”

Well, he’d just had the rest of his shift taken over, it wasn’t as if Iruka had much of an excuse. Not that he minded at all. There was an unsettling energy in the room right now, and Iruka was more than happy to end what was an odd stint, by any means. Gathering his things, he said his goodbyes to his comrades, and made his way to the exit, where Kakashi was waiting for him. Iruka startled a bit when he felt a pat on his shoulder, but exited with a small smile on this face anyway. Even if they were just talking about work, he found himself looking forward to it more than he realised.

As soon as they’d left, the mission room seemed to take a collective breath, and the world returned to its natural state.

Izumo turned to Kotetsu, who was stamping the report Iruka had left unfinished.

“Think Iruka will ever get a clue?”

Kotetsu grinned and shook his head.

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

Author’s notes:

Thanks for reading! I’ve been thinking a lot about Iruka these days and felt the need to just write and draw something! It’s been so long too. 

I think Iruka has always been fairly sharp to everything around him, but himself. A little awkward and self deprecating, but that’s what we love about him! 

I’d love to know how you think about it. It was really fun to draw and write after years of just lurking. :D

[oswildin]

Figment of the Mind ~ Dhawan!Master x Reader

Request: I've a request. An Oc artist who recently came out of the asylum because she heard since childhood voices/screaming/singing and who meet/ or Tavel with the master!dhawan. Both of them care about eachother (without saying it directly), and the of is ginger. (There's never enough gingers) 😁🦊 ( @alviazeginger )

Warnings: Mental Illness, Maybe some triggers for people.

Mad they called you. Crazy. Psychotic. Eventually their words broke you down, leaving you numb and helpless. Why were people so cruel? You never asked for any of this. You never asked to be dosed up on medication, or asked for the voices to take over your mind... But that was reality. Harsh. Cruel.

It started in school, as you began to hear the echoes of voices in your mind. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could hear them nonetheless. You had a wild imagination everyone told you. You sometimes could see people around you who you didn’t know weren’t actually there. Of course, that didn’t bode well with the other students. They labelled you as the weird one.

Through your teenage years, you managed to keep it hidden. After transferring schools, you tried to start fresh. But it was hard. It was hard to try and silence the noise in your head. It was plaguing your childhood.

Now as a young adult, you were being released from an asylum. You were dosed up on medications they’d forced you to take, and told you to keep going with them to help you drown out the voices. It helped. You admitted. But after having most of your life experiencing the voices, it felt almost empty without them.

You returned to your flat, dumping your little belonging onto the floor as you entered. You were exhausted. You felt weird being out in the world again. But inside your flat, you felt safe, like you could be yourself. You wondered into the kitchen as you began to watch the kettle boil. Suddenly, you were brought back to reality as you heard a strange noise coming from outside. You furrowed your brows, peering out the window to try and find the source of the noise.

Just as you peered out, you saw... A house appear? Out of no where... You felt panic rise, beginning to worry about whether you had remembered to take your pills. You continued to watch in confusion as a man appeared out of the house. You took in his appearance. You didn’t recognise him. Not one bit. He definitely wasn’t one of the people in your head. Was he?

The Master took in his surroundings as he glared. Earth. His TARDIS seemed to love messing with him. Perhaps he deserved it. He wasn’t the nicest to her. He felt a sensation of being watched as he tried to home in on it, feeling eyes watching from afar. He followed his senses, finally coming across a building of flats. He peered upwards, looking in each window before his eyes settled upon you.

You gasped, jumping back from the window, closing the blinds as you stepped away. You quickly rushed for your bag, rummaging through it as you searched for your tablets. Finally you found the packet, revealing you had in fact taken them. Was he real? No. Don’t be stupid. He couldn’t be. The house came out of thin air... Right? Thinking of it, you didn’t remember a house ever being there...

Suddenly, a knock was heard at the door. You jumped, dropping your tablets as you looked at the door in fear. Were the tablets not working? Was leaving the asylum wrong? You slowly stood up straight, hearing the knock again. Four knocks. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you walked towards the door, your hand shaking as it gripped the handle. You slowly pulled it down, as you awaited what was on the other side of the door.

Upon opening the door, it revealed the same man you had seen minutes ago. He stood with a smug look on his face as he held onto the lapels of his jacket.

“Liked what you saw did you?” He almost purred as you felt your breath hitch, trying to find words, but your mouth stayed agape. “Speechless? I know. I am devilishly handsome, I admit.” He seemed to smirk, before taking a step forwards as you backed up. “Well?” He waited for anything. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re not real.” You told him, shaking your head. “You’re in my head.” You narrowed your eyes. The Master looked lost as you spoke.

“What are you wittering on about?” He asked exasperated, folding his arms as he raised a brow.

“You! You’re a figment of my imagination! Not even that, cause I definitely am not trying to imagine you.” You rambled, moving a hand to your forehead. “They told me the meds would work.” You muttered, turning away from him as you frantically searched for your pills once more. The Master pulled a face before furrowing his brows.

“You’ve lost me. And it’s not often I say that.” He admitted as he watched your panicked state. “What are you doing now?!” He asked, annoyed.

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, going to cover your ears. The Master seemed taken back by your sudden outburst. “Shut up! Go away!” He knelt down beside you, staring at you, calculating... Analysing you.

“I’m only here cause you looked at me through your window.” He commented. “Why do you think I’m not real?” He inquired, genuinely curious.

“Because I know my mind, and I know how it likes to play tricks.” You told him sternly. “No matter what I do. The voices always come back.” You said sadly, defeated. He finally seemed to understand what you were talking about as he looked down beside him, seeing the tablet packet on the floor. He picked it up, examining it, before offering it out to you.

“If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel.” He said quietly. You furrowed your brows, seeing the packet in his hand as you looked over at him. “Come on, Mad Mary.” He slowly stood up, straightening his jacket as he towered over you. “I’ve got something to show you.”

You didn’t know why you followed him. You didn’t even try to stop yourself. It was like you were entranced. He guided you to the house you saw him appear from, as he opened the front door, stepping aside.

“Go on.” He almost ordered as you peered at him in confusion.

“Why would I go into a house with a stranger?” You asked, scoffing slightly. “A house that definitely wasn’t there before.” He rolled his eyes.

“Because you’re curious.” He told you as a matter of fact. “You want to know if this is real... Well... What better way than to see something remarkable for yourself?” You paused, thinking it over. You bit your lip, knowing you would probably instantly regret your decision. Glancing at him once more, you stepped into the house, through the small porch as you came across another door. You glanced back at him, as he stayed outside the house, nodding his head at you to continue. You sighed, bracing yourself, before opening the new door. What you were about to see, was something you could never have imagined...

In front of you was a red-lit room. At first glance, it appeared like a normal living area, but upon closer inspection, there was a different element to the room. There was almost a small control deck in the centre of it. You furrowed your brows, stepping inside.

“It’s called a TARDIS.” You jumped at the sound of the Master’s voice behind you. “It’s a space ship. It travels in space and time...” He told you, pushing past you as he walked up towards the console. “And yes. It’s alien.”

“What? How? How is this possible?” You questioned, looking at the room.

“It just is!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Now do you believe me? I am real.” You walked towards him, as you looked him up and down. You swallowed the lump in your throat before hesitantly reaching out a hand. He stayed still, face emotionless. You slowly placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat... No wait... Hearts beat? You flinched, pulling your hand away. None of your visions had ever been touchable before, let alone have a heart beat. Or two.

“You are real.” You breathed out, your voice wavering slightly. “Oh my god.” You stepped back.

“Not quite.” He teased, winking at you as he twirled around dramatically to face the console. “Now! It’s rare that I do this. In fact! It never happens!” He exclaimed, a slight smile on his lips. “But... I think you and me... Are almost alike. And I say that very loosely, as of course, you are human.” He almost said with a distaste. “How do you fancy a trip?” You looked confused, stuttering before speaking.

“A trip? Where?” You asked.

“Anywhere! The universe is the limit!” He had his arms behind his back.

“Why?” You raised a brow. “Why me?”

“I just told you.” He said irritated. “Plus, I’ve always wondered what it was like to have a companion.”

“A companion?!” You exclaimed, looking taken back. “I am not going to be your companion! Is that why you brought me in here? Ugh, men! All the same!” You pulled a disgusted face as he sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He told you. “Honestly. Humans. Not everything is about that.” He paused. “Now, coming or not, Red?”

And so it began. Your one trip turned into several. Of course, you had to return home to get your belongings and medication. You couldn’t go without that. You couldn’t let him see you that way. Over time, you began to enjoy each others madness. The Master was unhinged, unpredictable... Exciting. You couldn’t help but fall straight into the swing of things. The lifestyle was almost perfect. It kept your mind busy. You even began to harbour feelings towards the alien. Little did you know, he was fond of you also. As annoying and human you were, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by you.

However, your hectic lifestyle often led to not knowing what day it was, or time even. You hadn’t noticed it had been almost 2 days, before you began to feel slightly unwell. You just put it down to exhaustion. However, soon you heard a familiar voice you hadn’t heard in a long time. You didn’t tell the Master, keeping it to yourself. You quickly went to take your meds, but realised you had no more left. Had it really been a whole month?

You felt panic begin to rise. So you did the only thing you knew how to do. Lock yourself away. You stayed in your room, not going outside as you didn’t want the Master to see you like this. You tried to ignore the voice, but it didn’t like that. You covered your ears, tried to sleep through it all, but nothing worked.

The Master noticed something was wrong. You hadn’t come out of your room for a whole day. He wondered if he had done something to upset you. He knocked on your door.

“(Y/N)?” He called, before hearing muffled whispers from inside. He narrowed his eyes, trying to listen in as he heard you mumble ‘stop’ over and over. Then he realised. Your meds. He bit his lip before opening the door slowly, not waiting for your permission. What he saw broke his hearts.

You were curled up on your bed, hands over your ears as he saw tear tracks on your cheeks. He quickly made his way to your side, bringing your hands away from your ears as you looked at him, shaking your head.

“Go away!” You cried. “I don’t want you here!” You told him. He sighed, ignoring your pleas as you sat up, staring at him with wide eyes. He could see the exhaustion on your face. “Shut up!” You exclaimed, feeling the pressure in your mind building. The Master had seen enough, wanting your hurting to stop. He carefully reached out, gently placing his fingers on your temple as you closed your eyes, passing out. He quickly caught you, holding you for a moment before laying you back down on the bed, allowing you the rest you desperately needed.

You opened your eyes, not knowing how long you had been asleep as you saw your bedside table in front of you. You furrowed your brows as you saw a glass of water and your tablets on the side. Didn’t you run out? What happened? You didn’t hesitate as you ensured you took the pills, feeling relief fill your body as you knew soon the voices would stop.

A few hours later, you finally came out of your room, the door creaking as you poked your head out, seeing the Master sat in his armchair, reading a book as he glanced up, giving you a look.

“I was gonna send a search party.” He told you. “Thought you’d gone AWOL. Fallen into a supernova.” He muttered as he flipped a page. You furrowed your brows, folding your arms over your chest as you slowly walked towards him.

“I remember, you know.” You told him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that.” You said quietly, ashamed. He looked up from his book once again.

“Don’t apologise.” He told you sternly. “Don’t ever apologise for that.” He closed the book, standing up from his seat. “Shame you... That’s one thing I will never do.” He told you gently, as you felt your heart skip a beat at his words. No one had ever been so kind. How could a man, full of rage, hatred and bitterness say such kind things? Although, it shouldn’t surprise you. Everyone had their reasons for being the way they were. You of all people knew that. You didn’t know what to say as you stayed silent.

“Now you’re all rested up! How about a trip?” He said, his mood changing as he rushed towards the console. “You can choose. Where do you want to go, Red?” You smiled slightly at the nickname he had given you.

At that moment, you didn’t feel ashamed, or guilty or alone.

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

[Vyntober- Day 2]  The Dreams

@vyntober​ ~ Began again the Dreams, those which proceeded their survival; their seeming victory.  This series; it was a repetitive thing, that each time, the Dreamer could feel herself grow more and more lucid within, yet prove just as powerless as the first time to achieve anything that may alter the conclusion. 

It started from the Sea, and from those waters rose creatures. These creatures strove to fly without wings, and no matter how hard they tried, no matter how many of their own they had to claw through and climb over, never would the sky welcome them… Not until their brazen need rent the sky in twain, and those of the Sea reached down in all their glorious light to reclaim their game pieces-  to reset the board, to begin again.

The Cycle.~

Again those words sounded through her mind as she felt her body begin to burn, the dry, wheezing screams of millions raising into a deafening chorus as, without words or cause, she felt blame for their agony; this chaos, this destruction, this feast- it was -her- doing.  

Rationality knew no home in this nightmare as heat and sound grew to an unbearable tenor, her eyes afire as all that she was and would ever be was consumed, the skies above a jarring, violent blood red that twitched and writhed with an inane life all its own. 

A maw opened, a rippling void- it was hunger insatiable… and yet, as it closed around her, still she screamed louder than it did, till her lungs gave out and with them, all became colder than ice. She was gone…  All of them were gone…To the Sea that would again birth them, as it ever had, as it always would, to repeat this awful process.

“Lithirill...”  

A voice.  Familiar.  Out of the void and always when she needed him most. She strove to focus through the dark, reaching with fingers she no longer had. Every time this conclusion came, it felt like it pressed harder, holding her here longer- as if perhaps the intent was to wait here forever. Her part played… Sleep… Until again you dance on our strings…~

Without eyes, she could swear she saw someone… Some-thing- move, darker still than the void around her, disturbing the growing peace. She thought to chase it- 

“-Lithirill-!” 

The name, and the voice that barked it, pulled her from the abyss with all the effect of the drowning coming up for air.  She barely registered his grip around her arms, unable to know that he hadn’t been pulling her up, but holding her down, the covers of her bed bundled at her feet and some items from her nightstand now scattered about the floor a show of how she’d thrashed.

Hues of peridot snapped open as she took in gulps of air, her head dizzied and her chest pounding with a burning ache like she’d been holding her breath all too long.  

She heard a quiet sigh of relief through teeth as the grip around her arms loosened, the figure lowering to his knees in the dark.  The only part of him that was clearly discernible in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows was his eyes; luminous golden orbs whose own light only highlighted the barest hints of his cheekbones and nose, errant black strands dangling free to occasionally break up the image.  

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  he murmured, his tone and cadence gentle, but betraying his usual stoic coyness; he sounded worried.  Did he know of what she was seeing then?  

Sitting up properly, arms still warmed by his touch reached out to claim her sheets and drag them up around her bare chest as she settled her breathing. Slender fingers raised to rub at her eyes, a displeased short groan escaping as she felt them slip on what had most certainly been tears. How embarrassing. 

“Arkt...Good morning…” Lithirill managed, her wrist flicking in a half-wave as her free hand flopped down over her covered, crossed legs. “However did you get inside at this hour?”  

Not that she could actually tell what time it was, but judging by the dimness of the light outside, it certainly wasn’t day. It was a subconscious comfort then, that she hadn’t woken to this oppressive dark by her lonesome.  

‘If I would’ve woken at all…’  the thought snaked into her mind unbidden and she flinched at the irrationality of it.  

Arkt watched every movement, able to see far better than she could as his clothing rustled with his movement to stand. Saying nothing, he would stride to a shelf and pass his palm over a crystalline shape, the spark of energy leaping as expected into the crystal and producing a bright enough glow to see clearly by.  

As the room filled with blue-white light, Lithirill felt her heart lurch, reminded all too much of the color her skin had become as it burned in the dream, hearing a thrumming noise inside her ears; slow and droning and constant. 

A sharp snap yanked her back to reality, her wandering eyes looking again to Arkt, who loomed over her from her bedside, his fingers hovering in the air as they briefly curled into a loose fist, before the arm relaxed to his side. 

His eyes were intense now, boring right through her attempt to shimmy away from his initial question, trapping her in a gaze that had ever tightened her throat in what few times she’d seen it. 

“You are obviously unwell. You -know- where I reside, I could have helped.”  

Was that a tremble in his voice? Was he actually angry at her? 

There was so much she couldn’t tell behind that bloody mask of his, and the nuances of emotion in a universally calm voice were ever so difficult to pick up, even when she wasn’t sleep deprived by newly chronic nightmares. 

Mustering a half-hearted look of indignation in hopes it would give her the strength to explain herself, she cradled her chin in her free hand as she glanced up at him with apologetic eyes. 

“-You- told me that you would need time, Arkt. To adjust to peace? To come to terms with…-Everything-?” she mused, trying to resist the need to clear the cobwebs from her throat, unsuccessfully as she coughed sharply and heaved a sigh, “It’s barely been a fortnight, I hardly felt myself welcome as of yet to intrude on your new life. Whatever happened to sending me an invitation?”  

The ancient seraph was not having it. He didn’t doubt for a moment that her concerns were genuine, but his very presence was proof enough she might’ve considered reaching out to him regardless-  whatever she had been seeing in her dreams was loud enough about it to be sensed, with strength enough to call him here on pure instinct. 

He had felt some notion of foreboding for a few days concurrently, but when he was hearing her screams in his own rest, as if something meant to weaponize it against him, it was beyond time to check in. It was all as new to him as it was to her, considering certain details of his past he hadn’t volunteered- but he still strove for the composure she was accustomed to as he responded.

Once again ignoring the dismissive tone in her last words, he simply rested back on his heels. 

“A statement I would’ve made differently had I known you would avoid seeking aid when you needed it, Lithirill. These are not any ordinary nightmares you’re having if I could feel them too… and something tells me from the sleeplessness of your posted guards and the amount of lights still on in the dark of the eve that you are not the only one suffering them...in some fashion or another.” 

She took what pleasantries she could from his words, the simple sound of his voice most of all, shutting her eyes as he spoke. When he had finished talking, she shifted in her bed, tilting her head at him, sending raven half-curls tumbling over her shoulder as she squinted at him. 

“So much known about my new castle and its denizens…and -feeling- my -dreams-?” she mused, eyeing him up and down,  “Are you spying on me, Arkt? How very risque.” 

A brief furrow and raise of his brow suggested she not make this a laughing matter, choosing next to look anywhere but the coiled, nude minx in her bed eyeing him most lasciviously. The lengths this woman went for avoidance’s sake… He suspected she’d try even his nerves eventually. Observing the room, she boasted a rather spacious castle floor entirely to herself, yet she’d not furnished her bedroom with any manner of chair. Unsurprising…  What he knew of her, she probably felt the bed was where to put guests. His eye twitched at the wandering of his mind at that notion as he shook his head like some great annoyed beast, earning a chuckle from his undressed company. 

“Look, you’re here now. I’m not going to rebuke you, and your concern is incredibly touching. If you don’t mind, you can wander out into the hall there and find a seat. I’ll dress myself properly, prepare some tea, and we can talk. Alright?”  Lithirill had leaned back, pulling her sheets completely around her shoulders as to not continue making a lure of herself to a man who was -not- going to respond. The only hint of her sly jabs to remain was in her thin, raised brow. 

Shifting his posture, she could see the lower edges of his mask sway as he exhaled a hard sigh through his nose and nodded. 

“As you wish.”  he answered, turning from her bedside and making his exit. 

Lithirill felt no shame in leaning well to her left as she watched the long-of-limb seraph stride away, a secretive half-grin on her face as she bit the inside of her cheek, eyes fluttering to her ceiling before clicking her tongue and shaking her head. A moment of indulgence taken, now to more important matters. 

Dreams with the power to summon a concerned shadow…The beginning of a new story, she suspected, and all too early considering the rest she felt she had earned…but such was “Godhood”, she supposed.~

[lucitrius]

•°☆°• Oumami week day 4: "I love you” / “I’m sorry” / "I missed you” •°☆°•

▪ word count: 2,281 ▪ content: spoilers for chapters 1 - 5, survivor au, death, afterlife ▪

————————————————— ☆ —————————————————

Ouma shivered as he laid against cold, hard metal, the only forgiving warmth being the rapidly fading body heat that had been left in the jacket beneath him. The metal was winning, though, and it didn't last long. Goosebumps raised all over his body as a chill rolled through him, and he groaned pathetically. Despite how cold he was, however, there were sweat beads dotting his forehead as he stared up at the looming shadow of the press. At least it would be quick once it touched him.

"...Are you sure about this?" Momota finally spoke up, ripping Ouma back down to reality. He turned his head to look at him, although he couldn't really see his face from where he was laying. Momota noticed this and knelt down next to him, gripping the corner of the base plate tightly. He was nervous too, it was obvious.

Ouma simply offered him a strained grin, nodding as much as he could. "Yup! Even if I wasn't, I would still die anyway. The poison is really starting to make itself known!" His voice was crackly and weak against his own will. He was an impressive actor, but when your body has organ failure on speed dial it's hard to exhibit your best skills.

Momota looked unimpressed with his answer, but even so he knew that he was right. He looked him up and down for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Damn it… You could've drank some of the antidote and saved both of us. But, I guess that's just not your style, huh?" Ouma peered at him with newfound interest until he finished the thought. "You could've just cooperated. I had no idea you were trying to help, you know? Then it- it wouldn't have come down to this. I don't want to kill you, but..."

"Cooperated, huh?" he echoed, turning his head so he was back to staring at the hydraulic press. He opened his mouth to make some remark, to comment on how it was a stupid idea, but nothing came out. He shut his jaw with a slight frown.

Momota sat on his heels silently, waiting for some kind of comment, but just stood up in defeat when he only got silence in return. He scratched his fingers against the hairs on the back of his neck anxiously and started for the control platform. The only sound left in the hangar was the buzzing hum of the press and the faint thudding of the exisals walking around in another part of the building. Ouma didn't like it. He was fully prepared to die- hell this was practically just assisted suicide- but being left alone to his rampant thoughts as he lay on his literal death bed was highly uncomfortable. 

It felt like an eternity before he heard Momota's feet stop moving. It was only a matter of seconds, then. He seemed to hesitate to give Ouma the heads up that he was going to do it already, and even when he spoke up he avoided it for just a moment longer. "Hey, I mean, at least you'll be able to see Amami again."

Ouma's eyes widened just a touch; so he had put two and two together after all. He reached up to his chest with a shaky hand, gripping the long pendant of the necklace he still wore. A saddened smile crossed his lips, but he didn't respond as the hum of the press kicked up a few decibels and descended toward him.

•°☆°•

The distant conversation that could be heard in the back of his head was annoying. It hurt, even, only worsening the aching in the back of his skull as it continued. But, that was the thing. Conversation, headache… was he alive? No, that couldn’t be right. He watched it happen, after all, there was no way he could have survived that. As his mind started to focus more and more he realized that he had woken up, as he could see light through his eyelids. Against his better judgement of how much it would hurt, he opened his eyes quickly, and of course had to blink rapidly to adjust.

Sitting up slowly, he looked around expecting to see… well he wasn’t quite sure, really. Clouds, maybe? Or, on the other side of the coin, perhaps an intense heat, but neither was the case. Instead he was promptly met with pure white cabinets and dully toned countertops surrounding him. And as his body moved, he could hear the ruffling of the sheets around him and a thin tube tugging gently at his wrist. Looking down towards the feeling, he immediately identified it as an IV tube, and noticed that he was in a hospital gown. Why was he in a hospital; and more importantly, how?

The voices just outside of his room grew closer gradually until the door rattled on its tracks slightly before sliding open. He, just before the people behind it stepped inside, layed back down quietly, shutting his eyes and opening his mouth a tad to be more convincing. He wanted nothing more than an explanation, but equally as much, he didn’t want to worsen the pain in his skull by trying to talk to someone to get it. He could listen just fine.

“He’s just in here, sir,” said a bland, unnoteworthy voice which he presumed to be either a doctor or nurse. “I would suggest not waking him up on your own so that he doesn’t freak out upon realizing he’s alive, and I’m sure you understand basic visiting decency already so I’ll spare you the lecture.”

A few footsteps moved towards his bed, and under the blanket Ouma tightened his fist. 

“I’ll be careful with him, no need.”

Ouma struggled to keep his eyes closed upon hearing Amami speak. Surely this was some cruel personal hell for him to endure for the rest of eternity, after all he saw his corpse. He felt it, he swore he checked for his pulse. But, all of his pessimistic thoughts were thrown out of the window as he felt two warm, gentle hands take one of his own. It felt so real, so familiar. 

Amami was silent as he sat there, but even so Ouma focused so much more on listening to his breathing than the track of the door as it was closed once more. Ouma’s eyes squeezed shut even tighter, not wanting to face it. If he opened them, it felt as though Amami would fade away once more, so instead he gripped one of his hands loosely.

The fingers in his hold jolted along with the other boy’s whole body, and he was heard leaning closer towards him. “...Ouma? Are you up?” Of course he was, but he was just so scared. He wanted to live in this reality, in this Schrodinger-type mystery where Amami would always be alive. 

With a beat of continued silence, Amami released a sigh. “It’s alright, I don’t care. At least you’re even here,” he continued with a noticeably relieved, yet concerned, tone. There was a brief pause, maybe considering his options. Nothing was exactly stopping him from waking the other up considering the staff member had left the room by that point. But if he still thought that Ouma was truly sleeping, then he may want to let him continue to rest.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been left alone to fight like that.”

Ouma, very hesitantly, cracked open his eyes. He once again had to adjust to the burning white LEDs that were overhead, but he didn’t care. One quick look to his right, his thoughts were proven wrong. Amami, sitting somewhat hunched over with his eyes closed, shoulders relaxed while his hands were still tense, was right there. Alive. “Don’t tell me Amami is really going to go and blame himself for this all?”

Amami gasped, snapping his eyes up to look at him. A smile immediately crossed his face, his previously somber body language melting into something more lively. “I should’ve known you were awake. I expect nothing less of you,” he chuckled giddily. Ouma found his smile to be contagious, and for the first time since his apparent death, he found himself doing so genuinely; comfortably. Shutting his eyes gently to keep a few tears of joy back, Ouma laughed.

•°☆°•

Something about growing old was oddly nice. Ouma never thought that he would ever want to grow up, but living alongside his friend, his lover, and later his husband completely flipped his ideals. Amami- or Rantarou, rather, once they were wed under the same name- was much more important than his silly childhood wishes, anyway. The countless nights where they laid awake, suffering the consequences of the killing game were really the only issue. But even then, the two of them were always there regardless of whatever horrid nightmare, thought, or memory came to one or the both of them. There was never a moment when they couldn’t be in touch, and it was lovely. 

Domestic, lazy days where they did nothing but sit in each others’ arms and sleep were easily his favourite to remember. He had a vivid memory of how Rantarou’s chest felt against him, the welcoming warmth spreading throughout his own body while the thudding of his heartbeat kept him grounded. It didn’t last forever, though. 

After some time, the two started to get a bit old for lounging all over each other, and it stopped. Kokichi watched as his husband tended to his needs, as once he reached 72 he could no longer even stand on his own. He always cursed his natural tendency to be weak, which only increased during that time. But Rantarou never minded, and they were happy.

And, after nearly 64 years of marriage, Kokichi was upset upon realizing that they had been separated. It was a gentle passing in his sleep, and neither of them were expecting anything different than normal. Rantarou left him with a careful kiss to his lips, with a soft squeeze of his hand and an exchange of “I love you,” they drifted off together. But once he woke up, he was staring off at a field, which he recognized to be their backyard. That was odd, he thought at first. He rarely visited the garden anymore, even if Rantarou did his best to keep it alive and well. The best he had was a view outside of their bedroom window, where the vines of wisteria creeped along the wooden panels that surrounded the glass and a few young apple trees struggled to blossom in their juvenile stages. 

He made no effort to stand, instead opening his mouth to call out for the other man gently. “Rantarou?” he asked to thin air, suddenly shocked at the youth in his own voice. He looked down at himself, and sure enough, his hands were thin and nimble once more, only now he felt even more weightless than ever. Ah, so this is it. This is what he was expecting all those years ago when he had laid cold and alone under the press, when he was convinced that Rantarou had been ripped away for good. So here he was, now the one that had gone missing.

It was a lonely existence, in all honesty, but he tried not to mind it. He spent his time looking after the house, which was an exact replica of the home he had practically memorized by this point, in waiting for the day that he would receive some company. He made sure that the garden stood green, that the apple trees- which were much older and readily bearing fruit now- were healthy, and that the wisteria by his window was always secured to the wall.

As he set down his trowel and picked up a watering can, having just planted a bulb that he had taken out last spring, he heard the grass behind him shift under someone’s weight. He dropped the container, some of the water spilling over the metal trim top, and whipped around on his knees. 

Just in front of him, Rantarou was lying peacefully in the grass, just beside the patch of Forget-Me-Nots that they had planted together the day after their wedding ceremony. He smiled warmly, standing up and brushing the dirt from his knees as he shuffled over to where he was sat. He stood over him, looking down at his sleeping face longingly. It was fine, he could sleep. He deserved to wake up peacefully just as Kokichi had.

After a few minutes, he watched as Rantarou’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his focus wavering momentarily before landing on the man above him. His eyes widened, and as soon as it was offered to him, he grabbed the hand outstretched and sprang up to grab Kokichi into a tight embrace. Kokichi giggled, throwing his arms up and around his husband once more, relieved to finally feel the warmth of his chest again. It didn’t take long for them both to start crying; neither of them minded doing it in front of each other anymore, and in this afterlife, there wasn’t ever going to be anyone else to see it anyhow. 

Kokichi pulled away from him, staring up at his jade green eyes affectionately before standing up on his toes to kiss him softly. They didn’t part for what felt like centuries, and it was incredible. They were home, together, once more.

Rantarou laid a hand on his cheek, pressing his thumb into his skin slightly just to get closer to him than he already was. They were always, always getting closer. “I missed you.”

[rendiggitydog]

I’m in love with @mine-sara-sp‘s shadow au! So I wrote a thing! Featuring Wels having an up close encounter with the vex shadows for the first time

--

Wels had been on edge all afternoon. No matter where he went or what he was doing, it always felt like someone was watching him. He knew it wasn't Paladin, because he hadn't been summoned for over a week, mostly through laziness on Wels' part. Even when he was out at the mining mesa, it felt like there were eyes boring through him, despite no hermit being around for thousands of blocks. It was upsetting, and just about driving him mad.

Wels: Xisuma, I think there might be some glitches around

Wels: keep getting weird vibes :/

Xisuma: Hm, I'll have to look into it...

Xisuma: Anywhere in particular that's especially glitchy?

Xisuma: Wels?

Xisuma: Where are you?

Wels glanced over his shoulder, the phone tumbling form his fingers. He was petrified, eyes locked with the two pairs of blue eye sockets staring back at him- Avarice and Keloid, if he remembered right. Unmistakably unique from all the other shadows, the two vex's forms seemed to shift constantly, making them hard to look at directly. Their seemingly ever-present smiles were long gone now, and the anger flowed off them in waves. Wels was stunned silent- not that he had anything he wanted to say. They took a step forward in unison, seeming to relish the fear radiating from Wels.

"Where is it?" They hissed in unison, their voices piercing the silent air.

Wels gaped, unsure what to say and unable to say it.

"Where is the shiny?" They took a step closer.

"I- I don't-" Wels gasped, his knees trembling from the simple effort of standing. Something about these shadows was powerful and different than the others, and Wels hated it. Their energy was palpable, and it crushed Wels' lungs.

They hissed, static crackling and popping like the blue sparkles swirling around them frantically. "Tell us."

Wels slid down to his knees. "I don't know what you're talking about," he gritted.

The static grew louder, buzzing inside Wels' mind. "He knows, he knows."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Wels cried, clamping his hand over his ears. The static was unbearable, Wels hated shadows like this, especially the vex. It was too much, too loud, too-

If static had a feeling, it was the feeling of their inhuman hands grabbing him forcefully, yanking him to his feet. His arms burned cold where they held him, now forcing him to stare straight into their empty blue eyes. It took everything Wels had not to scream in agony and fear, knowing it would just anger them more. Despite being terrified, he forced himself to hold his wits about him. This was one moment he was grateful for his knight training.

"You give us the shiny, you have to." With that, they took off, dragging Wels with them. It was horrifying being carried to who-knows-where by these unpredictable and dangerous creatures with no one close enough to save him, even if he did call for help. Their shifting forms allowed them to travel faster than normal, perhaps even faster than elytra with the strange blue wing-like blades swirling around Shadow Scar in a frenzy. He couldn't control the convulsing shivers across his body, but he restrained himself from trying to call for help when he knew there was none. This must have been their plan, to wait until he was all alone so they could kidnap him. Why him?! There were many dangerous shadows to be afraid of, but Wels only had a genuine fear of the vexical shadows, for obvious reasons.

They entered a cave in the side of the mesa without slowing their pace, navigating the winding tunnels with no hesitation. Wels was entirely confused until they rounded the corner, entering a summoning temple. This was the nightmare scenario. Surely they were going to force Wels to summon Paladin so they could turn his own shadow against him. Without loosening their grip on Wels' arms, which were now numb from the static, they handed him a crafting table and a few items, obviously intending for him to make the armor stand himself. Any dark stand could be used, but it was a lot easier to summon a shadow if the stand was made by the summoner. He had to admit, the vex were scary because they were powerful, but their intelligence was also a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

Wels slowly built the stand, placing it in the center of the alter-like platform. He threw one glance at shadow Cub, who gave him a menacing grin. "Give us shiny."

Wels shut his eyes, and touched the stand. All too familiar, the armor stand shuddered and dissolved under his touch, and the feeling of another presence entered the room. Wels watched as his own shadow jumped to life, clawing it's way out of the floor and into reality. Soon, a 3D model of Wels stood in front of them, which flared to life in a flash of yellow. His eyes opened, and a plume of golden feathers burst from his hat. With a thin smile, the shadow greeted Wels, but quickly turned it's attention to the vex behind him.

They had dropped their grip on Wels, which was greatly appreciated, and they approached Paladin slowly. Wels was tempted to stop them, to protect his shadow, but something about this exchange felt passive, so Wels tensely watched from afar.

"Hello gentleman, how may I assist you?" Paladin greeted them cordially, keeping a relaxed expression. He got that knightly trait from Wels, at least that's what he liked to imagine.

"Shiny, shiny," They crowed, seeming to vibrate with joy. They began herding Paladin towards the exit of the cavern, but Wels stepped in the way, seeming to surprise them. "Move."

"What are you doing?"

Avarice frowned, clearly not wanting to answer, but Keloid spoke up, the first time they hadn't spoken in unison since Wels had met them. "Bring Shiny to the safe place."

Wels took a moment to process the words, glancing at Paladin. He stood at ease, if not a little annoyed at Wels' interruption. He didn't seem to be phased by the vex in the slightest; even to the point of being more comfortable between the pair than with Wels. "Paladin, do you know what's happening here?"

"These vexations appear to believe I'm a treasure for their vault. They have been nothing but courteous, I assure you."

One glance at the vex confirmed Paladins words. They held his arms like they did to Wels on the way to the cavern, but the grip was loose and gentle. To Wels' surprise, the shadows' body language had opened up as well, their shoulders loose and smiles poking at the corners of their mouths. Wels could still feel the power radiating off them, but it wasn't directed at him anymore. Wels' knees were still weak from the terrifying trip here, reminding him of their anger not moments earlier, so he was still extremely wary of the powerful shadows, but Paladin's comfort placated him slightly.

"Well... How long will this take?"

The trio of shadows skewed their faces in sync. "What are you insinuating?"

Suddenly Wels felt outnumbered. His own shadow had turned against him quite suddenly, and he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Of course this wasn't nearly as bad as some of the downright violent shadows like Jigsaw and Apex, but it certainly wasn't good either. If Paladin was teaming up with the vex shadows, who knows what might happen.

"How long have you been with them?" His voice came out shakier than he intended.

Paladin made an indiscernible face. "I do not know what you mean sire. Thrice in my last summonings they have held me hostage in their vault of gold. They seem to believe my helm is woven of true gold," Paladin explained, accompanied by the occasional nods from the vex.

"Wait, when did they kidnap you? I think I would have noticed if you disappeared randomly!" Wels ran a hand through his hair, the new information swirling around his mind. This would explain why the shadows know each other, and seem to be at least semi-friendly to each other.

This time it was Avarice who spoke up. "Very sneaky, take shiny when knight doesn't look."

This didn't clear much up for Wels, but the vex seemed to be growing more agitated. Blue triangles swirled through the cave, and Wels could feel their anger turning back to him. "Okay, okay. You can have him for now, as long as that's okay with you Paladin. Just take good care of him, okay?"

The vex made no indication to him, simply taking Paladin by the arms again and leading him away. Paladin threw one last glance over his shoulder, which was a mix of gratitude and smugness. What exactly that meant Wels wasn't sure, but he assumed the shadow shared one of his major flaws as well: pride. Being coveted as a treasure by the powerful shadows probably made Paladin feel good about himself, if not puff his ego a little more than needed. Wels could only hope that the excitement would wear off sometime, and his shadow would rejoin him soon.

For now, he had to find his own way back to Hermitville.

[b-chansbbygirl]

104 Cornelia Street

Summary: Bucky has fallen hard for his childhood best friend and makes the decision of a lifetime.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Modern!AU)

Word Count: approx. 2,550

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a character’s menstrual cycle, mentions of bullying and very minor violence, mentions of character death, swearing.

A/N: This was written for @welldonebeca​‘s song challenge! My song was Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift. It’s a bit late, but I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out. All mistakes are my own.

○●○●○

“Give it back!”

Bucky’s boyish giggles echoed as he ran down the hall. You chased him, bare feet tapping rapidly on the hardwood floor. Your doll was gripped tightly in his hand above his head

“James!” 

He came to an abrupt stop in the living room. His mother stood in the archway to the kitchen, a curl in her brow and a wooden spoon gripped in her hand. 

“Give it back,” she spoke, her voice soft yet stern, “and apologize.”

Bucky’s mother is a kind woman. She doesn’t often raise her voice, and she loves her family more than anything. But that wooden spoon - it gave her powers that instilled fear into even his father. 

He fiddled with the doll in his hands as he watched his mother with apprehension. She raised her eyebrows at him. His gaze sheepishly moved to you and the angry pout on your face.

With a quiet sigh, he held out your doll, his eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

You snatched it from his hands, pulling it tightly to your chest.

○●○●○

He was ready to pull his hair out.

He’s been on hold for the past thirty minutes, listening to annoying elevator music. He nearly jumped from his seat when a voice was suddenly on the other line.

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, adjusting his position at the dining table. “No, I just need one.”

A roll of his eyes. “Yes, 8 p.m., if it’s available.”

The manager on the other line was obviously annoyed, but Bucky’s patience was wearing thin, as well. “That’d be great,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

Once the line was dead, he dropped his phone to the table and rested his head in his hands.

Not only was he a nervous wreck, but he never knew this would be so damn hard.

○●○●○

It was that time of year again. Leaves were changing, the air grew colder, and yet, you insisted on having the windows open.

And that’s where he found you - curled up on your window sill with your favorite book (the one he bought you), a hot mug of tea, and the sweater that you stole from him in high school.

A gentle breeze blew at your hair, pulling the strands away from your face as your eyes scanned the page. His sweater was balled up in your fist as you chewed your nails in concentration.

“Do I have something on my face?”

He hadn’t even realized he was staring.

You were smirking at him over the edge of your book, eyebrows raised and that sparkle in your eye that he could only hope was reserved for him.

“Yeah, your face.” 

His laughs echoed as he ducked to avoid your flying throw pillow. Just as soon as you were off of your perch, he was racing his way through your shared apartment.

○●○●○

There were so many choices. All of them were beautiful, glistening in the lights above them. Bucky occasionally glanced at the jeweler, biting at his lip and running a nervous hand through the scruff on his chin. 

He’s been doing this for the better part of an hour, pacing around the display cases and asking himself the same questions; would you like it? Would you even want it? Would you want him?

His mind stopped rambling when he saw it. A simple silver band with one single, delicate crystal clear diamond in the center. It may be simple, but it was way out of his price range. 

He decided it didn’t matter. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and dug for his credit card, tossing it on the counter, his eyes never leaving this perfect little ring. 

“This one.”

○●○●○

“You did what?” Mascara streaked down your cheeks from your tears, your eyes puffy and red. Your dress was ruffled, your heels hanging from the tips of your fingers as you stared at him in disbelief.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t handle the tone of your voice and how you watched him with confusion and anger swirling in your eyes - those eyes he loves so much that are now looking down on him. 

“He was gonna hurt you,” he mumbled, holding back his own tears as his eyes and throat burned. He couldn’t look at you - he didn’t want to see your disappointment and broken heart. “I couldn’t let him.”

“I loved him.”

The words cut him like a serrated knife, straight through his heart and out the other side. You loved him - not Bucky. “I know,” he spoke again, raising his bowed head to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

A sudden rage took over you, your jaw tightening as you stared at him. He was genuinely apologizing - he knew he fucked up, but you didn’t care. The one time you get a date and Bucky’s selfishness takes over. 

“No,” you hissed, not caring when he flinched. “You don’t get to pull this shit. You may be my best friend but you don’t have any right to meddle in my personal life.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest when you marched past him, down the hall, and into your room. He followed quickly behind and arrived soon enough to watch you shove clothes and the essentials into your old backpack. 

You’re leaving him. Eighteen years of friendship and he fucked it all up. You’re right, he should have never done anything but he can’t let someone take you away. Yes, it’s selfish, but his heart won’t let him watch you walk away with someone else’s hand in yours.

He was snapped back to reality when you shoved him out of the way, the heels of your sneakers muffling your heavy footfalls as you marched towards the front door.

“Y/N, wait-”

You didn’t pause. Didn’t even spare him a look over your shoulder. Before he could reach you, you had opened the door and slammed it in his face. 

○●○●○

His foot hasn’t stopped tapping and he’s sure he’s never sweat this much in his life. Second thoughts have been flying through his head all week. Not that he didn’t love you or didn’t want to do this. He’s been waiting his whole life for this chance and he wasn’t going to miss it.

But what if you said no? What if you walked away again? What if you didn’t like it, or if you didn’t want this? Want him? He could feel the bile sting his throat; he’d hate himself if he pushed you away again.

○●○●○

The city was busy, even this late in the evening, which was something that was making Bucky panic. 

Your cab had taken off faster than he could get out the door and now you were somewhere in the city, completely lost to him. Every car looked the same, and they were moving too fast for him to catch the faces through the windows.

Running his hands through his hair, he gripped it tightly as tears threatened to fall again. He wanted to lay down in the middle of the sidewalk - in the middle of the city - and cry. Let his tears dry up, maybe drag himself back home. 

His frantic eyes and the shuffle of his feel halted as he caught the glowing sign of the subway. He took off in a sprint without thinking, tripping down the stairs and through the late-night passengers. 

Bucky’s eyes searched the crowd. He even stood on a bench to get a better view. 

He caught sight of a color - that worn red backpack that stuck out in the sea of black and grey.  Then the denim jacket, and the hair. You were headed toward the ticket booth.

“Y/N!”

A shout of your name and your brows drew together. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him pushing through the crowd with that ugly tan jacket you’ve been trying to get him to throw out. 

Turning back around with an annoyed huff, you pull your bag higher on your shoulder and get in line for your ticket. A hand circles your elbow a moment later, and you know it’s no stranger.

You’d know the touch anywhere. The one that holds you when you have nightmares, that feels your forehead for a fever when you’re sick. It’s the touch that danced with you at your senior prom, that holds your hair back when you’ve drank too much.

You don’t dare look at him. Your throat is already burning but you’re not sure if you can cry anymore.

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded, gently turning you towards him. Your eyes stayed on his shoes. “Please look at me.”

Your chest shook with labored breath, your gaze scanning up his chest, soon connecting with those steel-blue eyes that you fell in love with in first grade.

“I fucked up, I know.” His voice was hoarse. “You deserve to be happy. But I can’t-”

He took a deep breath, hanging his head as he felt his tears finally fall. When he looked back up at you, his lip was trembling. 

“I can’t let you walk away,” he whispered, a single tear running down his cheek. “Please.”

“Bucky-”

“I love you.” 

His grip on you was loose; you could run away if you wanted to. His frantic, desperate eyes searched your face. He was scared, horrified that he was never going to see you again. He was terrified that he had ruined years of laughter and bad mixed drinks, all with a stupid, selfish mistake.

You didn’t run. Your dam broke, a choked sob falling from your throat as you wrapped your arms around his torso, gripping that ugly tan jacket that you hate. His cologne is a comfort, along with the heavy weight of his arms around your waist and shoulders. 

Bucky buries his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your cheap shampoo as your tears soak his shirt. He doesn’t care, though. He holds you tight, places a kiss on the crown of your head, and moves in a gentle sway as you bury your face in his chest, right in the middle of a subway station.

○●○●○

“Is this really necessary?”

“You don’t wanna ruin the surprise, do you?”

“James Barnes, I swear, if this is gonna be like the cake incident then you can take me home.”

“Good thing we don’t have to go far, then.”

○●○●○

The sun beat down on his back, its unforgiving rays sure to leave his skin red. The earth was hard under him as he sat in silence, the only noise being the wind through the trees. A felt box was held delicately between his fingers.

“I love her.” He let a smile take over his face and a light chuckle leave his chest. “But you already knew that.”

His eyes danced along the lettering of two names engraved on the stone in front of him. 

“I’m going to ask her to marry me tomorrow.” 

Bucky averted his gaze back to the box in his hands. 

“I guess I’m just here to ask permission.” He offered no one a solemn smile. “I won’t hurt her. I’ll treat her right, I’ll do everything I can to make her happy. She won’t go hungry and she won’t ever be cold.”

He sniffled, giving a nod as he ran his fingers along the edge of the felt box. 

“I’ll love her like you did.”

○●○●○

Light flooded your vision as he removed the blindfold. The streetlight above you hummed as lit the sidewalk in a soft, yellow glow. It took a moment for your vision to clear, but when it did, you’re sure your heart skipped.

The first thing your eyes caught was the building. The chipped paint on the bricks, that one uneven step that used to be covered in colored chalk, and that window that would never shut right. The number on the door.

With a quick turn to the lamppost, the street name was still there in its perfect cursive, though weathered. 

104, Cornelia Street.

Your childhood home. Bucky’s childhood home. The small apartment that you’ve lived in since the age of three until college graduation. It’s the only place you ever remember calling home. He brought you home.

The creak in the wood floor of the hallway, the light switch in the bathroom that doesn’t work. The way the smoke alarm would go off anytime you would cook anything, so you’d have to smack it with a towel until it shut up.

You looked at Bucky with a drawn brow. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, a shy smile on his face.

“I remember when you moved in,” he started, gesturing towards your old home. “I was jealous that my Ma was giving you attention. I also remember stealing your doll when we were 8, and having a milkshake drinking contest when we were 12.”

He took a step closer.

“I remember when you got your period. You were too scared to tell Ma, so you told me instead.”

The memory made you chuckle. “She freaked out.”

He grinned and nodded as he shuffled on his feet. “I remember when Adam Smith stole your ice cream in 5th grade.”

“You punched him.”

“And got suspended,” he laughed.

“I remember prom,” he said quietly, after a moment of silence. “That’s when I fell in love with you. You were beautiful - your hair pulled up, that glittery eyeshadow, that dress.” A pause as he shook his head. “God, you were an angel.”

He was a breath away now, so close you could smell his cologne. 

“I remember the first time I broke your heart. I was young and stupid, and it damn near killed to see you walk away, knowing it was my fault. I thought I was gonna lose you forever.”

You could see it in his eyes, on his face, and even in the way he was standing so close you could hear his heartbeat - he meant his words. His smile was contagious, but that little quirk at the corner of his lips told you he knew something you didn’t. 

He hesitated, teeth biting at the inside of his lip. He could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck and his heart beat so hard it could probably break his ribs. “Bucky?”

He nodded, shaking his head at himself; he felt stupid, standing there mumbling and rambling on because he’s nervous.

“I love you, with everything I have, and everything I don’t.” His fingers rubbed along the edge of that felt box in his pocket. “I asked for their permission yesterday. Felt like it was the right thing to do. I hope they said yes, ‘cause I don’t know if I can wait anymore.”

“Bucky-”

He’s 100% sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest. With a shaky sigh through his nose, he lowers himself down on his knee, his sweaty fingers pulling that felt box from his pocket. 

“Oh God, Buck.” You didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or throw up - maybe all three. You never thought you’d see Bucky Barnes down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

“Will you marry me?”

○●○●○

Like it? Let me know!

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

you don't have to write it if it doesn't speak to you, but i just read and loved your fic where peter calms tony down from a panic attack, and now i offer a Good Concept: Peter trying to help Tony get through a meeting at SHIELD when Tony's spacey and in pain from a headache/fever?

@taylortut !!!! I really like this prompt girl!!

In the course of his lifetime Tony has witnessed the discovery of alien life, multiple alien invasions, discovering that the very threads of his reality all coincided within 6 stones, and yet he had never been more confused in his life up until this moment.

Everything Nick Fury says seems to be a jumble of words that don’t seem to be any language, perhaps some alien language but even then they’re barely even audible. They’re all slurred together and seemingly slowed down like his VCR tape had just malfunctioned.

He feels warm and hot all over and he felt like his face was on fire but his lower half was stuck in the middle of the arctic, and he wanted to scream. There was part of him that wanted to throw a tantrum and crawl up on the floor wailing in agony, but he was a grown man who was much respected with a very strong image to pursue and doing such a thing was..out of character, to the say the least.

Tony doesn’t remember the last time he felt this sick, hell, he doesn’t even think he’s ever felt this sick in his entire life. He grits his teeth together as he braces this headache that comes in ravaging like a hurricane in his head, destroying every cell in his brain. His fists are balled intensely in an attempt to anchor himself through this whirlwind of pain, and he doesn’t know if he’s really not concealing his discomfort well at all or Peter is just this observant but either way he can sense that the kid is staring holes into him.

Peter, as always, is kind and loving, with a soul softer than his damn hair, which is pretty damn soft. He doesn’t stare at Tony with malicious or judging intent, he stares at him with genuine concern and worry, and this sort of nervous energy he sort of sees in himself. He knows this kid isn’t his, but it sure feels like it.

Peter doesn’t quite know sign language all too well, he’s only just started after all (because he was an avenger now, all the avengers know sign language for Clint, why was he any different? and yes, Mr Stark, he was an avenger now) and he seems to be making up his own bizzaro form of sign language, which mostly consisted of an equally outlandish series of facial expressions. Tony has absolutely no clue what this kid is trying to communicate, but he can only assume is a, ‘you okay?’

As dumb and ridiculous as this exchange is, at least its amusing and it’s giving him a break from everything else that’s going on.  Peter’s great at that. He gives him a little break from everything in the world that’s shitty and bleak and shows him what’s right with the world. His headache hurt a little bit less.

Tony raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Peter shows a bit agitation, frustrated he can’t quite get his point across, not wanting to interrupt Fury who seems to still be going on about these Ravagers he doesn’t really understand, and tries mouthing his message, but Tony pretends like he doesn’t understand, because yes he’s sick but he’s a little shit and being sick doesn’t stop that.

Peter, who’s directly in front of him, gives him a look that just tells him he knows what he’s up to. He looks absolutely done with him. He sighs dramatically,  and goes on listening to some guy who’s started drone on and on about budget control. Tony knows he’s not really listening though and trying to discreetly check in on him, and he makes a mental note to see about teaching Peter a thing or two about stealth.

But all the joking and lighthearted tomfoolery doesn’t last long and it fades quickly and the storm starts up again. He feels awfully lightheaded and his head hurts so much, his whole body is heavy and he feels lost. It’s like he’s disconnected and disassociated and he’s simply hovering around, him and his body seeming to not connect. He feels a little delirious like his entire body is slowly dying off in a desert and his face is burning.

He feels like his body is begging for rest, gripping at his chair to anchor himself as he’s hit with yet another tidal wave of pain, nausea, and hot and cold waves and Peter seems to sense this. He eyes him worriedly, trying to keep up his discreet charade but he gives it up.

“Do you guys want some water?” Peter chirps up suddenly, interrupting the guy who’s still on about budget control, earning himself an annoyed look. He blushes a little as he realises what he’s done is a little rude, but to him Tony’s welfare is more dire right now than how much money is being allocated towards a new doorway.

“You can get some if you want, Mr Parker,” He sighs, teeth gritted and quickly resuming his bit.

Tony shoots Peter a tired look but the kid is gone in a flash, and when he’s gone it’s like everything is much worse because there’s no one to sulk at. He stifles a cough into the tailored fabric of his suit jacket, going relatively unnoticed which he’s glad for. He lets himself slump just a little, not too much, he still has an image, but he lets that image go just the tiniest bit.

Every second Peter is gone seems to last an eternity and a half. The world does by in this agonisingly slow pace, it seems to blur out of focus so his headache is heightened and he can practically hear his head throbbing. He feels so incredibly faint and so horrible he doesn’t know if he’s even here, it’s a nightmarish version of his life that is so surreal and trippy without the promise of a high.

Eventually Peter returns with a cart full of glasses, and passes some to random people in the conference room. Tony thinks about how out of place he looks, but he understands it for him and it makes him love the kid a lot more now. He wheels the cart towards the him, and passes him a glass of cold water that his brain is crying tears of joy for, as well as a oddly folded napkin.

Tony eyes it suspiciously and lifts the fold to reveal two aspirins and all he can do is give Peter the look of pure gratitude and euphoria.

Peter deliberately drops a napkin to crouch down and whisper, “I got them off this really nice lady called Daisy–you owe me one.”

He discreetly pops the pills into his mouth and gives Peter a nod, taking a good sip of his water. He doesn’t normally accept good actions like this so casually, but he lets his pride go because the sense of gratitude and appreciation he feels outweighs any sense of gargantuan ego he has.

And then everything felt like it was going to be fine. ‘Hell yeah I’m gonna make it through this’, Tony thinks proudly, his headache hurts and the cold and hot waves are rushing up and down him in the most uncomfortable way but he can handle this. He can hold on. Things are actually going in his favour for once. Everything is okay in the world.

But then hell breaks loose and Tony’s world is entirely shaken and flipped and nothing is okay.

He doesn’t exactly know what’s happened because his mind is focused solely on not passing out and keeping up a healthy facade, but he thinks Thunderbolt Ross said something that pissed off Fury and they’re yelling and they’re so loud and there’s more voices yelling and it’s all meddling and it’s just too much.

There’s a ringing in his ears and the room is closing in and Tony can hear his heart thumping and he can feel it and the dull roar of the ringing is now a shrill shriek. The lights seem to be fading in and out and the sounds only seem to get louder and everything seems to be heavier and weighing down on him

and Tony is drowning.

Tony swallows hard as his heart races and his breathing shallows and his hands are sweating. He grips the chair hard and tightly and the pressure he’s applying is so much he can feel the skin of his palms straining and his skin burns. He looks around wildly, his lip trembling and he’s shaking and he feels so lost. He feels so sick and his body cannot handle any more and he’s losing control fast and Tony more than anything hates losing control because he feels like he’s floating away and he feels so hauntingly light.

He desperately wants to ground himself and come back because he’s so terrified he’ll float away so far he can never come back. But then his gaze locks upon Peter’s and it’s like he’s grabbed his hand just before he’s fallen off the cliff into nothingness.

And he still feels like he’s teetering off the edge but he’s still here, and as Peter gives him the kindest look he’s ever seen he feels himself being brought back up to the surface slowly but surely. Everything else seems to fade into a dull roar and he focuses his entire entity on to him.

‘Breathe’, Peter mouths, and he begins to breathe in and out slowly and steadily, gesturing for him to follow suit.

Tony nods shakily, and slowly tries to match him. He’s off tempo and he’s rushing, coming in a bit too early but he gets a sense of the rhythm and follows him, never once tearing his gaze, completely locked on him. And he feels safe. He’s still here.

Peter gives him a smile, a proud smile, and Tony’s left wondering what he ever did to deserve such a sweet person in his life.

Peter’s face shifts and he pulls out his phone, pretending to read a text, and it’s really obvious, and the mental note Tony made to teach Peter about stealth seems to climb up quite a bit.

“Uh, guys?” Peter interrupts the chaos that is Shield’s conference room, earning a particularly venomous look from that budget control guy from earlier.

“Yes, Mr.Parker?” Ross sighs.

“Uh, I just got a text from Mr Rhodes and he says he needs myself and Mr Stark like..uh..urgently?” Peter lies.

“Just go,” He brushes off quickly, seemingly uninterested and diving right into his angry tangent.

Peter gestures towards Tony, raising his eyebrows and heading towards the door. Tony follows, the journey a horrendous trek that seemed to leach every single joule of energy remaining in his body. He keeps himself straight and professional, but the moment the doors closed he feels his knees buckling and his body becoming light and his world begin to tilt.

Peter was quicker, his instincts alert and responsive and in a swoop his arm was catching him and pulling him upright, supporting and caring.

“We gotta get you home, Mr.Stark, I’ll call Happy,” Peter suggests, his grip strong but not hurtful in any sense.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” Tony laments, remorse and shame lacing his words.

“Why not?”

“Your role models shouldn’t be weak.”

Peter is silent for a moment, but he softens, “All my heroes aren’t perfect.”

“Captain America was the scrawny little guy from New York,” Peter explains softly, and chuckles, “Just like me.”

“Dr Banner has some mental health problems. Hawkeye is hard of hearing. Black Widow used to be an assassin. Winter Soldier’s going through some pretty serious trauma, and so is Falcon. The Scarlet Witch worked with Ultron. And Thor..uh, he seems pretty perfect but uh, I’m sure there’s something–oh yeah, he’s got pretty strong emotions he can’t resist sometimes.”

“But my point is.. All my heroes aren’t perfect . And neither are you and that’s okay. It helps me know that I can be somebody too, you know?” Peter says, and looks over at him to give him a reassuring smile that tells him everything will be okay.

“I..didn’t have a lot growing up and seeing that my favourite heroes don’t have everything makes me feel like I can really do something with my life, you know? All I need..is that drive to make the world better, right? So yeah, no, I gotta disagree with you Mr Stark, my role models don’t have to be always strong. They just gotta keep trying.”

Tony can’t help his smile, “The whole world should be like you, kid. Kids like you remind me about why we do this.”

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder and brings him a bit closer, “Now, enough sap talk and let’s get me the hell home.”

[the-desolated-quill]

Extremis - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I seriously can’t make up my mind as to whether or not I actually liked this episode. Extremis is certainly very different from previous Who stories and there are some interesting concepts and ideas buried within. I could imagine a talented writer creating something really special with these ideas.

...

Take a random guess who wrote this one.

Okay. Credit where it’s due. This is not the worst thing Moffat has ever written. Hell, in terms of quality, Extremis is several leagues above shit like The Husbands Of River Song or Hell Bent. I suppose the fact that I’m not instantly dismissing this episode like I’ve done with previous Moffat stories shows that things are improving somewhat, right?

Let’s start with the obvious. Guess who’s in the Vault:

Oh yeah! Fucking called it!

Obviously this didn’t come as much of a shock. Like with all of Moffat’s series arcs, the list of suspects was pathetically small. Really, who else could it have been? I was more shocked by how blasé the reveal was. There was none of the usual melodramatic theatricality that comes with these sorts of reveals. It was basically just a ‘oh by the way, the Master is in the Vault. Just so you know.’ Makes me wonder why Moffat even bothered making it a mystery in the first place? Why not just be upfront about it from the get go if it’s not that big of a deal?

So yeah. The execution stuff. It had all the usual Moffat bollocks. The Doctor using the power of plot convenience to get out of a situation, using his reputation to scare off the opposition and thus completely removing any and all tension or excitement from the proceedings, Nardole being an unfunny killjoy, and River Song chastising the Doctor (this time from beyond the grave) for being a very bad man because he wants to kill the Master even though the chances of the Doctor actually going through with it are extremely slim and even though River Song has more blood on her hands than he does. Hypocritical much, sweetie? On the whole, I wasn’t particularly fond of any of that. But what saved it for me, surprisingly, was the Master. The annoying crazy schtick has been stripped away completely here as we see the Master at her most vulnerable, pleading for her life. Michelle Gomez knocks it out of the park completely and I did actually find myself feeling sorry for her.

Oh, not that I’m convinced any of this will stick. I know Moffat’s bullshit all too well. All this crap about the Master wanting to turn over a new leaf I’m sure will be conveniently reversed at some point. Same goes for the Doctor’s blindness. It’s a bit hard to feel any sort of emotional investment towards the Doctor’s current condition when you can practically see Moffat’s hand hovering over the reset button at all times (and why is the Doctor trying to keep it a secret from Bill? How bloody stupid is that?).

Now let’s get into the story good and proper. There’s this book called the Veritas, which contains a terrible secret and anyone who learns this secret commits suicide immediately afterwards. Okay. As premises go, that’s a bloody good one. Already I’m intrigued. We’ve also got some genuinely creepy monsters. The Monks. They certainly look cool and the voices are chilling. It seems like they’re going to be the main recurring villains this series, and yeah I wouldn’t mind seeing them again. I’d certainly like to learn more about them. Hopefully they won’t outstay their welcome like the Silence and Weeping Angels did.

So yeah. it’s a good setup that draws you in. However it’s when the action shifts to the Vatican’s secret library where everything starts to wobble and fall apart. So the Veritas reveals the truth. That this isn’t the real world and that this is a computer simulation. Quick question. How long has this simulation been running for? If it’s in real time, how did the ancient scholars figure out they were in a computer simulation? If it’s not, why did the Monks put the Veritas into the simulation in the first place?

This then leads to further questions. Why would finding out you’re in a simulation make you want to kill yourself? Why did that priest wait four hours to kill himself after he sent the email to CERN? Why do the CERN guys think they’re saving the world by blowing themselves up? How does that work? And the most important question of all, why would the Monks create simulants smart enough and self aware enough to work out their true nature? Why put the Veritas in the simulation? Why give them access to all those portals? It doesn’t make sense. The purpose of these simulations is for the Monks to test run how they’re going to take over the Earth. How does creating a simulation where the simulants realise they’re simulants do that? How does that benefit the Monks’ plans? It doesn’t make sense.

I can see how this could have worked. Have a story where the Doctor fails to save the Earth from alien invaders and possibly even die, only to then reveal that it was all a simulation and have the real invasion take place in a future episode, where the tension would come from wondering how the real Doctor will succeed where his computer generated self failed. That could have been very gripping and genuinely original. But unfortunately Moffat trips up thanks to one of his many flaws as a writer, His desperate desire to appear clever when in reality he’s a colossal idiot.

So the Veritas contains a shadow test, where any random number you think of is the same number everyone else is thinking of. The Doctor explains that if all computer generated people are part of the same programme, then they’ll all generate the exact same string of random numbers.

Now I’m not an expert on computers by any stretch of the imagination (I did all my A Level coursework on a typewriter), but from what little I remember from my IT GCSE, I can tell that’s prime bullshit. It’s true that computers aren't perfect random number generators, but they can do a hell of a lot better than that!

Then it just gets even weirder when Moffat starts bringing video games into the equation. Why video games? This simulation has nothing in common with a video game as far as I can see. And what’s all this crap about video game characters thinking they’re real? Moffat does know video game characters aren’t actually sentient, right? And finally, how is the fake Doctor able to email the simulation to the real Doctor at the end? He claims it’s something any computer or subroutine can do. Again, I’m not an expert on computers, but even I know that’s bollocks.

So is Extremis good or bad in the end? Well... I suppose I didn’t dislike it, but there are far too many plot holes and loose ends that I simply can’t overlook. On the whole it’s conceptually interesting, but poorly thought out. Points for trying though.

[buckygirl-fanfiction]

Sparks Chapter 20

Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV) ft. other characters from the avengers team

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Sad stuff happens.

A/N: This is a story about two people building a great friendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 67,000 words. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know

March 23, 2016

 y/n’s POV

 “You cut your hair!” I hear Bucky yell from across the lab. The sudden noise rips me from my computer screen and I turn to look at the source of the sound. I spot a couple startled interns turning their heads back to whatever they were doing and for a second i’m startled as well. I’ve been so focused on work I can’t remember the last time I looked up from the screen in front of me. During the time it takes for me to gather myself Bucky is already across the lab floor and by the little desk i’m working at. He picks at my hair and I lean back away from his noisy fingers.

 “Yes,” I say casually. I cut it a couple days ago, I think… I Can’t really remember days now. But I was bored and walking home and passed a hair salon and for no good reason I found myself going in. An hour later I was left with short hair just resting past my chest and a pang in my heart, as least I felt something. I missed my rapunzel hair it was apart of me. But oh well, it took too long to take care of anyways.

 “Why!” Bucky says back to picking at my now shorter strands.

 “I don’t know…” I say a little annoyed at the intrusion. I have to admit I have been consciously avoiding him since St. Patrick's day, again for no good reason. “Why are you here?”

 “I haven’t seen much of you lately,” he says trailing off.

 “I know busy, busy. Can’t talk.” I say trying to shoo him away.

 “Alright… well are you okay?” He asks his expression sinking for a second.

 “Yeah, i’m fine. You gotta go. You’re distracting me.” I say and turn back to my screen.

 “Umm, sorry. I’ll see you around? Maybe Dinner later?” he asks genuinely.

 “Yeah sure maybe…” I say trying to get rid of him. I hear his footsteps fade away as he resigns himself and I do feel bad. I really do. But I don’t FEEL it. I know I should and for a second I think I do, but not really. Whatever…

 March 25, 2016

 2am

 y/n’s POV

 “Are you crazy!” he yells at me from the other side of the conference table. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

 I roll my eyes and that’s my only response.

 “Alright, let’s all calm down,” Wanda says.

 “She could have fucking died,” Bucky continues to yell. “Who let her past the checkpoint?”

 “I did,” I say narrowing my eyes at him. “I disabled it didn’t I?”

 “y/n when there’s a fucking bomb with your name on it you don’t fucking go near it!” he continues to yell.

 “Well I didn’t see anyone else disarming it…”

 “The plan was to clear everyone then send in the techs! Not you!”

 “Your plan was stupid…”

 “You’re the one that’s acting stupid! Do you have any regard for personal safety!” The thing was I didn’t… Well not at the moment at least. I saw a way to save a lot of lives and I took a calculated risk.

 “Can I go now?” I say turning towards Tony who has his face buried in his tablet.

 He looks up when he realises the question is directed too him and says, “Sure, the disarmed bomb is in your lab. The sooner you get started on it the…” Tony’s words are cut off by Bucky’s firm voice.

 “She’s going home. To get some fucking sleep,” God I didn’t know he cursed this much.

 “For a second I almost thought you were my boss,” I say laughing. I make my way towards the glass door and pull it open. For a moment I expect him to follow me out and drag me back to my apartment. But he doesn’t.

 I’m at the lab photographing and noting everything before I begin to take this latest monstrosity apart. Scrolled across the front are the words: ‘For Dr. y/l/n’ in red spray paint. What a theatrical touch I think to myself. Whoever made this clearly has the flare for the dramatic. Come on picking a hospital… That’s a low blow even for terrorists.  I yawn and put the camera down. I should be able to deconstruct this in a couple hours.

 …

 The sound of my phone ringing tears me from my precious sleep. I squint my eyes picking up my head from my desk. I must've dozed off. I look at my clock and it reads 3.46pm. The last thing I remember was Cho bringing me breakfast, which is still lying in its box on my desk. My phone continues to ring and I snap myself awake and look at the screen. It’s Olivia. I yawn and say hello in a scratchy voice.

 On the other end I hear cars and sirens? “y/n” I hear Olivia say in a shaky voice.

 “Whats up?” I ask.

 “Dr. y/l/n can you stop this one in time?” I hear her say struggling to push out the words. For a fraction of a second nothing seems to compute. Then it clicks.

 Bucky’s POV

 “Let me go!” she screams, “I have to go.” But the grip I have on her is stronger than even she is. She puts up a good fight but I have to do this. Even if I have to save her from herself.

 I see Steve run towards Olivia. The short women looks even smaller from a distance. She’s clutching her baby to her chest and sitting on a chair in the middle of Time Square. The area has been cleared and sealed. Not even a overzealous cop or noisy reporter could get in. “She’s on a pressure pad.” Steve’s voice comes in through my earpiece. “I can’t take the child, the change in weight might trigger it.” y/n continues to struggle against my hold cursing my very existence.

 “I’m sending the tech in now,” Tony’s voice comes in through my com. Before I can respond I feel a sharp pain in my shin and for a second I loose my grip on y/n. Just a second. That’s all it ever takes doesn’t it. She slips from my grip and runs towards her friend. This is a message and it was meant for her. There’s a bright flash of orange and red and black. I see Steve’s body fly back. Then I hear a scream. A gut wrenching scream that tears at my heart.

 …

 Bucky’s POV

 y/n has been quiet. The last thing I heard come out of her was that god awful agonizing scream. We’re back at the tower. I don’t want to leave her, but I want to check on Steve. He’s probably fine I know. But, the combined worry of everything is taking a toll on me. He’s only a couple doors down in one of the other rooms in the med bay but I can’t leave y/n. We’re waiting for Olivia’s husband and son. A team was sent to escort them here and a plan has been put into action for their extraction and exit. They are being flown out today to somewhere safe. “It’s just until this is over, okay?” I say trying to reassure her. I’m met with more silence. Not the calm silence one hears during the moments after a trauma but the eerie silence that envelops people when they’ve been truly broken.

 After what feels like eternity I finally get the green light. Olivia’s husband, Mark, and Ben finally arrive at the tower. They’re escorted up to the med bay and I see Ben through the glass doors. He’s carefree and smiling running circles around his father as he walks towards the room lead by Carter. I step forward and open the door. They don’t know. They haven’t been told and y/n isn’t in any state to do it. That leaves me doesn’t it? It leaves me to break a family’s heart.

 y/n’s POV

 Not a lot registers. I remember Cho shining a light in my eye and asking how I felt. I didn’t reply. Then flashes of a car ride. Even when Ben runs up to say hi, I don’t register it. It’s not until he leans against my knees that I realize he’s there and as soon as I do, as soon as I feel him, I push off my chair onto my knees and pull him into my embrace almost crushing him. I vaguely hear Bucky talking and another man’s voice but nothing else registers.

I miss her with all my heart, with all my soul, and if I had anything more to miss her with I would. The pain I feel now is searing and not even my hold on Ben is enough to keep me from losing myself to it.

 A moment later I feel him torn from me by a pair of strong hands i’m too weak to fight. “Let go of my son.” Those are the first words I really register since the explosion. “This is your fault!”

 “No please,” is all I can manage to push out. Even that I don’t say consciously, it just involuntarily slips out of my mouth. “Ben!”

 “You’ll never see him again!” I’m having a hard time seeing reality but I know Mark is gone now and I think the shock finally hits me.

 I keep thinking, no you’re stronger than this. But my breathing is ragged and i’m hyperventilating and I feel Bucky’s hands grasp my shoulders. He is saying something that I can’t quite hear past the rush of blood pumping through my ears. “Sed… Seda… Sedate me! Get Cho!” I scream past the fog that is suddenly becoming my new reality. I hear, more than see, Bucky leave the room. But that’s going to take too long. I push myself off the floor and stumble over to the cabinets. I pull a drawer open and find a syringe full of what i’m looking for. I stick myself in the arm and push the plunger down not caring about the dose i’ve just injected myself with. I just want to sleep.

 Bucky’s POV

 I run outside the room, leaving y/n for no more than a second, to get Cho. But that’s all it ever takes isn’t it? A second. When we come back in she’s on the floor and I feel a piece of myself shatter.

[btsfanficss]

Stay Professional! Pt. 9

Work AU! Fluff, Angst and Suggestive smut: Jungkook x Reader

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 (10 will be a continuation) 

Summary: It feels like you’re going up against Jungkook in a mind boggling game of Chess. You both made moves that were rather questionable and things you wouldn’t normally do just to spite each other. It was a professional event, yet there were 2 people in the room who didn’t seem to understand that. 

A/N: Say hello to angst angst and more angst~ I plan on finishing up this series soon but ye. Also this chapter has a lot of dialogue. 

You let out a quick puff of air from your cheeks as you scoffed at Jungkook’s immature behaviour. The roll of your eyes indicated your frustration at the situation you were put in: the person you had genuine feelings for did turn out to be what you despised most- a detached fuck-boy with too much money in his hands. You couldn’t believe your eyes, more like- you didn’t want to believe what you were seeing. 

Jungkook smirked at your reaction, it was exactly what he wanted to see- you riled up with jealousy. 

Essentially, it was your fault that Jungkook reverted to his old-self after you left him for Jimin. You still managed to look like you actually enjoyed Jimin’s company and that really pushed his buttons, buttons he didn’t even know existed as he’d never gotten this attached to anyone before. Although it was unintentional, you ended up playing along to Jungkook’s new declared war because you were caught up in the moment- and that’s exactly what Jungkook had planned.

Things were about to get ugly when it really shouldn’t, at least not in this professional environment. But you’d be surprised as the power of jealousy... and how it can persuade people to act rashly- rather, stupidly.  

He was clearly trying to make you jealous even though it’d be proof that your words to him were correct- about him being a fuck-boy but he didn’t care at that point. He just wanted your smile to belong to him and only him but since that wasn’t the case, he didn’t want anyone else to have it. Not especially Park Jimin for he knew that he did not deserve someone like you. 

Jungkook’s assistant looked a little flustered by the sudden contact. The most they’d physically interacted was only their first handshake. Jungkook was far too busy to pay attention to his new assistant but he did know for a fact, he didn’t like her very much because of her nagging. That didn’t matter to him though, she was the perfect chess piece to bring you down. Jungkook’s genius plan was to flirt with his assistant to get you riled up. But of course, the stubborn Y/N definitely wouldn’t back down without a bloody good fight.

A new burning feeling started to eat away your stomach. You felt as though bile crept it’s way up your throat as you almost immediately wanted to throw up at the sight of Jungkook so close to this random girl you immediately deemed ‘annoying’. 

“Lead the way, sweetheart.” He placed a swift kiss on the back of his assistant’s hand, making sure to shoot you a smug expression whilst doing so. 

Fuck! It was that nickname! You remember how shook you were when he first called you that. That was when all your feelings started to form. From that one simple little word. And now he was casually throwing that word around to this chick he hardly knew. Of course you were mad. 

“Let’s go back to our seat, Jimin.” You boldly linked arms with Jimin who seemed to freeze under your touch. You clinged tightly onto his arm as you made sure Jungkook saw you press your chest into Jimin’s side. You snickered inside as Jungkook’s jaw immediately clenched at the sight. 

Two can play the game. 

Throughout the conference, the two of you stared at each other with puzzled and angered expressions, almost trying to communicate through just death glares. Jungkook had a hard time trying to understand what was going on inside your head and so it was mutual for you. Why would he do this to me?

Because he’s Jeon Jungkook Y/N, I told you to be careful of him. One side of your brain scolded whilst the other spoke gently, he’s only doing this because he wants you and he can’t have you. Which side were you meant to trust? 

The conference seemed to go on forever. Each person spoke confidently and spewed facts and stats about their business and blah blah- which were points that you should’ve been making mental notes of but you didn’t. Simply because Jungkook stealthily scooched closer to his assistant as each 15 minutes passed. You could tell that his knee was probably touching her thigh by now- and it was really really ticking you off. His strategy was childish... but annoyingly effective. Couldn’t he just hold this dumb war until after the conference? Obviously not. So you chose to fight back. 

You noticed Jimin reaching out for a glass of water. He had a relatively loose grip on the cup and immediately, your brain sparked an idea. He brought it close to his lips and started to drink it, taking small gulps at a time. You swiftly elbowed his arm with a subtle but powerful WHACK and that was then he dropped the cup from his fingers- the water spilt all over his dress shirt and pants. You pretended to look shocked and started muttering apologises immediately. But in reality, this was exactly what you had planned. 

The people’s attention turned to you and Jimin. You pretended to be in a state of panic, muttering ‘I’m so sorry, Sir’ repetitively before pulling out several tissues from the nearest tissue box. You could practically feel Jungkook’s angry gaze glaring at you. You boldly wiped away Jimin’s dress shirt with the tissues, making sure linger your touch over his ridiculously toned lower abdomen muscles. 

Jimin seemed a little annoyed but he hid his feelings and just continued to smile, reassuring everyone in his sweet voice that, “everything’s okay, please continue.” 

He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what you were trying to do- but that didn’t mean that he wanted to get involved. You continued to wipe the water that drenched the bottom of his shirt with the tissues. You froze a little before proceeding to wipe the remaining area- his pants. Thankfully, the water spilt over his thighs and not his crotch. 

Jungkook’s fist had never been so tight before. He could feel his fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his palm. His ears were bright red and you could practically sense the steam of anger that radiated from him. Maybe you took the game a little too far? 

Jimin suddenly stopped your actions by gently gripping onto your hand. He gave you a small smile that practically pleaded for you to stop. You finally came to your senses and immediately bowed your head at him. What were you thinking? You’d just risked your job for some dumb game Jungkook was challenging you in. 

Until the conference ended, you chewed on your bottom lip with anxiety sitting heavily on your shoulders. Would Jimin be furious? Would he fire you? After all, it was a very serious and professional conference and you were sitting there playing a mind game with Jungkook- which you’d won in the end but victory tasted bitter on your tastebuds. 

Jimin cleared his throat loudly and pushed out his chair to stand up. He then looked down at you to examine your facial expression. He took mental notes of the way you fidgeted with your fingers and bit your lip so much to a point it turned pink. He found it a little cute how you were suddenly so scared of the consequences despite being so bold before. 

“The conference is over, Y/N. Would you like to join me in the hall for some refreshments?” Jimin spoke with a straight face- immediately worrying you. 

“Y-yes Sir. That’d be nice.” You fanned your face with your hands and pushed your chair in before departing with Jimin leading the way. 

Jungkook was still riled up at your bold move. At least he was subtle about his intentions, you were just too bold for your own good. His jaw became sore after all that clenching in anger and his assistant was noticeably confused. 

“Are you feeling well Sir Jeon? Shall we go to the hall for some refreshments? Perhaps that’ll help you cool your head.” She spoke, this time she sounded genuinely concerned- which surprised Jungkook. 

“Yes alright. Good idea.” and so the two of them headed off to the hall, too- both parties unaware that each other would be there. 

“Stay here I’ll get us some drinks.” Jimin left abruptly, leaving you alone in your own thoughts. This scenario reminded you too much of what’d happened in Santorini. The rehearsal dinner you attended with Jungkook- and how he left with his mother for business reasons, then the brawl you had with him on the beach which turned out to be the most passionate make-out session. That night when he made love to you and you were sure of your feelings for him- but then he left. With no notice. 

“I liked your little act back there.” A familiar voice rang in your ears- it’d be so long since your ears had been blessed with his chocolately tones. 

“I.. Look.. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You admitted, turning your body to face him completely. 

He just snickered at your response. You stared at him and you saw nothing but tiredness and emptiness. He looked so drained. Did he lose some weight? 

“And I thought I was the asshole for trying to play with your feelings.” He slid his hand inside his suit coat as he continued to stare at your expression that deteriorated into one of guilt. 

“Didn’t actually think that you’d stoop down to my level and beat me at my own stupid mind-game.” Jungkook didn’t hold back on his words. He had no filter on and he was fully aware that his words were hurting you- but what else could he do? You were the one that left him. Now you were the hypocrite- playing with his feelings even more than Jimin was. 

“Well let’s be honest here. You’d actually have to like me first to get hurt.” You spoke through clenched teeth and squinted eyes. 

It seemed to push another button in Jungkook. His facial expression suddenly turned soft- his eyebrows that were knitted together before softened into the normal shape as you swore you saw a glint of hope flash before Jungkook’s eyes. 

“I have our drinks.” Jimin interrupted, terrible timing as always. 

“Thank you.” You loosened your jaw and quickly downed the drink. The drink blessed your tastebuds with an authentic taste of the tropics but you didn’t have the correct mindset to enjoy it. Maybe if Jungkook stopped staring at you, you would be able to think straight. 

“Sir, I brought our drinks.” Jungkook’s assistant gently bumps his elbow to get his attention. She’d have normally just called out to him but she was aware of what Jungkook had been trying to do the whole event and she played along with him. She found it awfully amusing as she watched her boss experience a different emotion that wasn’t ‘stress’ for the first time since she’d worked with him. But ‘stress’ wasn’t nearly as bad as ‘jealousy’. 

He didn’t say anything and took the drink from her before inhaling in a big breath, ready to speak. 

“This is Y/N. She was my previous... assistant and the man next to her his Jimin. He’s one of our recognised advisors.” Jungkook took a step to the side so his assistant could properly shake hands. 

“Nice to meet you, please call me Yujung.” She smiled at Jimin and firmly gripped his hand. She turned to you and you watched as her facial expression fade into a smirk- she practically scanned you from head to toe. How rude! 

You gave her a forced smile in which Jungkook could barely hold back his laughter. He couldn’t help but smile at the fact that despite being in such a professional environment, your childish nature managed to shine through all the time. Which wasn’t particularly a good trait but Jungkook found it the cutest thing ever. 

There was an awkward silence that fell upon the 4 of you as no one knew what else to say. Jungkook’s assistant seemed to eye you endlessly and you found it rather annoying. You bit your tongue back incase you let anything carelessly slip out of your mouth, quickly downing the juice to shut yourself up. 

Perhaps your mind was too clouded that you didn’t seem to drink the juice properly- your breathing became faltered at the sensation of it going through the wrong pipe. You immediately put your hand over your mouth incase you’d cough it up but what you didn’t realise was- you moved too quickly and forgot you were still holding the cup that had juice half way full. You managed to keep the liquid inside your mouth... but you had to sacrifice your crisp white blouse and black pencil skirt. It was now stained a tropical orange from the fruit juice and you frowned in disapproval. 

Yujung giggled noticeably loud as Jungkook and Jimin both quickly grabbed some tissues for you. How embarrassing! 

You stubbornly swallowed the juice and coughed loudly at the burning sensation. Your lungs had started to burn a little from the lack of oxygen and you had tears pricking your eyes due to the the uncomfortable sensation.

Here you were, trying to look good in-front of your replacement and now look what you’d done. You felt like you’d made a fool out of yourself. You took the tissues from Jimin and started to wipe your ruined shirt- still coughing violently as you’d just choked from the juice. Jimin gently stroked your back as a sign to steady your breathing but Jungkook misread the situation and he thought the war had just been declared again. 

This time, for real, Jimin was innocent. The only reason why he took you to this conference was to test and see if Jungkook was mature enough. As a mentor, his job was to make sure that Jungkook grew up to be the perfect fit for his upcoming position as the CEO. Jimin tested Jungkook’s ability to stay professional under a serious environment and to see if he’d revert back to his past self. But judging from how he was acting, Jimin knew that Jungkook had to learn to tame his emotions. How else was Jimin going to teach him not to get feelings involved in a professional environment? He thought he’d already taught him that- by taking you away from him. But obviously, his plan had backfired completely. 

Jimin had never expected Jungkook to act so rashly like he’d done today. Sitting basically on his assistant’s lap at an annual conference just to spite you? What was he thinking? Jimin was a smart man. He knew everything he needed to- to make a business run smoothly. But, he clearly didn’t know the power of attachment and infatuation. 

Jungkook’s grip on his thin glass tightened. It looked as though it was going to shatter within seconds. You continued to cough violently whilst Jimin tried his best to soak up the remainder of the juice on your blouse. Jimin had helped you purely because of his instincts- he didn’t actually realise how he’d basically been feeling you up this whole time. Jungkook did notice though, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Embarrassed at the whole situation, you made your way to the bathroom, quickly croaking up an “I’ll b-be back” with loud coughs in between. 

Jimin looked a little worried as he knew you probably felt super embarrassed, which you did. Jungkook bumped Yujung’s shoulder and looked over at you quickly opening the door to the toilets. He indicated for her to follow you- to make sure you were okay and nothing more. 

The atmosphere felt heavy on Jimin’s shoulders knowing that he’d just messed up majorly with this whole ‘don’t get JK attached to anyone’ thing. His plan had completely backfired and now for the first time in a long, long time- he didn’t know what to do next. 

Jimin thought that if he were to take you away from Jungkook, then he’d never get attached to anyone again and learn from the experience that people shouldn’t be trusted properly- especially not in the world of business. But nope. Jimin had no idea just how attached JK was to you and now that he was the one that took you away from him, Jimin could tell for sure Jungkook wasn’t pleased with his actions. 

Jimin’s plan had completely backfired and now it was all going downhill. Jungkook’s work had been below average and so was yours- it wasn’t a win win situation after all. 

“How have you been, Kook?” Jimin tried to soften the intense stare Jungkook had on Jimin by reminding him of his affectionate nickname he’d given him back when they were like brothers. 

“Don’t call me that.” Jungkook immediately smirked- a rather maniacal one. He wasn’t exactly the most ecstatic person since Jimin’s involvement in his personal relationship with you.  

“Oh come on. I can’t believe you’re being such a brat over this. You know I’m only using her to teach you a lesson right?” Jimin’s choice of words seemed to anger Jungkook instead of the opposite. 

“A brat? Using her? Are you even listening to yourself?” Jungkook clenched his fist tightly as he prayed that Jimin would shut his mouth.

“Are you listening to yourself? Wake up kid. Stop trying to defend her- don’t forget she’s the one that left you. Don’t you get it Jungkook? You can’t trust people easily- no matter how genuine they seem because people are manipulative.” The twinkle in Jimin’s eyes completely faded as he’d just come to realise just how attached Jungkook was to you. 

“If you hadn’t fucking brainwashed her maybe she would’ve actually listened to me.” Jungkook took a step closer to Jimin. He could feel Jungkook’s breath on his cheek as he spoke through clenched teeth. Jimin had never seen him so angry before. 

“She was special to me and you fucked it up for me, hyung.” Jungkook suddenly snatched onto Jimin’s tie and grabbed him by the collar, tightening his grasp on this silky fabric around his neck. For the first time in a long time, JK was sincere about the word, ‘hyung’. Whether he liked it or not, it was the truth. Jimin had taught him everything he knew and as a younger brother, he wanted to let Jimin know of how much he’d failed him. Not as a mentor; but as a brother. 

Bitterness spread all over Jimin’s tongue. It was a disgusting feeling. For the first time, Jimin had started to question his own actions- which was something he’d never previously done before. 

Guilt immediately washed over his eyes as he tried to think of ways to fix the mess. He couldn’t just suddenly ask you to return back to Jungkook because Jungkook had broken your trust whether it be because of himself or Jimin. He couldn’t just sit still and wait until Jungkook got over you- it would take bloody forever. There really was nothing Jimin could do. And it finally seemed to hit Jimin that this was really something he shouldn’t have messed with. 

“Hey hey! Break it off!” You rushed in between the two men, quickly pulling them apart from the centre. 

“Look at yourselves! Stop behaving like children, this is not the time.” You whispered harshly and Jungkook slowly loosened his grip on Jimin’s collar. You saw Jimin’s muscle relax as he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Isn’t that ironic?” Weren’t you the one that was practically molesting Jimin 15 minutes ago?” Yujung placed her hand over her mouth to quieten her evil giggle. 

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the aggressive comment, finding it completely unexpected. You could barely process what had just escaped out of her mouth. 

“Oh come on, don’t look so shocked. I know we were all thinking it.” Yujung snickered as she found your facial expression terribly priceless. 

Jungkook’s was still so shocked that he didn’t even think to even defend you. 

“That’s enough. This is stupid. I can’t believe we’re all being this immature right now. We’re all adults here. Business should remain business. Stop mixing your dumb feelings into everything.” Jimin spoke through gritted teeth- also evidently annoyed at her comment. 

At least both Jungkook and Jimin were on your side- even though you didn’t know that at the time. 

You were still taken aback by her rude comment that you didn’t notice your palm was almost at the state of blood shed as your fingernails dug deep into the soft flesh. You were evidently a bright shade of red- whether it be embarrassment from the truth of her comment or just pure rage, it certainly wasn’t a nice feeling. 

The car ride home was terribly silent. Jimin didn’t speak at all, despite being sat awkwardly close to you. You kept your thoughts to yourself and stared blankly outside the tinted glass. The world’s beauty had been blurred since your problems with Jungkook. Deep down, you were miserable at Jimin’s company and you couldn’t concentrate because all you could think about was- how happy you would be now if you had kept your stupid mouth shut and not spoken during the spur of the moment. 

“Thanks for coming with me today.” Jimin gently placed his hand on your knee. It was awkwardly affectionate and you didn’t know what to think of it. 

“It’s fine. I don’t even know why I agreed- I knew it’d be a bad idea but hey.. I still did it.” You chuckled, slowly inching away from him to open the car door.

“Yeah. I think I figured out just how much I fucked up today.” Jimin let out an inaudible confession. 

Your hand lingered over the handle of the door. “What do you mean...?”

“This is a long and complicated story, Y/N. It involves Jungkook, obviously- and I.. I don’t know what to do anymore.” Jimin admitted as he kept his gaze on his shiny shoes. Jimin had never had to ask anyone before for advice but somehow, the look on your face comforted him in more ways than one. 

“I..I have some time on my hands.” You admitted, a small smile grew on your face as this was the first time Jimin had been sincere with you. 

Your smile seemed to transfer to him. You watched as his eyes crinkled in relief as you opened the car door to exit. Jimin followed closely behind you up the stairs and made sure to look down instead of up- at your nicely shaped ass. Although it was hard to do so, he tried his best to keep his eyes to his feet rather than the delicious glory in-front of him. 

You opened the door to your worn down apartment with a rusty bronze key and kicked off your heels carelessly before placing them nicely next to Jimin’s rather large and expensive shoe. He looked around with wandering eyes and you felt a blush creep up your neck.

“Sorry it’s really messy.. and it’s really not much. I’m barely surviving so.” You quickly trotted over to the kitchen to put on the kettle. 

“I ran out of coffee.. do you mind tea?” You rested your eyes upon Jimin whom was now seated on your old sofa that seemed to almost devour him whole. 

“That’d be lovely thank you.” He gave you another sincere smile and it put you in a weirdly good mood. For once, Jimin felt like he was an actual person. All this time, he’d been so closed off and inhumane it made you so intimidated of him- but now he was a little different, vulnerable and it made you feel better. 

“This goes a long time back. Well, not too long because Jungkook is still a kid- at least in my eyes, he’s still a kid. You might see him as a man though.” His lips curled into a sly smile. It’d reminded you of your first encounter with him and how mysterious he was. He was finally opening up to you which was very rare- especially for someone like Jimin. 

“What are you suggesting?” You noticeably stirred the cup of tea faster than before which informed him that you knew exactly what he meant. 

“Don’t play dumb with me. We’ve been playing dumb for too long now. You can just admit it, Y/N. It’s blatantly obvious is it not?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimin.” You let his name casually slip out of your mouth. He’d been so used to hearing ‘sir’ from you it felt nice to hear the change fall from your lips. 

“I’m just going to pretend that you admitted your feelings to speed things up.” He chuckled before downing a couple of gulps of the hot tea. 

“For your information, that’s not how you drink tea.” You tried changing the subject in hopes your red face would stop burning from embarrassment.

“And for your information, you shouldn’t have accepted my job offer.” He got straight to the point. His gaze on you felt terrorising but you knew that he meant no harm. 

“Why are you telling me this now? I thought this was apart of your mastermind plan of some sort. Didn’t you want me to leave Jungkook’s side?” You placed the teacup on top of your thighs with your fingers gently circulating the cup. 

“Essentially, it was yes. But... I’m sad to inform you that my ‘mastermind plan’ is now officially fucked.” He chuckled at his own curses. 

“Okay so. Before we go ahead, I gotta give you some context. Basically, Kook’s mother hired me as his ‘mentor’ since he was a child because I was so successful as a business man. She asked me to teach him how to be like ‘me’ and hence why you might notice a few similarities in the way we tend to behave.” 

“Okay..” You blinked slowly as your brain worked abnormally slow to absorb the information. 

“I thought I’d done a pretty good job at raising him judging from his recent rise to success but I had one more thing to teach him before he was completely ready to take on the cruel world of business.” 

“You make it sound like it’s a war out there.” 

“Oh baby girl, trust me it is.” Jimin cackled silently at your comment. 

“I wanted to teach Jungkook an important lesson. The lesson being- he shouldn’t trust people easily. Because at the end of the day, people are always going to be picking options that maximises their personal benefits. Especially when we’re dealing with companies that constantly lie, Jungkook needs to build up a resistance to..” Jimin’s eyes had shifted from his half full tea-cup to your eyes. 

“Attachment.” He smiled at you. 

You formed a small ‘o’ with your mouth and finally so much of the unsolved problems had made sense. 

“I understand if you still dislike me for my actions. Honestly, I’d hate me if I were you.” Jimin interrupted your now clear thoughts with another honest confession. 

“Not at all. I don’t hate you, in fact I think you’re a pretty good guy. Despite you know, being super manipulative and a total liar.” You giggled and joked to lighten the heavy atmosphere he’d created. 

“Sadly, I can’t deny that.” He laughed with you which made your stiff shoulders relax a little. 

“Plus.. not all of this is your fault. It was my stupid self that spoke in the spur of the moment. You were right in using me to teach him that people aren’t loyal. I mean come on, I did end up leaving him after all.” You looked down at your cup in shame as you found it suddenly hard to maintain eye-contact with the smiling man sat across you. 

“Yeah and so I thought that this alone would be enough to teach him. I thought that maybe if I took away someone that he trusted, he’d know in the future to not trust people so easily. I’d been wondering for so long how I was going to teach him this.. and then suddenly you came into his life.” Jimin sighed heavily. 

“You were the perfect puzzle piece- my successor. I thought that if I used you against him, for sure he wouldn’t give out his trust so easily in the future.” 

“Wow that.. that kind of makes sense. Now I understand why you got involved.” Your mind was further blown by his genius plan.

“But hey. It completely backfired. I didn’t think that he’d actually get this attached to you. Jesus you should read some of the reports he’s written since this incident. I could write them better by smashing my face into the keyboard.” 

“You don’t know for sure though.” You interrupted his small chuckle. 

“For sure of what?” 

“You know.. You don’t know for sure if he’s even attached to me. I thought you mentioned before that Jungkook was always a playboy. I’d been meaning to ask you this whole time. Why is Jungkook like that?” 

“You can’t be bloody serious. Do you honestly not realise that he has feelings for you?” His eyes suddenly widened at your statement. It looked as though he was a little confused at your inability to understand the situation. 

“Don’t ignore my question, Jimin.” 

“I don’t actually have an explanation for that though.” You felt your heart sink past your stomach. 

“I’m not going to sit here and lie to you by saying he’s not like that. For one, I can admit that yes he did sleep around with many women prior to you. But what’s important to note here is that- he suddenly stopped when you came into his life. He did sleep around but that was just to cure his sexual needs. Not getting laid can actually impact your work efficiency more than you’d like to think.” 

“How can I believe you..? Before you were just telling me that he was ‘playing’ with me. I thought you said I was just a ‘toy’ to him.” 

“Well.. he treated all of his previous.. ‘partners’ like toys but.. he sees you differently from what I know.” 

“Then why did you tell me something different before?!” 

“Because I was trying to get you to shift to my company, remember? I needed you to leave him so he’d have his trust broken.”

“Jesus Jimin.. I don’t even understand how you can manipulate people so easily.” You scoffed, half amazed at his ability to do so whilst the other half wanted to stab him. 

“It’s a skill you need for business. Jungkook’s picked it up pretty well. He’s also seemed to pick up my skills in charming women. He’s got you completely hooked, hasn’t he?” Jimin quirked up an eyebrow and looked as though he’d accomplished the hardest task. It was cute how prideful he was towards Jungkook. 

“That.. that answer can wait. What I need to know now is- 

“Oh come on it’d make things so much easier if you’d just admitted it.. Look, I don’t have all day to sit here and try to get you to admit it. For now, I just need you to help me out.” 

“How exactly can I do that?” You scoffed, a little worried that he was putting the responsibility on you. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never been so emotionally invested in someone romantically. Maybe you should consider talking to him? I’m not going to ask you to solve the entire problem- I’ll think of something but I just need you to get him back to his normal state. You know, when his sanity was still in tact and could actually write decent papers. If this keeps up, his mother is going to flame me for being a shit teacher.” 

“Well this whole thing wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t messed with his feelings in the first place.” 

“Yeah I realise..” He took a deep breath in and shifted his gaze to your eyes. 

“And I’m sorry for that. I thought that this plan for sure would teach him an unforgettable lesson.” He sounded almost inaudible. His inflated ego was beyond deflated now. It was the first time you’d seen him step down from his cloud- he looked so terribly vulnerable you actually felt sympathy towards him. 

“It’s fine.. what’s done is done. I’ll try and talk to him.. But I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to do anything. For all we know, he could get even more pissed now that I’m suddenly going back to him. Oh god, what is he going to think of me?” Suddenly realisation had hit you harder than the world had intended. 

“Jimin he’s not even going to listen to me. Did you see how I behaved at that conference? And don’t forget I actually ditched him completely!”

“Y/N, you don’t know for sure until you try.” He said, sounding weirdly optimistic. 

“I like this side of you so much better, Jimin.” You admitted, smiling at him genuinely. 

“Me too. I’ve been so caught up with everything I forget that people actually have hearts. Like you, Jungkook’s lucky to have you.”

And with that conversation, Jimin left your apartment with a warm handshake- a symbol of reconciliation. Even after all the bullshit he got you into, you couldn’t help but forgive him. You could tell that he had a hard time opening up so you were grateful that he shared his insights with you. Now all you were left to do was to go talk to Jungkook and get him to not hate you so much. 

That was proven to be quite easy- as all he could think about was how much he wanted to hold you in his arms. 

“I’m so nervous I feel like I’m about to throw up.” You whispered harshly into the phone. A soft chuckle calmed your nerves that were practically lit on fire. 

“Don’t be, Y/N. Jungkook definitely has feelings for you. Why else would you get such a reaction out of him at that conference? Just go in there and talk to him. Everything else will come naturally.” He cooed across the line as he made his way out of the meeting he was in. Jimin would’ve normally never done that. He always turned off his phone- but after opening up to you, he felt obliged to lead you through your problems too. He was starting to understand what Jungkook saw in you. 

“Yeah you have a point but.. what if he kicks me out of his office?” You bit on your fingernails. 

“I assure you he won’t do that. Y/N please remember that I’m not asking you to fix the problem. I just want you to be on ‘okay’ terms with him. I’m really sorry Y/N but I need to get back to the meeting.” 

“Oh my god you actually picked up my call in the middle of it?” You sounded shell-shocked and it made Jimin smile with content. 

“Yes I did actually what a surprise. I suppose you have a talent in bringing out the soft sides of us.” He also referred to Jungkook. 

You hung up with a shaky finger. Your mind was in complete chaos and you felt as though you were walking straight into a minefield. Oh god I can’t believe I’m actually here. Your eyes scanned the tall building quickly- remembering of the first day you’d met Jungkook. As you waited to reach Jungkook’s office floor, you could feel your insides tremble from anxiety. It was that same feeling before entering his office the first time he asked for you- but worse. 

You started to think that maybe jumping out of the window wasn’t such a bad idea. You stepped out of the golden elevator with a weak stride and paced around nervously in-front of his dark mahogany door. You swallowed thickly and you could feel the saliva travel down your throat as a desperate attempt to calm down your nerves.

 What am I going to say to him? Shit I haven’t even rehearsed anything! What if I get a restraining order?

But all those thoughts were interrupted by a sound you certainly did not expect to hear. You slowly walked up to the door with a facial expression beyond puzzled and leaned closely to it in hopes that the sound you’d just heard was a hallucination. Then it happened again. A soft moan of some sort. Your eyes were squinted in confusion and at that point, you couldn’t control your actions anymore. 

You heard another moan- this time much louder than before and without thinking- you opened the door with a quick twist of the golden knob. 

There he was, sat down on his usual leather seat- messy locks draped over his tired eyes as your mouth dropped open in shock, not to mention disgust. His tie was loosened and a couple of his dress-shirt buttons were popped open, revealing his collarbones you loved so much. Then, there she was. Straddling his lap- her cleavage in his vision and her black lace bra strategically exposed. You could see her lip was swollen pink and her bun was messy. 

You put the puzzle pieces together inside your head and you were too infuriated to process their terrified facial expressions. Naturally, as soon as you realised what you’d just walked into- you slowly took a couple of steps back- never blinking or taking your gaze off of Jungkook’s shocked eyes. Your trembling hands had stopped shaking and the world came to a complete stop- it started crashing down at your feet. 

You quickly turned on your heel and started to walk away from his office. Then suddenly, all your senses had dulled- all you could hear was the constant ringing in your ears that drove you to tears. You couldn’t make out the muffled sound of Jungkook’s desperate shout from behind you as your legs carried you faster than you expected them to. You could taste the familiar salty taste of your tears- so soon, too. 

To your luck, the elevator dinged and immediately opened after your rapid and violent harassment of the innocent button. You stepped inside and closed it immediately- quickly dialling in Ground floor as you continued to sob uncontrollably throughout the elevator ride. The fact that inside the elevator had mirrors installed certainly didn’t give you the confidence booster you needed. 

Your eyes were bloodshot red and you cursed the world for the unfortunate events you’d had to face. All you could think about was how fast you planned on sprinting out of the elevator to take a taxi home and dive into your sheets to sob for another good couple of hours, drowning your pillow with your never-ending tears. That was when you finally admitted to yourself- you definitely still had feelings for him. 

But what was the point in verbally admitting it now- it was useless. The worst case scenario had just devoured your life and you didn’t know how to deal with it besides from drowning yourself in alcohol and your own tears. 

Part 10!

[aroseandapen]

Expectancy--Hesitation (Part 3/?)

Read on AO3

Based on this post by unflavoredskelly

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Rating: Mature Pairing: Papyton Word Count: 6035 (Cumulative: 16,107) Summary: After some drunken night shenanigans at a party, Papyrus ends up pregnant… by Mettaton. Unfortunately the latter can barely even remember who the skeleton even is. Maybe by spending time with Papyrus, Mettaton can rediscover the charm that his drunk self had been so taken with to begin with.

Despite his best efforts at meandering on his way home, eventually he rolled up into his driveway. Unfortunately.

Papyrus was hesitant to go inside. Although he hoped against hope that his brother would’ve decided to suddenly go off on some surprise errand so that he could have a good extra hour before having to face the music, he knew that was about as likely as The Dog leaving him alone at last. It was never going to happen. But he just didn’t want to talk to his brother again quite yet. Not with weight that’d come to rest at the bottom of his soul.

The visit hadn’t gone well at all.

He stared at the door, snatching up those few precious moments before going to face Sans. Yet even as he stood there, examining the pattern of the wood on the door, he knew that there wasn’t any use in remaining outside and avoiding his brother. It wasn’t about to get any easier. Sighing, he steeled himself and went inside.

“hey bro.” As predicted, Sans lounged on the couch, tilting his head to look over at him from where he laid across the armrest. “how’d your talk with the box go?”

His breath hitched despite himself, even as he forced a bright smile onto his face.

“ONLY AS GREAT AS CAN BE EXPECTED! IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT I WOULD CHARM METTATON WITH MY HANDSOME LOOKS AND SUAVE WORDS! THERE’S NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT AT ALL!”

Sans frowned. He seemed doubtful of his account of what happened, perhaps even more so when Papyrus didn’t insist that Mettaton rarely went out into his original (glorious) boxy form anymore. “really? so he’s totally cool with it?”

“OF COURSE HE WAS! HE WAS OVERJOYED WITH THE NEWS. AND WHO WOULDN’T BE?” Most people wouldn’t, to be honest, but he didn’t say that. He bowled through the living room, aiming for the relative privacy of the kitchen as his excuse for it tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “ANYWAY, THERE IS DINNER TO BE HAD, AND FOOD TO BE PREPARED FOR IT, AND THERE’S NO POINT IN WASTING ANOTHER MINUTE, OK? I WILL CALL YOU WHEN IT IS READY, GOODBYE!”

He didn’t dare glance over his shoulder to see if his excuses had worked. It took all of his willpower to keep the tremor out of his voice, and to not tremble beneath the reality of the situation. Papyrus didn’t think that he’d be able to meet his brother’s questioning gaze. Not right now.

Papyrus didn’t stop moving when he got into the kitchen. Despite the fact that he’d already attempted spaghetti earlier in the day, thwarted by a sudden bout of what turned out to be morning sickness, he had to do something to keep himself busy, and cooking was the only thing that he could think of doing. It was familiar enough to be calming, and he did it so frequently that he could do it mindlessly. And so, although he preferred not to make the same dish multiple times a day anymore, really it was his only choice.

Back in the living room, he heard the shifting of fabric, followed by the shuffle of slippers against the carpet as Sans made his way into the kitchen after him. Papyrus gritted his teeth. He was both touched that Sans would come check up on him and irritated by the very same thing. He didn’t want to talk about this yet!

Couldn’t Sans just pretend to believe him and leave it at that?

Sensing his brother enter the room, Papyrus threw himself into his task. He made it a point to make as much noise as possible, for added busy effect, clanging pots and pans against each other, letting glass jars rattle against the counters, doing everything that he could to ignore Sans’ presence.

Just as he was setting a pot of water on the stove to boil, Sans reached out to stop him.

“SANS!”

He was thoroughly annoyed by the interruption. Turning to face Sans, he jerked his hands away from his brother’s grip, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“you already tried doing spaghetti today, bro,” Sans informed him, as if Papyrus weren’t already fully aware of that fact.

“I KNOW! I NEVER FINISHED!” And after that Papyrus had been too nauseous at the thought to eat anything else, and Sans had eaten wherever he went to when Papyrus wasn’t cooking. “I’M DOING IT NOW!”

“bro, what exactly did mettaton say to you when you told him the news?” he asked, cutting through his explanation.

“HE—HE JUST SAID THAT—HE TOLD ME CONGRATULATIONS! AND HE WAS H-HAPPY FOR ME AND THAT—WELL, HE TOLD ME THAT—!” Papyrus struggled to find an easy line between lie and augmented truth, and in the end he found himself choking on his words. “H-HE JUST—I DON’T KNOW. HE SAID HE NEEDED TIME TO THINK ABOUT IT.”

Papyrus let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. He leaned against the counter behind him, his arms wrapped around himself and shoulders hunched forward. His carefully pieced together facade was crumbling around him.

He was shaking, taking breaths in short hiccuping gasps.

“I—I SHOULDN’T HAVE EVEN GONE, SANS. I FREAKED HIM OUT. HE HATES ME. HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE MY NUMBER, HOW IS HE SUPPOSED TO CALL ME?” He wasn’t, that was how. “I MESSED EVERYTHING UP AND HE’S PROBABLY GOING TO TELL PEOPLE THAT I’M A STALKER THAT SHOWED UP AT HIS HOUSE AND—AND, OH MY GOD.”

He felt sick. He’d shown Mettaton his soul. It was the most intimate part of himself, and he just shoved it in the poor guy’s face without even asking if he’d be comfortable with it. Papyrus had been so sure that if he could just convince Mettaton that it was his child that Papyrus was pregnant with, then everything would fall into place and it would turn out fine.

Papyrus hadn’t even considered Mettaton’s feelings on the matter.

Papyrus should’ve taken things slow. He should’ve contacted Mettaton first, and laid the news on him gently. He should’ve never shown up on the celebrity’s doorstep the way that he did.

He should’ve… He should’ve…

“H-HE HATES ME, I MESSED EVERYTHING UP, SANS.”

Pressure built up in his eye sockets, stinging tears building up inside them. He rubbed at them, sniffing and blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling.

“hey, hey, you didn’t mess anything up.”

Sans laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing reassurance up and down his arm. Papyrus didn’t respond, his jaw clenched and his gaze glued to the floor. When the silence didn’t end, his brother continued speaking.

“i don’t know what’s up with the ‘bot, but he’s seriously missing out. you’re a really great guy, and you’re gonna make an awesome parent to a kid who’s just as great.” Sans’ hand moved to his back, making soothing circles against his shoulder blades. “and if the dude’s not down for that, then it’s his loss and fuck him.”

The swear startled a laugh out of him, shaking loose the tears gathered in the rim of his eye sockets. He quickly wiped them away before they could roll down his cheekbones.

“SANS, YOUR LANGUAGE,” he said, though his heart wasn’t in the reprimand. “B-BUT, I THINK DOING THAT WAS WHAT GOT ME INTO THIS MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE, BROTHER.”

The hand at his back stilled, a questioning look shot up his way. Papyrus’ face grew hot. Alright, stupid joke; he shouldn’t even have said anything. Yet just as he was about to take it back, realization crossed Sans’ face.

He chuckled, patting Papyrus’ back.

“right, my bad. but you know what i mean. forget about him, paps. even if he doesn’t want to be involved with you and the kid, you’ll still have me. and undyne. and alphys and toriel and a whole bunch of people here to support you.”

Well, it wasn’t something that he acquiesced to very often, but Sans was right. Yet even knowing that so many people would surely support him warmed his insides, it didn’t quite settle the churning in his soul. It did help though. A lot.

Sniffing, he gave his brother a small smile, more genuine than the bright looks he’d forced on his face just minutes before.

“THANK YOU, SANS. I APPRECIATE IT.”

“no problem bro,” Sans said, dropping his hand from Papyrus’ back to lean against the counter at his side. He bumped his shoulder against his arm. “you know i’m always going to be here for you. no matter what.”

“YES. I KNOW.” It was still nice to hear it sometimes, though, and it lessened the despair that had made its home in his soul.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Sans offering the comfort of his company and Papyrus wondering how to proceed, in case Mettaton really didn’t want anything to do with him and their kid. It’d be fine, even then. He had Sans, and so many other people to support him. So many people who cared about him. They’d be happy for him; they’d want to be part of his child’s life. There wouldn’t be any lack of love for the brand new soul when they came into the world.

He sniffed again, the tears drying from his sockets. Papyrus was so lucky to have so many people in his life that would be there for him, and it amazed him—a once largely-friendless skeleton now with tons of them.

Surprisingly enough, it was Sans who broke the quiet, giving a small cough as if to clear a throat that he didn’t have. He leaned his weight on Papyrus, glancing up at him. “so… you gonna keep making spaghetti?”

“WELL…” Papyrus thought about it for a beat. “NO. I DON’T ACTUALLY FEEL MUCH LIKE IT.”

He’d only wanted to cook because he was too rattled over his less-than-positive interaction with Mettaton, and he wanted the distraction from it. Now that he had called own, the urge to continue had disappeared to be replaced by a weariness in his bones. Papyrus just wanted to go to his room and lie down, in all honesty.

“ok. mind if i go get something from grillby’s? you want me to get you anything?”

“NOTHING GREASY!” Papyrus was quick to say, frowning. Just the thought of putting some gross grease-soaked abomination into his body was enough to make him feel queasy again. He hesitated a moment before adding, “BUT PERHAPS A MILKSHAKE? THAT WOULD BE NICE?”

“right. i gotcha. sit tight and i’ll be right back in a flash.”

And so once again Sans went out while Papyrus remained at home. Papyrus rested his hand against his sternum, looking down at himself. It didn’t feel good to stay back doing nothing while his brother, the usual lazybones of the family, went out and did things for him. Their roles really had been reversed, and he should be happy for Sans putting in so much effort for once. In a way he was pleased by how supportive and helpful that his brother had been throughout such a stressful and emotional day.

Yet Papyrus just hated being idle more than anything in the world (except for perhaps grease, where just thinking of it made him shudder).

So he refused to rest. He’d been resting for most of the day anyway! He cleared away his cooking things, and got to tidying the kitchen and then the living room. Before he got into more than some light cleaning, however, Sans was back with Grillby’s, and the brothers settled down to enjoy their dinner.

“SANS!” Papyrus had gaped when he saw the size of the cup that Sans had set in front of him, informing him that it was his shake. He didn’t even think that he could drink so much, and was prepared to chide his brother for spending more money than he had to. “YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO GET SUCH A BIG ONE.”

Sans shrugged. “relax, bro, it was free anyway.”

Papyrus’ brow bones slammed together. He shot his brother a suspicious look. “FREE? WHY?”

“grillby wanted to say congrats on the lil tot on its way.”

“I—!” Papyrus sputtered. “YOU TOLD HIM THAT I WAS PREGNANT? SANS!”

That was a private matter, and although he knew that eventually everyone would be privy to that information, Papyrus was still reeling too much from the day’s events to think of telling people about his condition. At least not more people than he had to.

“hey, you know that grillbz won’t tell anyone. i asked him to keep it under wraps for me. and he wanted to know how you are, since you haven’t been around much since you quit.”

“I’VE BEEN BUSY,” he said immediately, his mouth in a line.

Although he had built up a tolerance for the greasy foods and an appreciation for the ‘healthier’ items on the menu, Papyrus didn’t have much of a desire to go back. Which, he thought with a hint of guilt, wasn’t fair to Grillby. Despite the fact that Papyrus was quite vocal about his distaste of the place in the past, the fire monster had been kind enough to give him a job when humans weren’t inclined to hire monsters at all.

It had given him good experience to put on his resume when he did move on from that job, and humans began to get used to the presence of monsters on the surface. Grillby was a good monster.

That didn’t mean that he wanted him knowing that he was pregnant! Not yet!

“he knows. he just wants to know what’s up with his former best employee is all. so i told him. in confidence. don’t worry, paps, he won’t say anything to anybody—and look. free shake.”

Papyrus groaned, shaking his head at his brother’s nonchalance. “WELL, YOU CAN’T JUST TELL PEOPLE ABOUT MY CONDITION! AT LEAST NOT WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST! I DON’T CARE HOW TRUSTWORTHY THEY MIGHT BE! I’M NOT READY FOR PEOPLE TO KNOW, SANS.”

Sans actually had the decency to look a bit apologetic. “right. sorry, won’t happen again.”

“NOT EVEN FOR FREE STUFF! I MEAN IT, SANS.”

He nodded. “not even for free stuff. i promise.”

“WELL! GOOD, THEN!”

The two of them dropped back off into silence, both turning their attention to their respective meals. Part of Papyrus wanted to refuse the milkshake, knowing that his brother had manipulated Grillby into giving it to them for free, which he was still seething about even though he’d decided to forgive his brother this once. But, well, if he didn’t drink it then it would waste the work put into making it, and the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Even if said gift was a milkshake, that didn’t lessen how much he appreciated it.

Maybe manipulated was too strong a word anyway. From the short time that Papyrus had graced the bar and grill with his labor, he knew that Grillby cared for his regulars, considering many of them to be friends, and that he cared about his employees. The elemental would probably have offered a milkshake to him of his own volition had Papyrus gone down to Grillby’s himself to share the news.

That was just how Grillby was.

Unbidden, the image of Mettaton’s face when he asked Papyrus to leave rose to the surface of his thoughts. When he sent him off without any indication that he’d even attempt to get in contact with him ever again. Papyrus cringed. And perhaps making people uncomfortable and pushing them away was just how Papyrus was.

(There was a reason why he’d grown up largely friendless, he supposed.)

“bro? you ok?”

His sudden discomfort must have been obvious, because Sans was fixing him with a concerned look. Papyrus resisted the urge to drop his gaze to the table, forcing a smile on his face. They’d already been over this very issue; he couldn’t bother Sans with it again, as if nothing had been resolved.

“OH YES! OF COURSE! IT’S JUST BEEN A LONG DAY, YOU KNOW? I’M JUST A BIT TIRED.”

Sans stared at him for what felt like an eternity, eyelights roaming his face as if searching for the lie. Either he didn’t find it or he just didn’t want to call Papyrus out on it, because he simply nodded his agreement.

“yeah. i get you. sometimes i just feel like i’ve been worn down to the bone.”

Papyrus stood up, shoving his chair back with a loud screech across the floor. “UGH! I’M NOT GOING TO CONSENT TO BE APART OF THIS! I’M GOING TO BED, AND YOU CAN TELL YOUR AWFUL JOKES TO YOURSELF!”

Sans’ mouth twitched up into a grin. He gave Papyrus a lazy wink. “aw, bro, don’t get so rattled, i’m just ribbin ya. have fun sleeping, though, i bet you’re great at it. you can do it with your eyes closed.”

“LEAVING! THIS IS ME EXITING THE ROOM! I CANNOT HEAR ANOTHER OF THESE HORRENDOUS PUNS, GOODBYE SANS!”

“wait, wait, i’ve got one that’s a real rib-tickler—”

“I’M GONE GOODBYE!” And before Sans could squeeze out yet another terrible joke, Papyrus slipped into the safety of his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Phew. Alone at last.

All at once, his mood came crashing to the ground. Papyrus deflated, shoulders slumped and back pressed against the closed door. Sans’ words hadn’t been forgotten, of course. On the contrary, there was a faint part of him that still warmed at the thought of how many people would support him through this pregnancy. There were so many who was still love and care for him regardless of what Mettaton now thought of him. And yet… And yet.

Papyrus shuddered, his bones giving a quiet rattle. Arms wrapped tight around himself, he shuffled his way to the bed, slowly sinking down onto his mattress. All the support that he knew for a fact that he would have, and still…

The stricken look on Mettaton’s face just wouldn’t get out of his head.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why couldn’t he have waited and planned a better way to break the news to him? Why did he had to go and show up, like an over-eager fan seeking attention from his celebrity crush? Was he even any better than a fan who stalked a celebrity just for their attention?

If Mettaton never wanted to see him again, he had every right to. Papyrus had been so stupid, driving Mettaton away before they could even begin to know each other—and Mettaton didn’t know him! It was clear that the robot didn’t even remember the intimate night that the two of them had shared. Papyrus seemed like just a creep to him, and he knew it.

Self hatred surged over him, crashing down like a tidal wave. He clenched his jaw so hard that it ached. Stupid. Couldn’t he just act like a normal monster for once? Why did he have to act like such a freak? Why was he so—?

His phone chirped at him, bringing him out of his thoughts with a start. He fished it out of his pocket, half-dazed and confused. He hadn’t been expecting a call at all. Perhaps it was Undyne, checking in on him after his sick day?

He checked his notifications, and nearly dropped his phone.

MTT: Hello darling.

His soul raced, hot against the inside of his ribcage. That username was more familiar to him than his own, occasionally popping up in the comments on Alphys’ posts. He never knew what was on the profile, set only to be viewed by people who Mettaton was friends with, but it was still easily recognizable.

It was a privacy setting that Papyrus didn’t personally see the appeal of, but he also wasn’t quite the widely known celebrity that Mettaton was.

He answered immediately, thrilled by the contact. Despite not asking for Papyrus’ phone number, Mettaton still endeavored to find out how to get in touch! It couldn’t have been easy, what with Papyrus’ own cleverly disguised online persona. Mettaton obviously put good effort into finding him.

Perhaps he didn’t hate Papyrus’ metaphorical guts after all.

When Mettaton asked to hang out with him, he really did drop his phone.

“OH! OH NO!” He scrambled for his phone, fumbling with it before he could finally regain his grip.

Mettaton wanted to hang out! With him! Even after what Papyrus had gone to his house to tell him (or perhaps it was because of that). Papyrus knew the perfect place that they could go.

His house!

There was so much to be done. Mettaton deserved only the best, and he had to plan everything out accordingly. He could use his dating manual! Although it obviously wasn’t going to be a date, he could probably gain some useful insight by studying it thoroughly.

Saturday! They were going to hang out this very weekend. Papyrus was so excited.

He had to tell Sans! Papyrus sprang up from his bed and dashed to his bedroom door.

“SANS! OH MY GOD, SANS!”

Papyrus was shrieking, making quite a bit of noise as he stormed out of his room, and he didn’t even care that people outside could probably hear him. He was much too excited to keep his voice down.

“bro? bro, what’s wrong?” Sans exited the kitchen just as Papyrus rounded the corner into the living room. Worry was etched into his brother’s face, and Papyrus felt fleeting guilt for causing it, before the feeling was blown over by elation once again.

“METTATON MESSAGED ME ONLINE!” Papyrus waved his phone in front of Sans’ face, hopping in place with unconstrained excitement. “HE FOUND MY USERNAME ON UNDERNET AND SENT ME A PRIVATE MESSAGE!”

“oh?” Sans’ tone was neutral, once again not giving anything away. “what’d he say?”

Papyrus brought his hands together, squeezing his phone between them. A smile split across his face, refusing to be suppressed. “HE WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH ME! HE’S GOING TO COME OVER ON SATURDAY!”

“is that so?” Sans arched one of his brows, one corner of his mouth quirked up in an uncertain smile. “you sound excited.”

“I AM! OH MY GOD, METTATON IS ACTUALLY GOING TO COME OVER AND HANG OUT WITH ME! I’M SO EXCITED!” If Papyrus had eyes, he was sure they’d be sparkling with how his soul soared and his face brightened. “OH MY GOD, SANS, HE DOESN’T HATE ME AFTER ALL!”

“told you you’re a great dude, bro. anyone would be lucky to hang out with you.”

“YOU WERE RIGHT! I CAN’T WAIT TO HANG OUT WITH HIM! JUST ME AND HIM! HE WILL DEFINITELY BE BLOWN AWAY BY MY LOVELY PERSONALITY WHEN HE COMES OVER!”

Sans’ face softened into something warmer, mouth set in a gentle smile as he tilted his head to look up at Papyrus. “just you and him, huh? lemme guess, you want to have the house to yourself on saturday?”

Papyrus clasped his hands together, giving his brother a pleading look. “PLEASE???”

For a moment, Sans didn’t respond, and Papyrus briefly wondered if his brother would actually refuse. In the end he didn’t, giving a sigh as he relented.

“welp, can’t say no to that. guess i’ll find some way to be busy on saturda—oof!”

The rest of what he had to say was cut off by Papyrus as he threw himself at his brother in a hug. They both tipped dangerously forward—or backward, in Sans’ case—and Sans grabbed at his arms as if to hold himself upright. When they didn’t go crashing into a bony heap to the floor, Papyrus felt the tension drop away from his brother’s shoulders, and Sans returned the embrace.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH, YOU’RE THE BEST!”

Sans let out a huff that fell just short of a laugh. “don’t mention it bro, i got your back.”

Sans was the best, and with a whole day where Papyrus was promised the house all to himself—and Mettaton!—all that was left to do was plan for the big day. His best bet was of course the dating manual. Even if it wasn’t a date. No matter how many times Sans slyly mentioned it to him in the coming days. And oh boy was that a nightmare.

“so bro, ready for your hot date with your baby daddy?” he’d ask around a mouthful of cereal, managing to both fluster and disgust Papyrus at the same time.

He’d slap his hands over his face, cheekbones burning and soul screaming inside his ribcage. Sans really wasn’t ever going to give up that embarrassing way to refer to Mettaton, was he? “IT’S NOT A DATE!!! WE’RE JUST HANGING OUT!”

“oops, right. sorry, bro,” Sans would say without sounding the least bit apologetic. He’d even have the nerve to grin at Papyrus. Ugh! “i mean, you’ve been looking at that dating manual for two days straight now, so i sort of forgot.”

He took everything positive he’d ever said about Sans back! Sans was actually the worst.

“IT’S JUST A REFERENCE, SANS! LEAVE ME ALONE!” And he’d stomp out of the room before his brother could needle him further.

It really was just for reference. The only people he planned hang-outs with were Undyne and Frisk, and neither of them could be compared to the confident celebrity that was Mettaton. Dating really was just a friendship with the possibility of a kiss at the end of it, right? Right!

Which, now that he was thinking about it, Mettaton was a really good kisser. And that was when he was drunk. Papyrus could only imagine the magic those lips could perform on him when the both of them were sober.

“UGH, STOP IT!” He slapped his own face, shaking his head so hard that it hurt to banish those thoughts from it. This was totally platonic! There would be no kissing involved!

Even if he really wished there would be.

Cheeks flushed, he pushed his face into his book, forcing himself to focus more on the task at hand and less on hypothetical kisses that would take his breath away.

It was a miracle when Papyrus shooed Sans out of his house on Saturday morning without so much as a tremble in his hands. He tugged at his shirt, brushed a hand over the top of his skull, made sure that absolutely everything about himself was in order for Mettaton to come over. Papyrus had prepared and he had studied for the day! He was ready! There was nothing to be anxious about in the slightest.

Until he heard the knocking at the door and his soul attempted to do a triple backflip into a somersault out of his chest.

“I’M COMING!” he called, and gave himself one last good once-over in the mirror before marching up to the door.

He was ready, he was strong, he was doing this!

Papyrus pulled open the door.

“Hello, Papyrus.” Mettaton wore that same fabricated smile he’d had on his face when Papyrus had first shown up at his house—polite, but ultimately fake. It made Papyrus falter with his own smile, but he resolved to turn Mettaton’s pleasant expression into a genuine one. “Thank you for inviting me over, I hope I arrived at a decent enough time.”

“OF COURSE! THANK YOU FOR COMING!” He took a big step back, sweeping an arm out in invitation. “PLEASE COME IN!”

“Thank you, darling.” Mettaton entered his house, shoulder brushing against his chest in a way that made Papyrus’ nonexistent breath catch in the process.

Shaking himself, Papyrus quickly closed the door and moved to the center of the living room.

“WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE! CASA DE LA PAPYRUS—AND MY BROTHER SANS, OBVIOUSLY!” He wasn’t too sure what those words literally meant, but it was apparently a way to refer to one’s home, and it had a pleasant ring to it. From the way that Mettaton’s mouth twitched in response, he’d consider it a success. “SHALL I SHOW YOU AROUND?”

Mettaton slowly looked around the expanse of the living room, from the tiny set up that their pet rock had in the corner to the well-loved (read: worn) couch at the center of it. Papyrus couldn’t tell what Mettaton was thinking from his neutral expression, but he assumed that he was impressed with Papyrus’ obvious housekeeping skills!

“A tour sounds lovely,” he said, his gaze at last falling on Papyrus’ face. Even when he was just being polite, Mettaton seemed so at-ease with himself that Papyrus couldn’t help but admire him for it. He’d die for such real self-confidence that the robot displayed, when Papyrus himself was currently an anxious mess.

“OK! WELL! THIS IS OUR LIVING ROOM, AS YOU CAN SEE!”

Papyrus took a few jumping steps out into the center of the room. He threw his arms out in a wide sweeping motion to indicate the entirety of the space. As he gave his introduction, he pointed to each part of the room in turn.

“WE COULDN’T BRING UP OUR ENTIRE HOUSE FROM SNOWDIN OBVIOUSLY, BUT WE DEFINITELY BROUGHT OUR COUCH UP WITH US. IT’S VERY WELL LOVED AND A LITTLE ON THE LUMPY SIDE, BUT IT IS VERY SPECIAL!” Not to mention that buying a new couch was expensive up on the surface, and the brothers had learned to be more frugal. “THAT IS BECAUSE NOT ONLY HAVE WE HAD IT FOR A LONG TIME NOW, BUT WHENEVER YOU HAVE NEED, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE ABLE TO FIND SOME CHANGE FROM WITHIN ITS CUSHION-Y DEPTHS!”

“Hmm, is that so?” Mettaton’s eyes slid over the couch without much pause.

“YES! IT IS QUITE SO! AND THAT OVER THERE IS MY BROTHER’S PET ROCK! WHICH I END UP TAKING CARE OF A LOT OF THE TIME.”

Mettaton blinked. “Pet rock?”

He sounded incredulous, probably wondering how good Papyrus could be at taking care of a dependent. Papyrus puffed out his chest in pride. This was his chance to show how great of a mother he would definitely be once their child was born!

“CORRECT! MY BROTHER IS QUITE THE LAZYBONES—I’M THE ONE WHO ENDS UP DOING ALL THE COOKING AND CLEANING AROUND HERE—AND SO HE OFTEN FORGETS TO FEED AND WATER IT. THAT RESPONSIBILITY OF COURSE FALLS TO ME.” He shook his head, continuing as Mettaton moved over to the table in the corner and bent down to inspect the rock. “IT’S A SHAME, BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW A HELPLESS CREATURE TO STARVE ON MY WATCH!”

There was a brief silence where he got nothing in response. Papyrus shifted nervously, wondering if he should hurry and move onto the next area of his house, when Mettaton finally did speak.

“Oh. I see then.”

It did nothing to reassure him.

From there, he moved onto the kitchen, where he lamented the lack of a tall sink for storing plenty of things (particularly bone attacks) underneath, and from the kitchen moved on to his room. Mettaton would nod along with his explanations, occasionally offering a little input of his own, such as commenting on Papyrus’ potential construction abilities, but for the most part he was quiet and allowed Papyrus to do most of the talking. It was beginning to worry Papyrus. No matter what he said, he didn’t seem to be doing a good job of winning over the robot.

In his room, he cut his explanation of his action figures short, and opened his closet with the intention of only giving the briefest explanation of it. As he opened his mouth though, Mettaton surprised him by cutting him off, stepping forward to examine one of his shirts.

“Interesting. Did you make this, darling?” he asked, lifting the hem to get a better look at the craft.

Oh! It was the first proper question that Mettaton had asked him at all so far! Papyrus beamed, his smile coming the easiest that it had since Mettaton got to his house.

“I DID! WELL, I MEAN I DIDN’T MAKE THE ENTIRE THING, BUT I DID TAKE THE SHIRT AND I TAILORED IT TO MY PERSONALITY AND INTERESTS!” The shirt in question was in the style of a basketball jersey, with a bedazzling gun taken to the entire thing and his own name stitched into the back. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was his own and he was proud of it. “I PERSONALIZE ALL OF MY CLOTHES.”

A smile flickered across his face. “That’s lovely, darling. It really does have… personality.”

“THANK YOU! DO YOU FIX UP YOUR CLOTHES AS WELL?” he asked, eager to pounce on what seemed to be a common interest of theirs.

“Well no. I’ve been too busy lately to put any time into something like that. But it’s something that I’ve always wanted to try out.”

“I CAN GIVE YOU TIPS!”

Mettaton turned to face him, head tilted to the side. “Yes? What sort of tips?”

“WELL! FIRST OFF, WHEN YOU’RE WORKING WITH HOT GLUE, YOU SHOULD ALWAYS BE CAREFUL NOT TO GET ANY ON YOUR SCARF, AND YOU SHOULD ESPECIALLY NOT PUT SAID GLUEY SCARF ANYWHERE NEAR YOUR FOREHEAD OR YOU’LL HAVE A SCARF GLUED TO YOUR FOREHEAD FOR AN ENTIRE DAY.”

That got a chuckle from the robot, and Papyrus’ soul soared. “Is that so? That is very specific and helpful. What else?”

Papyrus grinned widely. “NEVER BE AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR STYLE! KNOW THAT YOU’RE VERY UNIQUE AND HANDSOME AND YOU CAN ROCK ANYTHING THAT YOU WEAR THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY! THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS TO BE HAPPY WITH YOURSELF, AND YOUR CLOTHES SHOULD REFLECT THAT!”

Mettaton’s light laughter choked off with a soft, surprised sound. “Wow, that’s actually very thoughtful advice. I’d say the same thing to all my fans. You’re right, darling—what you wear should make you happy.”

Was Papyrus blushing at the praise? No. (Maybe a little.) His hands fumbled together, that embarrassingly shy smile creeping up onto his face. It was a miracle that he didn’t look down to his feet. “YES! OF COURSE. YEAH. SO… WHAT SORT OF THINGS DO YOU ENJOY DOING?”

———————————————————————

It was a long few hours more after Mettaton left before Sans returned home. Papyrus almost didn’t hear the door open, sitting on the couch and dazedly staring at the same spot. Only when Sans coughed did Papyrus jump in place, his attention jolting back to the present, and to his brother standing in front of him.

“SANS! YOU’RE BACK.”

“hey bro, how did the date go?”

“IT WASN’T A DATE!” He flushed, averting his gaze. “BUT… WELL… YOU KNOW…”

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see the curious look that Sans was giving him. Papyrus found a spot on the wall and focused on that, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes.

“yeah? what happened?”

“IT WENT GREAT!” All at once Papyrus burst with his excitement, snapping his gaze to lock on with Sans’. “WELL, MAYBE NOT AT FIRST, BUT THEN WE GOT TO TALK ABOUT THE SORT OF THINGS THAT WE BOTH LIKE AND I SHOWED METTATON MY WARDROBE AND HE THINKS IT’S REALLY COOL SO WE’RE GOING TO HANG OUT AGAIN IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS! FOR DINNER! AND DOING CRAFTS! AND! AND! AND IT’S ACTUALLY A DATE THIS TIME!”

The end of Papyrus’ words trailed off in a delighted squeal, smothered in his hands as he hid his burning face in them.

“really? wow, i’m happy for you bro.”

Peeking out between his fingers, he caught the easy smile that Sans gave him. Papyrus let out another high-pitched noise. He really had to calm down, or his excitement would end up breaking the glass with how he screamed about it.

But he was just so excited! He was going to go on an official date with Mettaton! Officially!

“THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE, SANS!”