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chimcess · 6 months ago

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Waterlog || pjm (4)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.8k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, best boyfriend Jimin, did I say angst????, past drug use, past alcohol addiction, past trauma talk, crying, anxiety, hand holding, touching as a love language, Jimin can't keep his hands to himself, he does try his best though, pining, sexual tension, banter, I love these two A/N: I know we're a couple of weeks late updating, but I've been very busy with moving so I haven't had the energy to write. I did a very quick edit, so this might not be perfect. I'm planning on coming back once I'm in my new place to do a full proofread. Hope you like the update!

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Hand clutching my phone, I sighed. All around me the airport buzzed with life. I had almost forgotten how hectic the Denver Airport was. A few feet away I saw a mother struggling to keep her children together while her husband scrolled on his phone. I must have made some sort of noise, subconsciously voicing my annoyance, because Jimin laughed.

“What’s going on, gran?” He teased, voice light. “See a couple of youngins on your lawn?”

I scoffed, tearing my eyes away from the family. “Just a shitty husband ignoring his children.”

He hissed, sucking in air through his teeth, “The worst kind of dude. Are you alright?”

Softening, I finally spotted my luggage on the conveyor belt. Twisting my torso, I did a light stretch and then quickly snatched the heavy bag up. “Not too anxious, right?”

He had been very worried about letting me come home for a visit. When I had originally brought it up he offered himself up for the job, but I was not a fan of that idea. My friends would definitely bring up our date and I did not want to deal with the awkwardness that would cause. Especially since we had yet to go on it. That would not matter to Hoseok, however, and the teasing would have been endless. Better to spare Jimin from their wrath for just a little while longer.

“I’m cool,” I replied, softening. “Just got my stuff from baggage claim. I’m going to let you go so I can call Andy.”

“Okay bug. See you in a few days.”

Harper had recently started calling me that, forgetting my real name and not caring enough to ask for it. Eloise had tried to scold her for it, but I told her I did not mind it. It caught on with Cameron not too long after that, and soon the entire Park family had started using the little nickname. Jimin thought it was adorable from the beginning but had only started using it after our talk the other night.

I laughed, “I’m going to call you tonight.”

“Aw,” I knew he had that stupid smile on his face. “Miss me that much?”

“Someone needs to make sure you’re staying out of trouble,” I replied, a confident pep in my step I had not had in years. “But yes, I do miss you.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I miss you too.”

I could feel my heart melting. I was still getting used to our new dynamic. On most days we were strictly business, and were able to set aside the very large, very apparent elephant in the room. It was not until we had finished with work that those roles dropped, and we were able to just be us.

Ever since my confession in the car Jimin spoke a hell of a lot more. Apparently, he had a hard time keeping his feelings to himself and chose to talk a little less in order to avoid a slip up. He wanted to give us both a little bit of time to get to know one another before springing his crush on me.

“Going soft, kid?” Playing things off with humor was Jimin’s thing, but it had slowly started to rub off on me. “It’s only two days.”

“I know,” He pouted. “Call your friend. It’s cold and you’ll get sick.”

“Hey,” I cut the teasing tone I had, “You’re not upset I came here by myself, right?”

“No,” He chuckled with an unmistakable fondness. “I’m just messin’ with you. I’m not ready to meet your friends and you need some alone time. We’re good, I promise.”

I sighed in relief, “Okay. Good. I’m going to go now. Talk to you later?”

“Call me when you can,” He replied, voice light.

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye, bug.”

I was disappointed to hear the line go dead but knew I could aimlessly walk around this airport all day if given the chance, so long as he was there with me. Trying to get my thoughts back on track, I sent a text to Andy asking if she was here yet. If not, I was already making plans to call Jimin back.

Andy: I’m parked in 5 near C Gates

Andy: Be careful

Andy: Saw a lady almost get hit by a car just now

Me: See you in a sec

Me: Should I be worried?

I knew she was trying to make a joke, but car accident punchlines never went over all that well with me. Even if I knew the chances of that happening to me were almost zero, I really did not want to have a panic attack in the airport parking lot.

Andy: Not at all. I’m so sorry for even saying anything. I can come meet you at the doors if you want.

Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Sigh of relief. I was fine.

Me: I appreciate you

Me: Is babygirl here?

Dani would help the spike of anxiety dissipate. The girl was fearless and was sure to be distracting enough to keep me from paying attention to the oncoming traffic. I suddenly wished that Jimin was here. He always knew what to do.

Andy: Jin and I are weak

Andy: We let her play hooky

Bobbing and weaving through bodies, I tossed my phone into my purse and made my way out of the airport. The arrivals station was packed, and I would need to take the automated train to where Andrea was parked. It was my least favorite part about this airport, but it beat Dallas-Fort Worth by a landslide. I had gotten lost in that airport more times than I could count.

Three minutes later I was getting out of the train and stepping into C Gates. I could smell Auntie Anne’s and felt my mouth begin to water. Checking my clock, I decided it would not hurt to make a quick spot for lunch. Andy would appreciate it and I knew Dani loved their pretzel dog.

There was a little less traffic in C Gates. More of the expensive airlines let out here, and all you could see were business professionals pacing back and forth. A family on vacation bumped into me while I was waiting in line, and I almost gave up my spot when their toddler started screaming.

“No, no,” His mother insisted, her hair a mess on the top of her head. “Between the girls and my mom, we’ll be here all day. Go ahead, sweetie.”

Two little girls danced around me as we waited, the line moving at a snail's pace due to the airport being understaffed. They asked me questions incessantly, and while their mother had tried her best to keep them in line, I told her I was fine with the extra attention. I loved kids and the girls were harmless. The boy in her arms kept repeating “pizza” and soon an elderly woman joined them.

If the girls talked a lot, they had nothing on grandma. Not only did she never shut her mouth, she was loud and obnoxiously laughing every few seconds. The boy was quick to beg to be in her arms and mom got a break. She was back to attempting to corral the girls, but again they did not really listen.

“They’re only like this when my mom’s around,” She sighed, frustrated and tired. “We’re meeting up with their father and they’re all a little restless.”

“It’s no bother,” I lied. The girls really were not that bad. Just a couple of four-year-olds having fun. The only person who was really getting on my nerves was her mother, but I was not about to say that. “Better to get it out now than in the car, right?”

She cracked a tired smile, “Right.”

Finally, it was my turn to order. The young girl behind the counter gave me an award-winning smile while another young blonde was in the back getting all of the orders out.

“Hi, welcome to Auntie Anne’s. How can I help you today?”

“Can I get one original pretzel, one cinnamon sugar pretzel, and a pretzel dog combo with a lemonade and cheese,” Glancing behind me, I sighed. “Throw in a pizza pretzel, two orders of pretzel nuggets, and whatever else the family behind me wants.”

She smiled, blue eyes twinkling prettily in the bright lights. Turning around I waved the mother over and told her to get something for her and her mother. She put up a small fight, but eventually gave in when she realized I had already put our orders together.

“Thank you so much,” I thought she might burst into tears when my card was approved. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

I shrugged, “It was nothing. Have a nice vacation.”

Walking to the pickup area, my order was already waiting for me. With nothing more than a simple wave, I left the dysfunctional family behind. The grandmother’s loud thank you seemed to echo off of the airport walls, but it was a little less grating now that I knew I would never hear it again.

Andy threw herself at me when I finally made it outside, little Dani wrapping her arms around my legs with squeals of delight louder than her mother’s. Taking her pretzel, Andy gave me a fat, wet kiss on the cheek and told Dani she could eat in the car.

“How’s gymnastics, girlie?” I asked the little girl once we were in the car. “Still kicking ass?”

“No,” She laughed. “I quit, like, forever ago. Appa put me in ballet classes.”

I gave Andy a look. The red head rolled her eyes, fixing me with a knowing look. I had been telling Jin to put her in dance for years.

“It’s been two weeks and she’s already trying to talk him into figure skating.”

“You’re a little hustler, huh?” I reached into the back, squeezing her knee. Dani giggled, angling her body away from mine. She was very ticklish. “Keep at it. You know your dad’s a sucker.”

Dani laughed, “My vovó says the same thing.”

We listened to Olivia Rodrigo on our way to the Kim house. Hoseok and Matilda had planned a huge coming back party for me, and from what it sounded like, I was going to meet Tilly’s new boyfriend.

“Anything I need to know about Max?” I asked.

Andy was almost as in the dark about the guy as I was but was able to tell me he was a tattoo artist from California. The two of them met at Frank’s bookstore and by the end of their conversation Max had managed to get her out to dinner and in his bed. It was a whirlwind romance, one that made me feel uneasy about its foundation, but I was still obligated to be happy for my friend. They could be soulmates for all I knew, and I was not about to judge anybody else for their version of a first date.

“I don’t want to talk about tattoo guy anymore,” Andy whined playfully, turning up the radio when “Good 4 U” came on. “I need to know more about your little boyfriend.”

I groaned, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

This was why I was so adamant Jimin stayed away. We had yet to have a real talk about what we were, choosing to wait for our first date to iron out those details, but no one in my circle seemed to understand. All they heard was the word date and suddenly wedding bells started going off.

“Stop deflecting. We both know he’s your boyfriend, official or not,” She laughed, stealing looks at her daughter in the rearview. “What’s he like?”

It was a hard question to answer. On the one hand, I felt like I knew him better than anybody else, but I was self aware enough to know I didn’t. His body language, the way he looked when he beat his best time, and all of his preferred gear were seared into my mind. The movies he liked, his favorite albums, and all of the best tv shows ever made. He went to college. He was the sweetest, kindest, most understanding person I had ever met, and yet… he still felt far away. The shadows that oftentimes clouded his vision were still a mystery to me, and when he came into practice with a lost look on his face, I felt helpless. I knew him and yet I didn’t.

“He’s quiet,” I finally landed on. “Very nice. Always willing to help other people out if he can. You’d like him.”

Andrea scoffed, “That’s it? The first guy you’ve dated in years and all you can tell me is I’d like him?”

“We’re still getting to know each other,” I sighed. “What do you want to know?”

We spent the rest of the car ride going over the last two months' worth of pining. I told her about Fiona, Jimin’s family, and all of my new friends. She almost pissed herself laughing when I told her about the night he asked me out, making so many Hoseok and Tilly jokes I had a difficult time focusing on the story. Andrea seemed to be finished with her interrogation when we pulled up at her house.

Dani ran to the front door, her excitement about the party making any discomfort I had disappear. It was hard to feel uncomfortable with her around. Taking my hand in hers, the little girl shifted her weight from foot to foot, shouting at her mom to hurry up, and opening the front door anyway. Andy told her to calm down, and I just chuckled and went along with it.

The living room was filled with all of my favorite people, a large ‘welcome home’ sign hanging on the large, backwall. Underneath it was a huge table covered in food, a cake in the middle of it, and I had a feeling Sarah made it. Both her and Frank were the first people to notice me, their faces lighting up, and I let go of Dani’s hand in favor of embracing the elderly couple. The rest of the party comers erupted their voices loud and filled with love as they took turns passing me around.

“Missed you, Otter,” Hoseok murmured in the crook of my neck, hands secured around my waist.

“Missed you more,” I replied, releasing him and catching Tilly. “Jeez, girl. Trying to kill me?”

“Come meet Max,” She replied, dragging me away from Hoseok.

Max was a tall, lanky guy with black hair that fell down his back. His clothes were on the baggier side, all black, and I recognized the band on his t-shirt from the shit Matilda liked to listen to in the car. He smiled at me, and I was surprised to see him rocking adult braces. He introduced himself, his voice deep and warm, and shook my hand. They were baby soft and covered in tattoos.

“It’s great to see you,” I replied, genuinely meaning it. If I had to picture a guy more perfect for Tilly, I would come up empty handed. “Thanks for coming.”

He flushed, impossibly pale skin turning a bright shade of red reminding me of Jimin.

“Anything for Mattie,” He replied.

Huh, he had his own nickname for her and everything. I would need to hang out with Max more before I could say if I liked him or not, but so far, I had a good feeling. Andrea’s worries seemed a bit silly now. They really liked each other, and Tilly’s heartbreaking, dimpled smile made me feel more confident in her partner. They would be just fine.

The party was fun, and I ate more spinach and artichoke dip than was healthy. Hoseok and I talked about my afterschool visit tomorrow. The boys had a swim meet Saturday and the two of us were hoping we could tag team in order to iron out any issues they had been having. I was being placed in charge of the freshmen while Hoseok made sure the other kids were feeling confident and ready for the meet.

"Let's party!" Frank boomed, lifting a beer into the air.

I laughed, "Be careful, old timer. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

I thought of Jimin again. That sounded like something he would say. Surrounded by the people I loved, I laughed hard and partied harder. The plates of food came one right after the other, and I was happy that I still had a place here. Falling back into my step, I fit seamlessly back into the fold.

"Dance with me," Hoseok demanded, tipsy and red-faced.

"It's your toes," I replied, taking his head and letting him take the lead.

The other couples were already dancing and hooped and hollered as I awkwardly followed the steps. I was not always a bad dancer but lost some of my rhythm in the accident. Hoseok never minded and let me step on his feet without a single complaint.

"You look happy," He commented, spinning me around.

I smiled, "I am."

He smiled back, wincing when I stomped down on his toes again. I apologized, but he just held my hand a little tighter and kept moving. I hummed along to the song, filled with joy. He spun me again, and finally let me go when I slammed into Jin.

"Go get some cake or something," He laughed. "You're too dangerous to be out here."

I rolled my eyes, "I tried to tell you. It's your fault you don't listen."

"Don't need you anyway. I have enough swag for the both of us."

I watched, thoroughly amused from the sidelines, as he moon-walked around the living room.

I left just before midnight after staying behind to help Andy and Jin clean up. The others left a few hours before to get back to Denver at a decent time. My house looked the same as always, dark and empty, but I could tell the landscapers had been around. The grass was recently cut and edged.

The silence inside was deafening. I had always known my place was too big for one person, but after spending so much time in my little she-shed at the Andersons’ house, everything here just felt excessive. Tossing my keys in the bowl beside the door, I wiped my eyes and decided to just head to bed. I would only be here for three days. I would be back in Saline before I knew it.

Dragging my body upstairs, this sudden depression-filled fatigue made my shoulders feel ten times heavier. A chilling, almost insidious, hollowness began to spread across my body. I knew this feeling all too well and it made me feel pathetic. Could I not be on my own anymore? Had I really grown that attached to my life in Michigan? Finally getting into my bedroom, I realized that I had.

Saline was perfect. Living in Colorado Springs has always bothered me. The people here held more traditional values and making friends was difficult. I had Andy and Jin, but they were both very busy people. Andrea was a full-time nurse, Jin’s schedule was somehow even more erratic than his wife’s, and when they were off, they wanted to spend time with Dani. I was lucky if I saw them once every two weeks.

Hoseok, Tilly, and Minho all lived in Denver, and while I saw them more often due to the meetings with Frank and Sarah dragging me into the city, it was not like we hung out every time I was out there. Days would go by with me speaking at all, and most of my weekends were spent in bed sleeping. Working at the school helped, but I would never claim anyone from the swim team to be a friend. I was not in the habit of befriending children.

Living in Saline was different. Jimin was always there to make me laugh, and when he wasn’t, I had people like Taehyung and Sam to keep me company. Giselle was young, but we got along so well I often forgot about the difference in age between the two of us. Megan and Yoongi were Michigan’s own version of Andy and Jin, and I could see myself becoming good friends with them given enough time. No one had kids, no one was too busy trying to keep up with crazy expenses, and I could find a little house away from the rest of the world to spend my life in.

I thought of the Parks, a family who I had come to love more than I thought was possible, and the Andersons who took me in and always tried to make me feel comfortable. Eloise and her kindness. Luna and Cameron. All of them. I loved and adored every single one of them, and it was then that I finally let myself really think about what I wanted.

Did I want to come back here after I was finished with the season? Did I really want this massive house if it meant I had no one to share it with? No, I decided. Stripping out of my clothes, the numbness was being replaced with a different strange feeling. It felt suspiciously like hope. Excitement came to me so rarely it was foreign and odd, but nice all the same. Jittery, I took my phone out of my pants pocket.

“Hello?” Jimin’s voice was scratchy when he finally picked up.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yes, but it’s okay,” I could hear him shuffling around in his bed. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, climbing into bed. Then, without thinking, I blurted, “I think I want to move to Michigan.”

I held my breath as I waited for his response. There was no telling how this conversation would go, but I was hopeful. Even if this whole date thing did not go very well, I was positive that we would be able to move past it with a little bit of time. We worked well together and if he was comfortable with it then we could continue working together. Regardless, there was always coaching at a school.

“Like, permanently?”

I nodded but after a moment of silence remembered he could not see me.

“Yeah.”

My stomach started to churn. As the silence on the other end began to stretch, the excitement I felt before faded. Even if I said Jimin and I could get past a potentially awkward break up of sorts, I would not pretend that the thought did not make me physically ill. We would never be the same if that happened. It would be something to think about if it came to pass before the Olympics was over.

“Did something happen?” He finally asked, and I could hear the genuine worry in his tone. “Are you okay?”

The fear shifted to hurt, irritation, and anger, making my eyebrows knit together.

“I’m fine,” I could not keep the bite from my voice. It was petty and wrong of me, but his insinuation that I was not in my right mind was insulting. It made me feel like a child. “Just- forget I said anything. I don’t know what I’m even talking about.”

“Don’t do that,” His steady calmness made me even angrier. “I’m only asking you because it came out of the blue, not because I’m not happy with the idea.”

Now I just felt silly. Here I was making these small revelations, waking him up from his sleep, and then getting snippy because he did not respond the way I had wanted him to. Ugh, I wasn’t even his girlfriend yet and I’m acting like Darcy. A shiver went down my spine. That was an insult above all others.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, the attitude from a few seconds before gone as quickly as it came. “I got defensive for no reason. Sorry.”

He chuckled, the sound barely audible over the phone.

“I forgive you. Now, why do you want to pack your life up for good?”

That made me laugh. It was a sad, pitiful sound. One that did not hold my usual spunk. One I don’t think Jimin had ever heard before. It was impossible to feel sad when he was around.

“I forgot how quiet my house is,” I admitted softly. “I love my friends, but I think coming back just reminded me of how easily I was able to fall back into the routine of it all. Jin and Andy are parents, Tilly has a new boyfriend, and Hoseok and Minho are always so busy with their own lives that I don’t see any of them as often as I would like to.”

Turning on my side, I blinked back a few tears.

“It might sound stupid, but I really do love Saline. I like how busy I am and all of my friends. I bought this place with the hopes of kids and a dog one day, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen, and now it’s just rooms collecting dust. I just-” I let a tear fall, my emotions starting to bubble over. “I don’t like how lonely it feels out here.”

“Doesn’t sound like you like it there. Have you always felt like this?” He asked.

I shook my head, the tears free falling in between sniffles and shaky breaths.

“Not always. Ever since Namjoon died things have been weird. There was a point when I felt suffocated because no one would leave me alone, and then one day everything resumed, and I just got left behind. It was like I woke up and two years just passed me by.”

Jimin comforted me while I cried, telling me how much he hated to hear me so upset, while I worked on calming down. There had been a time in my life when I was not so emotional, but therapy had opened up a whole new side of myself I didn't know existed. Rubbing my face, I sniffled and sank deeper into my mattress. For now, the waterworks had stopped.

“You were recovering,” He soothed. “Your body needed time to heal, and you were traumatized. I don’t think anyone can blame you for zoning out for a bit.”

I hummed, “I know. Doesn’t make it easier to swallow.”

“I know how you feel. When I pulled out of the Olympics last time there was a part of me that felt like a huge failure, but my dad was there to help get my head back on straight. He doesn’t seem like it, but he’s a really great shoulder to cry on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” My voice was like sandpaper. “James is the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

I felt heavy. Worn. Used. My eyes begged for me to shut them, but we were just getting back into safer waters, and I didn’t want to burst the bubble. I yawned, covering my mouth and hoping Jimin could not hear the sound. He had gone quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin’s voice broke through the comfortable silence that had formed around us. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Shoot,” I forced myself to smile.

“What happened to Namjoon?”

I closed my eyes. This was something I knew would come up sooner or later. My lip wobbled uncontrollably as the second wave of tears crashed over me. I hated talking about this, but I knew it was going to come up sooner or later. Jimin deserved the truth, and honestly, I wanted to tell him. Being vulnerable with someone felt good. Being vulnerable with Jimin was divine. He was always so ready and willing to go along with things, listening and watching my every move, and trying his best to understand me. It was refreshing. It was nice. It was familiar.

“Was he in the accident with you?” He asked and his voice was so, so gentle.

“Yeah,” I croaked, finally finding my voice. “I went out with some of my friends and got pretty drunk. I was tired and ready to go home, but my ride didn’t want to go home yet. So, I called Joon.”

I sucked in a deep, loud breath. Jimin told me I could stop, that I didn’t owe him anything, but I ignored him. This wasn’t about owing him. This was about letting the guy I liked get to know me. This story was a part of who I was, as fucked up as that may sound, and I wanted him to get to know this facet of my life as deeply as he knew the present day one.

“Anyway,” I continued. “He offered to come and pick me up. Twenty minutes later I’m getting into his car and we’re on our way home. We’d just gotten engaged and bought our first house together- things were perfect. I had never been happier.

“We ended up taking the long way home because of an accident on the interstate. It was my idea, and Namjoon had a knack for going along with whatever I wanted. We were only two minutes away from the house when we got hit.”

I took a few deep breaths and wiped my face. Jimin was quiet on the other end. After a minute or two, I jumped back into the story.

“There was a four-way intersection around the corner from our place. Our light was green when we drove up. I don't think he thought to check if there was another car coming. He never even saw the truck. He, uh, died on impact.”

“Jesus,” Jimin breathed.

“The other guy was drunk as hell behind the wheel. Not paying attention. Funny thing is, he was the only person who didn’t get critically injured. Just a broken arm and a concussion. He wrapped our car around a light pole. My leg was pinned between the car and the light, and the airbag is what caused the brain injury.”

Jimin cursed under his breath, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah,” I gritted out. “Me too.”

He let me cry for a little while, saying over and over again how sorry he was and how he wished he was in Colorado with me. I did not have anything to say to him. It felt like my chest had been ripped open and my heart was on full display.

I never questioned how quickly we went from barely talking, to joking around, to sitting up late at night on the phone talking about life. It just happened. Clutching my phone in my hand, I let out a deep breath and held back any more tears from falling. I never said it, but I wished he was here, too.

“Hey,” His voice was gentle when he spoke, so fragile and sweet, that I had to force down the sobs threatening to come out. “I just want to say I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. You wanting to move here is probably the best thing I’ve heard all fucking year, but I just didn’t want to sway your decision.”

Sniffling, I tried to tell him I wasn’t upset, but he shut me down almost immediately.

“Let me finish,” His voice did not leave room for argument. “I know I don’t act like I’m insecure, but I am. I can be selfish and self-centered, and I’ve always had to really work on those parts of myself.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” I mumbled, curling into a ball beneath my blankets.

“Like I said, I can be a very selfish person,” He sighed. “There was this part of my brain just wanting to hear you say you were coming here and staying with me for forever. I didn’t want that to take over the narrative. And- no offense, but if you did move all the way out here just to date me, I think I’d be a little creeped out honestly.”

I snorted. Hearing that he felt the need to explain any of that to me felt like a small win, even if it did make an alarm go off in my head. It took courage to be that open and honest with another person, especially someone who just cried their eyes out. His compassion and understanding never failed to amaze me, and I was grateful he trusted me enough to let me into his mind for once. Still, it did not make the creep comment any less funny.

“Don’t laugh,” He whined, unable to stop himself from chuckling. “I’m being serious.”

“So do you want me to be a creepy stalker or not?” I joked, hoping to lighten up the mood. “Make up your mind, kid.”

“I think I just want you to be yourself,” I melted. “That’s been working out just fine so far. I mean, if you are a creepy stalker, you managed to get me to like you.”

“Mission accomplished,” I breathed, still reeling from his sweet words. “You better watch out, 007. There’s a new spy in town.”

“So, I’m Bond and you’re Joe Goldburg?”

“Exactly,” My cheeks hurt from how much I was smiling. “Penn Badgley would be a decent James Bond. He was really great in Margin Call.”

I bit my lip, trying to suppress my smile.

“Holy shit, you actually watched it?”

Margin Call was one of Jimin's favorite movies from 2011. He kept a very large notebook filled with all of the movies he’s ever seen, along with ratings, and if he should ever watch them again. He went through it one day and came across the action film, rewatched it, and then spent most of the day talking my ear off about how great it is.

“Someone I know was very passionate about it, and it managed to pique my curiosity.”

Jimin sighed, but I could not tell what emotion was behind it. Definitely was not anger or frustration. Not sadness either.

“What time are you getting back on Sunday?” He asked, and I could definitely hear the affectionate tone his voice had taken on.

“Um,” I thought about it for a moment. “Six, I think.”

“PM?”

“Yeah,” I curled up under my blankets. It was beginning to get really cold inside, but I did not want to get up to turn the heat on. “I have to double check my flight times, but I know it’s somewhere around there. Why? What’s up?”

“I know we already made plans for next week, but I was thinking I could pick you up from the airport and we could go out.”

My face grew hot, “I don’t think I’ll be dressed for a date.”

“You always look great,” He assured me.

I laughed, nervous and embarrassed, “Thanks.”

We had originally planned our first date to be the weekend after I got back. Jimin was adamant about giving me an experience, and I had been more than happy to indulge him a little. He was just so cute when he got excited. We were running on a limited timeline right now, though, since he had an upcoming swimming fundraiser with Swim Across America in Allendale. The team was raising money for cancer research, and I was very excited to be there to show my support.

Moving the date up meant we would have less to do next weekend, unless Jimin still wanted to keep our plans in place, but it meant we could focus on the fundraiser instead of trying to juggle a date at the same time.

“I hate to go, but I’m really tired,” Jimin yawned. Pulling my phone away from my ear I was startled by how late it was. “I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

I apologized for keeping him up so late. “Promise I won’t do it again.”

He hummed, already beginning to fall asleep, “Don’t mind. You’re always welcome to bother me in the middle of the night.”

“Night Jimin,” I whispered, blood pumping.

“Night bug.”

There was one thing I missed about Colorado- how quickly the snow melted. Michigan was seeing more snow as each day went by, but here in the mountains they would not start seeing the worst of it until the spring. For the first time in a month, I was able to forgo my large, puffy jacket in favor of a long sleeve and jeans. Jimin found my excitement over this endearing, sending a slew of heart-eye emojis in response to the mirror photo I sent him.

It was almost the end of the day when I pulled into the high school parking lot. The entire front office erupted in excitement when I walked through the front doors, hugs and well wishes overwhelming me. Sandra, the receptionist, could have talked all day if I let her, and after signing in, I politely told them all I needed to meet up with Coach Jung. I lied about stopping by on my way out and only felt a little bad about it. They were way too much for me.

“They’re going to be so excited to see you,” Hoseok mumbled, a smile stretching across his face as loud teenage boys got closer and closer to the pool house.

“I’m happy to see them, too,” I replied. “Should we wait until they change to make the grand reveal?”

He shook his head. “Would you rather hug now or when they’re in speedos.”

I shivered, disgusted by the mental image.

“Thanks for putting that in my head, you sick fuck.”

Choking on his spit, Hoseok bent over, laughing so hard he started to screech. His laughter reminded me of a ghost's wail and was contagious. We were both so wrapped up in our little bubble we did not notice the doors opening.

“Coach?”

Wiping my cheeks, I caught my breath and made eye contact with Jordan. Baby blue eyes widened while a large, dimple smile overtook his face. Behind him, Gabriel announced that I was here, and the room was filled with excitement. I was not much of a hugger, but I was happy to greet each boy with one. Gabriel hadn’t stopped speaking since catching sight of me and had a few accidental slip ups about how much he disliked Coach Jung.

Hoseok had alluded to that being their main issue right now. The boys were having a hard time adjusting to a new face and missed me dearly. To his credit, Hoseok admitted that he was still getting used to the coaching thing and made a couple mistakes his first few days here. He had made it a point to apologize to them for being a dick, but the teens hadn’t forgotten or forgiven him for his snappy attitude. Especially the two oldest.

“When are you coming back?” Marcus asked.

I smiled sadly, “I’ll be out for the rest of the year.” The tall boy deflated, sending a nasty look Hoseok’s way. “But,” I was quick to fix my mistake, “I’m planning on making trips to assist Coach Jung throughout the year. I wanted to be here for your last meet, but something came up.”

That something had been Jimin’s birthday, and I was not going to risk missing his party.

Regardless, Marcus and the team were very happy to hear they would be seeing me.

“I promise I’ll be here for graduation, too,” I added.

Gabriel offered to give me one of his tickets and I gratefully accepted the extended offer. We stood there and talked for at least fifteen minutes before I finally told them to get changed and into the water. Without protest, all twelve of them went to the locker room.

“You know,” Hoseok chuckled. “You're going to have to teach me how you manage to do that.”

“Cinnamon buns from Mountain Shadows,” I put on my whistle and grabbed my clipboard from my duffel bag. “They’ll be eating out of your hand in no time.”

The team was glowing. Jordan stood in the middle of the boys, a large smile on his face, as he praised them for giving the meet their best effort. Having another win under their belt, all of them were buzzing with excitement at a chance at nationals. They only needed to win three more competitions to qualify.

For the first time since I arrived, the icy contempt they held for Hoseok seemed to thaw. It brought a smile to my face. If I did not come back next year, I had a feeling the boys would be getting along much better.

“What’s for dinner?” Marcus asked, looking at me for an answer.

“Coach said something about burgers,” I replied, gesturing towards Hoseok. “You should ask him though. I could be wrong.”

Gabriel chimed in, “Yeah, we’re going to Bingo.”

My mouth watered. Bingo Burger was one of the best spots in town. Their fries were hot and crispy, and I loved their shakes. Mulling over my options for dinner, I always found myself stuck between the Gone Shroomin’ Burger and the Happy Hippie. For a vegan burger, that thing was really fucking good. Then again, a thick, juicy beef patty smothered in bacon, cheese, and mushrooms would hit the spot. Indecisive and bored, I fiddled around with my phone and somehow ended up texting Jimin.

Me: Gone Shroomin’ or Happy Hippie?

The noise on the bus was just in the background now and easy to tune out. Hoseok was laughing loudly with the freshmen while the two seniors were in a quiet conversation in the seat in front of me. Marcus and his girlfriend broke up recently. I stopped paying attention once my phone vibrated.

Jimin: No idea what that means

Jimin: Gone Shroomin I guess

I bit my lip, suppressing a smile.

Me: We’re going for celebration burgers

Me: The boys won and Hobi is treating them since we’re out in Pueblo and not getting back to the Springs until after dinner.

Jimin: Speaking of food… I was thinking we could get some BBQ on Sunday

“Y/N!” Hoseok called, making me look up from my phone. “Tell your boyfriend you’ll call him later.”

“We need you to be the tiebreaker,” Twig chirped.

“What for?” I sighed, glancing down at my screen.

Jimin: Have you been to Union Rec yet? It’s BBQ and a taqueria

Me: No but I’m always down for a burrito

“Do mermaids have gills?” Twig asked.

Fully pulled out of my phone, I flipped it around and gave the boys my undivided attention.

“Of course not. They’re mammals, so it would be a blowhole.”

Hoseok clapped his hands, “Thank you! That’s exactly what I said.”

Sliding further down in the booth, I closed my eyes and drowned them out again. Colorado’s air was so dry and crisp I was having to get used to the altitude change. I missed how wet and cold Michigan was. Smiling to myself, I remembered how much I hated it when I first landed. So much has changed…

Shuffling, I made myself more comfortable. We were only thirty minutes out from the Springs now, and we would be at Bingos right on time for Hoseok’s reservations. Feeling myself growing tired, I sunk even further into the booth. Eyes heavy, I let them slip closed, and slept for the rest of the bus ride.

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I smoothed down my skirt for the millionth time. The gray sweater I had thrown on seemed too casual now that I was looking at myself, but I did not know what else to do. It was a laundry day, but when I went to put my clothes in the dryer it refused to turn on. Violet said they needed a new one anyway, but that did little to improve my mood. The pretty red dress I wanted to wear was soaking wet and hanging from the shower rod to dry. I played with the skin on my lip, willing the black and gray outfit to somehow look nicer. On the other side of the phone, Andy sighed.

“You look fine,” She insisted, running her hand through her auburn hair. “Do a cute hairstyle and put on a nice pair of earrings, and you’ll be golden.”

“You don’t think it’s too plain?” I had asked her this five times now, and each time I got that same reply. “I mean, do I look like I’m going to a funeral?”

“The guy has seen you in sweats and no makeup and still wanted to take you out. Do you honestly think he cares about the color of your outfit?”

She had a point. Finally deciding to cave in and give up on my obsession, I took her advice to do something with my hair. A few of the strands were beginning to look silver, and my sideburns were looking paler every day, but after Hoseok told me he was starting to see a few grays, I decided to leave them be. If we were both going to be silver foxes, I liked the idea of doing it together.

“Are you wearing heels?”

“No,” I shook my head. I picked my phone up and went to my bedroom to find a pair of earrings. “It’s too icy. Silver or gold?”

She thought about it for a second, her face scrunched up cutely.

“Silver.”

I landed on some thick, gun-metal hoops. They matched the color of the sweater perfectly and did not take away from my face too much. I had spent too much time on looking this nice to have an accessory dominate. Andy was happy with my choice.

I had gotten back a little earlier than I originally thought I would, and asked Jimin if it was okay that I meant him at the restaurant out here instead of making him drive all the way to Detroit to pick me up. He had put up a bit of a fight about it but relented when I said I was hoping we could hang out at his house after dinner. I said I wanted to get myself home, but I was really trying to see how bad the drive was from his place to mine. The thought of spending more time in his space made me feel like a teenage girl.

“How’s ballet going?” I slipped on a pair of black tights. It was freezing outside, and I wanted to have as many layers on as possible. “Has Dani made any progress in getting her figure skating career started?”

Andrea laughed but said that her daughter was getting closer to her goal every day. Jin was weak and did anything the little girl wanted if he could. This was the only issue they were both bull-headed about. Jin wanted to teach her to be responsible and follow through on things, and Dani was tired of preparing for figure skating. She wanted to be on the ice and her dad was afraid of pushing her too far too young. I was most definitely a team Dani instigator, and it was a point of contention between Seokjin and I.

“What did you think of Max?”

I smiled. That boy was definitely a character. The gang and I had a nice dinner before I left Colorado, and Tilly brought along Mr. Tattoo guy. He was quiet and when he did talk, he always had something completely random and out of the blue to say. He fascinated me and when everyone started huddling in their own groups to chat, I turned most of my attention to the new guy.

He was a sweetheart, and it was a nice change of pace getting to know him. He hated being called Peter (his first name), went to college for nuclear engineering, and became a tattoo artist on a whim. A buddy of his wanted a new piece, paid Max to draw it, and trusted the guy with a tattoo gun. He was an apprentice in San Francisco for three years before moving to Denver to open up his own shop. For all of his eccentricity, he was very successful and down to Earth.

“He’s good for her,” I finally replied, zipping up my Doc Martens, I checked the time. I would have to leave soon. “I’m just happy there’s no drama between her and Hobi.”

It had been a year since they officially broke up, but I knew they fell into bed with one another a handful of times since then. Hoseok and I had talked about their weird relationship on one too many drunken nights, the swimmer the only person able I liked enough to force a glass of whiskey down. Tilly knew that I knew and would vent to me sometimes. They loved each other, knew one another better than anybody else, and it was easy to fall back into each other since we were in the same circle.

I doubted Andy knew anything about that, we tried our best to keep her out of the loop, but she always said that they still had lingering feelings. I hoped Hoseok was handling this news well. He seemed fine, happy even, so I just rolled with it. If he had a problem, I was sure I would have heard about it by now.

“Speaking of Hoseok,” The humorous tone in Andy’s voice caught my full attention. “Apparently, Jin saw him at The Rabbit Hole with some blonde girl before you got into town. He just remembered to tell me last night.”

This was news to me. Wracking my brain, I tried to figure out if he had brought up a date, or even a person he might be interested in, but nothing came up. Shrugging, I let it go. It was probably just some girl he picked up at the bar. Still, that would be an expensive date.

“He hasn’t told me anything about that,” I murmured.

“Might be why he’s not bothered by new boyfriend.”

I laughed, “Or it could be that they’ve moved on.”

“Oh, please,” She pulled a face, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “We all know that’s not true. At least, not until recently.”

“Regardless,” I sighed, grabbing my purse and walking out of the front door. “It’s none of our business. If they’re happy that’s all that matters.”

Andy raspberried, “Boo. I hate it when you’re all mature and adult-like.”

“And right,” I joked. “Don’t forget about that part.”

Locking up my little house, I made my way through the Anderson’s. Violet was watching the Golden Girls on the couch while Calvin was reading a book beside her. It was a sweet scene that made me smile. I wanted what they had.

I gave them a smile and wave as I passed by. Violet returned it in full, her eyes kind and gentle, before going back to her show. Calvin put his book down and asked what time I was planning on coming back. He wanted to keep an eye out for my car.

“Around midnight,” I replied, moving my phone away from my mouth. Andrea was rambling about the new doctor on staff. I trusted her disdain enough to know he was a huge dick. “See you two tomorrow.”

“Be safe out there,” He replied, going back to his copy of The Catcher and the Rye.

Andy and I were on the phone for the entire car ride into Ann Arbor. I enjoyed hearing her voice, the small distraction welcome when I felt my anxiety spike. Thankfully it was a Sunday night, and the streets were somewhat empty.

Once I got into the downtown area, I drowned out her voice completely. Andrea never minded. She just kept talking like I hadn’t stepped out of whatever conversation we were just having. Never got mad when I kept asking her to repeat herself either. She was a wonderful friend to me, and I was grateful to have her in my life. If I moved to Saline, she would be the person I missed the most.

I still hadn’t talked to anyone else about the possibility of moving. I was not sure how they would react, and I needed to have my mind made up before giving any of them the news. While I knew Andy and Jin would be supportive, and Tilly and Minho wouldn’t really care all that much (it just gave them an excuse to vacation in Michigan), it was Hoseok I was most on the fence about.

With him it could go either way. He would either be really happy and supportive or call me crazy. It came from a place of love, and I respected his opinion more than any of the others, so I had to be completely sure of myself before getting into something like that with him. If he thought for a second I was rushing into things he would go into overprotective, big brother mode and kill all of my excitement. He might even be able to change my mind if he fought hard enough.

Pulling up to the restaurant, I was impressed by the sheer size of it. One half looked like an old warehouse while the other half was a small, white bricked building. A red neon sign glowed in the night and a large party was hanging out outside of the building. I could see Jimin in their little group and smiled. He was a very popular man in this area and was able to make new friends wherever he went. If I had to guess, he knew someone and is now best friends with all of them.

“Hey, I just got to the restaurant. I’m going to let you go.”

“Okay, baby,” Andy replied. “Have fun. Talk to you later.”

“Text you when I get home,” I replied.

Andy was as hypervigilant about getting texts as I was. She was on staff at the hospital when Namjoon and I first arrived. I can’t remember anything from that night after getting in Joon’s car, but when Jin and I spoke about it he said Andy was one of the nurses having to help triage me. She had to be physically pulled away from my body once the doctors found out about our connection, but the image of my body that night is burned into her mind. She was the person who took care of me the most upon release and quit her job at the hospital for a little while in order to make sure I was well taken care of. Calls and texts were just our thing now and I always felt horrible for being part of such a traumatic event for her.

“Love you,” She said.

“Love you too,” I replied, hanging up.

Getting out of my car, I locked the doors and made my way over to Jimin. He caught sight of me before I reached the small group and broke out into a huge, heart stopping smile. Unable to stop myself, I smiled back and waved awkwardly. He said something to the group before meeting me halfway.

“Hey, you,” He said, wrapping his arms around me. “You look really pretty.”

I laughed nervously, squeezing his waist. “Thanks. I tried my best.”

Pulling away, I was able to admire him a bit better. He was wearing light jeans tonight, a rarity as he preferred sweatpants and slacks, and a black t-shirt. A leather jacket was a staple in his wardrobe, and he always said they kept him warm enough. I never believed him. As always, everything was a tight fit and showed off his body perfectly.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I said once my appraisal was finished. “Nice boots. Where’d you get them?”

He looked down at the black, Chelsea boots and shrugged, “Nordstrom, I think. Taehyung got them for me a few Christmases ago.”

Of course he did.

“Let’s go inside. I’m cold.”

Jimin laughed, “My apologies, ma’am.”

The restaurant was packed, but Jimin had arrived thirty minutes early to get us on their waitlist, so I only had to wait five minutes for our table to be ready. Jimin brushed off the gesture as first date etiquette, but I knew better. The kid was late to everything and yet he got here early so I wouldn’t have to stand outside in the cold. It almost made me reach out and hold his hand, but my nerves got the best of me. We were at our table before I could gather up some courage, leaving a disappointed, bitter taste in my mouth.

“I’m feeling Disco Fries as an app. You?”

Searching the menu for them, I nodded. “That sounds really good.”

We were quiet for a few minutes as we decided on what we wanted. The menu here was rather large, filled with Mexican foods and copious BBQ items. Having never been here before I had no clue what was good and what hasn’t, but from how many people were here I had to assume nothing was bad.

“Know what you want?” Jimin asked, breaking the silence.

I shook my head, “No idea. What about you?”

“I get the same thing every time I come,” He laughed. “The Korean BBQ Burger is really fucking good. I also like the enchiladas.”

Finding both items, my mouth watered. Everything sounded amazing, but I wanted to get a little out of my comfort zone. I just had burgers yesterday, so I was not feeling that. Maybe BBQ? Looking at the options, I shook my head. I could not eat a half pound of anything. Biting the dry skin on my lips, my brain felt like it was working on overdrive. Too many options.

“Welcome to Union Rec,” I jumped a little, startled. “I’m Annie and I’ll be your server tonight.”

My eyes locked with a pair of baby blues, and I immediately recognized her. She was the brunette from the bar a couple of months ago. Eyes sliding from me, she landed on Jimin and the bored expression on her face morphed into one of pure bliss. I did not understand why she had given me that nasty look back then, but it was much clearer to me now. She had a thing for Jimin. Remembering she had a boyfriend, one she screamed at over the phone, it made me feel nauseous. Poor Tom.

“Oh my gosh, Christian. What are you doing here?” She asked, sneaking a look at me.

“Got a hot date,” He replied cheekily, gesturing his hand my way. “You remember Y/N, right?”

She gave me one of those tight-lipped, fake smiles. I returned the favor. I was not really jealous per say, Jimin’s declaration making any possibility of that disappear, but I did not appreciate anyone trying to make me feel small. I was a gold medalist. I was a fucking Olympian. Whoever the hell this chick thought she was, I would make sure she never thought for a second she got under my skin.

“Yeah, we met at Brecon’s,” Annie replied, completely ignoring me. “Thought she was your coach.”

Jimin either did not catch the insult or he was choosing to ignore it. His smile was still just as pleasant as it was when we first sat down. I envied his ability to keep his emotions so controlled. I knew I must have been glaring at the poor girl.

“She is,” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean she’s not my girlfriend. Are you taking our order or…?”

Annie spluttered for a second before regaining her composure. All affection in her eyes was gone and replaced by irritation. It was definitely directed at me, but Jimin’s dismissal must have stung. I was happy to be rid of her. Putting in our order for Disco fries, Jimin got a Sprite and Annie left before I could ask for a drink. Sipping on my complimentary water, I forced myself to breathe in and out. She was just a petty, annoyed girl with a crush. That was all. So, what if she was being rude? I was fine. Everything was fine. After the fifth sip, I actually believed it.

Trying to keep my tongue in check, I went back to looking through the menu. Finally able to make a choice, I decided on the birria beef ramen and closed the menu. Hopefully little miss Annie wouldn’t spit in it. Hot again, I took another long sip of water.

“Excuse me.”

Jimin flagged down another waiter, a pleasant smile on his face. Confused, I put down the glass and raised an eyebrow. He winked at me before laying the charm on thick.

“Hey Marty. Would you mind if we got a different server?”

The young girl nodded frantically, “Of course. Is everything okay?”

Jimin smiled, eyes like crescents. “Everything is fine. Just Annie on her bullshit. Don’t want to get her fired by talking to your dad.”

Marty rolled her eyes, “Figures. I’ll tell her I’m taking care of you guys. Just don’t expect me to be running around for you, man. I have an entire section by myself.”

“I want privacy anyway,” Jimin replied, smirking at me. “Thanks. I’ll tip you well.”

She laughed, “Just make sure you put it in my hand. That bitch has been stealing tips. Cosette is trying to convince pops to fire her, but you know how he is about the girl.”

Jimin shook his head, “I already know. Can you get my girl a drink? Annie ran off without taking her order.”

Marty looked at me, her deadpan stare making me burst into laughter. Apparently, it wasn’t just me. That helped.

“Sorry about her. She’s a massive bitch. What can I get you?”

I smiled, my mood a million times better, “Iced tea, please.”

“You got it, babe. You ready to order?”

Marty took our orders and promised to be back with my drink soon.

“How do you two know each other?” I asked Jimin, finishing off my water.

“We were in the same class back in high school. Her mom owns that flower shop on Michigan Avenue.”

That was surprising. I was positive the girl was no older than eighteen. She reminded me of a porcelain doll, her chubby cheek and big eyes adding something angelic to her overall look. Then again, Jimin did not look all that old either. It was easy to forget he just turned 24. The age gap was really messing with my brain.

Annie was back with Jimin’s drink a few minutes later. She said nothing when she practically slammed his cup on the table before stalking off. It was then that I knew who she reminded me of. Darcy. I wondered if they were friends. Definitely had the same attitude problem, that was for sure.

“Ignore her,” Jimin told me once she was out of earshot. “I’ve been doing it since middle school.”

The rest of our dinner went back without a hitch. With Annie out of the way, and Marty’s small and infrequent check-in’s, we were able to be in a bubble of sorts. He asked about my trip back home and filled me in on what happened over the weekend. He had finally told his parents about our date and said that his mom thought it was a great idea. James called me perfect a few times, too. I had a hard time believing it, but Jimin had never lied to me before. It was nice to know the people around him accepted me even if I was a few years older.

“My mom’s 9 years older than my dad,” He revealed in between bites of food.

Shocked, I stopped eating all together. I had no idea they were that different in age. Ne-Yeon looked so youthful and pretty it was hard to guess just how old she actually was. Even fighting cancer, that woman did not look a day over 40. James was also in great shape for his age. To hear they had their own age gap made me feel a little bit better.

“Wait,” Something else occurred to me. “Your mom was in her forties when she had you?”

Jimin nodded, “45. She had Haru at 48.”

It made sense to me now. To Jimin, our age gap was nothing special. It was smaller than his parents’, and having an older mother did not bother him at all. In his eyes, we had all of the time in the world for marriage and kids. A small weight came off of my shoulders. It really did not mean anything to him. He was not just saying that to make me feel better either.

“Do you want dessert?” He asked, his plate empty in front of him.

I was almost done with my bowl, “What do they have?”

He squinted his eyes, thinking.

“I know they have this horchata banana pudding. It’s literally the best dessert I’ve ever had in my life. There are a few other things, but I can’t remember what they are.”

I chuckled, “Then we’ll have the banana pudding.”

Jimin was not exaggerating either. The pudding was delicious. I almost wished we had each gotten our own serving, but after seeing the bill we were happy we hadn’t. Jimin paid this time. We had a back-and-forth deal when it came to meals. I got us breakfast last Wednesday, so he was picking up this bill. This was, unfortunately, much higher than Denny’s.

“I’ll put gas in your truck,” I offered on our way out. “To make up for the difference from Denny’s.”

He scoffed, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“We’re together now,” He interrupted me. “If I want to pay for a meal, then I will. You don’t have to pay me back.”

“We’ve always done that,” I argued.

“That was before,” He countered, walking me to my car door and opening it. “This is now. And right now, I’m trying to take a pretty girl, in a pretty dress, on a nice date. That includes paying for her meal.”

Getting into my seat, I pointed out that I let him do the gentleman thing all of the time. Opening my door for me, pulling chairs out at restaurants, and even walking on the curbside when we were out together. The list was endless. The least I could do was pay for half of a meal.

“I don’t do those things to get on your good side,” Jimin replied. “I do them because I want to. This isn’t transactional. So, stop worrying about being a burden. I enjoy taking care of you. You deserve to be taken care of.”

I could not think of a good enough comeback, so I just decided to drop it. If he wanted to pay for me then he could. It was his money to spend.

“Send me your address.”

“You still want to come over?” He seemed surprised.

“Yeah,” I nodded, already pulling up the GPS. “What is it?”

He sounded like Charlie when he won the golden ticket as he gave me his address.

“Don’t get too excited now,” I joked. “Just because I’m coming over doesn’t mean anything.”

Jimin laughed, “I pretend I don’t even know what sex is until after date three, so don’t worry about it.”

That made me laugh, “Get in your truck. I’ll meet you there.”

Looking back at him, I felt giddy. His eyes were so alight, his joy written so clearly across his face it took my breath away. A happy Jimin was the only kind I wanted to see. Blowing caution to the wind, I finally reached out. Touching his stomach, I felt the muscles clench beneath my fingers.

“Thank you,” I said earnestly.

“What for?” He rasped, placing one hand over mine, pressing my hand further into his skin.

“For-” I broke off, taking my hand away. The feeling of him underneath me was too much. “For being so accommodating. I really appreciate it.”

He laughed, the sound strained and airy. I was too embarrassed by my actions to look at his face, but I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my eyes. Unlike me, Jimin was always brave. Hopefully some of that confidence would rub off on me. Maybe then I could reach out and hold him whenever I wanted to.

“You’re welcome,” He replied, and my thighs clenched together at how rough he sounded. Did touching him do that? Or was it the praise? It could be both. “Drive safe, okay? You can follow me if that helps.”

I nodded, swallowing. The icy air outside did nothing to put out the blistering heat coursing between us right now. It was overwhelming how hot it was. Turning up my A/C, I pointed the vent directly at my face.

“See you in a few minutes,” I breathed, still unable to look at him.

Jimin closed my door, and I leaned back in my seat breathing heavily. I watched him as he rounded the front of my car, those pants sticking to his legs like a second skin and groaned. I had never felt this level of desire for anyone before.

He reminded me so much of Namjoon. His beautiful brain and love for music and poetry so reminiscent it managed to bring me back to happier times. In the beginning I was afraid my attraction to him stemmed from that link. Because he reminded me of something I had loved so dearly that meant what I was beginning to feel was just a projection.

I was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. Jimin had a passion that Joon could never replicate. If Joon was a warm blanket, then Jimin was like the tide in the sea. On the surface it was calm, steady, and beautiful. Underneath that was life like nothing I had ever seen before. He was refreshing and filled with this fire for life that reminded me of my own from years ago.

Namjoon was perfect, a boy-next-door, and soft spoken. Back then I had enough of that passion for the both of us. Now I saw more and more parallels between us than ever before. I was uncertain, waiting for someone else to bring excitement back into my life, too afraid to reach out and take what I wanted anymore.

And then Jimin was there with that big smile willing to take me on whatever adventure I desired. All I had to do was ask. It was exhilarating, fun, and I was happy to be a part of the ride. His softness, his kindness, his understanding- all of it wrapped up in a pretty red bow. A gift that kept on giving.

I did not love Jimin, but I knew then that I could. With his sharp tongue and charisma, it was impossible not to. Everyone else did. Who was I to think I could be any different? I was a slave to his happiness. It was in that moment, sitting in my car, that I finally understood what was happening.

I was falling in love and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

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yaut-jaknowit · 2 years ago

Note

YOUR MXM REQUESTER IS BACK AGAINNNN. I’m literally in love w your works fr, like whenever I have nothing to do I’m taking my ass over to your blog to read😭 you’re a wholeass blessing fr

Okay so my mind started working again, like imagine the reader just over all being a tease the whole day and in the evening his Yautja mate walks in on the reader touching himself later on which leads to smut:D?

What We Do In The Night

Pairing: Mai'tuiudh (Male Reader) x AMAB Reader

Warnings: breeding kink, size kink, teasing out in public, knots, masturbation, being caught while masturbating, cum eating, talk about cum, thigh fucking.

Word Count: 5662 (whoops, my hand slipped...)

Summary: A new question. What would happen if you teased your mate while on the mother ship? You're in front of his peers, touching him throughout the day. He can't do anything in return. Not when there's other watching. Wait until he get's back from his meeting...

Author Note: Welcome back! Glad to have you! I'm so glad you are liking them. I have to say, I'm slightly out of my element when it comes to MXM stuff but I do like a challenge. I'm loving them so much as you can clearly tell by the 11 page essay I just wrote, lol. Throw some more at me!

Masterlist

Ao3

Many eyes were on your form as you strutted through the halls. Mai has taught you to ignore them, don’t give them energy to taunt you. Over many visits, you’ve gotten use to the stares and eyes. It no longer bothered you. To be honest, it made you want to try something that Mai has whispered to you before. The Yautja have little shame on what humans call disgusting. It’s taken some time to get use to seeing naked forms along the crew.

They have no reason to shy away though. Their frames are athletic and toned, just like your partners. Straight up hunters that loved the hunt. Most do, at least. From what you’ve heard, others prefer science or mechanics. Those are the similarities to the humans that you considered. There are things between your two races that are completely different then there’s those before mentioned ones.

Your feet were taking wide, quick strides to keep up with Mai’tuiudh. With how fast he was moving, he seemed to be on a deadly mission. To where, you have no idea.

It’s rare to be on the mothership. Mai hated to be here. By the looks of it, the other Yautjas felt the same towards him. The stares, glaring, and scoffing are any clue. You feel like it has something to do with you to being together, but it doesn’t matter to you.

Yet, the elders call upon him to physically check in and report his findings. Mai listens to them. Well, he has to or be hunted down by an Enforcer to be brought back. Mai’s told you this has happened once before. Some Yautja named Dai’stbaen dragging him here to answer to the elders.

The stares don’t go away as Mai plops down on the bench. A bowl of some sort of noodles in front of him. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him eat noodles. But it was quite strange yet funny to see. You join Mai next to him and leaned into his side. The Yautja doesn’t move and lets you stay there. There was a little coverage with the table. The others around have finally returned back to their food and tablemates. This was your chance.

A grin grew on your features. Your hand nearest to him rested on his bare thigh. The muscle barely twitched as Mai used chopsticks to pick up some noodles and bring it to his mouth. Said hand started to slide up towards Mai’s torso. This time, you felt Mai’s stomach flex against your side. Good boy, is what you wanted to say but you were in earshot of company.

Once the noodles tangled on the blue Yautja’s mandibles was consumed, Mai released a growl-chuff at you. “What are you doing, little bug?” he questioned, keeping a hand on the bowl and the other grasping the chopsticks. Mai wasn’t going to stop you though. The skimming of your palm felt wonderful against his skin. “Think wisely.”

Poor choice of words. You were thinking of all things you could do to him while he couldn’t do anything. Mai has a taste for touch outside of the bedroom but won’t full on take you in front of company. Such a gentleman. You continued to smirk as your hand reached the hem of his short-shorts, then pushed underneath.

Mai’s skin was set ablaze against yours the closer you got to his core. The Yautja squared his shoulders, attempting to keep any noises to himself. He tried. That’s all that matters in the end.

Later in the day, when the ship was calming down, the two of you found yourself in a sparring room. Other Yautjas were working on their form and whatnot. All of it was enticing but your eyes were kept on the blue Yautja stretching. Mai was bent at the waist, touching his fingers to his toes. You licked at your lips and secretly shifted your twitching dick. How could anyone not want to be ruined by him and his glory? If anyone said no, then they are complete liars.

Your Yautja swiped at drop of blood hanging from his lower mandible with a long tongue. The things Mai could do with that muscle. One’s you’ve experienced countless time. God, just thinking about him was probably alerting the Yautjas around about how horny you were for him. Who cares though? Not you as he walked over to you.

The waterskin in your hand was offered to the sweaty alien. Said being took it from your gasp. As he drank, you placed a hand on his stomach, feeling it flex. That limb skirted over Mai’s crotch, loving the way he tensed and almost choked on his drink. Mai was quick to cap the waterskin and grasp your hand. Yet, as the giant stared into your eyes, he couldn’t tell you to stop. Not when he felt his cock stir within his sheath. Damn this ship.

“What’s the matter, love? Cat got your tongue?” you jestered, palm resting over his crotch. If he didn’t need to show at least a hair of restraint in front of his peers, Mai would’ve had you face down, ass up. The feel of you wrapped around as he stroked your cock. Paya, save his damned soul.

His former sparring partner called to him, asking if they were going to continue. He wished he didn’t have to. He wished he could walk straight out of this room and take you somewhere private.

Maybe he’ll just use your mouth, teach you lesson. Especially, when you’re touching him like that. It’s going to be difficult to focus now. It was all your fault.

The two of you stood in front of the door, a soft smile upon your lips. Lips that Mai wanted to bite as you looked at him that way. The way that captured his sight, his mind, his focus. He couldn’t help placing his hands on your hips and drawing you close.

The heat of his body made your lips press together, eyes sparkling with mischief. Your own hands started at his lower torso then skimmed around his sides then rested on the swell of Mai’s butt.

Said being’s mandibles clicked against one another. If only Elder Foq’oz hadn’t called upon him. He wouldn’t have to leave you. No, he could push you into his dwelling and take you against the door. No eyes could see, but everyone within the vicinity could hear how good he fucks your ass. Then, he would knot you, pouring his seed deep within you. You would keep it there, being so good for him. Afterwards, Mai would carry you to the large bath and take you all over again. He would happily seed you continuously through the night.

His cock’s tip started to rub against his shorts. The friction and smell of you made him keen silently, slightly bent over you. Mai let his tongue slither out to taste the air, eyes drifting shut.

Or, he could take you here. Quickly. Quietly. There would be eyes, much to his dismay, but you’re his. Yet, the Elder would be infuriated to learn why he was late. Mai would receive some sort of punishment by said Yautja. Not that he was against them… he didn’t want to be away longer than necessary from his mate.

“Prepare, little ooman,” he rumbled into shoulder before standing tall. In the air, Mai smelled his own dai-shui lingering. A short shower wasn’t going to get rid of it, as much as he hoped. He’ll have to bear what words the Elder will throw at him. All for you.

At his words, you cocked your head, brows furrowed. “For what, babe?” you requested, hands moving to Mai’s front and slipping underneath his pants again. Your Yautja rocked his hips forward, sweltering penis sliding against your hand. Paya, you were going to be the death of him at his stage. The way you touched him. The way you felt against him just like this.

“Pauking be ready when I return, ooman.” Oh, you knew you were in trouble now at that point. All you could do was smile innocently up at him. Mai growled softly, ending it with a keen. He used a hand to wrap around your neck and simply pin you into the door. “You will not leave my room in the morning. You will be full of me before day.”

Your dick throbbed in your pants. Since your grave has already been dug, who cares if it gets deeper. “Is that a promise or a threat?” One limb drifted north to tweak at one of Mai’s exposed nipples.

Mai’tuiudh had a strong urge to bite you on your neck. Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson. Knowing you though, there’s a chance it wouldn’t work as well as he wanted it to. His grip tightened on you, claws pressing into your skin. “Consider it a threat and promise. It won’t matter though. You’ll be far too cockdumb to know.”

This time, you gasped, hands stilling. God, he knew how to get your blood going. Well, his presence already did that. Yet, you kept a cocky look on your face. “Good. Now, be a good boy and run along,” you shooed him away.

His hand slammed into the pad next to the door. This action caught the attention of many eyes around. Their head snapped to the two of you. They watched as the Yautja shoved you past the door and it closed between the pair. The heavy scent of a horny male in the air. Many just rolled their eyes at the smell before carrying on.

You stared at the sheet of metal blocking you from Mai’tuiudh. Now, you could release the façade, fingers already palming at the tent growing within your pants. Shit, that alien knows what he’s doing with you. His words, smell, being, they drove you crazy when he did things like this. Yet, you had to wait until he came back to get what you want.

An idea came to mind standing in the entrance. It was the honest truth you’ll have to wait until Mai gets done with whatever he’s doing to get knotted. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun while he’s away. Now, you can imagine the sight of him walking in as you played with yourself.

Hand wrapped softly around your hard cock, precoma weeping from the tip. Maybe one of your many toys filling your ass, barely comparing to Mai’s impressive cock. It could just be there until he will.

The pants around your waist did nothing to hide the tent growing within them. Your blood rushing to your hardening cock. Your back rested against the closed door as a hand wrapped around yourself, softly stroking.

Images of past encounters with your lover played behind your eyelids. Every time ended with you knotted on him, dick twitching deep inside of you, filling you with his seed. The back of your smacked against the door, a low moan breaking the quiet air.

All the things Mai has done to you over the course of the time you’ve spent with him. The touches, the words, the emotions. By god, you love him. The Yautja may not say those exact words, but you knew he felt the same as he bared himself to you. He’s been vulnerable to you so many times before.

He’s treated you right this entire time. He cares about you. He’s kept you in his thoughts. Yes, there’s been disagreements, but fuck. They’ve always been resolved. He loves you, words or not. Through and through. When returned back from wherever he’s been called to, he’ll take care of you completely. Someday, you feel you should return the favor full heartily. God, what has you brain done to you?

The question should be, what has Mai done to you? Here you were, back against a door, hand now down your pants to stroke at your dick. Dirty, downright sinful thoughts spilling through your mind. All you wanted was Mai to walk in and see you fisting yourself as you moaned his name.

That made you push off of the door and take unsteady steps towards the bedroom. The trek was long and difficult. Your legs wobbled underneath you at each footfall. All your thoughts were focused on the mental image of you being pounded into by Mai. All you had to do was wait and be good, be prepared. You had a full understanding on what teasing the Yautja in front of his kind could do.

Out in public, Mai stays conservative. He’s respectful yet firm. You aren’t allowed out of his sights when in crowds. Though, this may seem demeaning, he will make you hold his hand the entire time. If that’s not possible. Like for instance, grabbing credits, he’ll force you in front of him, pressed up against him.

At that thought, you wanted to be skin to skin with him. Sweaty bodies moving with each other, each seeking pleasure in the other.

The concave bed covered in pelts and a couple of blankets felt like heaven. Past memories surfacing once more to remind you what’s to come. Your hand didn’t leave the confines of your pant as you laid back. You let loose a moan when you squeezed the base of your cock. That’s what Mai’s going to do to you when he returns. All the things he’s going to do… You wondered what position he’s going to fold you into when comes back. Maybe Mai won’t even take you in the bed. The wall could work, show off how strong he is as he holds you up easily in his arms. Or the bath; you riding him till he knots you. Mai stroking your cock in rhythm. You bit your bottom lip, hips stuttering against your hand.

How can you even think straight with those thoughts? To be honest, you probably weren’t thinking straight at the moment. Mai consumed your mind.

The drag of dry hands didn’t feel the best. You reached over to the low table next to the bed. When it came to Mai, he always has lube nearby at the thoughts of you. One way he shows he truly cares about you. Always on his mind too.

After retrieving the bottle of lube and a toy, your pants were pushed off of your legs and thrown off to the side. Your hardened cock rested against your stomach, leaking precum, tip pink and flushed. It jumped when you skimmed slick fingers over the underside. You whined at the feeling and did the same thing again. Mai’s rough fingers would feel so much better. Patience was key right now. All you had to do was wait somewhat patiently for his return.

The toy earlier mentioned was slicked up with the same lube. You rolled onto your side, hiked up a leg, and nudged the tip against the tight ring of muscles. After countless times with Mai, he’s been able to loosen you up to make it easier for the two of you. Yet, it never hurts to prepare yourself for him. He did say to do that before he left you panting and hard against the door.

You softly cried out as the plug was pushed into you, slowly opening you up. Your bottom lip was bitten again at the pleasure spiking throughout your body. This caused you to start panting, jaw hung low.

Then, the thickest part of it was pushed fully and nestled perfect inside. Your only free hand went immediately back to your cock and started up a decent pace. Your body stayed on it’s side as you stroked, eyes starting to roll back into your head. Fuck, this wasn’t the greatest. The plug did little to fill you the way Mai could. It made you hungry for more. Yet, you guessed it was the idea and possible feeling that had you whining in the empty room.

It was far from silent now in the bedroom. Soft cries, whines, and moan echoing back at your needy form on Mai’s bed. You buried your nose into the pelt and took a deep breath. There. There was his grounding scent woven into the blankets. Your dick twitched, more precum coating the tips. You used the palm of your hand to corkscrew the tip. “Mai!” you whimpered, other hand clawing into the bed.

The muscles in your lower torso tensed, preparing for the upcoming orgasm. Your hand sped up, tightening its hold. Your mind is starting to go blank, besides the only thought on it was Mai. “Pl-ease, let, let me come, baby,” you begged to a figure who wasn’t here, to an empty room.

Your balls tightened, drawing up into your pelvis. Your arm growing tired at the speed but didn’t dare stop. Not when it was right the- “What do we have here?”

Over the white noise in your ears, you heard a voice gravelly speak. The concentration was dropped, hand stopping at the tip, eyes shooting open to find the origin.

In all of his glory, Mai rested a shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed, and eyes locked onto you. His long tongue slipped between his inner jaw to taste the air. You watched as his burnt orange eyes expanded.

All you could do was lay there, panting and not daring to move. The male finally pushed off of the door frame and marched straight over to you. Now, you turned onto your back and started to crawl away from him. That didn’t work.

Mai simply grasped an ankle and tugged you back to him before forcing you onto your front. One hand pinned your neck down into the bed while the other lifted your hips up. The shiny blue butt plug now exposed to him. The Yautja purred lowly, thumb touching the plug before hooking a claw and lightly pulling on it. It moved only an inch inside of you, but you moaned, hands grasping at the pelts again. “Mai,” you cried out his name with him here.

“If you didn’t tease me since this morning, I would be praising you. But you don’t deserve my good words now. Not when you have me wanting to breed you since you touched me out in the hallways this morning.” Mai pushed on the plug now, gaining the same reaction as before. “Do you know how hard it was not to push you into the floor in front of other people and knot you right there? I know you would’ve sound so pretty, begging for my knot and to bred you.”

The touch on your lower end was removed. Only a cool breeze ghosted over the hot skin he had grazed over. “You would’ve loved that. Huh? Seeing all those larger than you watching you getting bred by one of their own? Maybe you would’ve let them have a turn with you?”

This time, you whine in disagreement. “No, no! All yours. All yours. I want you, love. Please. I’m only yours.”

From behind you, where you couldn’t see, Mai smirked proudly at that. The belt around his thick waist was removed, thrown off to the side. Green pelt shorts followed shortly after.

A shiver raked the Yautja’s body, his cock meeting the air, slick and pulsing with need. Mai knew the elder could smell his arousal when Mai entered the room. As much as Mai should’ve felt embarrassed, he didn’t. Instead, he wanted the meeting to be over the moment it started. So, he could come back here and fill you with his cock. Patience is a hunter’s virtue. One a struggled with since he was a child.

“You know how to please me, little ooman,” he grumbled, letting his hand return back to your butt. He squeezed one of your cheeks. Patience. His prize would soon come to him in time. Instead, Mai rested his heavy cock on your tail bone and rutted against you.

From the smell and sight of you, you were ready to come. He could tell when he entered the room you were about to. But Mai ensured you wouldn’t.

Like all the times before, the Yautja leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear. His body curled over yours, easily covering you like a big blanket. The hand on your butt moved to slither around your torso, taking up so much space. “Are you ready for me?” he softly whispered. You felt your cock jump, slapping against Mai’s arm. He smirked at this and licked a stripe behind the shell of your ear.

A whimper sounded in the back of your throat. “Please, love, fill me. I want to feel you so bad. You don’t understand.” His chest vibrated your spine, traveling through your body. You sobbed at the feeling on your weeping cock.

“Oh, but I completely understand.” Mai lifted his upper body off of you before maneuvering you into the position he wanted. You were still in bed, plug removed. Now though, he was sitting with you straddling his thick thighs and waist. Your knees couldn’t even touch the pelts below. All of your weight is resting completely on him now.

A heavy amount of lube had been used on both of you. To the point you felt it rolling down your legs in beads. Both of Mai’s hands were resting on your hips, thumbs touching each other in the middle of your torso. Your aching cock pinned between. It leaked precum, sliding down the length. You were so needy for him, needing to come all over him. Your own way of marking him in return.

Mai simply lifted you up, your cock sliding against his toned abdomen. You reached back to grasp his dick and guide it to your entrance. The Yautja purred as you did so, easily keeping you up.

When you pressed the tip in, Mai’s purr stuttered with a growl. He tensed to stop himself from rutting up into you at just the feel. No matter how many times he enters you, it makes him feel like a newly blooded Yautja getting his first female. This was a hundred times better than that though, making it even harder not to pin you underneath his large frame and take you. You made him feel this way.

He allowed you to control the speed at first. Your comfort was first in his book. He enjoyed the slow slide of you coming down on his penis. The way you would stop, rise up only to fall further. You squeezed the life out of him the further you went down. Then, you finally met your hips against his. His claws bit into your skin at the feeling.

“God, you fe-el so good, love.” Your hand skated down to wrap around your cock. A mistake. Mai grasped that limb and pulled it away.

“Mine to touch. Not yours,” he demanded before releasing the hold. You whined and rested your forehead against his pec. How could he deny you when he’s filling you so perfectly. His knot wasn’t inflated but you could still feel it pressing inside of you.

The Yautja rumbled a laugh at your reaction. Poor little ooman, waiting for him to knot. He waited though until he felt you fully relax against him before lifting you up. The way you sobbed into his chest had him already wanting to hear more. He pulled you back down until your hips met again, beginning a slow but hard pace. One that had you panting and pawing at him.

Low curse words spilling from your lips at the building pleasure. Pleasure that had you already on the edge from earlier. Oh shit. You were going to come so quick. There was no stopping if he kept this up. What would he think of you? Such a needy little thing, already spilling your cum on him?

It took a little effort to even think of the words as the band in your stomach tightened. “Mai, Mai… mmm. I’m gonna come. Let me. Please. I wanna. Please,” you begged to the large alien fucking his cock into you.

Said being couldn’t help the smirk from growing on his mandibles. What you had said already confirmed his suspicions. This was the cause from you playing with yourself earlier. He couldn’t deny the fact you were making him feel so good. Though, if he was truly thinking, he probably would’ve stopped to let the orgasm fade away. You deserved it after teasing with all those touches all day.

His mind already recalling your subtle touches against his thigh as the two of you walked through the hallways. Many of his kinds eyes were on you, watching. Yet, you didn’t seem to know and carried out feeling him up. He knew the others could smell his growing musk for you. He can’t blame the mating season. There’s a couple of months till then.

After that one, you had taken a seat on his lap, pressing into him. Mai easily read the way the room tensed at this. Some Yautja had looked away while others couldn’t stop staring. As much as Mai hated it, he returned the pressure on them until no one dared to look at them.

Then later on, you had pulled him, off guard, into an empty hallway and backed him into the wall. This caused the Yautja’s eyes to bulge out, lower jaw slackened as he watched you feel him up. Mai couldn’t help his head throwing back and body pressing up into your hands. You ate that up happily.

Or when you slipped your hand into his pants while he talking to an old friend. He nearly choked on his spit when your fingers slipped across his slit. Said friend gave him a weird look but carried on until Mai had to remove the two of you from the equation. You were giggling the entire time, unable to quiet down. Damn, you were proud of yourself.

Usually, now would be the time for revenge. With the way you were squeezing him, calling his name, begging for him. How could he deny you that sweet, sweet release?

Mai angled his hips towards something he knew would make you keen just for him. When the tip of his penis slammed against that special spot, you gasped, nails digging into his flesh. “Fuck! Do that again! Please! Again,” you pleaded with him. You were perfect like this.

One of his hands moved to grasp your weeping cock and started a pace that matched his own. If you were going to come this early, he’s going to milk it for what it’s worth. “Come, little ooman. Come on my hand, now,” he snarled as he felt you clench around him. He had a bit of stamina left in him so this wasn’t the end for him just yet.

You cried out hard, his name falling from your lips. The band in your stomach snapped, balls drawn tight. Your cock throbbed within Mai’s hold, white cum shooting out across his torso and hand. Your shaky hands slid up to grasp at his shoulders. “Good boy,” the large predator grumbled, hips not once faltering, over the white noise in your ear.

Once the feeling of cloud nine started to fade away slowly, your body slumped against his chest. You felt your cum touch you but that was the least of your worries now. Your own heaving for air. One of Mai’s hands petted down the length of your sweaty back. You relaxed, eyes drifting close.

Until the uncomfortable feeling of overstimulation started to creep up your spine. You whined incoherently at him, hands pawing at him. This gained his attention to stop, one hand forcing your chin to look up at him. Concern bubbled deep within those burnt orange eyes of his as they searched your own. “Are you okay?” he was quick to ask yet didn’t dare move in case he somehow injured him.

“Too much,” you slurred, eyes watering. Mai was relieved at that. He hadn’t hurt you. An idea was quick to come to mind instead.

Mai leaned down to lick at your cheek, a way to give you kiss. “I’m going to pull out, okay?” You hummed with a head nod. To which, Mai followed through with what he said he was going to do.

It wasn’t painful as he slipped from you. Instead, it made your softening cock twitch with need. You whined at the feeling, softly digging your nails into the flesh of his shoulders. “You did so well for me,” he whispered into your ear after he fully pulled out and kept you seated in his lap.

From this position and what part of your mind that had returned, you took notice on how hard and the lack of a knot… Mai hadn’t come yet. That wasn’t fair. You weren’t about to let that go. One of your hands reached behind you to grasp at his aching cock. The Yautja groaned, hips jutting up into your grasp, but he was able to snap out of it and stop you. He was going to take care of you, not the other way around. “Rest, little ooman. You did so good.” Mai brought up his cum coated hand to his mouth and licked it out. The taste is different from his own in all the good ways. His cock jumped at the taste but you weren’t able to at this moment.

“Mai, you hadn’t come yet,” you stated like he didn’t know it was the truth.

“I’ll be fine.” That you disagreed with a whine and shook your head.

“No. Use me. Wait-“ an idea came to mind “-use my thighs.” Mai’tuiudh’s eyes pinned at that, hold tightening on you.

Over time, your thighs have grown stronger but still have a velvety feel to them. Maybe you did have a good idea. “Are you sure? I don-“

“Fucking use me.” Your wish is his command.

Mai maneuvered you the way he wanted, showing off his strength during the moment. Now, you were on your back. Both of your legs up in the air but your thighs pressed together, slick between the two. Again, lube is your best friend when it comes to Mai’tuiudh. You loved him but not a day of sex goes by without said bottle.

��Ready?” he questioned. One arm was wrapped around your knees, keeping them together. His hand holds his throbbing, weeping cock. No words came to you. Instead, all you did was nod your head. One hand rested on your softened cock. The feel of it there made you shutter.

Once he got the confirmation, Mai lined himself between your thighs then pushed forward. His eyes rolled back into his head. He wasn’t going to last long. The course of the day weighing him down. You were weighing him down. The sight of your small form below him, pauked out, willing to let him use your legs for his pleasure.

A low growl sounded in the back of his throat. You smiled, dazed, up at him, palm and digits wrapping around your cock. There wasn’t a chance to get another orgasm out of you but the pleasure was always welcomed. “You gonna come, big boy? Gonna come all over me? I’m gonna smell like you then, if you do,” you teased lowly.

Start talking about marking and scenting, that’ll get Mai’s gears going. It’s the perfect thing. Said Yautja’s hips faltered their beginning pace already. A low hum sounding in the back of your throat. “Hmmm, yes you are. You always look so handsome when you do. Gonna let me see that again. See you cover me in your cum.”

This time, you heard Mai’tuiudh whimper, hold tightening while his other arm came for support around your legs. You reached down with your free limb. Each time the top portion of his cock speared between your thighs, you caressed him.

Then, an idea came to mind.

The limb holding your dick lifted it up to rub against Mai’s each time he thrusted forward. Pleasure shocked throughout your entire body, causing you to gasp and tense. “Come, baby. Come!” you called out to him like you were in charge. As if.

Mai’tuiudh’s eyes narrowed, hips brutally slapping against yours like he was possessed. All you could do was lie there and watch as your gorgeous Yautja fell apart above. The strong, mighty have fallen to the likes of you, about to come at the feel of your thighs. “That’s it. You can do it.”

A roar echoed around the room. Mai slammed his thighs against the back of yours. A stinging sensation ran up them but you pushed that off to the side to watch as your Yautja came.

Large spurts of cum shot out from the neon green tip of Mai’s beautiful cock. The strength it had had it landing on your face. You were happy to lick what you could off of it, all while keeping eye contact with him.

He was quick to bend over and lick a stripe off of your face for you. Then, said tongue pressed against your lips. You allowed him entrance and tasted him.

When the two of you pulled away, him hovering over you, eyes peering into yours, you leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his lower mandible. “You looked so pretty when you come, babes,” you teased the Yautja.

“I should be the one saying that to you. Specially covered with my seed.” You giggled with a soft smile. Mai leaned back up, large body kneeling before you. “Now, why don’t I clean you up?” You happily agreed with him, letting the Yautja lift your body off of the bed. One thing you liked being on this ship was the bath. This ship wasn’t that bad in the end.

#yautja smut #yautja #yautja x human #predator x human #yautja x you #predator x you #yautja x reader #predator x reader #smut #mannnn this got long #whoops my hand slipped #predator #male predator #male yautja #alien vs predator

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normal-internet-user · 2 years ago

Text

TESTING...

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Summary: A field test gone wrong causes you to find some sort of communication device, one that belongs to our favorite genius himself...

Warnings: Minor scrapes and bruises, swearing.

Requested: Nah,

GN Reader!

This is kinda like a prolouge for another series I wanted to work on-

....................................

"Alright. Spring Boot test #32. Hopefully this goes better than last time."

You double checked your recorder and mic, making sure all of your gear was working fine.

"Are you sure this is safe, (Name)?" Your little brother asked, nervously holding up your helmet, which you took with a giddy smile.

"Absolutely not!" you said cheerily, straping on your knee and elbow pads.

Milo let put a nervous sigh, sitting criss-cross on the edge of the roof where you stood powering on your invention.

"Ok, boots seem to be working just fine. Power readings are good, no bugs found during data check." you tapped afew things on your laptop, before setting it off to the side, "Milo's on stand by with a med-kit, lets do this."

You backed up from the edge afew feet, sending Milo a large smile before charging towards the edge of the building. You jumped, silently praying that your boots wouldn't fail you.

You were launched across the gap, landing safely on the other building, tripping over yourself slightly before you fully caught yourself. Milo let out a loud cheer, jumping up in excitement, "It worked!"

"Yeeaaahhh!" you shouted, arms raised in celebration, "This is, (Name) (Surname) stating that Spring Boot test #32 was a success!"

You clicked off your recording device, glancing down at your boots to double check the exterior.

"Alright, I'm coming back over, Milo!"

Your little brother flashed you a thumbs up, backing out of the way, so you had a clear path back onto your apartment complex.

You backed up once again, bouncing on your feet slightly. You ran at the gap, expecting the same outcome as the last time. Exept... this time the sound of the boots powering down filled your ears, as well as the panicked shout of your brother as you fell.

"ShIT-" was all you had time to say as you fell into the alley below...

Right into an open dumpster.

You groaned as you fell onto the trash pile, the stench making you nauseous as you clicked the recording device back on,

"This is (Name) (Surname) redacting my previous statment, Spring Boot test #32 was, in fact, a fail."

Your arm dropped back down to your side as you attempted to get up out of the gross, sticky mess. You pulled yourself out of the dumpster with a groan as the sound of Milo's sneakers on the pavement gained your attention.

He was breathing heavily, med-kit in hand as he rushed to your side, "Ohmygod, are you ok? How are you not dead? Did you break any bones? fractures?"

You pushed him away, giggling, "Dude, you're 12, how do you know what fractures are?"

Milo huffed, crossing his arms, "You just fell off the roof and you're worried about that? Stop giggling, you could have been hurt!"

Your giggles turned into full on laughter as you gripped Milo's shoulders, any feeling of fatigue from your fall gone, "No, this is amazing! They worked, Milo! They actually worked!"

You let go of Milo, spinning around happily, "This is an incredible breakthrough! I just need to figure out what caused the shut down, then hopefully, they'll be finished! After years of trying and testing and tweaking, they'll be fully functional!"

"You, are senial." Milo said, rubbing his temple with a sigh.

You shook your head, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, "No I'm not. You however, are up past bedtime, plus you have school tommorow, lets get up to bed."

You led Milo back up to your apartment, locking the door behind you. You took off your protective gear and gently removed the Spring Boots.

"Hey, did you grab my laptop from the roof?" you ask your brother as you place the boots on your work desk.

"Uh, no. I kinda panicked and forgot about it..."

You patted him on the shoulder, "It's cool little bro, I'll be right back, I'm gonna go grab it real quick."

You left the apartment, still giddy at your technological success. You just need to find that power issue...

You opened the door to the roof, easily spotting your laptop sitting on the edge of the building next to your backpack. You closed the laptop, then proceeded to dig around in your bag.

You zipped the bag closed, then picked up your belongings. You began back towards the stairs that would lead you down into the apartment complex, when a soft blinking light caught your eye.

In the shadows was a green light, blinking in intervals of three. You approached the light cautiously, easing up when you saw that it wasn't anything dangerous.

The device resembled a walkie talkie of sorts, although it looked odd, as though it was made out of random junk. The entire thing looked frankensteined. Cool.

You picked up the strange device, humming in wonder as you examined the technology. You clicked the button on the side, testing to see if it worked.

"Hello? Hello hello, I found your walkie-talkie." No response came, only static, and you began to scan the opposing rooftops, "Huh." you said, looking back down at the clearly handmade device. Might as well hold onto it for now. No harm in it right?

You gave one last look around, before continuing back down to your apartment, completely unaware of one purple genius silently cursing his own clumsiness as he watched you go from the shadows.

....................................

I need to stop starting new series while I'm working on other ones. I literally have to finish four seprate ones already, why must I do this to myself?

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #x reader #normie writes #donnie x reader #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles bayverse #tmnt 2014 #donatello x reader

219 notes · View notes

nightowlwriting · 3 years ago

Text

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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7thleveldown · 2 years ago

Text

Bones

So, after deciding to put my behemoth of a sort-of book 'in the drawer for a month' (don't ask), I've been writing some other little bits and pieces, which may be interconnected to other stuff, but I'm not really sure how. Also, writing can count as therapy, right?

Author's Note: This, I think is more Stiles, generally being lovely and adorable. Hope you don't mind it too much!

Word count: 2,724

“Just, don’t, okay. I don’t want to hear anymore. I think you’ve said quite enough, and I’d be grateful if you would kindly—”

“Jess…”

“Ah, Christ… Sorry. I didn’t—I thought you were…”

“Yeah, kinda cottoned onto that. I know who you thought… He’s gone, by the way. That was what I was coming over to let you know, so…” He sucked air in through his teeth, and raised his eyebrows. He stood, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet, not seeming to know where to go next.

“...Thanks, that’s kind of you, just… Thanks.” She looked out over the stream which ran at the bottom of the garden, the railing under her grip flaking paint into her skin. It would be embedded if she kept holding on this tight much longer.

“Did you…” he moved himself around enough to sit on the bench wrapping around the trunk of the tree they were standing under, “Feel like talking, or just having someone to rage at? Someone to lean on?” He was kicking into the dirt, only glancing up at her occasionally, not willing to meet her eyes.

Jess huffed out a wry laugh, before turning towards him, “I wouldn’t do that to you. I may be an ‘all-out crazy’ and ‘fucking mental’ but I’m not that mean.” She turned back towards the water.

“Jess—”

“Don’t.”

“Right… Shutting up.” He didn’t move from his seat. He just stayed put, digging a hole in the ground with the toe of his shoe. He managed a whole 3 minutes before Jess felt a shoulder gently bump into hers.

“Hey… Great party, don’t ya think? Just the right sort of ambience to…” He had reached over to push her hair back over her shoulder so he could see her face. He trailed off once he had done. His shoulders dropped, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry. It’s all right, you just caught me at a bad moment. Go back to the others, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Your mascara might disagree with you,” he whispered, wincing a little.

“Shit. Sorry. I’ll, er…” Jess couldn’t cover the tremble in her voice, or hold back the tears that were still threatening to fall, as hard as she tried to bite back the tide.

“Could you stop apologising for a minute?” He turned, leaning his back against the railing, so she didn’t have to turn towards the others to talk. “No-one’s paying attention. As far as they know, I’m just here, bugging you, while you try your best to be civil without letting me know how much I’m annoying you.”

“Oh, your usual M.O. then?” Her sarcasm was not lost on him.

“Pretty much… See? No-one’s paying the slightest bit of notice…. Ah, don’t look now, that might have been the hint of a smile I saw.”

“Look, I really am sorry,” she was sighing again, and hating herself for it, “this isn’t your problem, or anyone else’s, to tell the truth. I should never have come. I knew it was a possibility that… that he could show up.”

“Hey, no.” He pulled a pack of tissues from his back pocket, and passed them over, trying to be surreptitious, and not exactly succeeding.

“Are you trying to look dodgy? They’re tissues, not heroin.” She couldn’t seem to help being pulled into this conversation, even when she did feel this stupid.

“Hey lady, I’m trying my best here! Subtlety and I are not exactly friends the majority of the time, so take what you can get! It’s a wonder I haven’t fallen into the stream and broken a bone at this point…. Y’see? There’s that smile I was waiting for.”

“Sorry it wasn’t worth the effort.” Jess couldn’t hold it back with the usual false bravado and pretence. She sagged a little into the railing, her head dropping down, closing her eyes at the hurt overtaking her.

“Jess, just… no.” He moved to stand behind her, each hand covering one of hers, his head dropping a little to rest on her shoulder, so he could speak into her ear. “Always worth it.”

“I wish I could believe that. What are you even….? After everything that just happened, shouldn’t you be, I dunno, getting the pitchforks or something?” She had managed to raise her head, but couldn’t turn and face him. Not yet.

How about I tell you what I saw, and you can explain to me what part of it requires pitchforks?”

“Oookay…” She was not exactly convinced that he was going to be successful.

“So, I go to this party, just a few friends who haven’t been able to catch up for a while, some food, some sunshine, some music, it's all pretty chilled and all is good—”

“That’s when I turn up.”

“Ah-ah-ah, I’m not finished yet. It’s all good, until some guy turns up, who apparently used to be with one of the girls here. He’s maybe drunk, or else just a complete asshole, because he starts shouting, and throwing his weight around, and generally being an absolute shit. Everyone is kinda shocked, and the girl in question tries to calm things down and move him away from everyone, because it would seem for some reason she feels that this guy is her responsibility.”

Jess sighs, the tension going back into her shoulders as she braces for what she’s certain is coming.

“He continues being an arse, hurling around insults and abuse about said girl to anyone within earshot simply because he can. Lady stands her ground. Doesn’t stoop to his level, oh no. Just takes it on the chin, until eventually someone manages to get him out of there, but not without more shouting and him trying to throw some punches at the lady who has done nothing but try to keep things under control. Everyone’s a bit shaken, and the lady keeps apologising for his behaviour, before retreating into the shade for a moment. Then she gets saddled with some idiot who keeps trying to find a way to make her smile, and get her to see the truth.”

By the time he’s finished, he’s gripping the railing harder than Jess was, his knuckles going white with his frustration.

“That… That’s not—”

“Actually, I realise now, I was wrong about the pitchforks.”

“Ah, right… I did say…”

“I would quite like a pitchfork. To shove up his ass. Several, in fact. If at all possible.”

“Now you’re being silly.” She had actually started to believe him, against her better judgement. But he’s just mocking her. It hurts more than she would like.

“Jess, for the love of God, that guy? That guy needs so much more than a pitchfork up the ass. He needs a fucking restraining order. He tried to hurt you!” His tone was angry. Almost vicious. The vitriol finally rising to the surface.

“It’s my fault.”

“How? How could that possibly be true?”

“Because I accepted it. I put up with it. I didn’t fight back hard enough.”

“Please tell me you’re joking? Please say you don’t believe him? Please say—please, Jess?”

“He wasn’t wrong.”

“Yes. He was. I don’t care if once upon a time your relationship was fine, that doesn’t mean he can do that or say those things. You left. You left for damn good reasons. And if he acted like that, or God forbid worse, when you were together, then you must have been terrified. But you still got out. You got through all that. You survived.”

“I’m not entirely sure I did. Not completely.You’ve no idea what I’ve lost.” Her voice is small, afraid.

“Please don’t do this.” His forehead resting on her shoulder as he tries not to give in to her and give up.

“Do what?” She doesn’t really know what he is getting at.

“You take the things he said for the truth, that he had the right to do that, to do what he did to you, and I—I wish I would’ve just punched him in the face like I wanted to, he has no fucking right.”

“You can’t do that. I wouldn’t want that.”

“Why the hell not? I don’t know what he did do, precisely, but I think we’ve all got a pretty good idea, and I have a horrible feeling that anything we think right now isn’t anywhere near as bad as the stuff he actually did. But I know you won’t say, like you owe that shit some sort of loyalty—”

“It’s not loyalty.” She spoke quietly, bitterly, the words spat out into the air.

“Then what is it? Just tell me what it is?” As she turned towards him, their eyes locked, and he was much too close for her to not see that the plea in his voice was written in his eyes. She closed her eyes before looking down, turning her face away from him, before her next words came out as little more than a whisper.

“It’s shame.”

“Jess…”

“No. Don’t you dare tell me that I shouldn’t be ashamed. I let it happen. I gave up. I gave in. I didn’t fight back enough. I’m the one who should’ve known better. Sometimes I didn’t bother to fight back at all because I knew there was no point. So what does that say about me? It says I should be ashamed. And so should you. And so should everyone else. I let down everyone. I’m a joke. I’m despicable. I’m—”

“Breathe. Just breathe.” He had prised one of her hands off the railing, not without some considerable effort, and held it loosely in his own. He rested them against her stomach, trying to get her to steady herself, without putting too much pressure on her.

She leant back against him, trying to hold onto some semblance of dignity, or at least a shred of it, just trying to not cry, or scream, or both. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“No. Can I—can I tell you what I see from that, my opinion? Is that okay?”

She nodded, her eyes had closed again, trying to hold herself together. “You have to tell the truth though. No holding back, no sugar coating or, what’s more likely, flat out lying to make me feel better. I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all than did that.”

“Noted… Okay, so, in the interests of full disclosure I do not take back any of my previous statements about the way I viewed earlier events… Y’know, just so you know.” He squeezed her hand a little, before he could begin again.

“I’ve been instructed I should see someone in front of me, literally at the moment, who I am ashamed of. Who I should laugh at or reject or…some other shit, I dunno… Although, in truth, I do feel shame. I feel ashamed. Why I didn’t see it before, why didn’t I see it when it was happening, how could I have let that happen to someone I care for, right in front of me? You should be ashamed of us for letting you suffer like that and not knowing.”

“You couldn’t have known. Nobody knew.”

“That is frankly neither here nor there. Facts like that, as I hope to convince the court, have very little to do with who feels shame. Shame and responsibility often have very little to do with each other.”

“Alright, smart arse.”

“So, putting that aside for a moment, I would like to move onto the accused — that’d be you, by the way —”

“You’re really running with the whole courtroom schtick then?” She couldn’t hold back the slight smirk his words were causing.

“Damn right! Now, where was I? Ah, so, the accused… The lady in question stands accused of having responsibility for the actions of an arsewipe who was a manipulative bastard, both physically bigger and stronger than her, who, it can be surmised, caused her injury of one form or another, either mental or physical, on a regular basis.”

“The.. The court will allow it.”

“The case I wish to make is that the accused had no way of defending herself, certainly not without coming into further harm, and from which she could be in fear for her wellbeing, if not her life.”

“You’ve been watching too many of those courtroom dramas again, haven’t you.”

“Shut it, I’m busy. Now, as is perhaps clear in this case, at least to me, the only defence the accused had, when not having a reasonable exit strategy, was to try to limit the physical damage done to her. That is of course, if she wasn’t just frozen in fear, a medical phenomenon, to shut down in the face of traumatic events, about which I can provide evidence if requested.”

“Lord…”

“So, with no way out, she either consciously or unconsciously tried to protect herself from further harm. Indeed, when an opportunity presented itself for the accused to exit said situation, that is what she did.”

“You rest your case yet?”

“I do. For now, anyway. The facts of the matter are thus — I don’t see someone to be ashamed of. I see someone to be proud of.”

“Yeah, right… I told you not to lie to me.”

“Not lying to you Jess. You survived that. You got yourself out. You’ve put yourself and your life back together, as painful and difficult and exhausting as that must have been. Never mind the fact that through all that, you’ve not really talked to anyone about it, or what happened, just said that things didn’t work out. You aren’t crazy. You aren’t any of the things he said earlier. The only one who looked like a nut job was him. You remained calm. You tried to diffuse the situation. More importantly, you have many witnesses, if you did want to pursue a restraining order, which we would all back you to get after today.”

“That would probably only make things worse.” She leaned back, resting her head against his shoulder, willing herself to not take to heart the things he was saying.

“That’s what he wants you to think. He wants you to still be scared, to still be as isolated as he must have made you. He wants you to think you have nowhere to turn. But that just isn’t true. Every single person here today would happily support you after his behaviour. Frankly, pretty sure every single one of them would have supported you even without seeing that display.”

“But… Isn’t that just letting him know he’s won? Everything in me says I should be able to handle this on my own, without having to resort to basically telling on him. If I can’t handle this myself, doesn’t that say that I’m not capable? That I’m as weak, and stupid and useless as he was saying I was? Won’t he just tell everyone how crazy I am, how mental—”

“You’re not crazy. Or mental. Or weak. You sure as shit aren’t stupid. Having some backup, and making people aware of what he’s like doesn’t make you any of that shit he said. It means he loses the ability to hide. And that can’t ever be a bad thing.”

“Urgh..” She turned her head so that her forehead rested against the side of his neck, her back still resting against his chest.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? He did. I should’ve just punched him. Like, as hard as I could. Repeatedly.” Jess turned a little to face him, so she could look up at him. He wrapped his arms around her waist loosely, keeping her close. “What?”

“You can stop now, y’know? The righteous indignation? I get it. You’re doing a stand up job of making me feel better.”

“That’s not what’s happening right now. I said I wouldn’t lie. You insisted. Look at me, do you see any possible hint of a lie?”

“Hmm…. No? But maybe you’re just that good?”

“Sweetie, I am that good, but I’m not lying to you.”

At that, Jess hid her face in his chest, hiding her blush and her giggle at his words. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Now that I can agree with.” He smiled down at her, and then proceeded to offer his arm. “So, shall we return to the others?”

#7th writes #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fluff #dylan o’brien #teen wolf #adorable dumbass #i will always be a little bit in love with stiles #beautiful human #the o'brien effect #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien fluff

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nagipops · 4 years ago

Note

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

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g-gurokisses · 2 years ago

Note

Ahh it's a fairly embarrassing crush. Celebrity crushes on adults as a minor is perfectly normal, ask a parent and they'll tell you something like Johnny Depp or Leonardo Caprio. Thing is, a little toxic trait of mine is me genuinely thinking I can get with him.

He's four years older than me, a streamer, and goodness is he my type. What's absolutely infuriating though is there's an entire sub genre based off of crushing on him. I know some people reading this might know exactly who I'm talking about, and to that, no snitches 'til I feel confident to say lol!!

The reason why I genuinely think I can get with him is considering he moves around America a lot, so it'll be no surprise if he lands at my state. Hell, one of his famous friends was at my city!

He also knows who I am.. barely. But to me that makes it more exciting. He laughed at my chat log once, it was literally just 'eat the soap' when he was playing a game about a girl who's pretty traumatized and would eat anything. She ate one of those fake cherries on Christmas decorations once.

My auntie (not actual aunt, I don't have one. I call my friend my auntie) even made some sort of subliminal for me to see if it'll attract him in any way. I still use it, and whenever I use it he flies closer and closer to my state. Once I was painting him and I smelt brownies and clean clothes, which is a sign it's working!

Thing is, is that he's a gay man. No, I'm not a woman, I'm a transmasc, but there's a bug in the back of my mind screaming that I'll never be with him because I'm so feminine. I'm nearly two feet shorter then him, overweight, etc.

He was in San Diego recently doing meetups, which was closer then his last meetup. I won't say exactly where I am, but it's closer.

I have polariods of him, art prints of him, I have personal fanfictions my auntie wrote of me and him.

But then reality hits sometimes. I can't and will never be with him. He's a legal adult, four years older than me. I'm feminine. When I am the AOC he'll most likely be dating someone.

Which just drives me to become more obsessed.

I say the thrill of him not knowing me is fun, and that it's romantic, but it's insufferable. It's one of those cases where you go, 'not to self diagnose but something is definitely wrong here'.

It's horrible, but I love it.

Don't get me started on his close friends and the person he's in contact with the most.

I already made a promise to myself that if the day comes he's with one of them, things will happen. And I will make it known why.

-🍄🌸

Thank you for sharing this with me!!

My my... What a long confession this is!! I don't really understand how you feel, these behaviors are quite foreign to me. But I can somewhat understand where you're coming from. Parasocial relationships like this can feel very realistic.

However, as the responsible yandere enthusiast I am, I will still make some remarks about this. I'm sure you love him very much, but I think it's just nice to remember that you probably don't know the real him. Whatever he displays on social media and the internet does not reflect who he really is. Not only that, but I really don't think you should be putting yourself down for being too feminine. Cis men get away with being pretty boys all the time!! The issue is not your gender. If anything it would only be your age. Be careful with interacting with adults like that, you're putting yourself in dangerous situation. It should always be on the adult to not initiate something, but young people who show active interest in adults often get caught in bad positions by people who take advantage of that.

If I'm truly honest I think this is a bit much. I hate to be like this, but I personally think it's important to separate this level of obsession from fiction/hobby to reality. I have obsessive tendencies, I get jealous, I require constant reassuring, I have anxious attachment and I get clingy often. But there's a limit I put to myself and I only ever display these behaviours with people I know, trust and are okay with it.

But this person is an adult who is probably in a relationship. Maintaining an obsession will most likely just end up with you doing things you regret. I'm not sure what you mean with "things will happen" but I don't believe that's healthy for a young person like you to be saying. And I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume this friend of yours is not a legal adult as well. Because if so was the case, I don't see why they would be encouraging you to take meassures against this public figure being with someone else.

Hopefully you take this well. I do not mean ti offend you or disappoint you. But this seems a bit much to me. I enjoy yanderes, but I do not consider myself one. And furthermore, I am an adult. I know what I'm doing, and I know how to act. As a child, you should probably not dive into these topics just yet, and maybe not with such aggressiveness.

If you'd like to talk about this more or if you believe I misunderstood something, let me know!! But I'll mantain my opinion about this until then. Remember, all I've said is with the best intentions and I hope you understand me. I love you. :)

#yandere #yancore #darlingcore #anna.txt #anna talks #anna answers #yandere anons #anon asks #serious talk #🍄🌸#🍄🌸 anon

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philtstone · 3 years ago

Note

20 from the touching list and dealer’s choice for pairing!!!

#20 -- bandaging/stitching up an injury

you can also read this on ao3! this got egregiously long and i may eventually just post it as its own fic but also i have no regrets bc ive been thinking of this concept since i made this clown post like 2 weeks after fatws ended. technically part of this verse but can definitely definitely be understood just fine as a standalone. yeehaw!

"Ah ... shit."

Bucky's been in his fair share of dingy motel rooms, and this one ain't so bad as far as they go. Sarah checked for bed bugs before the kids wiped out and didn't find anything. There's a more than functional toilet, with complimentary soaps. The carpet only smells like piss a tiny little bit.

"It's got ambiance," Cass had declared at the door, ever good-natured, rubbing at his eyes exhaustedly under lopsided glasses even as he held tightly to his mother’s hand. AJ had fallen asleep in the backseat of Old June after the commotion on the interstate, and hadn't woken up even when Bucky maneuvered him out of the car and carried him the three flights up to their rented room; he'd asked, from his squished-cheek position against Bucky's shoulder, "'S'it got a TV?"

It hasn't.

Bucky keeps wanting to apologize. He's not sure what for. It wasn't technically his fault that the house got jumped by armed goons. It wasn't technically his fault that Sarah's front hallway is currently full of broken glass, or that the ever-enduring Ram has finger-shaped dents in the hood, or that they had to leave a bunch of knocked-out suits in the backyard for poor Ms. Gloria or the fuckin' state troopers to find. They were all still breathing – he made sure to stop and check. Since Sarah drove past state lines he's only had to take a second and re-anchor himself in his own body once, which is a great, fantastic improvement from the last time he ended up taking out a truckload's worth of strangers without explicit knowledge of who they were or why he had to engage with them, but God, he will be miserably, stupidly happy when they can finally get a lock on wherever Sam is, and figure out why the latest megolomanic supervillain came for Captain America’s family.

Meanwhile, there's an open wound in Bucky’s side that he hasn't noticed until now.

He’s slipped into the motel room's single bathroom, and has to crane his neck awkwardly to get a proper look at it. It's already kind of gummy. Tacky against his fingers and torn shirt. Pretty short across, though deep enough that it's clearly been bleeding sluggishly under his jacket for the last few hours. Not an active problem, though his favourite grey long-sleeved is ruined, which is annoying, and in his newfound awareness the place where the farthest side of his ribcage, almost on his back, got caught by something -- stray bullet, most likely, though that glass he was thinking of is definitely a contender – is stinging more than is reasonable.

It'll be gone by tomorrow. Bucky's already resigned himself to the fact that he's not sleeping at all tonight, so that other part's fine too.

"Bucky?"

"Uh --" He clears his throat, compulsive, straightening up to face the bathroom door and fumbling with the first aid kit he found behind the toilet basin. Sarah's quiet voice is as full and melodic as it always is. "It's -- yeah?"

Sarah says, in the same muted voice,

"Can I come in? I saw some mouthwash in the cabinet and like, I need to rinse my mouth out or I'm not gonna sleep a wink."

"Oh -- sure, I mean, of course."

She enters, soft on her feet. He hovers, trying to maneuver one antiseptic-wipe-holding hand up and around under his shirt without making too much of a big deal out of it. The angle is stupid-awkward, as if whatever did it did so out of an ironic sense of spite. He keeps his head down, and asks, matching her earlier tone,

"Are the kids okay?"

Short-form sigh, the sort she makes so often. Sarah's no stranger to complicated circumstance.

"They're holdin'. Asleep now, probably be a bit freaked out later. You know how things catch up with you."

Bucky lets out a humourless chuckle in spite of himself and nods, listening to Sarah fumble with the bottle cap, pour the liquid out, and take that kind of measured sip people do when they don't wanna make weird mouth sounds around others. She spits, quiet-like, into the sink. Rinses her mouth out. Turns around.

"God, that’s disgusting. Anyway, there's one of 'em on each bed, so I thought --"

"It's fine, I can just take the fl --"

"-- Jesus Christ, Bucky, you're bleeding!"

Her voice climbs in volume at the same time and pace of her widening eyes; in a second she is much closer to him than before in the objectively too-small bathroom, hands hovering.

"It's fine!" he says hastily, trying to keep his own voice level; the last thing he wants to do is wake the boys up after the day they've had. "Sarah, seriously, this is not a big deal. It'll be gone by tomorrow."

"How -- why didn't you say anything --"

But she's reeled it in. From shock to pragmatism in the flip-switch of a heartbeat, and he didn't even realize that he'd been worried about freaking her out until something about the practical way she's looking at him makes him sag, instinctually, against the peeling wallpaper of the bathroom wall.

Still,

"I didn't notice," Bucky admits, eyes flicking over to the stained yellow shower curtain. He tries not to grimace at himself. Sarah tucks a loose braid behind one ear and he sees her lone remaining earring glint. The other got lost somewhere, status unknown, she said in the car she didn't care much anyway 'cause they were department store knock offs from a Black Friday sale.

He had noticed when she first came in that she'd changed out of her dirty clothes, but kind of in his periphery; now that she's right in front of him, it's extremely difficult not to full-body register her silhouette. She's lost her familiar plaid and the yellow t-shirt beneath it, and is dressed in a thin camisole and old bicycle shorts she must have dug out of the Goodwill donation bags perennially stored in Old June's trunk. The camisole is a pale off-white, bright against the dark pouch of her midriff it's ridden up to expose, and the soft slopes and curves of her shoulders and breasts. The bicycle shorts are -- well.

He swallows, reaching through patchy swatches of pre-war memory to access his mother's stern voice, then his grandmother's, then the hairy-chinned nun who always yelled at Steve for being a shit altar boy, and hell, even that one Rabbi down at the corner of Fourth. Pull yourself together, Barnes.

Sarah says, hesitant, but not disbelieving,

"It doesn't hurt?"

"Not much."

Her lips purse together in a flat line and Bucky has to work hard not to stare at them. She raises a considering eyebrow. "So you were, what, plannin' on prancing around the next few days with a bloodstain under your armpit?"

"It's not under my armpit," Bucky says, maybe a little defensive. Then, "I was gonna toss the shirt."

"While you're still bleeding?"

"Mostly slowed up."

"You'll ruin the only spare clothes I could find in the trunk."

"It's --"

"Don't give me that, Bucky Barnes. You’re the one who told me we’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves. Like, I don't know about you, but I'd notice if someone walked into a Waffle House lookin' like a Tarantino film."

Bucky doesn't know if he wants to sigh or laugh.

“It is not that bad.”

“Uh huh.”

He closes his eyes, wincing but steady. Sarah usually makes him feel steady. Even with the bicycle shorts, and the dizzying proximity, she does.

"You're taking this all really well," he comments.

"Baby, I am a pro at compartmentalizing," Sarah says. "Just now? I'm perfecting a lobster mac recipe in my head."

Bucky gives in to that laugh. "I can't reach it properly," he admits.

"May I take a look?" Sarah asks. It's gentler than before. Maybe that's what gets him.

"I -- yeah. Yeah, alright."

She walks the two steps around him and he tugs the hem of his shirt to his ribcage, stays silent when the fabric pulls against torn skin. He can feel the wound, small as it is, open again when he moves. He tries to use his other arm to hold his shirt up, but nearly elbows her in the nose.

“Shit, sorry –”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll just –”

He gives up, feels his stomach flip. Before he can think too hard about it he has yanked the shirt up and off over his neck.

Sarah is silent. He keeps his eyes ahead, tense in the anticipation of her touch, in anticipation point blank. She's seen the seam, where the prosthetic meets him. This is different.

"It's not very fun to look at," Bucky says quietly. "I’m sorry if it -- scares you."

She's at his side, still, but in direct view of the faded scarring along his pectoral and scapulae, hiding the internal plating and wiring that made the first arm possible and even marginally functional. Shuri replaced as much of that as possible, realigned the whole thing so the chronic pressure lessened and the ergonomics improved. The new arm is lighter, the scar tissue rehabilitated somewhat; most of the time, any associated pain is either weather-related or phantom. He can say, truthfully, that looking at it doesn’t make him feel sick like it used to. There is a big gap between less now and not at all.

Sarah tilts her head, and there is a minute movement where he thinks she might be biting her bottom lip but can't be sure. Another braid spills over her shoulder, loose in her ponytail. She got new ones last month. They're the really long kind, hanging all the way down her back and swinging around when she moves. They're stunning on her. Everything is stunning on her. He's a fool, and it's true.

"Antiseptic?" she asks. But there isn't anything different about her voice.

Bucky clears his throat, against the ball stuck somewhere in the back. "I -- yup." He digs around through the first aid kit open against his thigh, then holds up one of the packets. He watches Sarah's full mouth twitch, and is unsure why, until she slips the alcohol out of his hand and tugs on one of his gloved fingers.

"You wanna take this off too, Luke Skywalker?"

That was courtesy of some kid at a gas station near Mississippi. So much for staying under the radar, but it's been making AJ go bonkers all afternoon, probably even a good distraction from the gunfire and very real danger, so Bucky cannot help himself, and smiles crookedly at her in response, his cheeks warming.

"Oh. Forgot."

"It's fine." He tugs the glove off his hand and hears the tear of the wrapper around the alcohol swab. "Weird seeing you with it on, though. You never wear that at home."

Home, he thinks. The concept, like Sarah, is dizzying.

"So," he manages, praying his voice comes out steady. "Lobster mac?"

"Uh huh. Key is, you never use warm milk when makin' the roux."

"Isn't that the case for any roux?"

"You really listen when I talk, huh?" And her tone's joking, but Jesus if he doesn't want to choke out the world's most pathetic yes, yes, every word when her warm fingers press over his skin and it's like every muscle in his chest jumps to meet them in response. She was in the coat closet, with the children, when a gunshot went off and shattered the porch door because he knew how to move out of its way like muscle memory. She was there when he ducked left then right then grabbed a man in the exact place required to crush a trachea but didn’t, only disarmed him and pinned him to the papered wall fast and hard enough that he’s going to wake up considerably concussed. She saw him move in precise, inhuman movements, like he has never had reason to showcase to her before. Sarah’s careful palm presses over his ribcage, and Bucky feels his eyelids flutter of their own accord.

"Anyway,” Sarah says, “your lobster's gotta be a good one."

"Of course."

"C'mon, don't be laughing. You never had bad lobster?"

"Honestly, I've only ever had your lobster."

"Okay, I see the ambiguity there --"

"No, no, I didn't mean --" He ducks his head, sure she can see him flushing, "Sarah. Ms. Wilson. You know your cooking's the best thing in all Louisiana state."

"Mmmhmmm. Okay white boy, nice save."

"So, what, no spices?"

"Excuse me," she tears a bandaid open with her teeth and his brain short-circuits just slightly, "I can't be giving away my whole recipe like that. Bad for business."

Sarah works in sure, precise movements, cleaning up the blood and covering it just enough that it won’t stain anything overnight. She is entirely practical, and efficient, doesn't press too hard, nor too soft, firm yet unquestionably gentle against his body in a way that is not really necessary.

"Shit," he says suddenly.

Sarah stills at once, thumb pressed over a muscle in his back midway through smoothing down the tape.

"What?"

"I missed therapy today," Bucky realizes.

Well; yesterday. It's well past midnight now. He looks down at her. Sarah looks up, clearly slipping into problem solving mode. She does it the exact same way Sam does, he’s noticed. She says,

"Oh! I -- well, do you wanna check in, maybe?"

"Check in?" Bucky repeats, a little stupidly.

"Like, text her, explain why you missed it, so she's not worried. I can uh, leave the room."

A beat. Two. Bucky bursts out laughing.

It’s this messy, dissolving thing, leaking out of him with an edge of hysteria, and Sarah’s not far behind.

“So she’s not worried –” he manages, half a groan, hand on his face because yeah, the boys are still asleep in the next room, and they’re here together in the single shared bathroom like an evolution of the strange domestic daydream he’s been living in every few weeks when he shows up on her doorstep. Her giggles continue, syrupy, poorly muffled, even more hysteric than his own. Maybe some of that compartmentalizing has been breached. He keeps on laughing, bent over, objectively too close to her and gasping with it. It’s only when she brings a wrist up to wipe at her eyes, still more or less incoherent, that he notices it, and reaches for her hand without thinking.

“Hey,” he says, still breathless, “Your elbow, Sarah.”

“What – oh?” Her arm’s shaking, entirely the aftershocks of the adrenaline. This is something he knows. “It’s just a scrape." Her voice shakes, with the laughter and other things. "Bumped weirdly against the car door.”

“Here. Come on, we still have bandaids.”

She’s shockingly compliant, usually so stubborn in accepting help in anything, even less when it's personal. She lets him extend her arm and turn it over, holding it carefully over his jean-covered knees so they are not quite touching. With assured movements to match Sarah’s own Bucky takes the last antiseptic packet, dabs carefully at the raw skin, doesn’t quite wince when she hisses. His right hand is large where it cups over her elbow, and he tries not to notice the kick of her pulse against his thumb, or the fact that her dark skin has erupted in warm gooseflesh, or his own unfamiliarity with administering this kind of care to another person.

“There,” he says, when he’s done, feeling a little bit like he doesn’t recognize his own voice. The bathroom is quiet around them, as if the whole world’s narrowed down to just their two and the toilet seat.

“Wasn’t very bad.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he hears himself say. “Now we’re even.”

It’s like it's trying to crawl out of his pores, sometimes, the impulse impress her. To be -- normal -- around her. She is so kind to him. All the time, like it's as natural as breathing. It is like nothing he has experienced in perhaps his whole life. She quirks a smile, pretty and softening for all that she’s just wiped the blood off his back and been chased out of her home by strangers, and he’s hit with that dizzying feeling again – the need to apologize. There’s something sacred about that house, and Sarah and her children in it. The idea of its walls being breached is terrifying to him at a conceptual level he doesn’t really know how to parse out. He thinks Sam might be the only other person who’d get it, and even then, Bucky doesn’t know if he has the guts to bring it up. Because here Sarah is, letting him touch her, and here he is, wanting. Desperately. It leaves him rudderless, and yet with every passing day feels simpler than before.

Sarah extracts her hand from his to tuck a braid behind her neck again, and to toss the small handful of bloodied gauze into the toilet. Moving on instinct, he gathers up their opened first aid detritus, picks his sodden shirt up off the floor.

"Can I tell you something?" she says, after a moment.

Bucky nods, holding his bloodied shirt close to his abdomen.

"So like, earlier today? When those guys showed up? Gotta grab Captain America's sister, whatever. You were in the backyard, remember."

"Of course."

"Painting that awful shed."

"Yeah."

"Took you thirty seconds to get from there to the front, where I was." She takes a deep breath, like she's shoring herself up to say something. He can see her chin wobble -- the slight tremble of her hand. She has to be the single most incredible person he's ever met, he thinks, and he has met a lot of people in his miserable long life. "Those thirty seconds you weren't there," Sarah says, "I was scared."

Bucky stares at her. Even in her borrowed clothes she smells of that coconut she so favours, and he can feel the puff of her breath against his bare arm, flesh and bone like any other man's. His head is still buzzing, though maybe from different things now.

He says, voice rough, “I could stay up, in case the boys have nightmares.”

“You’re thinking of my babies right now?” she asks, in a strange tone.

He should kiss her, Bucky thinks. He should pick her up and press her against that peeling wallpaper and –

“I just thought –”

“Mama?”

AJ’s voice, plaintive and carrying the edge of panic, sounds from just the other side of the bathroom door. Sarah startles; Bucky jerks to his feet and nearly knocks over the first aid kit. For a split second, their eyes lock, wide and heady and caught. Then she curses and stumbles her way out of the bathroom. Her hands close to herself again, held aloft, ready to comfort, dulled again with the mundanity of living.

“Mom –”

“I’m here, I’m here, baby, just in the bathroom. You know how folks gotta pee in the middle of the night. You’re safe, AJ. Is Cass asleep? He’s right here? Okay. Okay, we’re all together. It’s fine.”

Bucky slumps back against the wall, groaning through his teeth, feeling like he’s just been jolted out of a full-bodied dream. He scrubs a rough vibranium hand over his face, tosses his ruined shirt into the garbage can, and pulls his phone out to see if Sam’s back online. He’s not. Bucky’s phone is newly cracked in the top right corner. Sorry I missed today, he texts, to Raynor’s number. Urgent family thing. Tell you next time.

Then he straightens up, rolls out his shoulders, and pads his way into the bedroom, ready to fold himself into the scuffed fold-out chair in the corner and keep watch on the door until morning.

#lol i cut SO many additional bits out of this.#which is just becoming par for course on these prompts #as always i am very nervous about characterization but i cant look at this another second #who knows #my writing #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #sarahbucky #sarah x bucky #the falcon and the winter soldier #aj wilson #cass wilson #tfatws #marvel #fleur de louve #fleurdelouve #touches prompt meme #tfatws fic #i found a dream

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seacottons · 4 years ago

Text

reaper ; — k.hj x reader

pairing: hongjoong x reader, platonic wooyoung x reader

wc: 5k

notes: i guess this is horror? pft. idk. mild violence. set in the late 80s? early 90s? technology isn't prevalent here so- yeah. probably needs to be proofread but i'm too sleepy as of now. maybe tomorrow. also, happy hongjoong day 🤍

synopsis: after an accident leaves three of your friends dead and one in a coma, you and wooyoung struggle with living expenses and piling medical bills. in the midst of it all, you’re stalked by strangers who resemble your deceased friends.

"Bad day at the tavern, Woo?" You asked, arms wrapping around the black-haired man who stood over the stovetop. A gentle fire simmered the stew he was cooking, a thin sheen of oil and spices pooling on the surface. He nodded with a grim frown and tight jaw, shoulders tense as he stirred a ladle into the pot.

"Got in a fight with some asshole who thought he didn't have to pay for shit," he grumbled back. You frowned at the sight of a bruise on his jaw, and he caught your gaze before scoffing incredulously.

"Don't look at me like that. This is nothing," he quipped hastily, voice thin with resignation.

"I think I have some leftover ointment for that," you sighed, turning away to fetch the item. After dinner, the two of you sat in silence as you tended to his bruises and cuts, your brows furrowing into a glare as you wrapped his finger with scraps of linen you managed to find," You should be more careful with people like that."

"We need the money," he retorted gently, "Mr. Lee would've taken it out of my paycheck if I had let the guy go without paying."

"At the expense of you getting hurt?" He ignored the glare you sent his way.

"We need every silver coin and more right now, y/n," he exhaled softly, leaning back against the old headboard of your bed, "Yeosang's medical bills aren't getting cheaper, and we promised the landlord we'll pay her this month." He groaned, reaching up to massage his temple with a tight frown, "And I can't keep making you work two shifts every day. I see the toll it's having on you."

"I told you I'm fine," you gave him a hard stare, defensively crossing your arms above your chest, "We both work overtime, so it won't be fair of me to just throw all the responsibility on you."

He gave you a tired smile, eyes fluttering shut as he hummed back a reply. Bringing you into his arms, he placed a gentle kiss onto your temple, before cradling your head against his chest while laying down, "I'll always be grateful to still have you with me."

Wooyoung sleeping in your bed alongside you became a silent agreement of some sort months ago when he couldn't bear to sleep alone in the other room he and Yeosang shared. Since then, the two of you found comfort in each other's arms, so much so that it became difficult to sleep without the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around your frame every night.

You sat in a comfortable silence, eyes closed as you relaxed back in your seat while holding Yeosang's delicate hand. The occasional beep of the IV machine and other monitors filled the air of the small room. You peek one eye open to look at Wooyoung, his back turned to you as he gazes out of the window. Neither of you speak for a while.

"You really think the doctor's words are guaranteed? That he'll wake up soon?"

You watched from your spot as Wooyoung leaned over the blonde-haired male, his hands brushing the hair away from his closed eyes. He appeared to be in a very deep and peaceful slumber.

"Yeah. I'm sure–.. I know he will. Things will get better for all of us," he drawled out tiredly, a soft smile finding itself onto his visage as he turned to gaze at your hand grasping Yeosang's limp one, eyes puffy from his crying session last night, "I know it."

An hour later, a nurse peeks her head in to politely state that you two have exceeded your visiting time. The two of you bid your friend farewell and left the hospital.

"I'm actually going to run by the cemetery real quick before my shift starts," you explained while walking down the road with the other by your side, half frozen autumn leaves crunching beneath your boots.

Wooyoung pulled you into a tight hug, hand reaching up to tussle your locks, "Alright, please be careful. I'll see you later, alright?," he readjusted the scarf around your neck with his gloved hands, "We'll have fried fish tonight, your favorite. Don't overwork yourself at work again!"

Tears nearly welled in your eyes, knowing fully well behind his cheerful demeanor hid a scared and tired being. The unspeakable pain behind his eyes killed you on the inside. He overworked himself both physically and mentally, and you can only wish you can rid some of the burden off of his shoulders.

You were just as hurt by the circumstances that the both of you were in, but watching his mental health erode with each day was A lump formed in your throat, and instead of replying, you merely flashed him a smile, not trusting your voice.

You pressed a quick peck to his cheek only to laugh as he flinched away from your freezing lips, your laughter escaping as puffs of white in the frigid air. You bid him farewell and waved back as the two of you separated.

The low mist enshrouding the cemetery did very little to bring warmth in the early hours of the morning. Your hands absentmindedly brushed along the dew covered grass as your eyes fixated onto the inscription on one of the three tombstones.

Where there are flowers, there are butterflies.

"It's your birthday next month, Joong," you muse to the grave in front of you, "I'll make sure to spend the day here with you and the others when the time comes."

You adjusted your position on the grass, the gentle beams of sunlight sparkling in the beads of dew around you. Sitting cross legged, you reminisced the times you spent with the male and the other two friends that shared his fate.

"Wait— how come you get to be the flower? You should be the butterfly instead," you whined whilst poking his cheek.

With a playful quirk of his brow, he reached up to lightly flick your forehead before pulling you closer for a gentle kiss, "You're the butterfly, because you always bug me, baby."

You smiled to yourself at the memory, reaching down to admire the various flowers that have finally bloomed on Hongjoong's grave. Similar blossoms and flowering vines were planted and grown onto the other two graves to the right.

"I miss you so much."

You startled at the sight of a small butterfly fluttering over your head, only to smile once it landed on the purple blossom. You stilled your frame in fear of scaring it off, and watched as it flapped its blue wings subtly.

A small lizard peeked through the gaps of leaves, sharply and swiftly clamping its mouth onto the butterfly. It struggled to keep the bug in its mouth, its head shaking rapidly as the insect wriggled in its hold. Moments later, the bug stilled and the lizard scampered off with its prey.

You stood up, shoulders slumping as you gave the three graves a smile and a wave, "See you guys tomorrow. I love you."

You tightened the sweater around your frame as you made yourself out the gates of the cemetery, sighing in annoyance at the lingering and dense fog. It was difficult to even make out the next tree as you made your way back to town. You faintly hear the sound of a crow's caw in the distance and peer down onto the ground as you feel a tremor beneath your feet. Your head snapped up in time to have a large vehicle's headlights reflect in your wide eyes.

You somehow couldn't quite grasp what day it was, or even what happened at work earlier. Your head spun as if you had just awoken from a drunken stupor.

The sun had set and the moonlight washed the town with a silvery blue hue. Flames flickered within the numerous lampposts and pebbles crunched beneath your feet as you walked through the familiar cobblestone path back home. The streets were deserted. Many buildings were left with shattered windows, small plants and moss growing in the most delicate fissures on their walls. Plastered advertisements and papers on the walls and lampposts looked withered and aged, drooping forward and swaying with the gentle breeze. It was quite an odd sight to see. The once boisterous town strangely felt like a ghost town.

You shrugged off the ominous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach as you trudged along back home.

Along the way, you crossed the hospital where Yeosang was kept. You peeked back to glance at the building, your eyes immediately catching sight of a figure who stood behind a third story window. Furrowing your brows, you turned around to continue walking, the sight of the stranger leaving a bitter feeling in your heart.

The male had the same patch of silver hair as—

Suddenly, your feet came to a halt and you turned back frantically, but the figure was gone. In its place, the blue curtain of Yeosang's room swayed gently with the wind.

Shaking your head, you continued your path whilst rubbing your tired eyes.

"I probably just had a long day," you explained to nobody.

In the distance, there crouched a dark figure, his hands caressing the top of a stray cat's head. You met eyes with the stranger moments later, and you paused in your tracks, your heart dropping down to the floor and leaping into your throat almost simultaneously.

"San?" the figure's lips stretched into a wide grin at your acknowledgement, before he stood up straight to face you. Your legs shook and threatened to give under the sudden weight of your body, "San? Is that really you?"

"Long time no see, y/n."

He silently nodded, arm extending to beckon you forward with a small smile. You took a small step forward, brows furrowing in confusion, "But this can't be you. You're dead."

"Your eyesight is still horrible, I see," he drawled out with a roll of his eyes. You stood inches away from him, eyes widening in disbelief. He sounded like and resembled your late friend with a terrifying accuracy. With a trembling hand you reached forward to cup his cheek, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"You're..," you trailed off, eyes briefly glancing to your right at the reflection of the store glass window. Your reflection grasped at nothing but thin air, and you quickly retracted your hand from his face, eyes wide, "You're not real, are you?"

In an instant, the bright smile vanished and his gaze hardened into a dark expression. He silently bore holes into your head as a gentle breeze swayed his ebony and silver locks over his eyes. You took two hesitant steps back, and a blur of black flew towards you at an inhumane pace, your back roughly slamming onto the cobblestones underneath you.

Your brain scrambled to process what had just happened, eyes widening as San gripped your two wrists above your head with one hand, the other reaching down to wrap his lithe fingers around the column of your neck to squeeze hard. You released a pained cry, face contorting into a harsh wince. The heel of his palm dug painfully in the middle of your clavicles.

With eyes wide as saucers, you frantically kicked at your heels, hitting his frame repeatedly in an attempt to escape his clutches. Your attempt was futile as he released a growl, eyes practically slits as he seethed down at you, his grip tightening at an unbelievable level.

You wheezed, mouth falling open as you choked out his name, before furiously and blindingly sending a stomp onto his crotch repeatedly, your other leg jutting high to kick at his shoulder. It loosened his grip just enough for you to wriggle away, knees buckling as you attempted to stand up, heels kicking at the floor as you scrambled up, desperately trying to create as much distance as possible.

His eyes spoke of unfathomable fury as he regained his composure, taking two big strides to reach you.

Hastily rising to your feet, you dove in an alleyway and into the dark, mind not even processing your whereabouts as you quickly attempted to flee.

Your mind was in shambles as you ducked past clothes lines and the multiple abandoned carts near one of the taverns by the tea shop you worked at.

Turning around another corner, you collided with a strong chest, and you stumbled back at the sight of San's dark eyes peering down at you with a miffed expression. You gasped, face draining of color and chest heaving as you stumbled back and away from him. His chest rose with heavy breathing, brows knitted together furiously as he scurried after you.

"Y/n, y/n," he tsked in amusement, voice chiming like he was singing a song, "Come back, I just want to talk!"

Minutes later, the sound of his heavy footsteps ceased, but you did not have the time or courage to look back to see if he was still following you. You scrambled through dark alleyways, turning around every other corner, heart beating frantically in your ears and weak legs threatening to give way under your weight.

Tears prickled your eyes, and a sob threatened to escape your throat as you practically threw yourself against the frame of your door, fingers frantically reaching down to pull out the key from your pouch. From the corner of your eye, you spotted San madly dashing out from an alleyway to reach you, his voice growling out your name.

"Why are you running away?" He mocked, brows quirking up, "I thought we were good friends?"

Your trembling hands scrambled to unlock your door, hastily clambering in and throwing your entire weight to close it shut. A heavy weight from the other side thudded against the wooden frame, and your hands shook whilst reaching up to slide the chain into place. A loud gasp left your lips as the door jerked open slightly, the thin chain straining under the weight that threatened to break it.

"I'm hurt, y/n," a laugh escaped the man from the other side as he lodged his foot in between to keep the door ajar, voice rising as he attempted to shove himself in once more, "Don't you miss me?"

"Leave me alone!"

A hand shot from the gap of the door to clamp around the chain, rattling it viciously, as his other arm bent at an awkward angle to coil his fingers around the side of your neck, "Come out, y/n. I just want to talk," he chimed.

A sudden surge of strength overtook your frame and you threw your weight forward, successfully ramming the door shut against his arms. You expected to hear a cry of pain, but a chime of laughter sent a chill down your spine. With furrowed brows, you repeated the action, slamming the door continuously onto his hands and fingers, the sounds of bones and tendons snapping making you cry out in anguish.

Your hands trembled as you quickly locked the door with the key, stumbling back onto the floor as the knob shook threateningly. The door and chain rattled under the heavy kicks the male delivered from the other side, The impact of his frame against the other side shaking the door slightly. You fell onto your bottom, wobbly knees finally giving in, hands clutching your gaping mouth, and tears silently streaming down your face. You can practically feel the smile in his words, "It's okay. You'll come out eventually."

The dark shadow of his figure disappeared moments later.

When you woke, you weren't exactly sure when or how you fell asleep. You couldn't quite grasp the memories of the night prior. Sitting up, you emit a disoriented groan before realizing you weren't in your bedroom, but rather in the waiting room in the hospital Yeosang resided in. Peering around in confusion, you took account of the night sky, brows furrowing as you scrambled to find the nearest clock. It was well past midnight and visitors weren't even allowed at this ungodly hour.

The room was vacant, and you couldn't make out any figures of the receptionists through the pebbled sliding-windows. Your hand grasped the doorknob of the entrance door, only for you to sigh in frustration after finding it locked. You turn to the other side of the room only to find the door to the main halls of the ICU left ajar ever so slightly.

You called for any doctor or nurse, but you were met with silence. After much contemplating, you decided to make your way through the long corridors of the hospital, your steps reverberating throughout the empty halls. Where are the attendants, and why is a place like the ICU empty?

If you were stuck in here, you might as well stay in your friend's room. The lights from the mounted sconces petered out against the wall and casted the hallway with a warm glow.

After much turning and walking, you reached the end of the hall, hand reaching for the doorknob when the hallway lights wavered for a second. You peered to the side in confusion, before entering the room, only to stop after a step.

The room was empty, the sheets on the bed untouched and perfectly made. A hiss of air from the corridor startled you, and just as you snapped your head back, the lightbulb above you flickered rapidly before it shattered along with the windows, showering your shocked form with glass shards.

The room was engulfed in darkness, save for the streaks of moonlight filtering past the curtains. You jostled up from where you fell from shock, legs feeling useless as you crawled back out of the room with trembling limbs. Not wanting to look back, you clutched the wall for support before hastily speeding through the endless turns of the hallway.

Corner after corner, panic settled through your system because these were definitely not the same hallway layouts you remembered and memorized like the back of your hand. They were endless and vacant, and you felt like a helpless little mouse in a vast maze. As you quickened your pace into a panicked dash, the windows and light sconces on the wall flickered and shattered with every step you took, and you hastily covered your head and face from the flying glass.

This isn't real, you thought. It can't be real.

"Y/n!"

You froze in your spot, breath caught in your throat as you clamped a hand over your mouth to swallow back a scream threatening to slip past your lips. Did you hear correctly, or was that part of your imagination?

"Y/n," the familiar voice spoke once more.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you daringly poked your head from the corner and into the other hallway. Blood pounded past your ears, and it took more than a second to realize there was a figure of a man at the end of the very long and dark corridor.

He took a step forward and the soft moonlight pouring from the window beside him illuminated his figure, and your breath faltered at the sight of the man's smiling face.

"Seonghwa?"

"What are you running away from, y/n?"

You couldn't properly form a reply at his remark, hands reaching up to rub at your tear pricked eyes. A sob bubbled its way up to escape your throat at the sight of your late friend who merely chuckled at your tears.

"Missed me that much, hm?" he mused, shoulders shaking with an amused chortle, "Why don't you come here and give me hug? You know I don't like seeing you cry."

You couldn't help it as a gnawing feeling of unrest settled in the pit of your stomach. A shudder traveled down your spine, goosebumps decorating your arms, and hair standing on the back of your neck. Your mind couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that had you so disturbed, but your body displayed all the signs. His tone felt off, and you realize he's playing with you. Toying with you. A small distant voice in your head told you to get away.

A sudden thought found its ways into your mind.

Where was his shadow?

Sensing your hesitation, the friendly expression on his face soon dropped, making way for a stone-cold frown and unamused eyes.

"Y/n."

His cold voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you take a hesitant step back, words slipping out before you even processed them, "I know you're not real."

The feral look that overtakes his expression has you reeling back, and you took off running in the opposite direction. Glass crunches beneath your shoes as you dashed from corridor to corridor, lungs burning and muscles aching from the rush of adrenaline. He called for you repeatedly, and you didn't dare turn back to see how far he's caught up with you. With every turn, his voice grew louder and closer, before a flash of black sends you flying back onto the floor. Your body skids onto the ground, shards of glass pricking at your skin. With a rush of adrenaline fueling your system, you hardly wince as you scrambled back from the towering figure, glass piercing your skin in the process.

You feel an excruciating burst of pain in your foot, and before you had the opportunity to pull your leg back, he slams his foot down onto your ankle once more, grinding the joint roughly with his boot. A loud cry of pain escapes your throat and you to struggle wildly to escape his unrelenting grip.

You glance up and through your tears, you make out the gleam of a large piece of glass in Seonghwa's hands, his threatening, blown out pupils pinning you down like trapped prey. Turning the large shard in his hand to examine it, he hums sarcastically before peering down at you with a quirked brow, "You know, I'm offended." Kneeling down to your level, he traces your cheek with a glass, watching your skin split at the action and beads of blood oozing out from the scratch, "And here I thought we were such good, close friends."

Without missing a beat, your hands flew to grasp the shard, roughly ripping it into the soft tissue of his eye and slipping past his frame to stagger to the nearest broken window. You hear a groan from behind you as he doubles over in shock, blood overflowing from his ruptured eye and spilling down his scowling face. Pain surged with every step you took, but if this was your only option to escape, you think maybe the idea of couple of broken bones doesn't sound too bad.

Hastily, you stepped over the windowsill, your arms and legs catching on the jagged teeth of glass remaining, your clothes tearing in the process. You took a sharp inhale before curiously taking a look back at Seonghwa one last time. The sight of him lunging after you has you falling forward and out of the window. It felt as if gravity had slowed the pace of your fall, and you held eye contact with Seonghwa as your frame descended down from the third story floor. Darkness fogged your eyesight, his figure vanishing within the black abyss.

The impact hit you like a truck, and you sat up with a loud intake of breath on your warm bed. Your chest heaved heavily as you took in your surroundings. You suddenly realize you're in Wooyoung and Yeosang's shared room that hasn't been occupied in months. Your eyes fall onto your feet, and your brows furrow in confusion as a sudden thought invades your head.

You faintly remember your ankle being crushed, but it seemed to feel just fine now. When you attempted to recall why you thought it had been broken, it felt like your mind was searching for a forgotten and fragmented memory. After calming your breathing and thoughts, you sit up to go and find your friend.

You called Wooyoung's name repeatedly, but the silence you were met with indicated he wasn't home.

Peering into your room, you hoped to find him sleeping, however your eyes landed on the wall, the sight of messily painted words catching your attention almost immediately.

Where there are flowers, there are butterflies.

Painted flowers and butterflies littered the wall, the excess ink dripping down into lines onto the wooden floorboards.

"Do you like it?"

You jumped at the voice behind you, swiftly turning around to meet the sight of a familiar head of blue hair. You stood there, mouth agape as you silently stared long and hard at the man that once held and loved you in his arms. A long silence followed suit, hanging in the air like the calm before a storm. A breeze hardly stirred from the open window and not a sound could be heard save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

The forbidding, subtle grin displayed on his features filled you with dread, and the mere sight of him gave your brain a debilitating shock. Your knees couldn't hold your weight any longer, and with buckling limbs, you were sent crashing down onto the floor, the look of disbelief and horror never leaving your expression.

You stared at him but it felt like you couldn't quite focus your gaze on him as he peered down at you in mock pity, a condescending smile playing on his lips. His dark gaze seared you as he crouched down to meet your eye level, hand reaching to cup your cheek as he leaned in to press numerous kisses onto your lips. The gesture was void of the warmth and care you remembered, and you sat still as he trailed fleeting kisses down your the column of your neck, his lips attaching fervently onto your clavicles.

"I missed you so much," you began, catching his attention. Pulling away from your irritated flesh, he quirked his brows at your words, hands brushing the hair out of your face as he let out a chuckle. His finely-chiseled face, illuminated by the oil lamps on the wall, broke into a fond expression. Pulling you close to his frame, he pressed your head against his chest, head dipping to kiss into your hair.

"Do you really?" Your brows furrowed slightly, eyes blinking away the tears as you wrapped your arms around his torso, head pressed against his chest. It's been too long without the feeling of your lover's arms around you. It's just been way too long for you, "If you miss me that much then-"

While nuzzling his chest, you come to realization he lacked a heartbeat, and with that thought striking your mind like lightning, you detached yourself from his form instantly. He eyed your trembling form without any sign of amusement.

"Don't look at me like that!" Cowering back against the wall, you broke into screams of despair, fingers pulling handfuls of your hair as you shook your head rapidly, "You're dead— you're not real!" you slapped the heels of your palms against your temple repeatedly, eyes scrunched shut, "Not real! Not real! This is all just my imagination!"

He released a chilling laugh that traveled down your spine and left your fingers and toes numbingly cold. A sudden gust of wind sent the crispy, autumn leaves scampering wildly into the window while also extinguishing the lamplights that illuminated the room, plunging it into darkness.

You only had a second to register his close proximity, your pupils dilating instantly, before a hand latched onto your throat, ramming your head back against the wall in the process. His vice-like, lithe fingers squeezed around your windpipe, successfully blocking your air flow as you squirmed in his relentless hold, lungs burning and diaphragm spasming.

"You'll join me so we can be together again, hm?"

The fist around your throat choked your response, and he tilted his head with a mocking smile, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

His hold only faltered ever so slightly to give you enough air to speak, "I don't want to die," your reply was a little more than a ghost of a breath.

"But, baby," his fingers coiled around your neck, pressing unforgivingly hard until your darkening vision littered with stars, "don't you realize you're already on the brink of death. Just give in, y/n. Don't keep fighting."

The silence of the atmosphere contributed to the solemnity in the air, and despite the clear blue skies and warm sun, there was a relentless chill in Wooyoung's heart. The black-haired male crouched down over the grave, gently placing a small bundle of roses onto the base of the tombstone.

"Happy birthday, Joong," he mused sadly, his puffy, tired eyes flickering over to the sides where the other tombstones lay.

"I'm so sorry for breaking my promise," he blinked rapidly to rid himself of the stinging tears threatening to spill, nose scrunching slightly as he sniffled, "I should've been there that day- shouldn't have let y/n come here alone- and.."

"You know nothing was your fault, Woo. Stop blaming yourself for something you had no control of."

A hand clutched his shoulder, and he peered with tear-filled eyes to give the blonde male a grateful smile, before turning back to the grave, "Yeosang's awake now though and- and the doctors said that y/n's case isn't as bad as his was, so we have hope."

"Y/n is a stubborn fighter," Yeosang offered the other a small smile, crouching down to rub his trembling friend's back, "Everything will be okay in due time."

"I hope so.. and I hope you'll forgive me, Hongjoong," Wooyoung murmured, watching two small butterflies flutter and chase each other around the blossoming flowers atop of Hongjoong's grave.

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