#i just wish i were tiny n could hide n sleep in a fresh laundry basket like i did as a kid

[tamagotchikgs]

aching for comfort but everything feels wrong

[redhairedfeistynerd]

The Art of Folding Laundry

Pairing: singledad!Bucky x reader

Summary: A moment of silence is all Bucky needs.

Words: 1700

Warnings: Fluff, kids (Bucky’s kids)

A/N: This is part of my singledad!Bucky series.

Slivers of light are starting to peek through the wooden blinds in the family room, he knows he only has another hour or so before the girls wake up. They’ll poke their heads in, bleary eyed and asking him to make a special breakfast; most likely an omelet or waffles with fresh berries.  

He takes a deep breath in and enjoys the silence. The few memories of quiet days rotating around his head, usually when the girls sleep or if they spend a night at a friend's house. Memories of life before fatherhood pop up from time to time. The battles, the carnage, the loneliness.  

He doesn’t belong to that world anymore.

He’s part of a world that once had dirty diapers and burp cloths and now his world is full of hair braiding and unicorns.  

And everything is calm during these wee hours of the morning.

The calmness, the eerie stillness around him before he would fire off a shot from his rifle.  This, this was the calm that spread over him now, as he reached over to pull another towel into his hands. Corner to corner, fold, corners again, fold, and they better match up perfectly.  

Add it to the pile.  

Repeat.

Bucky found great comfort in folding the laundry.

Pick up another towel from the basket. Fold. Repeat. He often felt that it was therapeutic; his brain stopped running in circles, his thoughts generally focusing around the girls.  

His girls.

He has a hard time remembering what life was like before them. They consume his thoughts most days. Every leaf that falls, every laugh he hears – he thinks of his girls.

Maybe he’s getting softer with each year that passes. There are no longer missions for him to go on; he gave that up long ago, when fatherhood became his number one job.

Piper came first; silently she fell into this world (and his arms) 8 years ago. He cut the cord and she was handed over to him first, her tiny eyes looked up and he swore that she knew he was her dad. Bucky had never felt love like that before and if anything, it got stronger as each day passed.

He pleaded for a second child and 15 months later, Riley was born. Oh, and did she come into this world screaming; red faced and hands in fists, punching at the cold air. Every day for the last 6 years has been an adventure with his younger daughter. She was the fire he needed, the motivation; his strength to keep going each day and to not give up.  

He was forever in debt to his daughters for making him a better person.

And then there was you.

He couldn’t put a name to it yet, whatever it was that was going on.  

Friend, confidant, oh he wishes he could up the ante. Lady friend, sweetheart, lover. He shouldn’t get so far ahead; his fantasies were pulling him deeper. He hadn’t even...  

“OOF!”  

The sudden shout and then feeling of sinking yanked him out of his dream-like state. He heard her giggles before he saw her limbs flailing from the centre of the laundry pile beside him on the couch.  

“Daddy you had the goofiest look on your face and you were bitin’ at your lip and you didn’t even hear me do my sneak attack. I must be getting really good at the super spy stuff!” Riley laughed, pushing the wash cloths and towels to the floor.  

Bucky tries to make a serious dad face at Riley but the washcloth resting on her strawberry blonde curls has his smiling ear to ear. “You goof,” he laughs, swiping the blue cloth off of her head.

“But I am the best super spy, right Pops? Better than Pip, right?” She crawls out of the pile and into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.  

“Yes, my sweet girl, even better than Pips. BUT she rules when it comes to listening to other people’s... CONVERSATIONS!” Bucky reaches his left arm behind the couch and scoops up his oldest daughter, who is so full of laughter than her face is turning red and tears and almost springing from her bright blue eyes.  

“POPPPPPPS!! PUT. ME. DOWN!”

He knows this is the end of his alone time but it is also the beginning of a new day with his daughters –and nothing will ever top that.  

He does wonder about you though. What are you doing this morning? Are you sleeping still? Maybe you are thinking about him as well. He watches Piper and Riley scamper off into the kitchen and hears the clank of the bowls and utensils that girls are taking out of the drawers. Once they are out of sight, he picks his phone up from the side table and opens up his messages. Last message, two days ago – he had wished you good luck before you went for your review at work. He should send you a quick text, see how things went. Maybe you wanted to come over for breakfast. He tapped a short message and sent it off, leaving it open for her to pop by anytime this morning.

Maybe she would fold laundry with him between giggles and quick kisses while the girls ran around in the back yard.

Maybe the girls could go by their friend's house and he could forget about the laundry and kiss you longer and brush the hair back from your face. You would shy away and hide behind it but he would want to see the way your eyes sparkled before and after his lips were on yours.  

“Pops, can we have waffles? The yummy chocolate ones you make, please?” Riley asks pushing her face right into his.  

“Yes, yes. How about you pull out the mix and set everything up on the counter, ok?”

“Sure thing,” she says, smiling wide, clearly happy that she can help Bucky and have her breakfast of choice.

The girls are silent as they scoop berries and whip cream into their mouths; their waffles have long been devoured (he has left two for you in the oven, he knows you how much you love them). There’s a quick tapping at the front door and it opens slowly, your voice shouting “Barnes family, I have come to eat all of your waffles! Where are you hiding them?”  

Riley stands up on her chair shouting “In the oven! THE OVEN!”

“Oh Barnsey, trying to keep me away from my sweet waffles. I see how it is.” She walks towards where Bucky is sitting at the table and reaches out, tickling the back of neck and giggling.

He pretends to be annoyed and tries to brush her hands off of his neck but she is determined to make him squeal, maybe even scream. Standing up from his chair, her hands still trying to tickle him, he turns quickly and pretends he is going to lunge at her. His girls are quick though and wrap themselves around him, Riley has managed to cling to his right leg, while Piper is pulling his left arm and telling him she is stronger than his fancy arm. Their giggling is contagious and he can’t help but join in. Once their laughter seizes, he unwraps his youngest from him leg and sends them off to get washed and dressed for the day. They both hug y/n and set off upstairs to get changed.

She moves to the oven and reaches in with her bare hand to retrieve a waffle, instantly taking a bit of the warm square. “Oh, these are extra good today, did you put extra love in it for me,” she says winking at him and hopping down the steps to the family room. She takes one look at the laundry on the couch and floor and raises her left eyebrow. “Well Barnes, you sure know how to rile a girl up,” she says poking at the laundry on the couch. “Are these the kind of dates you have planned for me?”

Bucky just stares and keeps staring until he starts feeling a bit uncomfortable and he knows that you can tell because a smile is slowly forming on your lips. She moves forward and before he knows what you are doing (he would have been a horrible super soldier around you) you’ve tackled him down on the couch. He smirks and thinks that, this is where he wanted you in the first place and now that he has you here, what is he going to do with you. A week has passed since you had kissed, while lying in the backyard, staring at the clouds together. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you shift above him, straddling him and staring back into his eyes.

“Well Barnes, do I get to kiss you now?” Her left eyebrow has lifted as the she speaks; he loves how she looks at the very moment and nods his head in response. “Good. A week was too long not being able to be this close to you.”

Oh, and does he ever want to be closer than this with you.

She leans down, her hair tickling his face right before their lips are touching, Bucky’s flesh hand moves to her side rubbing it softly and shifting her dress around. “Better not lift that too high Barnsey, you don’t want your girls to see anything.”

“That’s not, that’s not what I was tryin’ to...”

“I’m just trying to work you up, you goof. I know you wouldn’t even fathom doing something like that.” She leans runs a hand through his hair and leans down into another kiss.  

He hears their feet, elephant like, bounding down the stairs and quickly shifts y/n off into the laundry pile that still remains on his couch. “Is this your way of telling me that you want me to finish folding your laundry? You could have just asked instead of throwing me into it,” she jokes.

Bucky chuckles at her smart-ass response and turns to catch Riley as she is about to wrap her arms around his neck.  

“Ha! Not this time, sweet pea! I heard you thumping down the stairs like a wild animal!” He pulls his youngest into a big bear hug and kisses the top of her head. “Go get your shoes on and we’ll meet you in the backyard, ok?”  He watches Riley run off to grab Piper and their shoes a nd when he turns back around to give y/n a quick kiss she whispers in his ear,  

“So, what’s our next date? Are you going to teach me how to fluff the pillows on your bed?”  

[superhero--imagines]

A/N: So there will be at least 2 more parts after this one, it’s all too long to put into one post. LMK if you want to be tagged :)

The next part is going to be from His POV, and it’ll be posted tomorrow

Tags: @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark​ @treestarrrrrrrr​ @jelly-snow-stark​

                   <--- Part 1 Here!  /  Part 3 Here! --->

* Ben sighs as he takes in the tiny hut that’s his home now

* It’s all one room, and it’s smaller than his bedroom at home

* “Well it’ll have to do” he sighs, dropping his duffel bag to the ground

* “Ow!”

* He misses you so much he can even hear your voice

* “Ben if you’re alone you can stop pretending now!”

* His face breaks out into a grin, he should have dropped you a bit more gently

* He unzips the bag, and your head pops out

* “So how long have you known?” You ask, rubbing your aching limbs

* “In what galaxy would you let me leave without saying goodbye?” His grin broadens, as you climb out of the bag.

* “I figured you were hiding in the ship though, I didn’t think you hid in my bag” he admits, peering inside the bag

* “Where did my underwear go?”

* You didn’t come this far, to only come this far

* You had spent years trying to keep Ben from the dark side, and you weren’t about to leave him by himself just because of a small hiccup like this

* It’s pretty cozy with the two of you in that hut

* You hope back home Holdo, your mother, found your note

* All of this seemed a lot easier in the movies, going on spontaneous adventures, chasing after artifacts

* Oh well, at least you have people who love you

* You didn’t plan this very well, and neglected to bring many clothes, you are glad you brought underwear

* You mostly end up wearing Ben’s clothes

* “Aw come on, you know I wanted to wear that shirt today”

* “Do you want to wear one of mine?”

* Despite himself, he blushes when he see’s you roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt

* “No it’s fine” he says with a huff, he can’t help but think it looks cuter on you

* It’s still early on in the story, so Luke only has a handful of disciples currently

* You usually stay in the hut, until the late morning when the padawans go to the cliff to practice light saber training

* Then you run basic errands, like washing your clothes, bathing, cooking/catching/gathering lunch, reading and sleeping

* You and Ben will usually share meals together, he’ll either eat some of whatever you made, or share his rations for the day

* “You know, it’s like you’re an adult”

* You freeze when you hear Ben say that

* “What do you mean?” You try to stay calm as you breathe in deeply. Ben can read minds in the future with ease, it only hurts when the other person refuses to give him the information

* There’s no guarantee he hasn’t been able to read your mind all along, just going along with your wishes to keep you at ease

* “You hunt and gather like a pro,” he shrugs, taking a big bite of the stew you made. “It’s like you don’t even need my help”

* Oh, he’s sad

* You get it, in this body you’re younger than him.

* But your mind is much older, so you’ve always taken a more dominant position in your friendship

* But being here, somewhere you aren’t supposed to be. Ben had thought for once, he could take care of you

* But even here, you do the laundry for both of you, you cook for both of you, and you even cleaned the hut while he was training

* “Ben, the fact that you even want me here is more than enough”

* And it’s true, you can’t imagine anyone in your past life tolerating a bossy girl like you following them around

* Especially at this age

* “Of course I want you around, you’re my best friend” There’s a rosy tinge on his pale skin, eyes staring a hole into his bowl of stew

* Ben’s really special

* “I know”

* At night is when the work really comes

* You fumble around with a book, or embroidery, or sharpening your hunting tools, until Ben finally falls asleep

* Then you lean against the his bed frame, and stare at the door until dawns early light

* You don’t know exactly when Luke starts to suspect that there’s darkness in Ben, so this is how you’ll keep him safe

* You’ll be caught, but at least this way you can save him, even if it’s just prolonging the inevitable.

* “Why do you always sleep on the floor?”

* “Would you rather I sleep with you in your bed?” You ask, at which he stammers and blushes

* “N-no, I would sleep on the floor and you could sleep on the bed”

* You smile as you sharpen your spear, he’s still awfully kind to you

* “Nah, you have to train”

* You get caught after a week, maybe a month if you’re especially careful

* It’s the first time your mother slaps you

* But even after she can tell you’re not sorry

* “What were you thinking?”

* You know how it looks, that a stubborn child followed her best friend not thinking once about the people she was hurting

* You can’t tell them, you can’t tell them that all of this is to save them, to save Ben and to even save yourself

* “The force showed me, Ben is my prince and I’m his knight”

* So you tell a great big lie

* “You saw the future?” Luke sounds skeptical, you don’t blame him

* You nod

* “What else did you see”

* Well crap, you’ve already screwed up the timeline enough just by being so present in Ben’s life

* What’s something small you can tell them? You can’t tell them about Rey, a lonely girl in Jakku, not yet. You can’t tell them about Poe or Finn either, who even knows what they’re up to right now

* “There’s a droid, orange and white, BB8”

* “What about the droid?”

* Well fuck, you didn’t think they’d ask questions

* “It’ll be a key player in keeping balance in the force.”

* The adults don’t doubt you know what you say you do, but they agree that Luke isn’t the right master for you.

* From what they can tell you’re not particularly force sensitive

* You will learn under Leia as her senator

* You can only nod in agreement

* You fuss over Ben more than Leia does when you’re about to leave

* “This is my spear, for when the other kids bully you, or try to take your food”

* “The other kids don’t bully me”

* “And this is my cloak, for if you get cold at night”

* “I have my own cloak”

* “And this is my-“

* “I’m not going to miss your things,” Ben interrupts “I’m going to miss you”

* You can feel your eyes begin to sting

* “I’ll miss you too”

* You hug him long and tight, boarding your ship and returning home

* “You know Jedi can’t get married?” Luke asks his nephew

* “Grandfather did”

* “Yes, because that ended so well”

*”He had you and Mom didn’t he?”

* The years fly by, you study well under Leia. Showing an aptitude for politics and negotiation

* Your mother’s much happier now as well, now that you’re not spending every waking moment trying to save Ben Solo, you actually don’t cause any trouble

* You wonder how Ben is doing often, you haven’t seen him in years

* But you know there’s not much you can do for him

* You’re not Rey, you don’t have a force bond with him

* All you can do is hope he’s alive and happy somewhere

* You meet Poe in your early adolescence, it’s made very clear you aren’t to ask where he came from

* “What are you up to?”

* You glance over your shoulder, as you sit on the dock, Ben’s dock.

* “Just taking in some fresh air” you say back with a smile, you should work on getting on Poe’s good side

* “Makes sense,” he grins as he stands beside you, taking in the cerulean blue of the lake. The same lake Ben would practice using the force on “of course you’d want to be around what you are”

* You know you’re much older than 16, but you can’t help the blush that blooms on your cheeks

* “Mind if I join you?” He asks, and not trusting your mouth, you motion for him to sit beside you

* He grins and he sits next to you, his knee bumping against yours

* He’s just as funny and charming as he was in the movies

* You’re carrying back a basket full of fruit when you see him walking down the path, you’re about to greet him when he wordlessly takes the basket out of your hands

* Underestimating your strength, and how heavy the basket is, he accidentally spills fruit along the way, stumbling every few steps as he does

* You sigh, he’s just as reckless too

* But he’s your friend, you think with a smile, picking up the fruit that trails behind him, before walking by his side once more

* As time goes on, you lose your sense of urgency, absorbed in your lessons and your daily life

* Still you wonder every so often how Ben is doing

* Is he’s eating enough, if he’s managed to make any new friends

* You sigh

* You wish you could call him, or send him a text, anything

* Just to make sure he’s still alive

* A light bulb practically flashes over your head

* Maybe you could write him a letter!

* You pull out a piece of paper, so excited to tell him about everything that’s happened

* Your pen hovers over the paper, where do you even start?

* With Poe? The politics classes? How you were going to represent the planet as an ambassador?

* Or how much you miss him

* How much you think about him, and hope he’s doing well

* You sigh pushing away the paper and pen, some things you can only say in person

* “You’re all set, aren’t you?” Holdo asks you, and you nod “Got everything you need? Did you pack extra underwear?”

* “Mother!” Your fave erupts into flames, you can hear Poe laughing as he boards the ship

* “Don’t fuss over the girl Holdo” Leia says, “Now dear, you remember your etiquette lessons, yes? Don’t be afraid to stab a man right through the chest if he gets too close”

* Between the two of them, you don’t know who’s worse

* It’s all fairly standard once you land, you greet the king and queen of this planet, thank them. Greet your maids, chef and staff

* “We have a Knight for you as well ambassador”

* You’re about to tell him there’s no need, you’ll be fine on your own

* But then you look over to your Knight

* “We believe it’s someone you may know well”

* His face, it’s the same, and yet completely unfamiliar. He’s well built now, a large frame that towers over you

* “It’s been a while” He says, the hint of a smile playing in his face

* Those eyes haven’t changed, deep, and honest

* “Ben!”

* You nearly yelp, you feel tears prickle the corners of your eyes as you throw your arms around him

[artificialqueens]

Wondrous Creature (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Brooke and Vanessa are roommates crushing on each other, both with no idea that the other likes them back, or that the other isn’t human.

A/N: I am officially in the spooky mood and finished this to celebrate it! This is loosely based on the web comic “Fangs” by Sarah C. Andersen. This is pretty weird and chaotic, so apologies in advance. I would love any feedback or comments if you have any, though! Writ is the best beta and brainstorming partner and I love them. Title from Monster by Florence + the Machine.

read on ao3

“Brooke!” Vanessa sighs in relief when her roommate shuffles in, tossing her purse on the kitchen table, shoulders dropping after her overnight shift.

“What?” Brooke asks around a yawn.

“Have you seen my black boots?” Vanessa’s been sliding around the apartment in her pizza socks, toothbrush dangling from her mouth, because her boots are not in her closet where she’s fairly sure she left them. But if anyone will know where they are, it’s Brooke. She could find anything from boots to keys like a bloodhound.

Brooke’s eyebrows wrinkle as she thinks. “Did you check under your bed?”

“Oh!” Toothpaste flies out of her mouth and splats on the floor, and Brooke rolls her eyes fondly before wiping it.

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to you,” Brooke mutters.

“I know!” Vanessa runs to her room and peeks under her bed. There, past Riley’s elephant chew toy and her old knee brace and a bag of chips, are her black boots.

Vanessa happily puts them on, and Brooke snorts behind her.

“You could make a game out of finding stuff under your bed,” Brooke teases. “Two points for clothes, three points for food.”

“Five points if the food is still edible.”

“Vanessa, don’t you dare eat those chips–”

Vanessa removes her toothbrush and crunches as loud as she can, making eye contact with Brooke all the while. Even with the lingering minty taste, the chips are still good. But even if they weren’t, she still wouldn’t be harmed, for reasons Brooke doesn’t–and can’t–know.

“Okay, how about you brush your teeth for real, in the bathroom?” Brooke suggests, and Vanessa nods.

They stand side-by-side in front of the sink, because Brooke brushes her teeth after work every morning for some reason. Vanessa doesn’t mind. It’s nice having the bathroom to herself for most of the morning, not having to fight for shower times or counter space. This little routine is enough, and Vanessa likes the rhythm they sink into, the way Brooke sways along to Vanessa’s Get-Ready Spotify playlist, the way Brooke grins at her in the mirror. Today, the grin is wider than normal, and Vanessa’s grip slips, toothbrush swiping across her cheek and sending Brooke into a fit of laughter.

They spit in the sink, and Vanessa sees drops of bright red clinging to the porcelain.

“You’re bleeding,” Vanessa says.

“I am?” Brooke shrugs. “Must’ve brushed too hard.” She rinses the sink, tells Vanessa to have a good day, and collapses into bed, the frame squeaking under her weight. She’ll get a few hours of sleep, Vanessa knows, before waking up and writing. She does fashion and news pieces for some media site—she told Vanessa it’s like a low-budget Buzzfeed—and her stuff’s pretty good, from what Vanessa’s looked up on nights she was bored, desperate to have more of Brooke through words on her phone screen. Brooke likes her job, even if she has to work overnight grocery store shifts to keep herself afloat. Vanessa thinks of Brooke curled up in bed and wishes she could help her sleep more, get rid of those gray circles constantly under her eyes.

But Vanessa will be late soon, and she grabs her travel coffee mug and heads to work, thinking too much about Brooke’s smile and the blood in the sink.

Maybe she isn’t the only one in the apartment with secrets.

—

Brooke wakes around 2 with both cats sprawled across her legs. She sits up and pets them absent-mindedly; the cats had to stay in her room because Vanessa is super allergic, “sneezin’ and wheezin’ and itchin’ allergic, Mary,” in her words. It’s easier for everyone to just keep the cats sequestered to Brooke’s room; she gets to cuddle them more, and everyone gets to avoid Vanessa’s sneezes, which are loud enough to send small children running in fright.

She pulls out her laptop and checks her work emails, making notes for her new piece. Nina runs the media site—West’s Best, home to culture, fashion, humor, and more, according to the description Brooke wrote—and Brooke is one of her best writers. But in the name of Brooke’s secret, she lets Vanessa think she’s an underpaid intern, scraping for any piece she can get. She doesn’t like lying, but it’s a necessary evil; under the cover of her “overnight job,” she’s free to spend her nights with her friends, doing things Vanessa can’t ever know.

The blood this morning was a rare slip-up—a remnant from last night’s drink. Brooke has to be more careful. It’s been six months since Vanessa moved in, and Brooke knows she doesn’t suspect anything about her being a vampire.

Hiding it isn’t as hard as Brooke thought it would be. The overnight job lie takes care of most of it, and Brooke stores her blood supply at Nina’s, because she doesn’t think she could lie her way out of that if Vanessa found it. She keeps stories about her past generic, mentioning that she used to dance but not that the dancing took place in a speakeasy 100 years ago. Or how she rode horses sometimes as a kid, leaving out that they were an actual mode of transportation. She’s sure Vanessa doesn’t mind the lack of details; her own stories are over the top enough for both of them, making Brooke laugh until her stomach hurts.

So no, not hard. Just a tiny secret. Though one that’s growing hard to keep, admittedly, because of another secret.

She has a crush on Vanessa.

The crush is a recent development, though her friends insist Brooke’s had feelings for longer, brought on by Vanessa asking opinions on outfits and nights yelling at reality shows together and all the times Vanessa lets her towel hang a little too low after a shower. Brooke’s never been around someone so fun and lively, who finds joy in something as simple as fresh laundry, burying her face in warm, lavender-scented clothes.

But secret number two has to remain secret because of secret number one, obviously, and Brooke just ignores those feelings. Her heart’s been cold a century, after all; it’s not hard to do.

Her phone buzzes with a text.

Vanessa: Can we make grilled cheese tonight?

Two emojis follow it: a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese.

Vanessa: There’s no grilled cheese emoji but you get the idea

Brooke grins, and she thinks her dead heart skips a beat.

—

“This is one of the best grilled cheeses I’ve ever had! You could open a grilled cheese food truck,” Vanessa says around a mouthful of bread.

Brooke shakes her head. “Sometimes I swear you were raised by wolves.”

Vanessa crosses her arms and pouts indignantly, but there’s a glimmer in her eyes, like a laugh she won’t let escape.

“Just ‘cause you drink tea with your pinky curled—“

“I do not.”

“Do so.”

Brooke smiles, taking a bite of her own sandwich. Vampires could eat human food, and Brooke likes to. It just doesn’t fill her the way animal blood does. But she’ll make up for it tonight, while Vanessa thinks she’s at work.

“Oh, that vanity you ordered came today,” Brooke says.

“Yes!” Vanessa fist-pumps the air. “Wanna help me put it together?”

Brooke thinks of the time she helped Nina put together her bedroom set and wound up with a giant splinter in her thumb, a smashed finger from Nina’s lousy aim with the hammer, and a bag of extra screws that Brooke hopes to this day weren’t important (Nina’s bed hasn’t broken yet, so it’s probably fine). Brooke has no desire for furniture-building again, but for Vanessa and those big brown eyes…

“Sure,” Brooke says.

Which is how she finds herself nudging aside clothes and magazines on Vanessa’s bedroom floor, Vanessa’s dog licking her leg and 20 pages of instructions fluttering in front of her.

“Come on, Brooke, what do we do?” Vanessa swings a hammer aimlessly, waiting for something to hit.

Brooke frowns, trying to make sense of the instructions and all the pieces and nails–could this thing need that many nails?

“Um, I think this big piece goes first…” Brooke grabs a square of wood and passes it to Vanessa. “Then we put on the sides.”

“What about the legs?”

“Shit.”

After nearly two hours of reading, Googling, YouTube tutorials, swearing, and Vanessa pretending to be Thor with her hammer, the vanity stands strong and sturdy in the corner.

“We did it!” Vanessa cheers. “Teamwork makes the dream work, baby!”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Fair.” Vanessa cackles. “You’ll be okay at work, right? I didn’t tire you out too much?”

Brooke swallows hard. Is that gleam in Vanessa’s eyes from concern, or does she know exactly what she’s saying? Does she have the same feelings Brooke does?

“I’ll be fine,” Brooke says.

She doesn’t see Vanessa for the rest of the night, and slips out when Vanessa is breathing softly in her bed.

—

The best part of Brooke’s overnight shifts is that she’s not there to wonder where Vanessa goes at the full moon.

She, Silky, and A��keria pile in an Uber and go to the edge of the city, then walk to the woods. Vanessa loves the city, loves all the people and shops and places to eat, but there’s something about the woods. Everything is calmer out here, still and silent except for the occasional rustling of leaves or an owl’s hoot. There’s a sort of peace between the trees, freedom to just breathe and think and be.

The silence is a little too eerie tonight, her thoughts too loud. Or maybe it’s just because she can’t stop thinking of Brooke. There’s been nothing unusual about the past few weeks, but something feels different. They made cupcakes last week and spent hours on Saturday sucked into a 90 Day Fiance marathon, yelling and roasting the couples. Vanessa found herself enjoying it all more than usual, unable to take her eyes off Brooke. She knows what it means, but that’s not an option. Not with her secret.

“Vanessa, it’s almost time!” A’keria yells.

Vanessa snaps up and sees the moon is almost at its highest as it shines through the trees. She pulls off her clothes and sets them in the bag at the base of the largest tree.

“What’s with you?” A’keria asks in concern.

“Nothing.”

“It’s about Brooke, isn’t it?” Silky guesses, and she and A’keria trade looks.

“What’s with the looks?” Vanessa demands.

“It’s nothing,” A’keria says.

“We think Brooke’s a vampire,” Silky says, dodging the furious arm A’keria swings at her.

“You think she’s a vampire?” Vanessa laughs out loud. She can see where they’re coming from, admittedly. Brooke is tall and pale and quiet, with a dry sense of humor and a wardrobe that’s almost entirely black. She can be broody sometimes, especially when Jeopardy! isn’t going her way. She glides around the apartment so silently Vanessa wants to put a bell around her neck. And there’s a mysterious air around her, maybe from how secretive she is about herself–so much so that Vanessa truly doesn’t know much about her past.

But the idea of Brooke being a vampire is ridiculous. Her Netflix recently watched list is just Jane Austen adaptations and The Princess Diaries, and she keeps the freezer stocked with Ben and Jerry’s and pizza bagels, not bags of suspicious liquid or anything like that. Hell, when Vanessa got a paper cut a few weeks ago, Brooke practically flew out of the room to get her a Band-Aid, eyes avoiding the blood. And she uses a baby voice when she talks to her cats and falls asleep cuddling them, for crying out loud—the woman is hardly a horror movie figure.

“Look, she’s not a vampire, okay?” Vanessa keeps one eye on the moon as it shifts imperceptibly, her muscles tingling as they prepare for the transformation. “She goes out in the daytime and stuff.”

Silky rolls her eyes. “Vampires can do that! Sun hurts them, but it only kills them after a long time.”

“She’s fine in the sun,” Vanessa insists. “She doesn’t go out in it much because it gives her a headache and her skin’s really sensitive, so it burns easily.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s sunburn.”

“And an overnight job? Could it be any more obvious?”

Vanessa huffs. “Enough, okay! She’s human!”

Silky shakes her head. “You just don’t want to see it because you’re in love with her.”

“I am not!” Vanessa shouts, but she can’t even kid herself, let alone her friends, who are staring at her pointedly.

“Got a big old lesbian crush,” A’keria says with a grin. “So big you can’t even see your roommate’s a blood sucker.”

Vanessa sighs, knowing that vampire or not, her feelings for Brooke are filling the entire forest. “Look, I really like her, and she probably doesn’t feel the same way. It could ruin everything if I tell her. It just… it just can’t happen.” She shakes off how small her voice is getting.

“I think you should tell her, V,” A’keria says softly. “Vampire stuff aside and everything. How could she not like you back?”

Vanessa wants to believe it, but she shakes her head. “She’s my friend, and she’s human, and I’m–” The rest of her sentence is cut off by a groan as the pain starts. Vanessa’s gotten used to it now–the way her bones stretch and muscles clench, her whole body on fire–but it doesn’t make the pain any easier. She curls into a ball as her claws emerge, as fur sprouts, until finally a thick brown wolf stands tall beneath the moon. Vanessa nods toward the other two, and they traipse through the forest.

Vanessa keeps her mind when she transforms; she normally likes the way everything gets sharper, the way she can smell moss and flowers and animals, can see even the tiniest bugs flapping their wings. Tonight, though, she wishes she could turn it off, because all her thoughts of Brooke are heightened too. The sheer beauty of her soft, smooth skin. The way her hair shines like gold in the light and always smells like tea tree oil. Her rare laughs, the way her shoulders shake with the movement and her green eyes sparkle. How much Vanessa wishes she could see Brooke’s pale skin uninterrupted by clothes, melting into Vanessa’s sheets, before falling asleep in Brooke’s arms.

Vanessa sighs, running through the trees and leaving it all behind.

She really can’t be in love with her roommate, but it’s too late.

—

Brooke is extra careful the next few weeks. She rinses her mouth carefully before entering the door each morning. She eats half the garlic bread Vanessa makes one night. She even goes shopping with Vanessa, rare sunshine beating down on them. The only reason Brooke manages without pain is because of the special sunscreen her witch friend Yvie made, but Vanessa doesn’t need to know that. Brooke just wants to flaunt it, hey, look how human I am. Vanessa is blissfully unaware, and that’s what Brooke needs. No threat to her secret, no chance she’ll have to run and leave her friends behind.

“Brooke, can you help me make posters?” Vanessa gets home one night with her arms full of construction paper and Crayola markers. “They’re for the dog shelter.”

Vanessa volunteers at a dog shelter every Sunday, coming back with fur on her clothes and a bunch of videos of dogs playing fetch and running in circles. She loves going, yapping about all the dogs after, and even though Brooke is more of a cat person, she listens anyway.

“I’ll help,” Brooke says. It’s only fair after Vanessa made yesterday’s dinner when Brooke was busy with work.

Markers roll across the table as Vanessa lays her supplies out, and they get to work.

“What’s that, a hippo?” Brooke asks at Vanessa’s drawing.

“It’s obviously a dog, Brooke!”

“A dog with a hippo’s nose.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke and Brooke bursts into laughter. The night continues as they pass markers back and forth and Vanessa pops enough popcorn for a movie theatre, ending when Vanessa begins her nighttime shower and skincare routine, the one that leaves her skin soft and glowing, smelling of citrus and coconut. Brooke’s head is full of those scents when Vanessa calls her from the bathroom.

“What do you need?” Brooke asks.

“We’re out of towels.” There’s a smug tone to Vanessa’s voice. “There should be a clean one in the laundry basket, if you wanna bring it to me.” Brooke can practically see Vanessa batting her eyelashes through the door.

Brooke opens the door a crack, extending the towel. She can’t look at Vanessa, she can’t–

“Thanks, Brooke!” Half of Vanessa’s broadly-grinning face peeks out, running into the soft lines of her collarbone and gentle curve of her shoulder. Brooke’s dead heart almost jolts back to life. She wants to blast the door off its hinges, grab Vanessa, and throw her on the bed–

But the alarm on Brooke’s phone goes off, reminding her to get ready for work.

—

Brooke slides up to the corner table, her vampire gang awaiting: Nina sipping her drink, Priyanka checking women out, Kameron deep in thought. Red neon signs flicker on the dark walls, glasses of blood and beer sliding across the bar counter. Whoever thought of a vampire bar is a genius, in Brooke’s opinion, and being here with her friends is one of the best parts of her day.

“Sorry I’m late. Got caught talking to Vanessa.”

“How is she?” Kameron asks.

“Fine! She’s fine.” Brooke laughs nervously, reins her voice in before it rises another octave. No need to share what almost happened. They’ve all heard more than enough about Vanessa–Vanessa made cookies, try one; Vanessa scored 42 points when we went bowling; Vanessa made the worst pun ever, you have to hear it–and Brooke knows it’s not helping her in the ‘just a crush’ department.

“You know, Brooke,” Nina says slowly, like she’s been sitting on this a while, “sometimes I think Vanessa isn’t fully … human.”

Brooke scoffs. Vanessa, who cries over movies and gives old people her seat on the subway and can’t sleep without fuzzy blankets or a squishy pillow, is one of the most human people Brooke has ever met. Then she looks around the table and sees Kameron and Priyanka matching Nina’s cautious, thoughtful expression.

“What, you think she’s a witch or something?” Brooke barks out a laugh. “There’s gotta be a cleaning spell she would’ve used in her room by now.”

“Not a witch,” Nina continues, being the spokesperson of the group. “We think she might be a werewolf. Kam saw her in the woods last full moon.”

“So what?” Brooke asks, playing nonchalant even though it is odd that Vanessa would go in the forest at night. “She can go in the woods, it’s not my business.”

“I’ve gotten wolf vibes from her before,” Priyanka says.

Brooke shakes her head fiercely. “She’s human. She just really likes dogs–”

Nina purses her lips.

“–and her table manners leave something to be desired,” Brooke continues, “but she’s human. Besides, I’d know if she wasn’t.”

Kameron frowns.

“What?” Brooke demands.

“You can be kind of oblivious sometimes.” Nina takes over. “I mean, Kameron had a crush on you for months before…” she cuts herself off as Brooke and Kameron look anywhere but at each other, not needing the reminder of their old fling. If vampires could blush, they’d both be flaming.

“But that’s fine now,” Kameron says quickly. “I have Asia, and you have–”

“–A crush on Vanessa,” Priyanka interrupts.

Brooke sighs. She knows her face can’t feel hot, but somehow it does anyway. She knows she has a crush; knows she rushes home after nights with her friends just to see Vanessa before she leaves for work, knows she laughs over the stupidest things just because Vanessa does them. But it hurts to hear it out loud when she can’t do much about it. Vampires and humans didn’t mix. If they had any kind of relationship, Brooke wouldn’t be able to hide the secret forever, and Vanessa would probably run when she found out. Who wouldn’t?

But Brooke doesn’t know how much longer she can keep her feelings inside, pretend she feels nothing when Vanessa sings to herself in the shower, or plays with her dog, or tells Brooke to listen to new songs she discovers, both of them huddling around Vanessa’s phone and smiling.

“I really think you should tell her you like her, Brooke,” Nina says, and Kameron nods.

Brooke shakes her head. “Nothing can happen.”

Priyanka winks. “I think it can. I see romance in your future.”

“We all know you just pretend to be psychic because you’re in love with Alice from Twilight,” Brooke mutters, and she lets the erupting laughter distract her from Vanessa.

—

Silky and A’keria’s paranoia rubs off on Vanessa for a while. She keeps Brooke out in the sun for hours, bumps Brooke in front of mirrors, “accidentally” makes too much garlic bread. She stops just short of running at Brooke with a cross. Brooke’s human, just human, even if Silky and A’keria aren’t convinced.

Vanessa decides to make breakfast to gloss over any odd behavior Brooke might have noticed. Brooke usually eats a protein bar before she goes to bed each morning, and Vanessa wants her to have a real breakfast.

The idea of telling Brooke her feelings runs through Vanessa’s mind as she flips pancakes. Her being a werewolf is just a small secret, really. A lot easier to hide than her feelings. Lately it’s been all she can do to stop staring at Brooke’s soft skin, to not grab her and finally see how her lips feel.

Keys jingle in the hall and she knows it’s Brooke and her keys with the cat keychain. It’s just a stupid little detail, but Vanessa’s heart swells with love for Brooke, and it makes her mind up for her.

Vanessa sets the pancakes and scrambled eggs on the table just as the door creaks open.

“Vanessa?” Brooke blinks in confusion. “What’s this?”

“I made breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Brooke says, but she’s already drowning her pancakes in syrup.

Vanessa sits across from her. “I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you ate a real breakfast.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow.

“Protein bars aren’t breakfast and you know it!” Vanessa’s yell morphs into a laugh that Brooke matches.

“Okay, okay.” Brooke grins. “These pancakes are amazing, by the way.”

“I know.” Vanessa laughs.

Brooke sips her coffee, and maybe Vanessa bumps the table, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe Brooke’s sure, steady hands just fumble a bit. Either way, there’s a spot of coffee soaking Brooke’s shirt, and when Brooke grabs a washcloth, Vanessa stands up, legs wobbling.

“Maybe you should take that off,” Vanessa says, watching Brooke drop the cloth in the sink.

Brooke raises an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming devilishly. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Vanessa breathes, “maybe you should take that off.”

Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa’s heart speeds up, wondering if she’s made the wrong move. But then Brooke grins. “You first.”

Vanessa’s whole body is on fire as she lifts up her shirt, her face bright red when Brooke’s eyes linger.

“Bed. Now,” Brooke commands, and Vanessa runs.

—

Vanessa doesn’t realize until later. How could she have realized when Brooke’s hands were roaming her body, when her cool lips touched Vanessa’s, when her ears were full of nothing but her own gasps and moans?

No, she doesn’t realize until later, when Brooke is at work and Vanessa’s head is finally clear again, able to think of something besides the blonde hair that Vanessa’s hands tore through and left messy, the soft lips she finally got to kiss, the arm that wrapped around her waist until she fell asleep.

Through all the gasps and touches and excitement, Vanessa’s heart was a bird in her chest, fluttering frantically in response to each and every touch. But when she thinks about it, there was no pulse thrumming through the still rivers of Brooke’s veins as her wrists brushed Vanessa’s body. When she thinks about it, all she heard from Brooke’s rib cage was silence.

Brooke has no heartbeat. And they need to talk.

—

Nina’s mouth hangs open when Brooke walks in the bar that night, no doubt knowing what just happened. “Brooke, you–”

Brooke sits down and rests her head on the sticky bar table. “I had sex with Vanessa,” she groans into the wood, knowing they’ll hear her.

“I told you bitches!” Priyanka yells.

“Shut it, Miss Cleo,” Brooke says, raising her head and taking in everyone’s expressions–all of satisfaction and acceptance, not a shocked face in sight.

“What are you gonna do now?” Kameron asks. “Does she know? Did she notice you don’t have a heartbeat?”

“Hers was going fast enough for us both,” Brooke says. “Besides, she wasn’t close enough to my chest to hear anything… I don’t think so, at least.”

“What are you gonna do?” Nina asks.

Brooke groans again. “I don’t know. I’m hoping it’ll be a one-time thing and we’ll go back to normal.”

“And if you don’t?”

Brooke sighs. If Vanessa wants a real relationship after this, it wouldn’t be fair to her to do that. Brooke would have to run, and she looks around at her friends and knows she never wants to leave them, just like she never wants to leave Vanessa. She forces those thoughts away. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to do? Get a cake that says ‘Hey, I’m a vampire?’”

Kameron shrugs. “That’s how I told Asia,” she says, so deadpan Brooke can’t even tell if it’s a lie.

“You can’t do a cake, you gotta do some classier shit,” Priyanka says. “Cream puffs are classy, right? Do cream puffs.”

Kameron suggests eclairs, and Priyanka insists that cream puffs are better. Brooke buries her face in her hands. If she wasn’t a vampire, her friends would’ve given her a stress-induced heart attack by now.

“Okay, cream puffs and eclairs are basically the same thing!” Nina hisses until Priyanka and Kameron quiet down. Nina then turns to Brooke, a hand on her arm. “Look, things are still new, you don’t have to tell her anything yet. Just… do the romantic shit. You’ve been single for decades, just be in love for right now.”

Just be in love for right now. Brooke considers it. She hasn’t had anything remotely like love since her and Kameron had their brief thing in the 90’s, before deciding they were better as friends. Before that, well… Brooke doesn’t think she ever has. There were crushes, sure, like the waitress at that diner who knew Brooke’s coffee order, the grocery store cashier that always flirted with her. But they were human, and Brooke knew nothing could ever happen, that she could never have anything with them. But something about Vanessa, human or not, makes her want to try.

“You’re right,” Brooke says to Nina. “I think me and Vanessa need to talk.”

—

The sun is shining when Brooke gets back to the apartment, and Vanessa is standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips.

“Everything okay?” Brooke asks. Vanessa obviously has something to say, and Brooke’s stomach lurches with the fear that it’s something bad. What if Vanessa wants to move out after what happened?

“I think I should be asking you that, considering you have no heartbeat,” Vanessa mutters, clenching her fists.

Brooke gulps, rubbing through her actions the past week, wondering if she did something to reveal it, because how does Vanessa know? It doesn’t make sense, and she decides to turn the tables.

“How do you know I have no heartbeat?” Brooke demands. “You would’ve had to be right against my chest to notice, and you weren’t. Unless…” Nina’s theory runs through her mind, and it’s like a fog clears right in front of Brooke. “You’re a werewolf!” Brooke yells, pointing at Vanessa. “That’s why you have advanced hearing. That’s why my cats have to stay in my room!”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanessa tries, crossing her arms.

Brooke crosses hers too. “Then I don’t know what you’re talking about either.”

They’re in a standoff, and Brooke isn’t going to give first. She’ll stay for decades, if she has to. She narrows her eyes at Vanessa, who’s having trouble holding her expression as the seconds tick.

“Fine!” Vanessa yells. “I’m a wolf.” Her face softens suddenly, and she looks at Brooke with love in her eyes. “But I promise I’ll never hurt you, ever. I keep my mind when I change, and I go far away, just in case. I’d never put you in danger.”

Brooke’s head spins with it all. So Vanessa really is a werewolf—but from the steps she takes to protect herself and others, she’s clearly as kind and caring as she always has been, helping old ladies cross the street. And what does it matter, really, that Vanessa isn’t fully human, when Brooke isn’t human herself? And if Vanessa isn’t human, Brooke being a vampire won’t matter to her, and Brooke warms at the thought. She moves closer to Vanessa, pulls her into a hug. “I’ll never hurt you either,” she promises. “I only drink animal blood. I just didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you.”

It seems so stupid now, considering the secret Vanessa’s had this whole time, and Brooke can’t believe she didn’t notice. Maybe she really is as oblivious as Nina said. But maybe, from the love in Vanessa’s eyes, it doesn’t matter.

“It’s hard to scare a wolf.”

“I’m stupid, aren’t I?” Brooke sighs.

Vanessa shakes her head. “I’m just as stupid, don’t worry. Silky and A’keria told me you were a vampire but I didn’t want to see it. All I saw was you, and I knew I couldn’t have you because I’m—“

“A wolf,” Brooke finishes. “I didn’t see it either. I really should’ve, though, considering the mess you make when you eat.”

“Hey!”

“And how every dog in a 3-mile radius runs to you.”

“Says Miss Brooke Lynn ‘I only wear black’ Hytes!” Vanessa yells, and Brooke snorts.

“I wear gray sometimes!” Brooke protests, and Vanessa rolls her eyes.

Brooke squeezes her gently, breathing in her apple shampoo, letting it calm her. Vanessa looks up at Brooke and grins hopefully. “So can we do this, then? You and me?”

You and me, Brooke thinks, slightly daunted by how large those words seem. With Vanessa being a wolf, the risk of a human knowing her secret and being in danger is gone. Werewolves even age abnormally slow, so her and Vanessa will have lots of time together. And they already live together, already cook together every night and share their lives each day. How different can it be to make it a full relationship, let their feelings show instead of dancing around them?

“We can do this,” Brooke says.

Vanessa reaches up and kisses her, and Brooke has never felt so human.

[imagines-mha]

Ma’am, I have been scouring the internet, but I cannot find any BNHA x readers where the READER is the Yandere >:( I was a disappointed bean, but I have decided to turn to you for help. Reader is jealous of ochako’s relationship with Izuku, Yandere murder hijinks ensue? I suck a describing this sorta thing but this would make me a happy bean. Lotsa love for you dear!! 💕💖💞💕💘💗 -Peachy

Omg my LOVE 🥺 ur so right NOONE writes a yandere! reader these days!! I hope this was okay 💖💖

〰️💚 Unhealthy Obsessions 💚〰️

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x yandere! reader

Fic type: Yandere

Warnings: gore, murder, yandere, kidnapping, obsessions, rip uraraka but y/n’s different

Plot: You know what Izuku needs. It’s definitely not Uraraka

Word count: 2079

You knew Izuku Midoriya well.

You knew he wanted to be the next number 1 hero. You knew his childhood nickname from Bakugo Katsuki was Deku. You knew he was born quirkless. You knew his birthday was July 15th. You knew he stood at 5’5. You knew his mother's name was Inko and he wasn’t in contact with his father. You knew he had a hamster back home. You knew his favourite restaurant. You knew he did his laundry on Thursdays and he separated his whites. You knew he got up an hour earlier than everyone else to train in secret. You knew last week he cut his arm from a loose nail in the wall. You knew he mumbled to himself at nights when no one was awake, and you knew he stirred his coffee exactly six times before drinking it.

You knew Izuku Midoriya more than anyone else in the entire world. Unfortunately, Izuku Midoriya barely even knew you existed.

Pity.

You were just another girl in 1-A to him. Your relevance stopped at trading notes whenever he needed something difficult explained. Each time you saw him struggle with a concept, a burning fire erupted in your soul and you scrambled to help him with whatever it was.

His constant gratitude sent shocks of electricity up your veins, too. It tensed your muscles to know that he thought of you as a decent person.

His ignorance on all other fronts did very little to hinder your dedication. You decided that the less he knew about you, the more freedom you had to know more about him without getting caught.

Plus- it wasn’t as though your fluttering eyelashes and sneaky glances would get through his oblivious mind, because he was always preoccupied with his girlfriend, Ochako Uraraka. You always saw her, draped off his arm like a cheap piece of jewellery; squealing his name whenever he stepped foot into the same room as her

You often wondered if her squealing would sound any different if she were being held in a choke-hold…

That's why tonight would be so painstakingly glorious, for you anyway. Because tonight would finally be the night you would reap your victory over the boy that you deserved; that you worked so hard on. You knew the subject of Izuku back and forth, inside out and upside down. You bet Uraraka didn’t even know his ring fingers were only 2 milimetres longer than his pointers

Everyone was dispersed around the bar. You checked your phone to find it was 24 minutes past 10. Since it was a blissful summer’s night, the clouds outside were still lingering over the royal blue sky and the soft chill was only beginning to shake the leaves on the trees.

Izuku sat with some of your class, luckily those of which you managed to get somewhat close to over the year. Tsuyu Asui welcomed you over with a wave, handing you a fresh drink and kindly including you in the conversation. Your eyes were transfixed on your darling the entire time. Soon he’ll be yours.

But not now.

“Hey y/n!” The rosy voice of Ochako rang like a school bell first thing in the morning. You swallowed what was almost bile to the back of your throat and shot her a smile through pursed lips,

“Hi Uraraka!”

It was as friendly as you could muster, and she seemed to buy it- judging by how quickly the conversation flowed. You used your oh-so-bright, convincing personality to coax everyone into drinking a lot more than they probably should have. Anything to numb his memory, you thought, you couldn’t have your darling in distress for too long

It took a while for them all to drink enough to get up off their seats, and finally you were free to act

You began with the easiest step: the sleeping pills. You used this tactic a lot more than you would ever admit. But it was easy, quick, and the possibilities of you ever getting caught were reduced to almost nothing! What other methods promised such outcomes?

You finished popping them in as many of the cups as you could, managing to avoid any prying questions by Bakugo in the process. You never took him to be such a curious boy, but one time he had caught you rummaging through Izuku’s locker in the early hours before school, and you had carelessly blurted out something about leaving a memory pen there from the day before. You remembered the way he narrowed his eyes at you and stormed off again, muttering on about how careless other students were in comparison to him

You were grateful he ditched the subject after that night, but you never missed the questioning glances he would send your way when you were always first to offer Izuku help with cleaning out his things.

11 minutes past midnight.

You could feel a tornado of nerves spinning around in the pit of your stomach. It rose and fell with every person that slumped into their chairs and let your pills sing them to sleep. If they weren’t outcold, they were aimlessly stumbling around like zombies in the smoked-up strobe lights. Your plan, so far, was working in your favour. All that was left was the core of it.

Spotting your target alone for once curved a smile upward onto your red lips. She was searching for her phone, the one that you had swiped the moment she got up to dance. You had no remorse- she deserved it. Plus, it wasn’t like she’d be using it past today anyway

“Hey ochako!” your modulated voice complemented your bright smile perfectly. Her gaze found yours, and you could notice her distress through her exhausted state. Her eyes opened and shut slowly, and her speech was beginning to slur. Any moment now and she would join an unconscious Tsuyu at the other end of the table

“y/n...m-my..is e-everyone alright..?” she asked in a drowsy tone, sitting down at the end of the booth and gazing up to you hopelessly. You towered above her, full of energy while hers was actively depleting. The feeling itself sent a sugar rush straight to your chest, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud.

“Lie down Ochako…” you feigned worry, removing her hand from balancing her head and aiding her with resting on the table, “i’ll get you some water…”

She feebly nodded and her eyes slowly shut. The only challenge for you now was to hide her unconscious body from the eyes of your peers before they noticed something was wrong. However, judging by the way they were all exactly like her at the moment, that didn’t look at all likely

You blocked her from view until you were certain she was completely knocked out, and then slung her limp arm over your shoulder. She would be knocked out for at least two hours, and your task would take 45 minutes at the most. You basked in your blissful cruelty, ad kicked open one of the back doors of the bar

The cool chill of the June night gave you the intake of oxygen you needed after spending the night in the suffocatingly hot bar. The outdoor’s silence numbed your ears and the fresh smell of rain blessed your nostrils with something other than alcohol.

If you hadn’t have been about to commit murder, this would have passed for a rather peaceful night

You tugged Uraraka away from the back doors and began to tread up the small lane of an alleyway, caved in by bricks and graffiti. It looked like a crime scene just waiting to happen. You used your phone’s flashlight to find a little incision in the alley, and threw her body into it as though you were discarding something disgusting from the bottom of your shoe.

You had to admit. She looked peaceful lying slumped against the wall, with her arms crossed over her stomach to allow her body to squeeze in between the tiny crawl space. If she weren’t the most disgusting, threatening thing you had ever seen, maybe her demise would have been kinder

How tragic

You drew your pointed blade and selfishly let out a laugh; maniacal at worst. Her eyes didn’t budge when you roughly plunged it into her chest, but you could feel the fighting heaves in her chest nonetheless. It gave you a drive to continue slashing, although some of you wished she were awake, to resist you. That way you would feel more accomplished after you slaughtered her

But you can’t have everything, right?

You laughed another remorseless laugh and continued stabbing. Stabbing for every kiss they shared, and for every time they said “i love you”. Stabbing for every stupid gift she gave him, and stabbing for every single time she moaned his name. Stabbing until there was no room left to stab.

When you were certain she was dead, you drew your lighter. You knew only to burn the parts of her skin that you had touched, but you let yourself have a little fun on her face too. That look you always hated was now blistering red. That body you’ve always envied was now burnt to the bone. You could smell sizzling flesh burn it’s way up into your sinuses.

She looked prettier when she was mutilated, you concluded

You chucked the lighter in a nearby dumpster, then slipped your compact knife safely into its sheath and under the bottom of your bra. You returned to the bar, taking a few minutes to dismantle any active security cameras, and headed to the bathroom to change outfits

A few sleeping pills later and you were just as out cold as everyone else. You were as little of a suspect as Izuku himself right now, and that thought alone made you sleep like a baby

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

“Izuku, darling?”

Your voice was like honey. Ever since Uraraka’s ‘tragic murder’ you had stepped in to assist Izuku with his recovery, because you knew more than anyone how much he needed all the love he could get right now

And for him, you had love to spare

“Yeah?” he asked feebly from the bed, where he was all wrapped up tightly in soft, fuzzy blankets and fresh bandages. They clung tightly to his broken wrist: the result of tumbling down the flight of slippery stairs

You almost felt sorry for him when it happened. You were expecting a broken arm at best, and were a little disappointed with the fact it was only his hand, but he whimpered so poorly that night that it put pangs of sadness in your heart. For once, you were grateful he always made a quick recovery

You would just have to make sure you used a stronger substance next time

“Dinner’s ready!” you cooed, appearing in his room with two full plates in your hand. He was bound here for as long as it took for his legs to start working again. Poor little accident prone izuku couldn’t even remember breaking them in the first place because of how strong his concussion was afterwards.

You still had the splatters of blood on your baseball bat in the basement ...

The sweetest sensation in the world was watching his eyes slowly droop while he was eating. You had put four sleeping pills in his food, and they were taking their toll rather quickly- much to your delight. As you said, they did the job better than anything else

“y- y/n… i feel tired…” he mumbled, and you took the fork from his hand to continue feeding him the rest until he was completely passed out.

How adorable was he… looking all too innocent in your filthy mind…

You indulged yourself with taking a few pictures of him for your album. How could you resist, when he looked so helplessly precious? And he was yours; all yours to keep for as long as forever

It took effort hoisting him over your shoulder and climbing up the creaky stairs to the attic.

He barely stirred as you closed the lid of the cardboard box over him and slammed the door shut again, rushing to change and head downstairs. The doorbell rang the moment your foot breached the final step

“Miss l/n? Detective Tsukauchi here, wondering if you could answer a few questions related to the disappearance of Izuku Midoriya?”

[lynenspray]

wenjoy 03 part 2

*set in the cheating!wenjoy universe

prompt: how about irene coming home while joy is over, and joy has to hide and watch while irene fucks wendy

a/n: good idea!!! but was this the scenario u expected? teehee. wonder if we should make irene g!p too,,,, hMMMM

(HARD WARNING: dubious consent)

---

let you in my bed

*wenjoy 03 part 2, set between the prequel and part 1

(wenjoy gp!joy wenrene voyeurism)

"had a drunk night out, lost my apartment keys. won't you be a friendly neighbor, pretty please?" joy sing-songed. 

wendy scrunched her nose as she moved aside. "poetic. so impressive," she deadpanned. the living room was immediately plagued by the stench of the woman she welcomed inside; it was like someone spilled an entire bottle of whiskey on her. god, at least when wendy was in the same situation, she had the decency to drink fruity cocktails--none of that dirty old man kind of shit joy apparently preferred. 

wendy closed the door and checked the clock. it was midnight. irene would be coming home soon. 

can't do anything frisky with joy, unfortunately--not that she wasn't interested in sex with a tipsy joy. she was rough when sober, so how much more while drunk off alcohol?

they'd have to try it. just not right now. irene was on her way home.

next time. 

"take the couch."

joy groaned as she made her way through the apartment. "I don't fit on your goddamned excuse of a couch," she laughed, falling back on the mentioned furniture anyway, taking the smell of alcohol with her. "you guys are tiny and so is your stupid sofa." she spread her arms atop the backrest, showing that she was right. she wouldn't fit on this thing--not without getting neck and back pains for days, though it wasn't like it was meant for more than two people in the first place. 

wendy crossed her arms. "then take the floor."

"how hospitable. the rumours are true--you really are the kindest angel in this building."

the blonde scoffed, face flushing. she was right on that count. if irene witnessed just how mean wendy could be to joy, completely unprovoked (at least in her view), well... she didn't want to give her girlfriend that impression. 

"what do you want me to do, then?" 

joy grinned. "you tell me."

"the toilet."

she was probably going to puke her guts out in the middle of the day anyway, may as well save her the trip. it would be perfectly reasonable for wendy to suggest that. 

"that's comfortable," joy replied, sarcastic. 

wendy pinched the bridge of her nose. "the hallway."

"clever." 

fine. she couldn't kick her out when she just let her in. but then that would only leave--

no. 

no way. 

was she suggesting that joy sleep in their bed? 

wendy glared. "fine, then I'll take the stupid sofa, you guys take the bed." joy and irene could sleep beside each other--it wasn't like they were strangers. the three of them had had pleasant interactions before, but they were always outside the bedroom; casual conversation at the elevator lobby, joy helping them out that time their sink was acting up, wendy walking into irene and joy having a conversation about fabric scents in the communal laundry room, wendy offering extra servings of food she'd made. they were civil--even friends. not that close, but they were getting there. 

especially after that blowjob in joy's kitchen. that moment the woman finally fucked wendy raw in her bed. that one time they--

wendy cleared her throat. stop thinking about that. 

across from her, joy looked even more tickled silly by the suggestion of the smaller woman, cheeks rosy and skin red from the whiskey, smile as wide as it's ever been. "I wonder if you'd be fine with it sleeping in a couch that's fresh with puke on it."

wendy felt dread spike through her. "don't you dare..." she trailed off, already imagining the hell irene would give her if joy made any mark at all on their furniture.

the woman only smirked and raised her index finger in front of her, before proceeding to open her mouth and place it on her tongue, slowly sucking on it and--

wendy felt a heat boil in her tummy; a slick wet feeling slip out of her and soak her panties. fuck, joy was too hot for her own good. 

the blonde grabbed the taller's wrist before she could go any deeper, breathing heavily from the rush of heat in her pussy. "are you fucking crazy?" 

joy wasn't even resisting her hold. she still look relaxed while seated, other arm not moving an inch. the only difference was that she had a smirk on instead of a wide smile. 

"crazy for you, sweetheart," she gave her an air kiss as wendy tried pull away, disgusted. joy was so full of herself on a regular day, and it turned out that she was even worse while shit faced. tsk.

the taller and much stronger woman only had to jerk her arm once for wendy to fall right on her lap, though, thighs over her legs and chest to chest.

"is irene around?"

"on her way home."

joy hummed, staring at wendy's lips with glazed eyes, licking her own. "I miss this pussy of yours."

wendy gasped when she felt a hand on the base of her spine, pulling her closer, letting their crotches meet. joy was already hard--it wasn't obvious from the baggy jeans she wore, but now wendy's center was right against it, rocking back and forth almost against her will. how could she stop when joy's hips fit so neatly between her thighs? 

"it missed you too," wendy whined when she adjusted her pelvis and the peak of joy's buldge hit her clit. "oh fuckkkkkk," she whimpered, ready to give it all, ready to cum right here on top of the woman if she'd let her.

of course joy didn't.

the younger woman pushed her off with a chuckle as wendy bit back a cry. god fucking dammit.

"wash your face--you're redder than me right now."

the smaller woman moved without further complaint. it really wouldn't be good for irene to be suspicious in any way, and wendy's flushed face would be like being caught red handed. she arrived at the bathroom sink and splashed cold water. focus. focus. don't get caught.

the main door opened just as she came back into the living area, joy splayed on the couch as if she stumbled her way to it. what an actress.

"ah, wendy, you're still up?" irene whispered, removing her shoes by the entryway.

"yeah, take a look at who came in." wendy whispered back as they approached the couch. 

"oh."

stay cool as a cucumber, wendy. "she was really drunk, and apparently lost her keys."

irene frowned, crossing her arms as she observed their guest. "yeah, I can smell it in the air."

"sorry you came home to this."

irene blinked before looking at her. "I'll consider anywhere with anything in it a home, so long as it has you."

wendy chuckled. irene was so straightforward about her feelings--it was one of the things wendy loved about her. she was reliable, kind to a fault, really funny when she was in a mood--and most of all, honest. too bad she ended up with wendy. 

"why don't we get some rest?" 

the blonde moved over to turn the lights off, but irene stopped her. "she doesn't look comfortable. the couch is too small."

wendy raised a hand to place against her chin, pretending to think, when inside she was trying to hold in her laughter. joy was a lot more in tune with irene than she'd ever expected. she read wendy's girlfriend like a book. 

"you're right. why don't we bring her to bed, I'll take the couch?" 

irene shook her head. "the cushions already probably smell like alcohol. the bed is big enough for three. I'll go get changed--try to wake her up?" 

"come here," wendy gestured for her to come closer, pulling the woman into her space until they were almost hugging, hands around each others' waists. "why are you such a good person? it makes me love you even more."

irene breathed out a chuckle. "I'm only nice around other people because you are. I don't want to give a bad impression if you ever want to be friends with them."

"you think I want to be friends with joy?"

"aren't you already?"

wendy hummed, thinking of joy's dick in her mouth, in her pussy, in her hand. yeah, those count as friendly interactions. "yes, I think we're good friends, actually."

"I can tell you two get along. I'm glad, because she seems like a nice girl. as long as you two play nice."

wendy laughed.

"I don't want to have to scare her off if she hurts your feelings."

wendy really really liked getting hurt, actually, albeit physically. but the threat was real. irene would raze the ground for her. it made her swoon. what a charmer. 

she glanced at the couch. nothing like that annoying giant.

irene kissed her cheek before letting go, making her way to their bathroom to get ready for bed.

wendy kneeled by the sofa and tugged on a small handful of silky black hair. "wake up. you got your wish."

joy opened an eye, and wendy could tell she was on the verge of bursting out laughing. "you guys are so cute. it almost makes me want to vomit from the sugar rush."

the blonde stood and pulled at an arm, trying her best to haul her off the couch. "just get to bed already," she huffed.

"thank you for the generous offer," joy snickered, standing to put an arm over wendy's shoulders, leaning half her weight on her. "you really are heavensent."

wendy felt her eye twitch as they moved to the bedroom. their apartment wasn't huge, but it had a room, unlike joy's, and there was no fake kitchen island made of a flimsy table with a microwave on top and a fruit bowl with phallic looking fruits on it. 

also, of course, they had a couch. not that it was apparently of much use besides having sex on.

joy laid down on irene's side of the bed, an arm over her eyes to block out the lamp light. wendy stared at joy's figure. irene was right--the bed was big enough for three. with irene and wendy both being fond of sleeping until noon, it made sense. space to both cuddle when it was too cold and untangle their limbs from each other when it got too warm.

wendy let her eyes wander over the woman's body--her cropped tight shirt hugging her breasts in all the right ways and teasing her with a view of joy's flat stomach. the thick, baggy jeans, hung low and showing a sliver of her hipbones. 

damn. if only irene wasn't here.

"let's at least get you in some more comfortable clothes," wendy whispered, hearing the shower turn off. irene could come in any second. "help me out." she expertly unbuttoned joy's jeans and tugged them when the woman raised her hips.

of course she had a hard on.

wendy chuckled. "you horndog." she patted the buldge quickly, aware of their predicament.

"are you any better?" joy smirked, eyes still hidden behind an arm.

of course not.

wendy practically felt a flood gush out of her at the sight of joy in their bed. they hadn't done it here, not yet, but the sight of joy on their bed, in only a shirt and some boxer briefs, tainting their bedroom, cumming in her on their shared bed, making her all hers as she laid face down on irene's side, seeing irene's books on the nightstand, smelling irene's scent on the pillow. fuck.

"I'm good," wendy replied nonchalantly. it wasn't like joy could see her blush, anyway. she grabbed the end of the sheets and pulled up the covers until joy's waist just as irene walked in and turned the lamp off. 

they laid joy on her side, facing the center of the bed, and then placed a pillow in front of her.

"I'll stay in the middle," irene announced, puffing up her pillow and getting on the mattress.

wendy slipped in on her other side. "are you sure, babe? it's kind of my fault she's here at all."

irene stared at her, eyes as hard as steel, gaze sharp enough to cut through wendy if she disagreed. ah, there it is. wendy felt the heat in her navel burn even more. fuck, irene was so hot when she was possessive. if only she was like this more often during their intimate moments. 

the older woman wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in closer, sparking a gasp out of wendy when a thigh slotted in between her own two, almost touching her where she needed attention the most. 

"I'm sure."

she bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying not to whine or move. oh god, she needed friction, even just a little bit. she shifted her leg in a pretense of adjusting herself when really she just wanted a small taste of irene's skin on her. just--fuck. just a little bit. she can fall asleep after this.

she shifted a bit more, her heat grinding on irene's thigh, and couldn't hold back a tiny whimper.

oops. fuck.

"what are you doing?"

wendy opened her eyes to see irene staring at her in bewilderment, unaware that wendy could get so desperate.

"sorry," wendy whispered. "I just--I'm a bit frustrated."

she faced irene's stare head on, lying to her face. she was incredibly frustrated, not just a bit, especially with joy's cock so near her but off limits. the thought of being in the same bed, not allowed to have joy when she was usually making wendy all hers--it drove her kind of crazy. not to mention that irene was right here, in her arms, unaware of exactly what was going through her mind.

"I'm too tired to leave the bed."

wendy whined, but ultimately nodded. of course. she didn't expect any less, but...

"then let's--um," she whispered, "let's stay here. please? just a little bit, I promise I'll stay quiet."

irene gave her a look. "joy is right behind me."

wendy let out an annoyed sigh. fuck. "she's drunk, babe. out like a light. please, please," she started to beg, slowly grinding her hips onto irene's thigh, letting her feel her soaked panties. "if she wakes up we can just tell her it was her imagination, she's drunk after all. pretty please? unnie?"

she heard irene hiss our a breath. hah, she was so funny with her unnie kink. so easy.

wendy shifted, closer, closer, and raised her head so she could place her lips right above irene's sensitive ear. "unnie," she whispered breathily, then focused her gaze on the person on the other side of the bed, joy's features glowing in the pale moonlight, the luscious lips, the sharp line of her nose--

the open eyes, staring right back at her.

fuck. oh fuck.

"unnie--please," she begged, eyes on joy, gaze on her twitching hand on the pillow between wendy's girlfriend and her fucking--what? fuck buddy?

irene toom that moment to hook a finger on the waistband of her shorts, pulling them and her underwear down, wendy shifting her lower body so they could easily slip off. she was soaking wet.

she kept her head atop irene's, lips still on her ear, delivering kittenish licks on the shell of it as she moved to wrap her arms around irene's neck, joy watching her all the while.

irene pulled on the covers on their side, and joy was quick to do the same, hiding the sound of her shifting through wendy's soft whimpers.

"touch me, please."

she lifted her leg, the cold bite of the evening contrasting dramatically with irene's warm hand on her center. she teased her, rubbing at her clit, spreading her slick around, almost touching her hole but not quite.

"unnie," wendy whined, bucking her hips to subtly try and catch those playful fingers. "please."

across from her, joy lifted a finger to press against her own smirking lips, telling her to be quiet. then, she pulled her pajamas down an inch, reaching for her cock and positioning it so the tip was the only thing past the waistband.

oh fuck, she was so fucking hot. this entire thing was. wendy lifted her leg higher and bucked her hips faster, until irene gave in an gave her what she wanted--what she'd been begging for. those small, but strong fingers gently slipped past her hole and entered her, and wendy covered her own mouth with a hand to stop her from groaning aloud, letting irene fuck her harder, fuck her deeper. those hands were sinful, from the very tips of her fingers inside her to the knuckles that slammed into her, wanted to push past her entrance too, wanting to be in her, wanting to fuck her silly. oh god, oh god.

fuck. 

wendy keened onto irene as she watched joy lick her index finger and bring it down to her crotch, rubbing at her own tip, dragging the pad of her finger against the lining of her cock, precum dripping out as she caught them with her digit.

wendy was rutting against irene now, a little harshly, and irene slipped another finger in her, stretching her pleasantly, getting deeper, almost hitting that spot.

"more, more, unnie," wendy whined, feeling her whole body heat up, kissing irene's ear. "I'll be quiet."

"good girl."

wendy closed her eyes with a gasp as irene slipped another digit inside her, stretching her hole, quim spreading all over her thighs. she was a good girl, she was quiet in irene's arms, holding back her moans and groans, but she was also so, so bad--fucking herself onto her girlfriend as she stared at someone else, wanted longer fingers who could fuck her deeper, someone who would be rougher, tip her past her breaking point until she was nothing but a slut used for pleasure.

she opened her eyes just as she was about to reach her peak, irene's fingers moving inside her like they belonged there, joy holding her down with her gaze alone, those eyes, that smirk. oh god, fuck fuck fuck.

"that's it, baby. come for unnie," irene hissed in her ear, and wendy felt herself burst. 

her entire body was now moving against irene as she came, the delicious waves of pleasure washing over her, her hot breath puffing out of her. she went almost delirious, and joy kept watching, kept looking, until she twitched too, hand on her own cock, cumming the same time. 

her seed spilled into her hand, and she wiped them across the underside of her shirt. something in wendy snapped at the sight, at the feeling of irene continuing to fuck her, and she came another time, her hips wildly rutting, no shame now. she opened her mouth and held her tongue out, asking, begging--

"what a good girl," irene whispered in her ear.

no, no, she was a naughty, naughty girl. and joy was the only one who knew. 

the taller woman dragged a finger against her own stomach, picking up some cum, and held it near wendy's face, coming closer until wendy grabbed it with her free hand and placed it on her tongue so she could taste her, that cum she missed, that cum she could be fed with for days on end, not needing any other sustenance.

joy tasted salty, as always, and gooey because it was her seed--but also so fucking delicious. wendy pulled her hand more until she could swallow it down, knuckle deep.

do you miss me sucking you off?

joy responded with a bite to her lip as wendy came down from her orgasm, their locked gazes never breaking. she pulled her hand back and tucked her cock away as wendy let out a sigh, moving back to cuddle into irene as the older woman pulled the covers back up.

wendy nuzzled into irene's neck, tickling the older woman. "what about you?" she questioned her girlfriend, falling faster asleep as she spoke each word.

"next time," irene replied, kissing her forehead.

hm. next time.

wendy wondered who would get to use this bed in that next time scenario--if it would be irene and her or, if joy could get her way, the two of them instead. they'd just have to see. wendy kissed the skin in front of her, irene's sharp collarbone, and fell asleep in her girlfriend's arms, satisfied.

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

The House Across the Dirt Road

BTS Suga x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst

Farm/TurnoftheCentury!AU

A/N: I really do love me some angst, especially if it includes min yoongi. Idk honestly if you people are okay with reading in first person but this is just how I’ve been writing for the past few months. Still in a semi-hiatus, things are coming slowly along, and yeah. Please enjoy, if you don’t... feel free to leave critique. 

I don’t really have neighbors. I mean sure, we have a couple of stable hands, but they live with us on our property, so they’re not really neighbors. I constantly wonder what it would be like to have neighbors. I’ve read too many of Mum’s romance novels. I fantasize about what would happen if I did have neighbors. 

Would they be a widowed mother and her two sons, one of them serious and quiet, the other playful and outgoing? What if they ended up being a newlywed couple and their newborn baby girl seeking a home? Best of all, I’ve always wished that a good family would occupy that house across the dirt road, a good family with children my age that I could play with. Everyone in my family, including me, is always busy.

I’ve often thought about what my family would do to welcome them. Regardless of what kind of family they were, I just know my mum would bake some bread and offer them a place to sleep while they remade the house. Papa would wake early the next morning to help them fix up the house. My older brother would probably tag along and help. I would hide behind mum’s skirt until she told me to introduce myself to them.

I’ve always wished for neighbors.

“Oi! __, stop daydreaming and help me with the lettuce!”

“Yes mum.”

I’m ten now. I still don’t have neighbors. For the past fifteen years - or so my brother’s told me - no one’s lived in that dusty old house across the dirty road. I don’t understand why. It’s a nice little place with light blue paint, albeit a bit faded, and pretty windows. It’s two storied and from all the adventures my brother and I have gone on in there when we were little, it’s still fully furnished and there’s even a smaller, baby grand piano pushed between the couches in the corner of the living room. For now, I’ll just continue to silently wander the halls in the insensible hope a family will move in one day.

It’s dusk now and for a moment, I think I’ve fallen asleep. But I couldn’t have, I’m a night owl and I usually can't sleep until the moon and stars have been been out for hours. It can’t be possible.

So why do I see a new looking automobile growing larger and larger in the distant horizon?

An hour later, we have neighbors. The recently uninhabited house across the the dirt road is filled with the sound of banging while the Min family unloads their belongings. When they first arrived I, from the second story of our house, was met with the sight of two tired looking parents and two bored looking boys.

Now upon way closer inspection, the younger boy has a soft looking baby face with dark, tired eyes. He looks at me, the shadows of his new house dousing his features in a darker shade. His head is cocked to the side, his ivory colored hair following suit.

“What do you want?” despite the harsh question, I know from his tone he's just tired from the month long journey I heard his father tell my father all about.

I hold out the basket of fresh-baked bread my mum made specially for our new neighbors.

“This is from our family, we live across the dirt road from you. Please enjoy it and my mum says to never hesitate to ask for help whenever you or your family need it.” I smile kindly even as he wordlessly takes the basket.

He just stares at me for another minute or so before he bows his head in thanks.

“Thank you. My family is grateful for all you've done for us.” His voice is deeper and richer than I expected it to be. Afterall, he does not look that much older than I.

Soon enough the door starts to swing slowly closed. Not thinking much at all, I stick my petite hand out before it swings shut.

“I’m __.”

The brown eyed boy stops the door in the nick of time with his foot and squints at me. His eyes roll over my form, scrutinizing every inch of my ten-year-old self.

My hand gets tired and I start to feel foolish. He’s still staring at me. Right as I am about to drop my hand, he sticks his hand out as well.

“Yoongi,” is all he says while giving me a firm handshake. His hands as callous and rough, his larger fingers enveloping mine.

With that, he closes the door and leaves me curiously staring at what would have been his receding figure.

Over the next few days I don't see him outside a lot. Like most days I go about doing my usual chores, I collect the eggs, milk the cows, I hang the laundry, water the garden, tend to the horses and sheep. There are times l see him peeking through the window, studying me like I'm a whole different species.

The next time I actually see him is a good couple days later. My family invited their family over for supper and though it seems that he should've gotten more sleep, he still looks tired as he was the first day.

After supper, I approach him cautiously. I have no idea whether or not he wants to have a conversation. As I near him, he tilts his head towards me.

“__,” he greets me. I smile. He remembers my name. I take the seat beside him, ignoring the strange looks from both his and my older brothers. Some nights, I take my time eating. On those nights, I’d rather listen and absorb all the seemingly worthless information seeping from my parent’s lips. Other nights I finish supper early, those are the nights I want to talk. Tonight is one of those nights.

“Yoongi,” I nod. We sit in silence for a while. It's not as awkward as the first conversation, if you could even consider it that.

“__,” he starts slowly as if he has no idea what to say. I meet his eyes with my own level gaze.

“Yes?”

“How old are you?”

“Ten.”

“You're younger than me.”

“How old are you?”

“Eleven.”

There is a lull in our brief exchange of words. Surprisingly, it is Yoongi who restarts the conversation.

“... You spend a lot of time outside.”

“You spend a lot of time inside.”

“I do.”

“What do you do inside?”

“...”

“Yoongi?”

“... I play piano.”

“Really?” I glance up at him in shock. For the last seven years I have always admired the baby grand piano tucked away in the corner of the living room, yearning to learn how to coax the heavenly sound from those time cracked keys.

Yoongi takes my surprise the wrong way. The natural curve of his lips drops down into a sour frown.

“Well I'm sorry you don't like the way I spend my time.”

“No no…” I try to explain to him. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the piano, I've just never met anyone who knew.” His frown soon turns into a miniscule, shy smile.

“I think it's really cool you know how to play the piano.”

Though he looks back down at his half-eaten food and doesn’t say anything, I can tell he’s pleased by my words. I myself am pleased at being able to elicit an actual reaction out of such a reserved person.

I stare out the window. The moon tonight is shrouded in a silvery-grey shawl and the stars have decided not to shine as brightly as usual. I point it out.

Without a word, the dark haired boy excuses himself from the table. Did I say something wrong? I don’t move, instead I watch and wait for him to appear again. When he does, he makes no move to sit down.

I watch as he stretches a hand out to me.

“__, come with me.”

“O-okay?” His sudden invitation leaves me stuttering, but nonetheless I take his larger, more rough hand. “Yoongi… where are we going?”

Instead of verbally answering me, he bends slightly to whisper something in his mother’s ear. All I see in response was a nod from his mother who at the current moment is deeply engrossed in a conversation with my own mum. With that, his grip on my hand tightens and off we go into the night.

Well, more like the house across the dirt road. In no time at all, we are at the dimly lit living room, squished in between the couches, sitting flush against each other on the tiny piano bench.

The light of the gas lamp casts amber shadows on both of our small bodies. Yoongi carefully pushes the piano cover off, stretching his fingers before placing them precisely somewhere towards the center of the piano. I'm not expecting much after all, Yoongi is only a year my senior. Yet, all I hear next is the passionate kiss of fingers tickling the ivory of a beautiful baby grand piano.

And though I am only ten, though I've only known a number of young boys in my short life… the second I heard Min Yoongi play the piano was the moment I knew I finally fell in love with something of this earth.

His instrumental piece on the old piano takes me everywhere. Through my thoughts - as jumbled and random as they can be - and my pure human emotions. I study his face as he plays this melody spun out of what sounds like raw tears and as ominous as this sounds, the gas lamp makes him look ethereal. I’ve always dreamt of having neighbors. I just hope these stay.

He finishes with a grand flourish, his spindly fingers sliding across the keys to create a staircase of sound. As the reverberating of the last notes fade into oblivion, the dark hair boy looks at me expectantly. The silence after that masterpiece was deafening.

“What do you think?”

All I can do is stare at him in wonder and awe. Thoughts are crowding my mind as more and more questions pop up. What is that song called? Did you compose it yourself? How long did it take for you to perfect that piece? Are you really only eleven? And that’s all it takes to paint a genuine smile on his chapped lips.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and naturally, months turn into years. Yoongi and I become best friends. As time goes by slowly we learn more about each other.

His favorite color is white.

Mine is navy blue.

He has been playing piano since he was five-years-old.

I’ve been working out in our farm since I was five-years-old.

He gets sunburnt easily.

I love the sunshine.

He hates sunflowers and pickled vegetables.

I… really don’t like sunflowers or vegetables in general either.

He dislikes his hair color and wishes it was blond.

I think he’s handsome just the way he is.

He calls me a pig because of the way I end up dirty at the end of each day from working on the farm.

I call him stupid and lazy because… well just because.

It’s his birthday tomorrow. The boy with dark hair and wishes it was blond is turning sixteen and I have nothing to give him. He’s filled out well over the last four years. His skinny, awkward limbs are lean and muscular from working from dawn to dusk at his parent’s farm. Every time I poke him, his muscles are pulled taut over the planes of his body and I need to resist the want to see what’s underneath his loose shirts. His face… it’s still the same cute, pouty, tired baby face he sported when I first met him, but his jawline is sharp and his cheekbones defined.

We’re out on his porch tonight. I’m in my usual position, my back leaning against his side. My male companion is relaxed, weight on his arms with his legs pushed out in front of him. I’m huffy tonight and it’s obvious. For once I wish the stars shining above me were covered. I could have sworn they were mocking me because they know if I could, I’d give Yoongi the universe.

“Hey pig,” Yoongi calls, poking my side to get my attention. I give him the stink eye.

“What do you want?”

We’ve gotten more and more informal over the years. Sure, Min Yoongi is my senior, but be is also my best friend. 

“I want to know what you’re getting for my birthday,” he leans closer scrunching his nose in an attempt to be cute. I push his face away without any hesitation.

“Go jump in a lake, Yoongi. There’s no way in hell I’m telling you.”

“Wow, Pig. You’re so rude. I even taught you how to play piano,” he tries, trying to coax the nonexistent out of me. I roll my eyes. He tried to teach me to play piano, but no matter what he did, I was never able to master it.

“Fine,” I exhale. He lights up, thinking I’m finally going to tell him. “I’m getting you… some common sense, logic, brains for that big empty head of yours, something to cure that cold heart, and a side dish of chivalry. Oh, and did you want some manners with that, too?”

He fakes a growl, laughs and pulls me into a bone crushing hug.

“I must have done something pretty bad in my last life to deserve someone like you as a best friend.”

I gasp in mock offense and push him away... but, not wanting to lose my balance and fall down the stairs, I wrap my own arms around his slim waist without a second thought. Taking advantage of my position, I stare closely at my best friend.

“I know you secretly love me, Yoongi.”

“Yeah... I know you secretly love me, too, pig.”

Only… that was a while ago. I ended up giving him an old music book I found in my parent’s attic. Fortunately for me, he loved it. I don’t remember what it was that he played, it could have been ‘Hey Diddle Diddle’, but he could and still can make anything sound magical on that baby grand piano. But like I said. That was a long time ago.

He’s gotten older, as have I. Like most people, we’ve gotten closer over time. Though both of us are busy all day every day, I do my best to make a little time for him once in awhile. At the end of each day you can find us on the pretty roof of the house across the dirt road, nothing on our minds but the presence of each other and the sky above us. Most mornings, I’ve been known to wake up curled under his arm, drowsy and sleep-drunk from ‘stargazing’. 

As much as I love him, he’s made some choices I, had he asked for my selfish opinion, would have much rather him not made. 

He’s seventeen, and he’s going off to college soon.

I’m turning eighteen now. And though it’s been eight years since I met the dark haired boy that claimed my heart through song, my everlasting feelings still stand. But he has those feelings for someone else. Last year he went off to University. He met someone there. He’s told me all about her through the letters we’ve exchanged.

He says she’s beautiful, more beautiful than the midnight sky littered with stars the two of us spent years admiring. He says her eyes sparkle every time she sees him. He says her hair is flowy and perfect, even when it’s tangled. He says she’s a hard worker, she perseveres through her troubles and comes out victorious in the end. He says that every second he doesn’t see her is like a throbbing wound that only she can heal.

I’m turning eighteen now… and he’s probably not getting me anything. He says he’s coming back home soon, but I don’t think he’s coming in time for my birthday.

He’s probably off serenading that girl whose more beautiful than the midnight sky littered with stars. He’s probably holding her close on these cold winter nights, gazing at the stars sparkling in her eyes. He’s probably kissing her like there is no tomorrow, his dexterous fingers tangled in her flowy and perfect locks. He has probably forgotten all about me by now. Who wouldn’t, especially when he has someone as perseverant and hard working like her by his side. My heart breaks a little more every time I think of him, because all I can think about is how much he misses her.

The sun is setting as I start heading back home from the fields. The harvest has been bountiful these past couple weeks. Darkness has just about touched the tip of the mountains when my feet crunch against the familiar dirt road. Very briefly, I remember the sunset on that fateful day he arrived here. I stop in my tracks in the middle of the road. I hear the sound of a familiar song playing on the piano as I near my house. Great. I’m hallucinating now.

I crouch down and bury my face in my hands. The tears I’ve been holding back for so long fall loose. I sob, not caring that it’s my birthday and that I’m supposed to be happy. The tears come out in torrents, and I’m no longer concerned about the fact the piano had suddenly stopped playing. I wish I had never wished for neighbors. My heart wouldn’t be breaking like this. I wouldn’t feel broken like this. I’d be okay because I never ever worry about filling that empty house across the dirt road.

All of a sudden, I hear my front door opening and slamming shut. Someone runs down the steps towards me. Not wanting to appear sad on the day my family works the hardest to make me happy, I wipe my eyes quickly and stand. I turn, ready to assure the person I’m fine. I’ve never regretted a decision so much in my life.

“Hey, pig are you-”

I scoff in disbelief and stomp past the person who had come outside to comfort me, only to be stopped by a painfully familiar calloused hand on my wrist. Yanking my wrist free, I get ready to bolt inside and hide myself in the warmth of my bed. Yoongi wasn’t about to let that happen though. As soon as him fingers make contact with my waist, he pulls me backwards to him. 

“Yoongi let go of me.” My voice is laced in venom as I struggle with his vise-like grip.

“I haven’t seen you since July and when I get back - on your birthday, by the way - the first thing you do is try to run away from me?! Are you crazy? Do you know how much I’ve missed you?!” The anger is boldly prominent in his shaking voice.

I turn to glare at the dark haired boy. I’m sure my gaze is icy enough to freeze him but the the intense look in his eyes counterattacks my offense. I turn away from him again, trying even harder to escape the source of my heartache.

“__,” he whispered. I freeze when I heard him say my actual name. It’s been years since I’ve heard him call me by my actual name. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Of all the stupid questions in the world-

I spin around, eyes red and voice raw from crying.

“I’m not avoiding you. There’s work to be done.”

Yoongi throws his hands up in frustration.

“Out of all the most stupid excuses to come up with… you had to say that bull shit?! For fucks sake __! What is this about?”

I feel the tears running more freely down my face.

“What do you think, smartass? I’ve been in love with you since the day you first played piano for me, and the next thing I know, you’re sending me letters, gushing about this girl from your university-”

“Woah woah woah! Stop right there.” Yoongi says, holding his hands up to emphasize the importance of me pausing. “Who said I was talking about a girl from my university?”

His question throws me into a sudden state of confusion. If he wasn’t talking about a girl from school… who was he talking about?”

After staring at him for a good minute trying to comprehend what he had just said, Yoongi laughs in disbelief.

“Oh. My. Gosh. The girl I love more than anything else in the world is denser than a rock wall. Dear lord...” he sighs, gently cupping my face and wiping my tears. “I was never talking about a girl from University…” He pauses to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“__, you idiot pig. All this time, I was talking about you.”

I open and close my mouth, trying in vain to think of something intelligent to say. Before I can though, Yoongi brushes the pad of his thumb over the patch of skin under my eye and guides my lips to his.

And if that isn’t the best present in the world from the dark haired boy from the house across the dirt road that I fell in love with such a long time ago… I don’t know what is.