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breathings-of-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--” 

The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly.  

“Hello, Levi.”  

~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight.  

Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left.  

To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes.  

“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.”  

“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).” 

The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--” 

“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.

 He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.” 

He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea.  

You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  

“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

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alrightberries · 4 years ago

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glimpse of me and you

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff. ❈ word count: 2.6k

❈ summary: It’s your first day out of the Underground District and on the surface. Levi helps you get settled.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity.

a/n: i would like to confess that i was in A Mood.

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

i. morning

The first thing you noticed was that it was bright. Too bright.

Not the kind of brightness you saw in the warm glowing lamps that littered the Underground District, but the kind that made your eyes squint and feel sore- like they were going to pop out of your head any time soon. Your hand slips out of Levi’s to block out the light hurting your irises.

He stops walking up the staircase and turns to look at you.

“Here.” He murmurs. He places down the boxes he was holding and takes off his green Survey Corps cape, draping it around your shoulders and clasping it at the front before drawing the hood over your face. The sunlight is no longer as harsh.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod.

“Much. Thank you, Levi.”

He hums in acknowledgement, one hand picking up the boxes with your luggage and the other one slipping through yours to slowly lead you up the staircase once more. He could tell from how you squeezed his hand and kept taking deep breaths behind him that you were nervous. He couldn’t blame you, either. He remembers being the same with Isabel and Farlan two years ago.

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since he was captured and taken to the surface. Since last saw your face and heard his name slip from your lips.

It took the better part of two years to barely scrape up enough money to buy you citizenship, but as he leads you through the stairway with your warm hand in his, he knows he wouldn’t hesitate do it all again.

For you.

“It’s going to be brighter once we reach the surface.” He says. The last step of the stairway was nearing. “I know you won’t, but close your eyes if you have to. You might get disoriented if you don’t.”

True to his words, you did end up getting disoriented because you refused to close your eyes. But really now, how could you? 26 years you’ve waited for this day to come. And you would be damned if you didn’t take everything in the second you set foot above ground for the first time.

As you reached the surface, Levi notices you flinching, turning your head away from the light and gritting your teeth once you set foot on the cobble stoned streets above. Despite your clear discomfort at the brightness, you made no move to close your eyes. In fact, you even braved to let them roam around.

“Stubborn dumbass.” He scolds quietly.

He leads you a little ways off from the exit of the stairway to put your stuff in the small wagon in front of you. The small wagon was drawn by a gorgeous black horse, and you realize that this was probably the beloved mare Levi spoke of in his letters.

“Is this Estreya?” You ask. Levi hums in agreement and takes the last box you were holding to place it with the rest of your luggage with a low grunt.

When he looks back at you he notices your eyes are still squinted, but your teeth were no longer gritted. The hood was still drawn over your face and one of your hands was still shielding your eyes from the burning light. You weren’t even going to lie, you were half terrified that your eyes were going to melt from how hot the sun was.

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

You scoff. “Yeah, because horses are really common in the Underground.”

He doesn’t reply to your quip. Though the way his eyebrows relax and his lips twitch up in the slightest doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Ride the wagon. You’ll fall on your ass if you try to go on horseback.”

“If you say so, Captain Levi.”

It was now his turn to grit his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t have told you about his promotion.

“Tch, just get on. Or I’ll leave you stranded in Wall Sina.”

ii. noon

The wagon ride to Wall Rose was something you could only describe as ethereal.

You hadn’t the faintest idea the sky was so big and blue, and how fluffy the clouds seemed to be. The sky seemed to stretch for miles and miles, and knowing that there wasn’t a ceiling above you almost made you want to cry.

Wall Sina was beautiful, as well. Especially the market. The market you passed by almost made you want to stop the wagon and drag Levi from stall to stall to see what they had. They housed probably the most vibrant colored fruits and vegetables you’ve ever seen, and the smell of freshly baked bread made your mouth water. Not to mention, the air didn’t smell like moisture or piss or shit.

“Don’t get any ideas.” He says, noticing your longing stare at the colorful tents. “You look like you’re about to jump off the wagon.”

“Will you leave me stranded if I do?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Undoubtedly, though, your favorite view from the ride would be what Levi called “the suburbs.”

The tallness of the trees. The freshness of the air. The sounds of ruffling leaves. Birds and critters running around the ground and flying through the sky. The beautiful greens and blues were the biggest contrast to the drab grays and blacks you typically saw in the Underground District, and now you understood why Levi was so hellbent on taking you to the surface and never looking back.

“We’re almost there.” You hear him call out from in front of you.

Your eyes stop wandering around what Levi called a “valley”. You look past his figure sitting on the horse, spotting a castle made of bricks. It looked small from this distance but the closer you got, the more you realized that distance could be deceiving.

“Is that the Survey Corps’ base?”

“No, it’s a fucking circus.” He replies sarcastically.

“What’s a circus?”

“It’s— nevermind.”

iii. afternoon

When you got to Levi’s private quarters, you didn’t hesitate to ask for a spare towel so you could take a shower.

You didn’t even bother kissing him or unpacking your things or… making up for lost time, if you will. Instead you made a beeline for the private bathroom connected to his bedroom and spent a good hour inside, talking to him through the door about how you’ve been looking forward to taking a proper shower all week. Levi had to drag you out and stop you from wasting more of the Survey Corps’ water reservoir.

“So, let me get this straight.” You mutter.

You were sitting on his bed and he was sitting on a chair across from you. Your hair was still damp and your upper half was clad in a spare Survey Corps button down, while your bottom half was clad in nothing but your underwear.

Levi had complained that your clothes from the Underground were too dirty and would have to be washed. You called him rude, only relenting when he offered to do your laundry. But he wasn’t about to complain about the extra chores when it gave him this view.

“You’ve been captain for an entire year and only bothered to tell last week?”

“Yes.” Came his stoic reply.

“But why?!”

“I’m not hearing the end of this any time soon, am I?”

Before you could respond, Levi hears loud banging from his office door (which you noticed was connected to his bedroom) and he sighs as he wordlessly covers your bare legs with a blanket. Confused eyes met his, and all he could do was shrug as he heard the office door breakdown. The loud banging was now being directed at the bedroom door, the only thing separating you from what you assumed was some rabid raccoon.

“Levi motherfucking Ackerman!” You hear someone shriek from the other side of the wood. Okay, so maybe it’s not a rabid raccoon. “Open this door right this instant!”

You hear the lock clicking and the knob turning rapidly. Despite knowing you should probably be scared, you can’t help but smile at Levi’s clear irritation. It wasn’t the genuine kind of irritation. It was the kind he showed to Isabel— the one where he pretends to be annoyed but secretly enjoys their company.

“It’s not locked, four-eyes.” He replies.

Ah, so this must be the Hange he’s been complaining about.

“Then why can’t I open it?!”

“It’s push, not pull.”

Immediately, the banging stops, and silence takes over the room. But the silence is short lived when Hange suddenly kicks the door open and you jump from surprise.

“Don’t think that I wouldn’t find out about you bringing a civilian to the base, Ackerman!” Hange points an accusing finger at Levi’s bored face.

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. Considering I asked you to sign the authorization letter.”

The soldier ignores Levi’s quip and quickly makes their way over to you, sitting down next to your side and extending a hand.

“The name’s Hange Zoe, Section Commander of the Survey Corps. And you are?”

You warily accept their offer of a handshake. Your eyes briefly flit over to where Levi was still sat, relaxing a bit when he nods to your silent question of whether or not it was safe.

“Y/N.” You give them a polite smile.

“When Moblit told me Levi brought a civilian to the base, I was ecstatic!”

What the fuck is a Moblit? You wonder.

Your hands were still joined, and you weren’t sure if prolonged and drawn out handshakes were a custom of the surface. Not wanting to be rude, you continued to shake Hange’s hand, nodding along as they continued on.

“I didn’t peg shorty as the type to play boyfriend.”

“Neither did I.” You chuckled. “But he’s been more than wonderful. He’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Levi bites back the smile teasing his lips.

“Stop shaking Hange's hand. You’ll catch rabies or some shit.”

iv. evening

It was nearing six o’clock when Levi finally convinced Hange to go away, but only with the promise that he would introduce you to his squadron later at dinner. Normally he’d detest the idea of sharing intimate details about his personal life, but as he listens to you ask question after question about the surface, he deems the small sacrifice was more than worth this small moment with you.

“You said the surface was going to be hot. Why is it so cold now?” You ask, settling into the bed. Levi lifts up the blanket and begins to lie down beside you.

“Because it’s almost night.” He says simply. “It’s hot in the day and cold in the night.”

“Is it always like that?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It depends on the season.”

He feels you shift closer to him, lifting his arm up and placing it around your waist as your head rests on his chest. He takes a deep breath, and the smell that was so uniquely you fills up his lungs. He almost hums in delight because it’s been two years; he hasn’t had this in two years, and no force on earth could ever take it away from him again.

“Season?” You murmur, sleepy eyes staring into his.

Levi immediately knows that you’re a bedtime story away from snoozing, and he figures the fatigue is to be expected. You were, after all, being introduced to too many things at once. And judging by the bags under your eyes, you were probably too happy about going to the surface to get any sleep last night.

“Yeah. There are four seasons above ground: winter, summer, spring, and fall. Right now, it’s spring.”

“Will you tell me about the seasons?”

He feels you shift, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“You missed.”

You smile. A hand gently reaches out to grasp his chin, pulling his face towards yours to give him a gentle kiss. When you try to pull away, Levi pulls you back in.

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.” He muses as your lips broke apart. The arm wrapped around your waist holds onto you a little tighter as you relax to his side once again, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His thumb rubs small, gentle circles into your arm.

“The flowers bloom in spring. Everything blooms.” He explains. “In fall, the temperature gets colder so the leaves start changing colors.”

“What colors do they become?”

“Mostly brown or orange.”

You nod.

“In winter, that’s when things start getting really cold. Colder than the Underground. Snow starts falling and everything gets covered in it. It’s annoying.”

“But don’t you use winter as an excuse to... y’know, convince your bosses to spend more money on tea leaves?”

It was now his turn to nod, and you merely let out a chuckle. He feels your breath fanning against his neck and he doesn’t stop his head from lulling into yours. He really did miss having you in his arms.

“Figures.” You yawn. “You’re obsessed with that stuff.”

He feels a sleepy kiss press against his collarbones, and he places a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs. “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“But you haven’t told me about summer yet.”

A small smile makes its way to his lips, and Levi was thankful that you couldn’t see. He’d never hear the end of your teasing if you did.

“If I tell you, will you stop annoying me?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay.”

v. midnight

The first thing Levi notices is that it was dark. Too dark.

A brief glimpse out his open window confirms his suspicions that it was, indeed, night time. He probably slept through dinner.

The second thing Levi notices is that his entire right side was numb and there was a heavy weight on his body, some of it crushing his arm. He hears your sleepy voice mumble his name in your sleep, and he relaxes once he remembers the events of today.

He kept his promise.

You had an entire future ahead of you, and Levi’s heart warms at the thought. Sure, you were a civilian who couldn’t stay in the Survey Corps base forever; and he should probably start helping you job hunt so you could both start saving up for a new house. He’d fight you tooth and nail if you tried to join the military though, and something tells him you probably wouldn’t listen.

But he kept his promise. And that’s all that mattered for now.

He hears you shift in his arms before taking a sharp inhale, and your eyes sleepily open. They glance around the room, trying to remember where you were, before landing on him. A small smile teases your lips, adoration blossoming in your heart at the man in front of you.

“What time is it?” You softly ask. One of your hands reaches out to rub your eyes before he feels a warm palm come to rest on his stomach.

“Late.” He replies. His free hand lands on your soft cheek, and he tilts your head down so he can kiss your forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

You only nod, too tired to argue. You break free from his grasp and Levi is momentarily disappointed when you turn the other way. But then your hand reaches out behind you to sling his arm over your waist, and he shifts closer when he realizes you wanted to spoon.

“So I don’t kill your arm.” You explain quietly.

Levi presses his chest to your back and his leg wraps around yours. His nose is buried into the crown of your hair and he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale and close his eyes. Your hand intertwines with the one slung around your waist, and he feels you lift up your conjoined hands to place a kiss to his knuckles.

“I love you, Levi.”

This time, Levi doesn’t bother to hide his smile. It wasn’t the first time you’ve said I love you, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. But it would never cease to amaze Levi how just three short words could turn his stoic and uninterested demeanor into one of smiles that reached his eyes.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.”

mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

#i figured since i wrote a rlly angsty smut #i should write a rlly soft fluff #and this happened #also i was in A Mood #writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine

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petersnya · 4 years ago

Text

SOMETIMES PT.2

---NOT MY PIC--- PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Angst?? Idk lol

Word count:2145

COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THE STORY AND WANT ME TO CONTINUE! SHOULD I START WRITING FROM PETER OR Y/N’S POV?

[A/N]Heyyy! Soooo this is part of this series (I’ll link part one). Hope you guys enjoy it! PLEASE COMMENT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU WANT YOU CAN SEND ME MESSAGES AND ASK QUESTIONS I'LL ANSWER LOL. Anyway, I had fun writing this chapter so I hope you like it! -J.T.S xxx

PART ONE

During physics class, Peter was working on an upcoming project with Ned, but he spent most of his time sleeping. He was basically sleep deprived from patrolling the town and stopping crimes.

“Late night huh Pete?” Ned asked, nudging Peter's arm that was supporting his head in the palms of his hands as his eyes got heavy, starting to close.

“Yeah, had to stop some petty theft last night,” he began, a yawn interrupting him, “took longer than I thought.”

The bell rang, dismissing the students to their after-school activities, if you had none you would just go home. Peter and Ned gathered their things and headed to the school’s front doors- MJ catching up with them how she usually did.

“Man, you look terrible,” MJ said with a slight chuckle.

“Wow, thanks. You're such a great friend.” Peter retorted sarcastically. Ned wasn’t riding the bus home today, he had to go with his mom for something he refused to share with anyone but Peter; so Peter just decided to ask MJ to walk home with her.

“Sorry Parker, Y/N is picking me up today. You’re welcome to ride with us if you want though.”

Peter didn’t respond for a while, debating if it was worth the anxiety attack of being around her. Y/N was the only thing that was on his mind now. His attraction grew even more when she wore those glasses. He zoned out for a while till MJ snapped her fingers in front of his face. Blinking rapidly, his vision focused on MJ who was now reaching out to grab the handle of a car door. Y/N’s car. His breath hitched in his throat once he saw Y/N wearing those same glasses from last Friday, her hair in the messiest high-ponytail he had ever seen- but it was cute to him.

“Ya coming lover-boy?” Y/N said, looking Peter right in his wide brown eyes. He blushed at the nickname before answering.

“Yeah… I’m coming.”

The three teens got into the car and started on their way. “Hey losers, wanna go shopping?”

“Y/N you only wanna go to the mall to eat,” MJ said to Y/N who was now laughing loudly, throwing her head back in agreement with her. Suddenly, in the middle of her laugh, she let out a loud snort. The car went silent as Y/N covered her mouth with her hand. MJ and Y/N burst into laughter, Peter soon joining. They all joked and sang to the songs that played on the radio all the way to the mall.

///

“Dude!”

“Jeez Y/N, you scared me! What is it?” MJ said to her, clutching her chest from being startled. They all had gone to the food court and were now just walking around the mall and into random stores.

“There's a Build-A-Bear Workshop here!” she exclaimed excitedly, pointing at it like a child. Peter couldn't help but smile at how adorable she looked freaking out over a child’s store.

“Let's go in,” Peter said to the two of them. Y/N looked at him wide-eyed with a goofy smile on her face. Her eyes looked like they twinkled with excitement. She shoved her drink into MJ’s hand, fixed her glasses, then grabbed Peter’s hand while running into the store.

“Oooohh, I should get an H.P-themed bear!” Before Peter could even answer, Y/N dragged him to one of the workers, asking if she could get a custom bear. They went over to the station and started to build.

As Y/N was finishing up the bear, she turned to Peter, “Ok, I have a very serious question. What accessories should I get?” they were standing in the Harry Potter section, looking over all of the things they had to decorate the bear. Peter shrugged, but then, he had a great idea, “I-I think you should get the uh, the glasses. The ones like your dads…” he said in an unsure tone. Y/N looked at him with a soft smile on her face. She couldn’t help herself, she had no idea what came over her as she pulled Peter into a tight embrace. Peter hesitated before putting his arms around her waist- her arms draped over his neck.

At that moment, Y/N inhaled Peters sent heavily. She felt so… safe in his arms. Like nothing bad could touch her. She never wanted to break away- MJ’s voice brought them back to reality.

“You guys done, I need to get new converse,” she said with a smirk plastered across her face. Y/N quickly pulled away from Peter, a million thoughts running through her mind, but only one seemed to overpower the rest.

I would be in his arms forever if I could.

“Ma’am, would you like to add a voice to your bear?” the lady said to Y/N, causing her thoughts to disappear.

“Actually,” Y/N paused looking at Peter and MJ, “yes, I would.” She grabbed the recorder from the worker’s hand and sent her a small smile. She looked at the curly-headed girl and the brown-eyed boy was on either side of her. She explained her plan, “Ok, I want all three of us to say ‘Mischief Managed’, ok?”

“What does that mean?” Peter questioned, looking at the two girls. They both sent him a deadly stare. “Nevermind,” he mumbled.

“Ok, on three, one… two… three…”

“Mischief Managed!” the trio yelled, causing some customers in the store to turn their heads and stare at them. They all mumbled small sorry’s as they laughed.

///

“Ok, Peter what's one thing you hate?” MJ asked, turning to face him. They were all sitting in the car at a drive-in movie. Peter was now in the front seat while MJ was in the back. They all decided to just talk because the movie was pretty boring to them.

“Uhh, I can't stand sleeping with socks on.”

“I don't think anyone can Parker,” Y/N said, laughing slightly.

“Well what about you then?” he asked her, turning his full attention as he anticipated her answer.

“Easy, liars. Ugh, I hate liars! What’s the point? It’s not like I’m gonna judge you,” Y/N answered confidently. “See, that’s what I like about you, Parker. You are very honest,” she said with a genuine smile. Peter just loved her smile, the way it lit up her whole face.

“Welp imma go get some pizza from the stand back there,” MJ said as she got out of the car. Y/N and Peter sat there in silence for a moment- comfortable silence.

Y/N was the first to break the silence, as usual, “Hey, Pete. I just wanna thank you for the whole glasses thing last Friday. It really helped me realize that I should’ve worn the glasses the moment he gave them to me. It’s like I have a part of him with me now... And I love Harry Potter, obviously. Ya know, I took a quiz and found out what house I’m in! Can you believe that I’m in-“

“You’re welcome, Y/N” Peter interrupted her rambling, sending her a small smile. They stared into each other's eyes for a while, admiring one another. Peter got this warm feeling inside and had that same surge of energy he had when he first met her. Before even processing what he was about to do, he grabbed her hand without breaking eye contact. He fiddled with the ring she had on her thumb.

Y/N breath became shallow as her heart pounded at her chest.

“I’m in Slytherin,” she said randomly, looking down at how Peter’s hands played with hers. He let out a breathy chuckle. Their eyes met once again.

Y/N gathered all of her courage and quickly reached out her hand to grab Peter’s cheek, pulling him into her. Their lips were centimeters apart. She ran her thumb along Peter’s bottom lip, slightly parting it as she leaned in closer, catching his lips with hers. Their lips interlocked and it felt like heaven to the both of them.

They pulled apart from the soft kiss and slowly opened their eyes, starting again into each other's eyes searching for the words that weren’t said. Peter couldn’t contain himself anymore. His large hand grabbed the back of Y/N’s neck, pushing his lips into hers in a lust-filled kiss. Just like the one he had imagined.

This was the moment he had dreamt of and it was finally happening.

He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, begging for an entrance. She gave it to him without hesitation. His tongue slowly slipped into her mouth while her tongue ran into his.

Peter snaked his hands to her waist, lifting her from her seated position in the driver's seat. She complied and started to adjust to where she was sitting in his lap. His hands ran from her waist to her butt and gave it a tight squeeze.

Y/N let out a soft moan into Peter’s mouth. She slowly started to trail kisses down his neck as he massaged her thighs and ass.

Y/N hands got tangled in Peter’s brown curls. She began to suck on Peter’s neck, wanting to leave a mark. Peter let out a low groan at the sensation of her soft lips and wet tongue on his skin.

He lifted her head and connected their lips together once again. His veiny hand slipped between their body making its way down to her core.

Peter never did stuff like this, and neither did Y/N. all of this was new to them but their connection was so strong that they were willing to push the limits.

As Peter’s hand reached Y/N core, he placed two fingers right on top of where her clothed clit was. He began to draw circles against it. Y/N started to rock her hips over his fingers, yearning for more friction. She started to let out moans uncontrollably, whimpering at the euphoric feeling of his fingers pressed against her dripping core.

“Peter,” Y/N breathed out trying to catch her breath. Peter hummed in response while moving his lips down to kiss her neck.

Suddenly, Peter snapped out of the trance that he seemed to be in. This moment was the best moment of his life, but his damned mind couldn’t help re-play Y/N’s words on a lope: I hate liars. Why? Before they went to the movies and were still at the mall, Y/N had asked Peter about his Stark’s internship. And, of course, he couldn’t tell her the truth. So he just lied. Y/N looked so intrigued in the conversation but Peter couldn’t bear lying to her over and over again. He felt so guilty...

“Y/N,” Peter let out. “Y/N, we can’t do this.”

Y/N head snapped up, her glasses left crooked on her face. She looked stunned by his words. Her shoulders slumped as she started asking questions.

“What? Why? Am I not a good kisser? I’ve only kissed one person before but I don’t even really wanna count that. Does my breath smell bad? Ugh, I knew this was a bad idea- wait no! I didn’t mean it like that, I just knew you didn’t like me how I liked you… I’m so stupid.”

After Y/N was finished rambling, she put her face in her hands, trying to avoid eye contact with the chocolate-eyed boy.

Peter was speechless. He didn’t know what to say, because what he wanted to say was: no Y/N that’s not it at all. You are the most amazing girl I’ve ever met, I- I lied to you…

No. he couldn’t say that it would absolutely crush her and he couldn’t bear to hurt her. Peter put his hands on her waist, making Y/N jerk her body in shock. She let a small smile spread across her face, thinking Peter was going to hug her or make a cute gesture or even continue what they had started. He lifted Y/N and slid her back to the driver’s side.

Her smile dropped from her face and she pushed herself the rest of the way to the driver’s side. Peter sat there awkwardly, praying she wouldn’t say anything. It killed him to see the gloomy look on her face as she fixed her glasses.

“I’m back with pizza!” MJ announced as she made her way into the backseat. “Woah, hey, cuz what’s wrong?”

“We’re going home,” Y/N replied with a cold tone of voice. This shocked Peter and MJ. Y/N was usually so smiley, even after her dad passed. She always tried to find the light in every situation. But something was different with this. One thing Peter knew for sure,

I fucked up…

[A/N] HEY GUYSSSS SO I HOPE YOU LIKED PART TWO. SORRY, IT WAS UP A BIT LATE, IVE BEEN HAVING INTERNET PROBLEMS. ANYWAY, SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES (IM GONNA GO BACK AND FIX THOSE)

-J.T.S XXX

@love-granger

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fortunatelyfresco · 4 years ago

Text

A Holistic Integration of Type 1 Narcolepsy into the Reading of Moist von Lipwig

Literary Interpretation, Disability, and Finding Yourself Between the Lines

As it goes, "I wrote this for me, but you can read it if you want." It might be a fun ride for anyone who is very interested in Moist von Lipwig, or narcolepsy, or both, and/or anyone who enjoys collecting small details from within a body of work and arranging them into threads that are supportable by the text, without being actually suggested by it.

Personally, I find it very interesting to read the meta behind different headcanons, and see how creators can unintentionally write a character who fits certain criteria. There are only so many traits, after all, and some of them tend to travel in groups! Humans are pattern seekers, etc etc.

The first step of reading Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic is wanting to read Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic. Being narcoleptic myself and relating heavily to Moist, this step was very easy. I invite you to take my hand and come along, at least briefly, if you were interested enough to click the readmore.

Once you have taken that step, things start falling into place. At least they do if you're intimately familiar with narcolepsy, or if you first learn about it in detail through, for instance, a Tumblr post with an agenda :)

I'll break this down symptom by symptom, citing only the ones I both have personal experience with and see textual support for.

I'll be using OverDrive's search function to catalogue "evidence" in (the American editions of) Going Postal, Making Money, and Raising Steam, so I might miss passages that don't use certain keywords.

Please take any statements along the lines of "being narcoleptic means X" with a huge grain of salt. Sometimes it's just more succinct. Narcolepsy can manifest in many different ways, and is still being actively studied. Don't base your entire understanding of it on a fandom essay I wrote to cope with the crushing pressures of capitalism. I have not even fully read the scientific studies linked here as sources.

Here we go! Spoilers abound.

I. Excessive Daytime Sleepiness (EDS) and sleep attacks.

Being narcoleptic means (salt now, please) that your brain does not get adequate rest while you sleep, no matter how much you sleep. This is because of a disturbance in the order and length of REM and NREM sleep phases. This leads to constant exhaustion. Some sources describe narcoleptic EDS as "comparable to [the sleepiness] experienced by a healthy individual who has been sleep-deprived continuously for 48–72 hours."

(Source.)

Sleep attacks can come on gradually or suddenly. In my case, I become irritable and easily overwhelmed, and nothing matters except finding a place to lie down. A more severe attack, under the right circumstances, can put me to sleep while I'm actively trying to stay awake and engaged.

Moist refers to 6:45 am as "still nighttime." He is "allergic to the concept of two seven o'clocks in one day" and is "not good at early mornings," and the narration even cites this as "one of the advantages of a life of crime; you didn't have to get up until other people had got the streets aired."

In Going Postal, he repeatedly falls asleep at his desk. I can only find two instances, but the first one describes it as having happened "again," so it happens at least three times over the course of one week. Both of the times I found were after Mr. Pump cleared his apartment, giving him access to a bed, and I can't find any reference to the fire destroying it—just that his office is "missing the whole of one wall." His presumably wooden desk is still intact, even, just "charred."

There's also no build-up either time. No direct narration of the time right before he falls asleep, just retroactive accounting for it.

Which is primarily a function of stories not showing us every boring second, and secondarily one of the smaller ways we're shown Moist being overwhelmed and racing to keep up with himself, but tertiarily it's a great set dressing if you've already decided he's narcoleptic. Sometimes sleep is just a thing that happens, without any deliberate transition. Sometimes you sit down to catch your breath or get some paperwork done, and wake up several hours later.

I've found only one example in GP of Moist waking up in his actual bed at the post office: the morning after being possessed by all the undelivered letters. Presumably either they put him there, or Mr. Pump did.

There are two points in Making Money where Moist, in an effort to be a comforting and/or guiding hand, advises people to get some sleep. First Owlswick Jenkins, and then one of the clerks (Robert) who is worried about Mr. Bent.

I take the optimistic view that this is Moist genuinely caring about these people, not just trying to get them to do what he wants. He has always done some combination of those things (GP opens with him having befriended his jailers, after all), but there's definitely a thread of him learning to treat both himself and those around him more like real people. (See also.)

Looking at this thread through narcolepsy-colored lenses, you get Moist perhaps drawing from his own experiences in an effort to be helpful. In Owlswick or Robert's position, what is something he would want to hear from the man currently in charge of his fate, or at least his job? "Get some sleep."

If we accept this as a pattern, it culminates in Raising Steam, when Moist starts to worry about "Dick Simnel and his band of overworked engineers," fixating particularly on their lack of sleep.

What sleep they got was in sleeping bags, curled up on carriage seats, eating but not eating well, just driven by their watches and their desire to keep the train going.

[...]

"People are going to die if we push them any further," he said to Dick. "You lot would rather work than sleep!"

[...]

The young man swayed in front of him and Moist's tone became gentle. "And I see now that part of my job is to tell you that you need some rest. You've run out of steam, Dick. Look, we're well on the way to Uberwald now, and while it's daylight and we're out of the mountains it's going to be the least risky time to run with minimum crew. We're all going to need our wits about us when we get near the pass. Surely you can take some rest?"

Simnel blinked as if he'd not seen Moist the first time, and said, "Yes, you're right."

And Moist could hear the slurring in the young man's speech, caught him before he fell and dragged him into a sleeping compartment, put him to bed, and noted that the engineer didn't so much fall asleep as somehow flow into it.

Moist then recruits Vimes to help him talk the rest of the engineers into getting some rest. The two of them briefly commiserate about people not realizing how important it is.

"I have to teach that to young coppers. Treasure a night's rest, I always say. Take a nap whenever you can."

"Very good."

II. Insomnia.

This is a lesser-known but very common symptom of narcolepsy. Or a comorbidity, depending on how you look at it. It seems counterintuitive if narcolepsy has been presented to you as "sleeping all the time," but it makes sense once you know it's really a matter of disruption in the brain's ability to regulate sleep cycles.

The case for this symptom is flimsier, and I fully admit I'm just reading my own experience into it. But here are two excerpts from Going Postal that I find quite suitable for my sleepy agenda:

1. "A man of affairs such as he had to learn to sleep in all kinds of situations, often while mobs were looking for him a wall's thickness away."

I latched hard onto this detail the first time I read GP.

At my worst, I could not get more than a couple hours of sleep in my bed. I kept taking naps in the bath because it was one of the few places I could sleep. It seemed to fulfill some of the criteria (isolation, temperature control, etc) that my brain demanded in exchange for playing nice.

We're told over and over again, throughout Moist's books, that he functions best under pressure.

(Brief aside: This is often cited as a reason to interpret Moist as having ADHD, which I'm also fully on board with. Not coincidentally, narcolepsy and ADHD share a few symptoms, have a notable comorbidity rate, and are treated with some of the same medications. Source.)

So again, if you're already inclined to read Moist as narcoleptic, the following is an easy jump:

"Moist thinks he's good at sleeping in strange places under strange circumstances. This is because A) his basis for comparison is a disordered attempt to sleep in normal places under normal circumstances, B) something about danger satisfies his brain into running more smoothly, and C) he's a resourceful person who is 'not given to introspection,' and so is less likely to wonder why his body demands sleep at strange times and more likely to focus on finding a place for that sleep to happen, and chalk this up later as a skill."

And returning briefly to EDS: Why would someone like Moist waste time finding a safe place to sleep while people are actively trying to kill him? At the beginning of GP, he leaves Vetinari's office and immediately goes on the run. In multiple books, when he feels threatened, his brain instinctively launches into complex escape plans. We see him successfully blend into an Ankh-Morpork crowd at least once after becoming a public figure.

So why bother? After all, a safe place to sleep is also a safe place to change clothes, or at least remove whatever distinguishing features he's given himself. Why wouldn't he just become someone else and leave town immediately?

The obvious answer is that sometimes things just happen, and an author doesn't need to know or explain every single detail of a character's past.

I would suggest, though, that one of those things might be Moist reaching a point where sleep is just not optional. A point where he not only doesn't, but can't, care about anything else. Where he is too tired to think straight, too tired to talk his way out of trouble, too tired to even contemplate the long journey from one town to the next.

2. "Moist knew he ought to get some sleep, but he had to be there, too, alive and sparkling."

Sometimes (especially in combination with underlying mental health issues) narcoleptic sleep deprivation can bypass everything I've described so far, and lead straight into a manic state. You won't necessarily find that on Google, but it's been my experience.

That's obviously not what the text is implying. "Alive and sparkling" is just a very relatable description. And we do often see Moist getting away from himself, speaking without thinking, making absurd promises that he justifies immediately afterwards as Just Part Of Being Him, always raising the stakes.

And here are a couple of excerpts from Raising Steam that could be interpreted as Moist being a light sleeper, AKA struggling to get deep sleep:

1. "And slowly Moist shut down, although a part of him was always listening to the rhythm of the rails, listening in his sleep, like a sailor listening to the sounds of the sea."

2. "All Moist's life he'd managed to find a way of sleeping in just about every circumstance and, besides, the guard's van was somehow the hub of the train; and although he didn't know how he did it, he always managed to sleep with half of one ear open."

Moist is exactly the kind of opportunist to see that as a useful tool, isn't he?

III. Hypnagogic and Hypnopompic Hallucinations.

These are hallucinations that come on as you're falling asleep or waking up. They can also happen during REM intrusions while you're awake. My most memorable ones include piano notes, someone calling my name, being trapped in the waves of a large body of water, and a huge truck going over a guard rail and tumbling down a hill. These are often, but not always, accompanied by sleep paralysis (and sleep paralysis is often, but not always, accompanied by hallucinations).

In GP, Moist casually cites his own hallucinations as proof that what is happening at the post office is not one.

"They're all alive! And angry! They talk! It was not a hallucination! I've had hallucinations and they don't hurt!"

Obviously that's not true for everyone, but it's true for Moist, and he has enough experience that he immediately recognizes the difference.

At one point while awake, Moist "[snaps] out of a dream of chandeliers" to realize someone has approached him to talk, while he was busy having visions of what the post office used to look like/could look like again.

Now, that's cheating, because we're probably supposed to assume it's a side effect of being possessed, but... I'm putting it here anyway.

There is also perhaps a case to be made for the tendency of Moist's internal monologue to lapse into extremely specific and prolonged hypotheticals. The lines between hallucinations, waking dreams, and "regular" daydreams have always been very blurry to me. I'm especially curious about the example at the end of Going Postal, which goes like this:

"Look, I know what I'm like," he said. "I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I just wanted to prove to myself I'm not like Gilt. More than a hammer, you understand? But I'm still a fraud by trade. I thought you knew that. I can fake sincerity so well that even I can't tell. I mess with people's heads—"

"You're fooling no one but yourself," said Miss Dearheart, and reached for his hand.

Moist shook her off, and ran out of the building, out of the city, and back to his old life, or lives, always moving on, selling glass as diamond, but somehow it just didn't seem to work anymore, the flair wasn't there, the fun had dropped out of it, even the cards didn't seem to work for him, the money ran out, and one winter in some inn that was no more than a slum he turned his face to the wall—

And an angel appeared.

"What just happened?" said Miss Dearheart.

Perhaps you do get two...

"Only a passing thought," said Moist.

In-universe... what is Adora reacting to? What did just happen? The fact that these incidents are not isolated to Going Postal is a point against it being some sort of literal timeline divergence caused by The Spirit Of The Post.

So maybe Moist visibly zoned out. Maybe he had some kind of minor but noticeable cataplexy attack (more on those later) as part of a REM intrusion, brought on by the intense emotions he's currently struggling with.

IV. Vivid Dreams.

Again, at least some of this is probably supposed to be part of the possession, but I've been professionally projecting myself onto the surreal dreams of magically afflicted characters for years. Do try this at home.

1. "Moist dreamed of bottled wizards, all shouting his name. In the best tradition of awaking from a nightmare, the voices gradually became one voice, which turned out to be the voice of Mr. Pump, who was shaking him."

2. Moist is uneasy about the Smoking Gnu's plan, and then he has an extremely detailed dream about the Grand Trunk burning down.

This culminates in "Moist awoke, the Grand Trunk burning in his head," followed by a paragraph of him thinking things through and starting to form his own alternative plan, followed immediately by "Moist awoke. He was at his desk, and someone had put a pillow under his head."

So he fell asleep at his desk, woke up from a vivid nightmare, was awake just long enough for a coherent train of thought, and then passed back out. Which once again is not "proof" of anything, but fits the predetermined interpretation like a glove.

V. Cataplexy.

Cataplexy is a sudden loss of muscle control, usually triggered by strong emotions. This is thought to be a facet of REM intrusion—waking instances of the atonia that is meant to stop us from acting out our dreams.

The most well-known manifestation is laughter making your knees buckle, but it's not always that severe. My own attacks range from facial twitching, usually when I'm angry or otherwise extremely upset, to all-over weakness/immobilization and near-collapse when I laugh. My knees have fully buckled once or twice.

This is the biggest stretch. This is the one that is absolutely only there if you've already decided to read entire novels between the lines. It's also not even necessary for the broader headcanon; plenty of people have narcolepsy without cataplexy (or such mild cataplexy that it's never noticeable, or very delayed onset, etc).

However. I am doing this for fun. So I want him to have it. It's also become a major part of how I imagine Moist engaging with emotion, and I'd like to make a case for that.

There are a few scattered references to Moist's legs shaking, or being unsteady, or outright giving way, but there's usually an external physical reason, and/or enough psychological shock to justify it without a medical condition.

The most compelling example I've found so far comes from Moist and Adora's conversation about people expecting Moist to deliver letters to the gods.

"I never promised to—"

"You promised to when you sold them the stamps!"

Moist almost fell off his chair. She'd wielded the sentence like a fist.

"And it'll give them hope," she added, rather more quietly.

"False hope," said Moist, struggling upright.

"Almost fell off his chair" at first sounds like casual hyperbole, but then "struggling upright" implies it was a bit more literal. It's also an accurate description of me recovering from my more severe attacks, supporting myself on a wall or my spouse, or pushing myself up if I've fallen over in bed.

That happens to me multiple times per day, by the way. It doesn't bother me, and I didn't realize there was anything unusual about it for a long time. I barely think about it, except to fondly note that my spouse is good at making me laugh.

Which is to say, even severe cataplexy is not always noticeable or debilitating. Sometimes it absolutely is! It can be downright dangerous, depending on where you are, what you're doing, and whether you have any other conditions it might exacerbate. I don't want to undermine that.

I am just hell-bent on justifying the idea that this fictional character could have repeated attacks throughout the canonical narrative that are so routine they don't merit an explanation, or even a description. Especially for someone who is used to hiding his few distinguishing features behind false ones that are much more memorable. (See also.)

(That link goes to my own fanfic. Sorry.)

On the milder side, between Going Postal and Making Money, there are three instances of Moist's mouth "dropping open" when he's shocked, upset, confused, or some combination of the three. This is the kind of thing that shows up a lot in fiction, but rarely happens so literally in real life.

(There's technically a fourth instance, but I'm not counting it because it seems to be a deliberate choice on his part to convey surprise.)

And then there's laughter. Or rather, there isn't. I could be missing something, but I've searched all three books for instances of laughter and various synonyms (not counting spoken "Ha!"s), and what I've come up with is:

Moist laughs once in Going Postal, when he receives the assignment for the race to Genua.

Two packages were handed over. Moist undid his, and burst out laughing.

There's also an instance earlier in the book where Moist nearly "burst[s] out laughing."

I find the specifics here interesting, and, for our purposes, fortuitous. Cataplexy is complicated and presents differently for everyone. In my case, when laughter triggers an attack, one of the effects (which is sometimes also a cause) is that I laugh very hard, with little or no control. "Burst out laughing" is quite apt.

Let's move on to Making Money, and start with a quick tangent:

Mr. Bent explains that he has no sense of humor due to a medical condition, and that he isn't upset about this and doesn't understand why people feel sorry for him.

Moist immediately starts in with "Have you tried—" before getting cut off by the frustrated Bent.

Out-of-universe, "Have you tried" is such a well-known refrain to anyone with an incurable condition, I'm not at all surprised to find it in a book written by someone who had at least begun the process that would lead to a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's. And Pratchett has certainly never shied away from portraying ignorance in his protagonists.

In-universe, it feels a little odd. Moist's tongue runs away from him all the time, but usually in the form of making ridiculous claims or impossible promises. Moist's entire stock-in-trade is People Skills, and it feels strange for him to make this kind of mistake immediately after being told Mr. Bent is not looking for solutions.

But if one were reading with, for instance, the idea in mind that Moist himself has an incurable condition related to laughter and is enthusiastic about, but still relatively new to, the practice of drawing on his own experiences to help people... it is easy to imagine the gears in his head turning the wrong way, superimposing those experiences over the tail end of Mr. Bent's explanation. Disabled people are not immune to these well-meaning pitfalls.

There is another Mr. Bent moment that I want to discuss, but we'll circle back around to it later.

I found two instances of Moist himself laughing in MM.

1. "He said it with a laugh, to lighten the mood a little."

This is deliberate laughter, employed as a social tactic. A polite chuckle, probably. Not the sort of thing that generally triggers cataplexy.

2. "Moist started to laugh, and stopped at the sight of her grave expression."

The first and only involuntary laugh in MM. It doesn't always trigger attacks...

Which brings us to Raising Steam. Compared to the first two books, Moist laughs a lot here. I count nine instances. Two of them are "burst out laughing"s, a couple include him as part of a group, some of it comes off as deliberate, and some of it doesn't.

I've always seen a lot of... rage in Raising Steam. Combing through it for laughter, I realized Moist's emotions in general are much closer to the surface here, and he's much less concerned about letting people see them. He laughs with friends and acquaintances, he cries in front of strangers, he shouts at Harry King, he has that entire conversation with Dick that boils down to "I'm very worried about you," etc.

Opinions vary wildly and sharply on Raising Steam. I have my own hangups with it, as I do with most books in the series. (Every time I make a new Discworld post, Tumblr passive-aggressively suggests the tag "my kingdom for a discworld character who is normal about women and other species.")

But I like this particular change in Moist, and I choose to see it as character development. He's trading in the professional detachment of a conman for the ability to grow into himself as a person and make meaningful connections.

So, what does that have to do with cataplexy? A lot.

I don't want to get too maudlin, so I'll just say I have plenty of personal experience with emotional repression masking cataplexy symptoms. And so, I believe, does the version of Moist we've put together over the course of this post.

Which brings us back to Making Money, and Mr. Bent. He says something about Moist that I find very interesting: "I do not trust those who laugh too easily."

Unless I've missed something, at that point in the book, Moist has never actually laughed in front of him. And Mr. Bent is a man who pays very close attention to details.

So, what is the in-universe explanation for this? I'd like to propose that Moist is very skilled at seeming to laugh, without actually laughing. He smiles, he's friendly, and he makes other people laugh, which is another thing Bent dislikes about him. He gives the impression of being someone who laughs a lot. (He certainly left that impression on me; I was very surprised by the lack of examples in the first two books.)

Even staying strictly within the bounds of canon, it's easy to imagine why this might have become part of Moist's camouflage in his previous life. He wasn't looking to get attached to anyone, and he didn't want anyone getting inside his head. Engaging with people genuinely enough to laugh at their jokes would run counter to both of those things, but some of his personas still needed to come off as friendly and sociable.

Still working within the canon, it makes sense to assume he's similarly distanced himself from emotion in general. He sits in a cell for several weeks without truly believing he's going to die. He's bewildered when Mr. Pump points out that his schemes have hurt innocent people. He has no idea what to do with his feelings for Adora. Etc.

Interpreting Moist as having cataplexy adds an extra element of danger. Moist thrives on danger, but there's a difference between the thrill of a con and the threat of sudden, uncontrollable displays of vulnerability. And so it becomes even easier to see him stifling his own emotional capacity.*

We meet Moist at a moment of great upheaval. He is forcibly removed from his cocoon of false identities, and pushed out into the world as himself. And we are shown and told throughout Going Postal that he does not know how to be himself. (See also.)

He is repeatedly stymied by his own emotions. He gets tongue-tied and confused around Adora, he snaps at Mr. Pump, he lashes out at Mr. Groat, he gets lost in school flashbacks when he meets Miss Maccalariat. This thread continues in Making Money, where the sudden reappearance of Cribbins immediately rattles him into making an uncharacteristic mistake.

I called him Cribbins! Just then! I called him Cribbins! Did he tell me his name? Did he notice? He must have noticed!

Later in the same book, Moist misses a crucial opportunity to run damage control on the bank's public image... because he's excited to see Adora.

The Moist of GP and MM is not used to feeling things so deeply. It throws him off his game. I'm not at all suggesting cataplexy is the only (or even primary) reason for that, but I do think there's room for it on both sides of the cause and effect equation.

With or without the cataplexy, I find Moist's relative emotional openness in Raising Steam... really nice. (It's a work in progress. He's still getting a handle on anger.)

Cataplexy just adds another dimension. A physical manifestation of emotional vulnerability, which would have been especially untenable for a teenager on the run. Just one more facet of the real, human, fallible Moist von Lipwig who spent years buried beneath Albert Spangler and all the rest.

Another piece of himself that Moist is growing to understand and accept, as he learns to more comfortably be himself.

The Moist of Going Postal runs into a burning building to save lives without fully understanding why he wants to, and justifies it on the fly as an essential part of the role he's trying to play.

The Moist of Raising Steam mindlessly throws himself under a train to save two children, and then blows up at Harry King about the lack of safety regulations. Freshly traumatized by the murder of several railway workers and his own violent, vengeful response to it, he still offers, in the face of Harry's own grief, to be the one to inform their families. On a long and dangerous journey with plenty of moving parts to think about, he worries about Dick Simnel and the other engineers, and pushes them to take better care of themselves.

He also meets a bunch of kids who nearly derailed a train as part of a childish scheme. His admonishment is startlingly vivid.

"Can you imagine a railway accident? The screaming of the rails and the people inside and the explosion that scythes the countryside around when the boiler bursts? And you, little girl, and your little friends, would have done all that. Killed a trainload of people."

[...]

"I'll square this with the engine driver, but if I was you I'd get my pencil and turn any clever ideas you have like this into a book or two. Those penny dreadfuls are all the rage in the railway bookshops."

Maybe what he is also saying, between the lines, is:

I left home at 14 and began a life of smoke and mirrors. I was empty inside, and I thought everyone else was, too. It was all fun and games, and then a man made of clay told me I was killing people. Nip it in the bud, child. Write books.

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

*There are studies suggesting that in addition to deliberately employed "tricks," people with cataplexy may experience physiological reactions in the brain meant to inhibit laughter. (Source 1, Source 2.)

Most of the information here is way over my head, but that second link also says "one region of the brain called the zona incerta (meaning 'zone of uncertainty') was only activated during laughter in people with narcolepsy, not in controls. Research on the zona incerta in animals suggests that it also helps to control fear-associated behavior."

The linked article about that (https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-018-03581-6) is also over my head, but I would certainly describe Moist von Lipwig as having unusual fear responses.**

**Narcolepsy is a fun roller-coaster ride of constant scientific discoveries about exactly which parts of your brain are paying too much attention, not paying enough attention, or trying to eat each other.

#moist von lipwig #narcolepsy #discworld #disabled headcanons #oh my god this got so out of hand #earned itself a title AND a subtitle #mr. cybulskis i'm sorry i fell asleep in your class every day it was at the exact wrong time and temperature and lighting

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seita · 5 years ago

Text

― bnha abc’s: hitoshi shinsou [nsfw edition].

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

ғʟᴜғғ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

⤑ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

∴ since sex is so intense with him, he’s always faithful to aftercare. ∴ he literally never skimps on it. ∴ if you take a while to settle down, he’ll clean you off with a warm washcloth and cuddle with you with soft kisses and caresses until you’re clear headed. ∴ mixes lots of praise in the process, knowing how sensitive you feel emotionally. ∴ then he’ll take a bath with you. ∴ if you come back to earth pretty quickly and easily, he’ll be more relaxed and be more keen on cracking jokes and teasing you. ∴ he’ll run a bath and have a relaxing soak, chatting casually with you about anything that came to mind.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

∴ his: his hands. he knows how to use them and he loves how they look on your body. he knows he has really pretty, lithe fingers. also, the fact you’re always so eager to hold his hand makes him appreciate them more.

∴ yours: he’s a breast man. there’s something about feeling your breasts in his hands, leaving marks on the soft flesh. he loves how you react when he plays with your nipples. he can never resist taking them into his mouth when he fucks you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

∴ he will cum literally wherever you want him to. ∴ if u want him to pull out, he’ll take pleasure in marking your body with his cum. ∴ if you want him to release inside, then he’s gonna cum even harder giving you a nice creampie. ∴ he maintains a decent enough diet so his cum def doesn’t taste bad -- a little bitter, maybe but something you could handle. ∴ he cums a lot too, several spurts releasing. ∴ his orgasm lasts a good amount too ― he cums really hard lmao.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

∴ he has...on more than one occasion... ∴ jerked off using ur panties lmao. ∴ he doesn’t exactly keep it a secret but ∴ he’s never going to just admit he did it. ∴ if you call him out on it he’ll probably easily confess. ∴ but until then....where oh where do ur panties keep going lmao

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

∴ he hasn’t had many partners. ∴ but...he has experience in the sense that he has done research and tried such a wide variety of kinks and positions that he’s just...got it down to a science. ∴ he always makes sure his bdsm etiquette is perfect, he never wants to cause you any harm. ∴ he takes the time at the beginning of the relationship to learn your body’s sweet spots and talks to you about what you like and want. ∴ he’s very good at communication so he gains experience purely by learning tbh.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

∴ his usual go to is doggy style or the mating press. ∴ he likes how deep he can get his cock into you. ∴ he can feel you cum so well like that. ∴ very rarely will he let you ride him. ∴ don’t be mistaken tho, he’s always in control even if you’re on top.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

∴ not really a jokey type of guy. ∴ he prefers to be serious to as to not break the scene. ∴ that’s not to say he can’t be goofy. ∴ he will if he’s in the mood. ∴ or if the two of you aren’t doing anything hardcore. ∴ but def don’t expect it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

∴ carpet matches the drapes, king is a natural.....purplehead???? ∴ he keeps himself well groomed in the sense he trims. ∴ but he doesn’t shave bald. ∴ he doesn’t like the look of his dick hairless. ∴ but his pubes are always pretty short so u don’t gotta worry when suckin his dick u feel?

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

∴ he’s intimate in the sense that the dynamic of your relationship requires a strong emotional connection and trust. ∴ in the moment, he takes on the dominant role teasing and humiliating you. ∴ but he makes sure to mix in praise and the odd sweet touch amid the bruising grips. ∴ he’s not really into romantic sex ∴ like you’ll never get candles and rose petals on the bed. ∴ but he always shows he loves you in his own way.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

∴ he doesn’t jerk off very often. ∴ but he has urges frequently enough. ∴ probably takes like 2 or 3 nights a week to himself if he doesn’t get the chance to fuck you. ∴ he uses his hands, fisting his cock while he watches porn on his phone. ∴ takes a shower afterwards to clean up the mess.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

∴ very heavily into dom/sub dynamics. ∴ he is always the dom. ∴ prefers to be called master most of the time. ∴ you’re his pretty little kitten. ∴ there is lit no chance he will be submissive lmao. ∴ it’s not always hardcore scenes with him, though. ∴ he’s very capable of having vanilla sex without the choking and spanking if you so wish.

∴ dacryphilia. ∴ he gets off on your tears. ∴ when he punishes you by overstimulating you and you sob that it’s too much. ∴ when he’s been teasing you for an hour, edging you before backing off and you have tears in your eyes. ∴ when your throat is wrapped around his cock and there’s tears running down your cheeks. ∴ he finds it so fucking hot lmao.

∴ shibari. ∴ there’s something about the red ropes on your skin that is so beautiful to him. ∴ he loves seeing you tied up and vulnerable to his debauchery. ∴ he thinks you’re prettiest when you’re restrained with the complex patterns of rope.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

∴ prefers the old faithful bedroom. ∴ but he’s not opposed to the living room, bathroom, or kitchen if he so pleases. ∴ it’s just all his toys are easily in reach in the bedroom. ∴ and plus, it makes it easier for you to get comfortable faster if you’re already on the bed when you’re done.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

∴ teasing him. ∴ flash him a view of his favorite panties under your skirt. ∴ “innocently” lay your hand on his thigh, close to his cock under the dinner table with friends. ∴ lick a lollipop suggestively. ∴ if u do literally anything to tease him, you’re in for it lmao. ∴ making him jealous. ∴ seeing you flirt with another guy instantly makes him feel territorial. ∴ he knows when you’re doing it on purpose and easily takes the bait, knowing what you want. ∴ however, it won’t work if there’s some random guy just hitting on u. ∴ he knows u didn’t ask for that and doesn’t see that as something to get jealous over. ∴ he trusts u n shit. ∴ worshipping him. ∴ sit on your knees while he watches tv asking if you can suck his dick. ∴ tell him how nice his hands are and how you love how they feel around your throat. ∴ let it slip that you had a wet dream about him last night. ∴ he’s more than eager to give u more reasons to worship him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he’s not into anything that will cause lasting harm to you. he’ll spank you and do some impact play but if you ask for anything really hardcore like burning or cutting you...it’s a no from him. he genuinely couldn’t handle hurting you like that.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

∴ def a giver. ∴ he thrives on pleasuring you. ∴ he thinks you look divine with his mouth attached to your greedy cunt. ∴ he’s damn good at it too. ∴ more than capable of making you cum several times if he so wishes.

∴ when he receives, he’s into some deep throating. ∴ won’t necessarily facefuck you. ∴ but it’s a slow, methodical pace he sets. ∴ he relishes on sinking his cock deep into your throat to feel you choke and gag around him. ∴ watching your eyes tear up as you struggle to swallow him down.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

∴ prefers a fast pace. ∴ he likes the thrill of being rough with you. ∴ sometimes he likes a deep, slow pace that makes you feel him all the way to your cervix. ∴ he can, of course, pull the sensual card if he so chooses. ∴ he def gets into moods where he wants to worship you and indulge in your body to the fullest.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

∴ honestly not his go to. ∴ it’s not that he doesn’t like them, it’s just that he finds them...unfulfilling? ∴ he’s a man who enjoys long, drawn out scenes of you begging and cumming multiple times for him. ∴ a quickie doesn’t allow him that time. ∴ of course, if you want to have sex with him and the only option is a quickie well...he definitely oblige. ∴ it’s just not his preference.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

∴ he’s more than willing to experiment. ∴ he’s always looking for ways to bring something new and exciting into the bedroom. ∴ is all ears when you bring up something that caught your attention. ∴ will always do his best to do as you ask. ∴ isn’t willing to risk your safety or reputation, however.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

∴ one round most of the time. ∴ but it’s one long ass round. ∴ he’s got immense self control and knows exactly how to draw sex out. ∴ he may even indulge in a cock ring to make himself last even longer. ∴ but he has the ability to stave off his own orgasm for a while. ∴ if you want more than one round, you only get it if the sex isn’t intense. ∴ he saves the multiple rounds for the occasional soft, sensual sex/

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

∴ he enjoys toys! ∴ but they’re not brought in too frequently. ∴ more specificially, he uses them for punishment most of the time. ∴ likes to hold a vibrator to your clit until you’re crying. ∴ makes you ride a dildo instead of letting you have his cock. ∴ he’s rather fond of rope tho, if that counts. ∴ doesn’t use them on himself like.....ever. minus an occasional cock ring.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

∴ lmao if u don’t like to be teased ur shit out of luck. ∴ he likes to draw out the sex with you. ∴ so when you two do it, he teases you for a long time. ∴ he is a monster about it. ∴ takes immense pleasure in your begging and crying. ∴ eges u constantly ∴ but he usually follows through with his teasing unless ur bein punished

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

∴ not a moaner. ∴ the most you get is an occasional grunt and a groan when he cums. ∴ HOWEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ∴ he is a constant producer of dirty talk. ∴ he really never shuts up tbh lmao. ∴ but it’s hot as hell. ∴ lit the best dirty talk you could hope to hear. ∴ so it’s not really a loss. ∴ when he’s not callin u a slut and humiliating you, he’s calling you his good girla nd telling u ur pretty.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

∴ he’s got a rlly big anal kink. ∴ i could say he almost loves it more than actual vaginal sex. ∴ he couldn’t tell you why except for the fact it feels dirtier. ∴ it feels more lewd to him and that just gets him off. ∴ especially if you’re shy about it ∴ he uses that as a gateway to humiliate u and make u cry ∴ and that only gets him more turned on ∴ dont let him fuck ur ass too often or he’ll actually go feral lmao

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

∴ hitoshi shinsou’s dick is big. ∴ i just know it is. ∴ more specifically, he’s got girth that makes your mouth water. ∴ he also has no problem reaching your cervix when he goes deep enough. ∴ lowkey cocky about it. ∴ always asks u how much u love his big cock or teasing u about how he’s too big for ur pussy to take. ∴ filthy man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

∴ well,,,,it’s not high but it’s definitely not low. ∴ like he’s not looking to be balls deep inside you every single night. ∴ and it’s not like he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t get to fuck u for a while. ∴ but he’ll jerk off to release the built up tension. ∴ and if u want to have sex every night then he’s pretty easy to convince ngl.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

∴ stays up a pretty long time afterwards. ∴ usually it’s because he’s taking care of you. ∴ but also, in general, he doesn’t sleep much. ∴ he’ll usually just lay in bed on his phone while u sleep beside him. ∴ the good news is if u wake up in the middle of the night bc ur thirsty he can get u a glass of water. ∴ or if u wake up horny and wanna suck his dick he’s already awake so hey everybody’s a winner.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #mha x reader #shinsou smut #hitoshi shinsou x reader #bnha imagines #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #shinsou imagines #bnha.headcanons #shinsou.headcanons

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

Text

⤷ 𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 : WRITTEN CHAPTER

⤷ CHAPTER SUMMARY: a million unspoken words have built up between you and your best friend katsuki bakugou, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, even when you’re warn down and somewhat broken... he knows that sometimes even pro heroes need saving.

warning(s) for this chapter: please read ! this chapter contains lots and lots of angst yo :(, soft baku and some mentions of emotional distress.

author’s note(s): hey there my loves ! yes yes this is a third written chapter and it is the final one. its a little sad at the beginning but don’t worry. it gets a lot softer! please enjoy super soft bakugou :(

previous | part thirty two - love him more | next

word count: 2.4K.

pushing the door open, katsuki bakugou braces himself for what lies behind your unlocked door. your usually sun filled apartment on the eastern side of town where the pro had often spent hours admiring and cooking for you was now locked in a dark embrace, the curtains drawn to the point where every room had been smothered in a thick fog of black and katsuki could barely see.

but for him, making his way around your home was as easy as learning his ABCs. he practically lived here, on days where he was too tired to care, nights where you were both beaten up from patrol but you still find the energy to patch him up. there wasn’t a thing you wouldn’t do for katsuki, so he would do the same for you.

vermillion eyes seek you out in the darkness, his trained ears picking up on the small whimpers that spread thinly through the apartment’s silence and with practiced ease the blonde finds the sofa which you’ve buried yourself in.

“there you are shitty girl,” bakugou mumbles into the still air, the harsh pet name coming out softly on his tongue. despite his hot headed nature, you’d always accepted him fully— never driven away by his terrible habit of using curse words every five seconds, or his natural aggressiveness— no. you loved every inch of him just as it were. you don’t shift from the safety of your blankets when he calls you, making him frown. so, as if not to scare you away , katsuki takes small and tentative steps towards you, until he’s resting on his knees in front of you.

“k-katsu...katsuki,” you heave, trembling with the sobs that wrack your body. the sight of the man alone is enough to set you off, not because he hurt you but because he came— he came when you needed him to. katsuki bakugou had never failed you, not yet. “it hurts, i can’t—“ heated arms wrap around you, warm enough that you can feel them through the mounds of blankets you’ve surrounded yourself in.

pain burns in your chest, clawing up your rib cage and choking you from inside out, everything made you think of keigo, how he had loved you without words— only for it all to be a lie. the pain you felt washed over you like powerful waves, making you cling to katsuki tighter than ever before, your grip on him so tight that your nails dug into your palms.

pulling you from your heap of blankets, the explosive pro hero brings you further into his arms, resting his cheek on top of your head. “stop it dumbass, you’ll hurt yourself even more.” bakugou takes your hands, rubbing your palms where your nails have indented as if to soothe you because like he had promised— he wasn’t here to hurt you.

as he rubs at your palms, you force your face into his firm chest— breathing in the familiar scent of burning sugar and sweet caramel, one that never fails to relax you. the smell of keigo is everywhere in your apartment, your bed, your clothes, your blankets. you’re suffocating in every trace of him and katsuki bakugou is like a breath of fresh air. “c-can i stay with you? everything smells like him...” your voice is barely above a whisper, muffled by the fabric of bakugou’s black shirt but you can tell that he’s heard you from the way he suddenly links your fingers.

bakugou kisses the top of your head, the light peck dressing your hair line as he stands and separates himself from you. the gesture is oddly soft for someone who looks angry by nature— but he’s only ever been this way with you. “shitty girl, you don’t even have to ask,” he mumbles, vermillion eyes looking everywhere but you. you give the blonde a watery smile before he disappears into your apartment, presumably to gather some belongings of yours to take with you. he knows where everything is so you don’t bother to move, curling in on yourself.

reality finally sets in, a paperweight of emotions crushing your heart into tiny pieces. everything you’d known for the last several months had turned out to be a lie, every look, every touch and every kiss had been staged.

what did he gain? what did keigo win for breaking your heart? you suppose aizawa is partly to blame for setting this whole thing up behind your back but even he couldn’t be in control of your feelings. when katsuki returns, he’s locked all the doors and turned off all lights that are further into your home. on his left shoulder he carries an overnight bag but some how manages to scoop you up into his warm arms.

you find yourself on a quiet ride to his place a little while later, streetlights like stars in the night sky. bakugou’s house was a short drive from yours, somewhere he’d gotten shortly after his twentieth birthday.

it was a big house with high ceilings and wide open windows— perfect to accommodate for any repercussions of his quirk. there was a beautiful view of the city too, something that katsuki had been proud of when he got the place. he’d spent most of his earnings from his time as a side kick on it, a risky move you wouldn’t put past him.

“i’m running you a bath and you’re fuckin’ taking it. you reek.” katsuki’s sharp words cut through the thick silence as you enter his home. he sets you up in the spare bedroom before heading off to the bathroom to do as he said. his words, despite harsh, have a hidden meaning behind them— either that you smell like hawks and he doesn’t want that infecting his home or that he’s genuinely worried for your health.

you figure that it’s both. when the water’s just right, he helps you get in ( although his cheeks are stained bright red, matching his eyes ) and washes away the tears and snot that’s built up over the last few days.

there’s a spare change of clothes waiting for you when you get out, your favourite black shirt of his and pair of undies to wear underneath. bakugou always takes care of you, no questions asked. that’s why he says nothing when you slide into bed with him that night, nor the next day when you take food from his plate at breakfast. he’d always been that kind of friend, there for you to the end, no matter what.

the following night you’re curled in his lap, watching re-runs of an old allmight cartoon he was obsessed with back in high school. bakugou’s attention is mostly focused on the phone in his right hand, the left drawing absentminded patterns into your cheek.

you figure that he’s probably warding away his managers since he’d dipped his hero duties to take care of you or updating your friends and aizawa on how you’re doing. nonetheless, you enjoy how he holds you and keeps you close— maybe it’s because you’re reminded of how things used to be be; when you were dating, when you were back in U.A.

yourself and katsuki bakugou had dated from your second year till your last at U.A. graduation had been hard, seeing as this would be the last time you were surrounded by all your friends on the hero course; tears drenched your cheeks as you said your goodbyes to not only them— but to katsuki as well. you’d both agreed that after sharing two years together, secret kisses outside the dorms at night, dates where your friends would tease the blasting hero until the tips of his ears were as red at his eyes; that it was time to part.

romance and feelings would get in the way of being the best of the best and you couldn’t dream of stopping bakugou from reaching what he could practically touch.

you had to let go of him, you couldn’t hold him back.

back then; you were only eighteen with the world of colours ahead of you. you’d promised yourself from then that you would work twice as hard as your friends to rank the highest you could— because while katsuki was your first love, you wouldn’t let that stop you from aiming high as well.

now, almost twenty-two, you could look back with a fond smile at the sweet memories you both had made together. so why did you feel bitter? why did it hurt to be in his arms like this?

was it because you thought, that if you hadn’t met keigo, none of this would have happened? would you be as happy with bakugou as you were with him? you don’t realise that you’re crying until katsuki wipes away your tears before they can hit your cheeks. there’s a knowing look swirling in his eyes as you abruptly sit up to wipe at your face. “s-sorry, i...” you huff frustration laced in your tone. you’re tired of crying, tired of being sad. “god, i must look so stupid!”

the blonde leans in, rolling his eyes as warm calloused hands come up to cup your cheeks. “let yourself cry shitty woman, you just got your heart broken. stop creating lame excuses to torture yourself with.” he chides, thumbs brushing away stray tears that somehow manage to escape. you find yourself nodding slowly, heart racing at the proximity of your best friend.

he’s still the same boy he was when you were tucked away in the safety of your U.A bedroom; brazen, with sharp, chiselled features and hellish eyes that held the worlds jewels. he’s still your bakugou, the man you still hold so much love for.

if you could see yourself now you’d call yourself a fool— for your mouth moved before your mind and your lips end up pressed against against bakugou’s. he stiffens, because this would have been the first time you’ve kissed this way in four years, but he soon relaxes— the hands that cup your cheeks dropping to your waist to pull you closer to him, holding you as if you’re going to disappear at any moment. his lips slot against yours perfectly, like they were moulded for each other and he’s hot against you, tenderly moving in sync with you.

your fingers make their way into his forest of blonde locks, curling in them tightly which makes the man before you groan quietly— you kiss him with unspoken words and hidden truths, all the while, fresh sets of tears burn in the corners of your closed eyes—stinging a path down your cheeks.

he must feel them too because he only pulls you closer, letting his lips do the talking as he kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever have the chance to. you whine into him brokenly and he flinches with every oncoming tear that paints your locked lips with a salty flavour. that’s what it feels like, your last kiss; as you pour every ounce of passion into the liplock as possible.

you feel the world crumbling away. you love him, you have for years and always will be hopelessly in love with katsuki bakugou but there’s a hole in your heart that he can’t fill and he knows it. gripping his shirt now, you feel your lungs burn with the need to breathe in fresh air and regretfully pull away from your best friend.

when you open your eyes you’re met with the sight of a ruby gaze and flushed cheeks, swollen lips and a sorrowful smile that makes your heart ache. you try to back up, mind hazy with storm clouds of emotion but he doesn’t let you leave him. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have—“

“i’m not,” he says quietly, blunt as ever, gaze flickering to the hands of yours that he now holds.

you hum, watching as he plays with your fingers gently— your heart pounds and your body feels hot, but you find it in you to say your next words. “i love you katsu, you know that right?” he nods, still not looking up to meet your gaze. “i love you more than i should as a friend but—“

“you love the bird man more,” the blonde finishes for you, deep red eyes locking on you. it’s your turn to nod, squeezing his fingers in hopes that he doesn’t pull away or shut you out like he has done in the past. instead, a finger of his finds your chin to tilt your head up towards him— he brushes away the remanence of your tears from salt streaked skin and gives you a genuine, but small, smile. “we’re different to who we were back than, my feelings never changed and maybe i realised that too late. when you were with him i fucking wished he would fuck up so i could swoop in and take my shitty girl back...” bakugou pauses, pondering his next words. things like this were hard for him, he wasn’t necessarily the most open person in the world but for you; he often tried. “but i know now, that seeing you broken like this; because of him... it fucking hurts more than losing you to him.”

“katsuki,” you blubber, you don’t know what to say for now— but whatever comes to mind you know he’ll appreciate it. snuggling up to him, you shove your face into his chest once more and find yourself soothed by the scent of burning sugar that tickles your nose. “thank you.”

bakugou scoffs, rolling his eyes at you for what seems like the millionth time that night but doesn’t push you away. instead he pats your head, throwing his gaze to them he side. “whatever, now get off me so i can make us dinner.” a heavy blush dusts his cheeks once more, so you let up with a tiny smile as the pro hero heads over to his kitchen to cook for you both.

you watch him as he goes, shuffling around the kitchen— no one would have guessed that the pro hero ground zero was a phenomenal cook, but it was just one of those things. something special that you knew about katsuki bakugou, your little secret between two best friends. best friends who had been through the world and back, best friends who would do anything for each other.

and so you realised, as long as you had your best friend bakugo, everything would be just fine.

⤷ TAGLIST: ✈️CLOSED

@underratedmage @darlingstudies @iambashfulperson @jqnposts @ih8beefnoodles @miniatureland @ozzy-bozzy @someweirdshitman @bro-vocaine @air-wreckaaa @xxangelofpunkrockxx @hyperkaiperrose @sailor-moons-butt @montechristos @semiathleticnerdykid @headfirst-halo @sasukelore @patricia-ceballos @jadenyukis-bodypillow @leel-lol @bokutosuwus @moonlightaangel @atsumumu @cathy8taffy @sya-arts-blog @rosa-gamer @yuesphere @ela-ena @d3ad-b3at-b1tch @starry-yui @cowward @actuallyazriel @bunny-on-crack @yourlocalbabybird @moon-spirit-yue @chaichai-the-weeb @tuddles-on-ice @gomezuwu @loser-keiji @witcherydotcom @s4kurajima @nishinoya-is-baby @astroninaaa @witches-brewe @skyrina @underoosjae @darlingely @mirukosyn @peachpetalhoney @kayisweird

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pulausemakau · 4 years ago

Text

five other times charsho could've become canon: an exploration

thanks @macsmchales for inspo! + thanks hulu for SOME news about s2!

one ; can we hang out again? is that uncool to ask?

shona asks charlotte out to lunch not too long after they first meet properly at the finance event; they've passed each other by before since they work in the same company, the same building, but that's the first time they really sit down together and chat

shona's almost late back to the office because they get so caught up in conversation. charlotte draws her in somehow, gets shona lost in her laughter and her turns of phrase. she's so easy to talk to, so effortlessly funny and charming

soon enough they have lunch together every day, just the two of them; they explore the area and find little hole in the wall places that nobody really patronises, that serve delicious dishes. shona steals food off charlotte's plate and charlotte just laughs and does it right back

one time they walk back to the office it's cold and they're pressed up a little closer, side by side, talking, and charlotte's hand brushes shona's; shona finds herself sliding her fingers between charlotte's and holding on tight

they stop for a cigarette before heading back up to their respective offices; charlotte kisses her after they're done smoking, impulsively, pulling her in by the collar of her coat, and shona kisses back

two ; let’s change the world, baby

they're both running on the adrenaline high of becoming business partners and also a little tipsy from several shots of tequila and sambuca

shona's suggested they take a stroll around southwark park to sober up a little and they just walk around, discussing plans for women in wealth, bouncing ideas off each other; they're not all realistic or doable but it's the night to consider crazy, wild ideas and then pare them down tomorrow

shona is making fun of charlotte for unironically enjoying sambuca and charlotte is taking it in the lighthearted spirit it's meant

they sit on a bench by the pond after a long amble down the paths, just watching human traffic go by; shona looks relaxed and happy and beautiful and charlotte can't take her eyes off her

when shona notices charlotte staring she grins and asks charlotte what she's thinking about

kissing you, charlotte says, because she's unfailingly honest with shona and because the sambuca is loosening her tongue

shona just looks back at her for a few moments, expression neutral, open, head slightly tilted, and just when charlotte thinks she's going to let her down easy she replies kiss me then

and charlotte does, under the velvet night sky, in the middle of southwark park, their futures spreading out before them, intertwining

three ; sometimes my brain’s a bit shit (nsfw)

(i mean i just wrote a whole fanfic about this i don't know what to tell you)

(but anyway)

they get back to work after their Deep Talk but not for long; the tension is lingering there from the Deep Talk and eventually they end up making out on shona's couch and then moving it to her bedroom

they're in that hazy afterglow of excellent sex, naked under shona's covers, when aine (drunk) returns home with pat (also drunk)

charlotte's the one to calm shona down and help her get pat settled on the couch and aine safely into bed; they make sure she's out like a light and her door is locked before they head back to shona's room

it feels right to have charlotte stay over in a way it never did with vish, to have charlotte be the big spoon

they don't fall asleep instantly, shona a little keyed up from telling aine off and having a stranger on her couch; charlotte traces the tattoo on her back with gentle fingertips and leaves a lingering kiss against the lines, and that grounds shona and calms her enough for her to drift off

she wakes before charlotte, watches her sleep for a while, her face peaceful and lovely in the dim light of dawn, and it's the face shona knows she wants to keep waking up to for a long time to come

four ; it’s nice to see your face

shona doesn't stay at hari and kavita's after the party; vish wants her to and gets a little upset when she says no and it escalates into a heated little argument that everyone politely pretends they don't overhear

aine and eileen know better so they don't say anything about it on the train ride back to london

after she and aine see eileen off on her train home, aine heads back to her flat but shona doesn't go back to hers. she drops by charlotte's and collapses on her couch and leans her head on charlotte's shoulder and asks why it's the 2010s and people still care so much about the babies she can produce from her womb rather than her meteoric rise in the workforce, the business she's carving out and sweating over with charlotte, things she's genuinely proud of and interested in

charlotte understands and can empathise with these grievances in a way vish doesn't and never will, and shona feels safe talking about them with her

it devolves into a conversation where shona talks out her frustrations with how it seems like everyone in her life wants more from her than herself - eileen and kavita want grandkids, vish wants a wife, aine wants her perfect big sister, and shona just wants to be herself

a long but not uncomfortable silence stretching between them as they just lean against each other and shona cools down from her slightly dramatic afternoon, until charlotte cautiously says that she, at least, doesn't want anything from shona, she's happy just knowing shona for who she is, being her friend

maybe more than friends, she eventually admits, after another silence, and shona feels like she should be taken more by surprise but she isn't, and it's the easiest thing in the world to find charlotte's hand and take it in her own and reciprocate

five ; you say that like you know what you’re talking about

they're busy all day setting up for the event and don't get a break

it's stressful but they're both high on adrenaline and so so excited that their work is coming to fruition; shona especially is seeing a dream of hers come true

little moments all throughout the day where they laugh and poke fun at each other despite the stress, the last minute chaos

they have a rushed dinner together thirty minutes before they're due to give their speeches, crammed together in a hidden back corner away from the glamorous hall where their guests are mingling; seated side by side on shitty plastic chairs, holding paper plates of catered food up to their mouths and rehearsing their speeches to each other

shona grins up at charlotte after the third time she runs through her talking points, her smile electric, telling charlotte how excited she is and how glad she is that she's doing this with her

me too, charlotte starts to say, only to be cut off by shona leaning across to close the distance between them and touching her lips to charlotte's, a brief, chaste kiss

she's flushed when she pulls back, a little guilty and embarrassed in equal measure, studying charlotte's reaction; sorry, she says, then - was that okay?

charlotte answers by kissing her back, a little longer, a little deeper

shona leans her forehead against charlotte's, after, bringing her hand to cup charlotte's cheek. whispering - i'm so glad i found you

and again, for charlotte - me too.

#this way up #charlotte x shona #charsho tag #long post

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freebooter4ever · 3 years ago

Text

Living in close quarters for months on end with a bunch of men his own age doesn't bother Snafu a bit. It's the one part of the Marines Corps he actually enjoys. Like living on an island full of eye candy. Snafu became mostly numb to the sheer number of naked butts by the end of his second day on Pavuvu. With the heat and the sun, the men need very little provocation to strip their clothing off. It was distracting for about an hour and then it became commonplace.

Later, after Gloucester, after living for three straight weeks in rain and misery, under the constant threat of violent death, and then returning once more to Pavuvu, Snafu becomes numb to everything....

He's never been one for carousing - a trait his peers in high school picked up on pretty quick. He's been compensating ever since. Packing on the innuendo and flirtation, and studying how other men act towards women and amplifying it in his own behavior.

So even before the numbness set in, Snafu isn't sure he ever actually felt anything like what others seem to describe. Even though Snafu admires his daily fill of half dressed fellow Marines wandering around camp, he does it in a detached sort of way that makes him feel more like an observer than participant. And it's good, because while there are whispers and rumors about certain guys who will take a man into the woods and show him a good time, Snafu doesn't need to get involved. He gets himself into enough trouble without adding a court martial onto it.

A few days after Gloucester an envelope arrives. There's no letter, simply a newspaper clipping slipped inside and stamped. The clipping is from his hometown newspaper and the article is about their hometown hero - brave Merriell Shelton - who shot up the enemy with his 'mortar gun'.

It's truly amazing how in a small town such as his, one can go from being the delinquent orphan son of impoverished half crazed parents easily forgotten by polite society, to being a hometown hero in the span of one battle.

Everyone in K company teases him about the article, especially about the 'mortar gun' bit. Snafu enjoys it immensely. He takes pride in his notoriety. It adds to his carefully cultivated mystique. No one wants to fuck with the fast talking, mean Merriell Shelton, war hero.

In actuality, Snafu is no hero. He fights for one reason, and that's the fifty dollars a month being sent home to his kid sister. He doesn't want her saddled with being a burden to her adopted family. Not like Snafu was with their own parents.

Overall, aside from the numbness, everything about Snafu's time in the Marine Corps is going well. He has respect, he has the looming potential of death and relief, and he has a steady diet of filling if questionable food. He thinks he's got a handle on things.

Till his downfall arrives a few days after the envelope.

Eugene Sledge looks like a fool from the minute he steps into Snafu's tent. Something about him irritates the hell out of Snafu. To try and figure out what about Sledge bothers him so much, Snafu goes out of his way to run into the guy. But no dice. Nothing works.

It doesn't click until Snafu accidentally runs into Sledge in the showers. Normally Snafu showers on off times to avoid any accidents. But after one particularly disgusting round of coconut duty, Snafu is stuck washing the gritty stickiness off in the middle of the day.

At first there's just him and Pops in the showers. A typical sight - Gunney Haney is obsessively clean. Snafu ignores him, and ignores the new Boots who join them halfway through. Snafu requires single minded focus to fish out all the coconut pieces that mysteriously found their way into his hair.

Once finished, Snafu turns around and bends his head back under the stream of water to rinse. He opens his eyes after the worst of the suds are gone, and spots Eugene Sledge in the group of new recruits. They are huddled around the shower heads in the opposite corner as far away from Snafu and Pops as they can get. Snafu smirks at them as a greeting.

It's kinda fun being intimidating.

Except they aren't paying attention to him. Sledge's eyes are transfixed on Haney as the man scrubs his dick.

Admittedly, for the uninitiated, seeing Haney shower is quite a sight. The man uses a bristly GI brush. The working theory is that he's been doing it so long and he's so old that his skin is pickled enough to be as thick and tough as leather. Everyone stares and winces in pain when they first witness Haney washing his junk.

However, Sledge is unusually engrossed. Snafu feels a strange prickle at the back of his neck and a spike of annoyance over this.

Jealousy - a word Snafu's never related to before.

Once he recognizes the feeling, though, he starts seeing it everywhere. Sledge is genuinely kind, and cares about everyone in a way that would stretch Snafu thin enough to break. Sledge is the best sharpshooter in the company, beating Snafu's considerable score by almost an entire point. Sledge takes every work duty thrown at him without complaint and with stubborn pride. Sledge takes everything thrown at him without complaint, including Snafu's own malice.

And all Snafu wants is for Sledge to just fucking look at him.

The tipping point comes after Sledge's little buddy Philips rotates home without warning. The despondency Sledge sinks into for a few days makes Snafu ache with frustration. Sledge starts disappearing whenever the replacements get an hour or two off. Snafu makes it his mission to find him.

He eventually does. Turns out Sledge is running off to a secluded beach, but he never goes in the water. Instead he sits crosslegged in the sand and stares at crabs. Snafu shimmies up a palm tree and scoots across the rough bark until he's nearly hanging over the oblivious Sledge.

In Sledge's lap is a dog-eared notebook, probably a moonlight requisition from the officer's tents. Sledge hunches over the page, his hand scribbling furiously and Snafu cranes his neck till he can see what Sledge is working on.

It's drawings of crabs. Countless pages of them. Snafu straddles the uncomfortable palm tree for almost an hour, watching in disbelief as Sledge makes study after study of crab anatomy.

Instead of killing the damn invasive creatures with a shovel and burying them in the sand, Sledge draws them.

If Snafu could draw, maybe he'd finally be free of this strange fascination that's taken hold of him. The image of Sledge that one afternoon - showering, naked and lean and glowing in the midafternoon sun - burned itself in Snafu's brain. He doesn't know how to purge himself of it. At the time, he didn't even realize he'd been looking that closely at Sledge while they were in the showers, but afterwards his brain pieced the scraps of memory together and gave him a picture more vivid than what he thought he saw.

And now he sees it whenever he looks at Sledge.

Even on Peleliu, after everything's gone to shit, but somehow they got off the beach and somehow they're not dead yet, his mind drifts to Sledge. The boy strips off his shoes in the midst of battle. Snafu stops him, shoving Sledge's boots back into his chest with force.

It's the first time he lays hands on Sledge and he doesn't even register it because he's too busy being worried about the damn idiot being caught with his pants down and shoes off.

Sledge is a distraction. That's all he is.

Until Sledge fucking picks Snafu up off the ground even when Snafu is pretty sure he's already dead. Sledge drags Snafu out of his shock and out of danger, and proves he can keep his cool during battle. Cooler even than Snafu, who still runs hot whenever Sledge gets too close.

Naive little Sledgehammer grew up quick, but unlike Snafu, he did not grow up mean - he still saves worthless things fallen helpless in the sand and dirt. From that minute on, Snafu makes it his personal mission to preserve Eugene's goodness.

He doesn't anticipate Sledgehammer accepting Snafu's newfound loyalty so readily.

Burgie calls Snafu out on it teasingly during their ship ride back to dreaded Pavuvu. A painful bout of seasickness causes Snafu to lose track of Sledgehammer for a few hours aboard ship, and Snafu spends the time wandering the decks in search of him.

"Since when did you appoint yourself as his shadow, Snaf?" Burgie retorts when Snafu asks if he's seen the 'Hammer'.

"Just need to collect on my bet about him smoking by the end of his first battle," Snafu shrugs.

"Every nonsmoker smokes by the end of their first battle, Snafu. You already knew that," Burgie says, "Leave him be."

"No way," Snafu argues, "Someone needs to teach that rich boy that he don't know everything."

"And of course you'd be the one to do it," Burgie sighs.

Ironically, Sledge is the one to find Snafu in a random ship compartment instead of the other way around. Snafu is lying prone, trying to keep his half digested meal from rolling around.

"Here," Sledge says, shoving a small box at Snafu as hard as Snafu shoved Eugene's boots.

"What is it?" Snafu asks, feigning disinterest.

"Crackers. They'll help with the stomach," Sledge replies, "C'mon, let's get you topside."

"How the hell'd you get crackers on a ship short of rations?" Snafu asks. He obediently follows Eugene through the ship to the deck. Like a damn shadow.

"I sweet talked one of the swabbies," Sledge explains casually.

That news roils Snafu's gut. Jealousy again. It's lucky they made it to the deck. He staggers to the rail and pukes overboard.

"The swabby liked my accent," Eugene says and leans beside Snafu, "Think he was from northern Alabama. I told him how us southern boys have the best aim in the Marines."

Snafu finishes vomiting up the last of his afternoon chow.

Sledge sighs and places his hand on Snafu's upper back.

Snafu's glad no one else is around on this part of the deck to see his shame. He hangs on the rail and feels miserable.

"Get it all out?" Sledge asks, and passes Snafu his canteen.

Snafu takes a sip, swishes it around his mouth, and spits into the sea. And then guzzles as much water as he thinks he can keep down. He sticks his tongue out at the disgusting aftertaste and hands the canteen back.

Sledge runs his hand down from Snafu's back to his arm. Before Snafu knows what's happening Eugene is gently taking Snafu's hand and leading him away from the rail. Sledge sits on the deck and leans against the ship's wall. He tugs on Snafu's hand for him to sit next to him.

"Better to go down to one of the cabins," Snafu resists.

"You don't want to know how bad it smells down there," Sledge warns, "Trust me. Fresh air is best."

Snafu gives in and collapses next to Eugene. He tilts his head back against the cold metal and closes his eyes.

Sledge takes the box of saltines from Snafu's hands and Snafu hears rustling as Sledge opens the package. Sledge then nudges Snafu's elbow with the box.

"Eat," Sledge says.

Snafu groans and leans his head on Sledgehammer's shoulder instead. He doesn't want any ill-gotten flirtation crackers. It's a lot easier to close his eyes and pretend to sleep.

Sledge seems to not mind Snafu sleeping on him. He doesn't move away, at least. So Snafu uses it as an excuse to shuffle closer. Which is when he realizes Eugene never let go of his hand. He's still holding on. Tight.

"Snafu?" Sledge prompts. He uses Snafu's nickname like they're best buds, though they've hardly ever spoken.

Snafu grunts.

"On that airfield…" Sledge says, "Don't you ever dare do that again, allright?"

"Whatever you say, Sledgehammer," Snafu drawls, "Don't even know what I did."

"You just...lay there," Sledge says quietly, "Like you were...."

"Waiting?" Snafu tries to remember his own state of mind in that moment.

"Gone," Sledge says sharply.

"Same damn thing," Snafu gives up on sleeping and lights a cigarette.

"If you're not around who'll tell me what I'm doing wrong?" Sledge asks.

"Shit, Sledge," Snafu drawls with a grin, "practically anybody who's not you could do that."

Sledge actually chuckles. That's the thing about Eugene. He's not stuck up or prissy like Snafu'd expect him to be. He's humble, and willing to laugh at his own inexpertise.

"I'd rather it be you," Eugene adds quietly with a small smile.

Snafu sucks on his bottom lip and refuses to respond to that.

"So no dying," Eugene finishes, as if such a conclusion were a choice.

Snafu does fall asleep and when he wakes up a few hours later, Sledge's head is tipped on top of Snafu's. Sledge's long nose is in Snafu's hair and he's snoring loud enough to wake the enemy a thousand miles away. Snafu can feel Eugene's snores blowing his hair around.

Despite these annoyances, Snafu tries to freeze in place and jostle Eugene as little as possible.

Their hands are still linked together. Sledge's hand is wrapped tight around Snafu's. Snafu lifts Sledge's hand to examine his delicate fingers - long and gentle, but not dainty. Eugene has the calluses of an expert marksman, and painfully short fingernails. Snafu picks at the boy's ring curiously.

Sledge shifts and turns farther in towards Snafu's body. He draws his arm away from Snafu's fiddling and instead places his hand on Snafu's soft belly. "Stop moving," he mumbles.

"You stop snoring," Snafu complains. He bumps his head intentionally into Sledge's big nose to make his point.

Sledge ignores him and slumps more of his weight onto Snafu's shoulder.

Snafu accepts his fate and reaches over Sledge's body to steal the saltines. He opens the cracker package and starts snacking.

"Must you, with the crunching?" Sledge snarls after a few minutes.

"Got hungry, Sledgehammer," Snafu, "If you're gonna be using me as a pillow, I'm gonna need to generate extra padding."

Sledge sighs and holds his hand out, "Give me one."

Snafu complies, "If you get crumbs in my hair, I'll kill ya."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing in your hair right now, Snafu," Sledge gripes.

"Yeah? What else is up there? Pick it out for me," Snafu grins.

"Smells like you took a nap in seawater," Sledge says, "Or smoke."

"Get your long nose out of my hair then," Snafu quips.

"Once you get past the brine smell it's not so bad," Sledge mutters and doesn't move

"Yeah, well your shoulder smells like…" Snafu starts, and then cuts off when he realizes Eugene's shoulder doesn't smell like anything Snafu finds unpleasant. "Did you change your shirt?"

"Traded it for the saltines," Sledge explains, "The swabby wanted a souvenir that saw battle. I gave it to him. Stole this one off a supply crate."

"Fuck, Eugene, I thought you flirted your way into the galley," Snafu grumbles.

"Who says taking off my shirt wasn't a part of that?"

Snafu can't see it with his head on Sledge's shoulder but he swears Gene is smirking at him. "Should have just given him your pin," Snafu argues.

"Can't," Eugene replies, "Sid says they're good luck."

Snafu rolls his eyes at the mention of stupid Sid and settles back comfortably to sleep.

Eugene hooks a thumb in between Snafu's button holes in his shirt to keep his hand on Snafu's stomach. His fingertips barely brush Snafu's bare skin, and suddenly Snafu is no longer interested in sleeping.

And then Eugene's wandering fingers hit Snafu's shrapnel wound.

His response is immediate and a little shocking, "What the fuck, Snafu?" Without asking Eugene starts popping open all of Snafu's shirt buttons.

"What the hell, Sledge?" Snafu tries to back away from him.

"My father's a physician, let me look at you," Eugene orders. He manhandles Snafu's hips forward away from the wall to stretch him out on the deck. Snafu's thin wound runs from right beside his belly button to right over his hip. "Jesus, Snaf, that could turn infected."

Snafu is still trying to process the feel of Eugene's long hands gripping his hips, there is no room in his brain for worrying about infections right now.

"You're gonna need to lie down," Eugene tells him, "Here…" Sledge takes off his shirt and folds it up so Snafu doesn't have to rest his head on the floor.

"Thanks," Snafu says blankly.

"I thought it didn't hit you, you idiot?" Eugene asks.

"Naw, it hit me," Snafu smiles, "just didn't kill me."

"Wait here, I need a kit," Sledge gets up and walks off, leaving Snafu on his own.

Snaf uncomfortably folds his open shirt closed and crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously. He hopes no one will accidentally walk past this part of the ship while Snafu is stuck laying here like a patient. It takes far too long for Sledge to return.

When Eugene does finally return, he's holding a big medic kit that definitely is going to be missed somewhere.

"What'd you have to take off to get that?" Snafu asks, his voice mean, "Your pants?"

"I'll return it when I'm done," Sledge tells him in a no nonsense tone. He sets the kit down and flips it open. "I'll need to open the waist of your pants though, do you mind?"

Snafu looks to the sky to avoid Sledge's concerned gaze. "Don't care," Snafu says as nonchalantly as he is able. He wets his lips and squeezes his eyes shut.

Sledge gently uncrosses Snafu's arms and moves them to the side. When Sledge unbuttons Snafu's pants, Snafu takes a deep breath. His stomach constricts, and he knows his bones are poking out embarrassingly far. Sledge's hands are warm and surprisingly soft. Cleaning everything, and putting a tiny amount of stitches near Snafu's waistband area doesn't take Sledge long at all. Before Snafu even gets to fully enjoy the feeling of Eugene's fingers sliding over his most sensitive area, Eugene is already buttoning Snafu's pants back up and smoothing his shirt down. Snafu flicks the shirt back off, deciding if he's already indecent he might as well continue that way.

Snafu moves to sit up, but Sledge puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay down for a bit," Sledge says, "I want my shirt back though. Here." He scoots next to the wall at Snafu's head and then helps Snafu lean forward enough that Sledge can reclaim his stolen shirt. Sledge throws the shirt on and then scoots closer again, beckoning Snafu to lay back down.

Having his head in Sledge's lap is about a thousand times more distracting than Eugene touching his skin. There was a medical excuse for that. There's no goddamn excuse for this.

As if reading Snafu's mind, Sledge decides to up the ante and he runs his hand along the clean skin beside Snafu's wound. Sledge's hand continues up to Snafu's chest and then stops. Sledge picks at a brown spot of dried mud below Snafu's sternum till it pops off and he can flick it away onto the deck. He then massages away the sting and leaves his hand resting there.

Snafu daringly rests his own hand on top of Sledge's. He doesn't breathe even once till they're both settled and Eugene doesn't pull away.

"You need a shower, Snafu," Sledge comments.

"You gonna give me one?" Snafu lolls his head so he can see Sledge's face.

"Only way to do that now would be to toss you off the ship," Sledge says seriously.

"That a no?" Snafu guesses.

Sledge glances down at Snafu with his signature 'I know better than you, but I am also amused' expression, and then stares blankly out towards the sea. He sighs, "Sleep off the seasickness. I promise I won't snore."

Snafu silently watches Eugene's profile for a while before he finally closes his eyes.

Sledge keeps his promise. He doesn't fall asleep once during the entire time Snafu is out. Sledge does, however, eventually remove his hand from atop Snafu's chest and that wakes Snafu up instantly.

Snafu stays perfectly still, and tries to breathe as even as possible. He doesn't want Sledge to notice he's awake and kick Snafu out of his lap.

Snafu carefully peeks one eye open, and sees two hands hovering above his head holding a book and pencil.

"Writing again?" Snafu accuses.

"Hmmm," Sledge says.

"What about?" Snafu asks.

"You," Sledge responds.

Snafu smiles. He knows Sledge is just being obtuse and not actually writing about him, but still, "Tell me."

"No," Sledge refuses.

Snafu eyes Sledge's hands and attempts to determine how much force it would take for him to grab the book away.

"If you take this bible from me, I'll never let you sleep on me again," Sledge warns.

"What makes you think that's a threat?" Snafu teases. He sits up and tries to lean over to read Sledge's writing.

"Because you slept like a baby during your nap," Sledge says. He angles the book away from Snafu's prying eyes.

"Plenty of other guys in the company more comfortable than you to sleep on, Sledgehammer," Snafu says.

Sledge looks Snafu straight in the eye and dares him, "Then why don't you go find them?"

Snafu holds his gaze for a few breaths. And then wordlessly puts his head back in Eugene's lap.

Sledge calmly sets down his pencil and book, and threads his hand into Snafu's hair instead. "You know what I miss?" Sledge idly scratches Snafu's head as he talks, "Having an inexhaustible supply of blank paper."

"I still don't understand how you've managed to hold onto that one pencil nub for so long," Snafu comments. If talking means Sledge will massage his head, Snafu will do anything to carry this conversation.

"Writing in my bible is well and good, but nothing compares to a fresh blank sheet," Sledge states, "I can't believe that in school I used to tear pages up, or throw them away if I made even one typewriter mistake."

"We should find you a new pencil," Snafu continues his own train of thought, "Or maybe a couple."

"What a waste," Sledge sighs over his stupid crumpled typewriter pages.

"I bet the officers' tent in camp has pencils," Snafu muses.

"You need to borrow a pencil?" Sledge asks, "Sorry, I wasn't listening for a minute. Here, take mine." He hands Snafu the tiny nubby remains.

"Thanks, Sledgehammer," Snafu says and sticks the pencil behind his ear to remind himself later.

The first thing Snafu does on Pavuvu is go scrounging for paper. The constant stream of people coming in and out of the officer's tents makes it particularly easy to search. Snafu gets five pencils on only one run. He doesn't dare take the brand new stacks of paper. It would be too obviously missed. Instead he hunts through trash bins around the camp, and pulls out anything that looks clean and innocuous.

Snafu figures any important classified documents are being shredded or burned immediately anyway. No chance of him accidentally picking up something he shouldn't.

It takes a few days, but finally Snafu hits the jackpot. An entire stack of half used blank sheet notebooks. They're spiral bound, and the edges are dirty, and the covers don't look particularly pretty. But the pages inside are clean. Snafu takes his stack behind the mess tent and scrubs off some of the dirt stains.

A few of the notebooks are too gross to be salvageable. For these he carefully cleans his knife, and cuts out the crisp pages individually.

When he's finished he leaves his collection on Sledge's cot with the pencils resting on top of everything. Satisfied, Snafu takes a step back and surveys his work. Then realizes he can't let it look like he is doing Gene any favors. He sticks his hands out and musses the papers completely so the stacks are no longer neat and the pages aren't ordered by type. But he leaves the pencils on top. He doesn't want them to get lost or sat on.

At first Sledge doesn't say anything about Snafu's gift. The next time Snafu stops by the empty tent, the paper and notebooks are neatly stacked on a high shelf to keep it out of the way of crabs and vermin. It warms Snafu to see how organized the messy pile he left became. Even the pencils are safe and snug wrapped in a little handmade pouch.

Snafu takes the warm feeling with him to chow that evening.

"Did you wake up on the right side of the bed for once, Snaf?" Burgie asks.

Snafu brushes his comments off with a smile and sarcastic look.

Sledge looks up the minute he realizes Snafu is sitting down. "Hey," he says eloquently.

"Hey," Snafu says back. He sets his tray down and pulls out his cigarettes.

"I swear you smoke more than you eat," Sledge observes. He eyes Snafu's still mostly full and cooling plate of food.

"I only put things in my mouth if it's worth the bother," Snafu tells him, smirking.

"Are you saying warm mush isn't worth it?" Bill jokes as he polishes off his own bowl heartily.

Snafu laughs at Bill's graceless eating, till he realizes Eugene is staring. Not at Bill, but at Snafu. And looking very mournful for some reason. Unable to stand seeing Eugene looking that way, Snafu anxiously extends his hand to touch Sledge's knuckles, and then offers him a smoke.

"No thanks, Snafu," Sledge says, very unfriendly and possibly looking to start a fight, "I prefer to eat my meals."

"Has anyone gotten any letters from home yet?" Burgie changes the subject brightly.

Bill shakes his head.

"Nothing but my mother's usual package," Sledge says. He notices Snafu staring at him with quiet interest and adds with a sigh, "Yes, Snafu, I saved you your favorite jar."

Snafu smiles, "See, always worth it to wait." He grabs his unused spoon off the table and slips it into his pants for later.

"Sid still hasn't written to tell me if he made it home okay," Sledge says with a worried frown.

"I'm sure he did," Burgie says kindly.

"What about you, Burg?" Snafu interrupts, "You hear anything from Florence lately?"

"She's written, yes," Burgie says and turns as red as the canned beets Sledge's mother mailed last week.

Snafu whistles, Leyden begs Burgie to read any exciting bits aloud, and Sledge politely asks who Florence is.

"Burgie's girl he met in Australia after Gloucester," Snafu explains.

"I knew she liked me because she was the only girl not flocking around Snaf," Burgie jokes.

"Like flies to shit?" Bill snaps, "Snafu being the shit 'n ass."

"Don't think he slept in the stadium bunks with the rest of us even once," Jay laughs.

"I had more worthwhile places to go," Snafu says and eyes Sledge to gauge his reaction. He lazily takes a drag on his cigarette.

"Think we'll be given liberty in Australia again sometime?" Sledge asks. He holds Snafu's gaze steady.

"Don't care," Snafu shrugs.

"Unfortunately no," Burgie says, "I suspect we'll be run ragged till this war is over."

"At least she writes you," Bill interjects, "You'll just have to skip over thataway and pick her up before going home at the end of all this."

"Not sure how I'll manage that," Burgie takes a deep breath, "But it's true, I think she felt as strongly as I did. She expresses it well in her letters."

Bill whines that Burgie is holding out on his buddies by not divulging the content of said letters. He and Burgie get into a heated discussion that mostly consists of Bill begging and wallowing in self pity over not having any sweethearts.

Snafu and Eugene ignore them. Once Sledge finishes his meal, Snafu offers his cigarette again, and Sledge accepts. They pass it back and forth as they watch the sunset over the beach in the distance. Snafu wallows in every single touch of their fingers during each exchange.

"Speaking of mail," Sledge starts, "Snafu, did you leave paper on my bunk?"

"Why would I leave paper on your bunk?" Snafu scoffs.

"I thought maybe you were writing a letter and forgot it, or something?" Sledge asks, as though he isn't smart enough to put two and two together. No one accidentally leaves a jumble of notebooks lying around. Not when they're such a hard commodity to find.

Bill barks a laugh "Snafu writing? Can you imagine...that'd be the day."

"The only paper I ever concern myself with is asswipe," Snafu taunts. He dangles his cigarette out of his mouth and smirks at Leyden. Snafu throws one cautious glance over to Sledge and immediately regrets it.

Instead of being grateful, Sledge is annoyed. He snatches the cigarette straight out of Snafu's mouth. Sledge's fingers press into Snafu's lips briefly before he steals the smoke away, almost like a gentle punch. The unexpected touch and Sledge's deadly serious glare turns Snafu hot down to his toes.

Sledge finishes the cigarette in dead silence, and rather than stub it into the ashtray, he takes the nub and sticks it back between Snafu's lips. Sledge abruptly stands, grabs his tray, and stalks off without another word.

Leyden awkwardly coughs and gives Snafu a sympathetic look.

"Did you dump a bunch of papers on Eugene's bed?" Burgie asks Snafu for clarification.

"Fuck no," Snafu lies. They know he's lying. He grinds the cigarette into dust on the ashtray.

"Maybe I should have mentioned the Australian guys were buzzing around you, too," Jay suggests to Snafu, "Except there were less of them thanks to the war."

"Don't think that would've helped, Jay," Burgie says.

"Yeah?" Snafu says. He climbs over the mess hut wall and walks off.

#Sledgefu #Pining #Demisexual snafu #Bad germs

35 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

Running to a Standstill - 18

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2893

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut (mmf bisexual threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex)

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers. While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Epilogue

Your feet hurt a little and you were hungry to the point that you were considering just tearing a piece off the sourdough loaf you’d bought, and eating it plain before you even finished your ride up in the elevator. Even with these minor discomforts, you felt really good. You had just ventured out to the nearest bodega alone for the first time since moving to the Tower.

It had been eight months since the raid on Madripoor and while everyone had doubts that HYDRA was gone for good the new rightful ruler of Madripoor was pretty thorough with cleaning the NAZI organization out of their nation. Not for any particular need to clear out all criminal organizations mind you, just to clear out the one creating the most competition. Madripoor was for all accounts, still lawless.

All the people involved in the production and distribution of the super-soldier drug had been arrested. You had hopes that the drug might end up virtually extinct the way the Quaalude was now. However, you logically knew someone who still had them would try and replicate them. Given the fact that the drugs existed in the first place because someone was trying to replicate what they’d done to Steve way back in 1943.

What you’d stopped being worried about was them bothering you anymore. The Avengers, thanks to Tony, Vision, FRIDAY, and with a little help from Geo, had managed to remove any details regarding the names of people who were experimented on. Which meant there was no one left to know that Geo had powers and no one left to hunt you. You were safe and you could finally have some semblance of a normal life.

It had taken you a while for any of you to trust that. For a month you still didn’t want to go out at all just in case there was some kind of retaliation or last-ditch effort to grab you. When you finally did it was with Bucky and a group of guards. Gradually the guards dropped in number. When all the HYDRA members were convicted you started to go out with just Bucky and every time you went out, there was no one watching you that shouldn’t be. No one followed you or made you feel unsafe. Sure, Bucky would get looks but you could tell the difference between Avengers groupies and the people who had been trying to kidnap your son.

Today was the first time you’d ventured out alone. It was only down the street and you still weren’t brave enough to take Geo out without at least Bucky or Steve with you, but it was a start. You’d only looked over your shoulder a few times. You’d done this alone for years, you knew what to look out for and it wasn’t there. You were safe.

More than safe, you were happy. With all that weight off your shoulders, you were able to just enjoy life again. Every part of it. Being a mother wasn’t just a case of protection and high alert twenty-four/seven. You played with Geo more. You let your guard down and let him get on with the job of being a kid. You started to look back into the things you had studied in college and were seriously beginning to consider studying again so you might be able to have an actual career and not just a cash-under-the-table job that paid your bills but kept you off the books. You were looking at schools for Geo. You were letting yourself be a girlfriend and opening yourself up to the fact that this could be it. You might have actually found two people that were your people the same way your husband had been.

The apartment was alive with sound and smells as you stepped in. Bucky was cooking, he’d just started when you’d ducked down to the bodega for a couple of missing ingredients and now the whole place was full of the scent of garlic, herbs, and cooking tomato. Music was playing over the speaker and Geo seemed to be talking animatedly with the AI as the two of them played some digital version of snap using his tablet. Steve sat with a sketchbook on his knee. There were crayons scattered over the table from when he’d been drawing with Geo but now he was just sitting with his pencil poised but not actually drawing anything.

“He looked up when you came in and smiled. “Hey, sweetheart. How did you go?”

“Good,” you said, as Bucky abandoned whatever it was he was stirring and rushed over to you. “Got a little jumpy at the alleys but there was nothing to worry about.”

“Did you get what I needed?” Bucky asked, digging around your fabric bag while it still hung from your elbow and fishing out items as he found them.

“Yes, honey,” you said, pushing the whole bag into his hands. “Here take it.”

Bucky took the bag and you went to sit down with Steve and Geo. Steve took your hand as you went to pass him, and you let him pull you down into his lap. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” you said. “I used to go out on my own all the time when I was on the run. I didn’t have a lot of other choices.”

Steve’s arm circled your waist and he nosed at the side of your neck. “I know. Still. I’m glad you're starting to feel safe.”

You relaxed in his lap and Geo climbed up onto you. You did feel safe. And loved. And all the things you had missed for three years. Despite the fact you had been trying to go slow for Geo’s sake, it was hard when you felt like this with them. It was clear that Geo was feeling just as safe and at home as you were.

When he was very upset he was still the mommy’s boy he’d always been, but more and more he was turning to Steve and Bucky. Not just when he wanted to be comforted. He did it when he was excited about something, or wanted to play a game, or have a story told to him. He’d ask them to take him out or take him up to the pool. As scary as it was for you to see Geo starting to treat these two men the way he would have his own father, as melancholy as that hit, it was still happening. Geo now had two father figures where he once had none.

Even though neither had said anything about it, you could tell they were seeing Geo as a son too. This was your family now and some moments terrified you, but mostly you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. There were days where you thanked whatever force it was that had led you to not only apply for a lease in Clint Barton’s apartment block but to begin dog sitting for him so that you just happened to be dropping Lucky off at the same time Steve and Bucky were there.

Bucky called you all for dinner and you ate around a table sharing stories about your day and making plans for the following day. Just like a family on an old sitcom, only with extra dads and you all genuinely liked each other.

After dinner you gave Geo his bath and took him to bed, reading to him from a comic about Figment the dragon from that old Disney ride at Epcot. It was a comic that Bucky owned for some reason which was odd because he would have been in cryo freeze during the entire time that ride even existed, yet he had it none-the-less. Geo spent a lot of time looking at each picture so that the thin comic that would normally only take five minutes to get through was being dragged out so it was closer to twenty.

“Bug-key sayed dat dis dwagons was a robod,” Geo said, tapping the cover when you were done reading.

You chuckled. “It was, and it’s weird he even knows that,” you confirmed. “The robot dragon is gone now. We can take you to Disney World some time, then you can see all the different robots. I don’t think any of them will be as smart as FRIDAY though.”

“No…” Geo said, shaking his head. “FWIDAY is da smartest.”

“Thank you, Geo,” FRIDAY replied, the fondness of the little boy evident in her voice.

“Alright, you,” you said, putting the comic away. “Lie down. Time to sleep.”

He flopped back onto the pillow and you kissed his forehead. “Good night, I love you,” you said.

“Wuv you too, mommy,” he replied. “Have sweed dreams.”

“You too, little one.”

“Mommy,” he said as you got up. “I dotta say goodnight to Bug-key and Steeb.”

You chuckled. “I’ll send them in.”

You stepped out of the bedroom to find Bucky and Steve sharing the recliner as they watched the news. “He wants to say goodnight to both of you too.”

“We can manage that,” Steve said as they both got up.

Bucky and Steve went into Geo’s room as you went and got ready for bed too. It was still early but you figured whatever the plans were for tonight, they’d be more enjoyable in your pajamas. When you came out into the bedroom you shared with Bucky and Steve, they were there getting undressed.

“He didn’t cause you any trouble?” You asked.

“No. He just said goodnight and had FRIDAY turn out the lights,” Steve answered.

“I like when I’m here to say goodnight to him,” Bucky added. “He’s so funny how he wishes you sweet dreams too.”

“Yeah, we can use them,” Steve added.

“Speaking of,” you said and looked over at Steve. Lately, when you and Steve had been alone, you’d started talking about Bucky moving in. He was here a lot anyway and the times he wasn’t it felt like he was missing. The three of you still took time to enjoy each other one-on-one, but now you were all happier and more relaxed when it was the three of you.

Bucky froze in the process of stepping out of his jeans and stared at you like a deer in headlights. “What? What did I do?”

“Nothing, Buck,” Steve chuckled. “We were wondering… hoping really, that you’d move in here with us.”

“What? Really?” Bucky said, standing up straight and looking between the two of you.

“Yeah. You don’t have to decide right now…” Steve said.

“No, I want to,” Bucky said, lurching forward, completely forgetting he was still in his jeans and falling flat on his face.

“Bucky!” You yelped, rushing to his side and helping him back up, while Steve watched on with a slightly bemused look on his face.

“I’m okay. I’m good,” Bucky assured you as he got back up and kicked off his pants. “I want to move in. When?”

“Whenever you like,” Steve said. “We can bring your stuff down tomorrow if you like.”

“I do like,” Bucky said. He pulled you close and cradled your face. “Yes, I want to.” He leaned in and kissed you deeply. As the two of you kissed, Bucky reached out to Steve, pulling him closer, so when Bucky pulled back from you, he moved straight to kissing him. You ran your hands down Steve’s chest and nuzzled at Bucky’s neck, nipping at his throat gently.

Bucky pulled back and smirked at you. “You tryin’ to start up some celebrations, huh?”

“Maybe?” You giggled, tugging on his boxers.

“I think that might be something that can be arranged,” Steve teased. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and tossed you onto the bed. You squealed and quickly spread your legs and opened your arms to Bucky as he crawled up your body. He began to unbutton your flannel pajama top and kissed your skin along each new part that became exposed to him. His fingers brushed over your breasts as he pulled the fabric apart and your right nipple, puckered and hardened under the cool metal of his left hand.

Steve took off his boxers and moved up beside you. He leaned in and kissed you. His lips moved slowly against yours and his tongue teased the corner of your mouth. You reached down and massaged his cock. He was already semi-hard and as your palm moved up and down his length and you curled your fingers around his shaft, the blood rushed to it.

Bucky began to grind down against your cunt. You could feel the press of his cock through the fabric of your pants, the thick shaft pushing between your folds and rubbing up and down against your pussy, making your whole body tingle and your cunt start to drip. He leaned down and pulled one of your nipples into his mouth. His teeth pressed against it and you moaned, breaking the kiss with Steve and arching your back so you pushed your breast up into Bucky’s greedy mouth.

Steve moved to his knees, pumping his cock as he looked down at you. You leaned up and lapped over the head as it disappeared and reappeared under the foreskin with each pump of Steve’s hand. He teased the head over your lips and you opened your mouth, letting him guide his cock into your mouth.

As you sucked hard up and down Steve’s shaft, Bucky moved from one breast to the other. His hand slipped down into your pajama pants and he quickly fingered your clit in small circles as he ground his cock against you.

Your whole body buzzed like an electric current was swirling through your veins, making your body thrum. You moaned into Steve’s cock as a hot pit pressed down inside you and your fluids slicked your folds. Bucky pulled back and pulled your pajama pants off. You released Steve’s cock and no sooner had you sat up that Steve was up beside you and pulling you into his lap.

“Mmm… did you want something?” You asked as you straddled his lap and started to grind down on his cock.

Steve cradled your jaw. “I think you know,” he teased. You smirked and leaned in and kissed him deeply. As you dipped your tongue into his mouth, you guided him inside of you.

You both moaned into the kiss and you slowly rolled your hips with his, appreciating the way he stretched and filled you. Bucky got up and grabbed the lube. He moved behind you and kissed your shoulder as he put his hand on Steve’s chest and pushed him back on the bed. You lay down with him, pressing your body against his chest and continuing to bounce on his cock as Bucky lifted Steve’s legs and pushing them up against your sides. He began to apply lube to Steve’s ass, sinking a finger into Steve’s ass.

Steve gasped and bucked up under you. You broke the kiss with Steve and you looked down into his blue eyes. “Feel good, Steve?” You purred.

He groaned and closed his eyes. “Yes. Oh god, yes.”

“You want my cock, Stevie?” Bucky teased.

“Please,” Steve groaned arching his back and forcing his cock up into you deeper.

Bucky took his hand away and slicked his cock. Steve raised his hips needily and as Bucky sunk in Steve groaned and dug his fingers into your hips. You started kissing Steve again and moved with Bucky as he started to thrust. Bucky’s stomach pushed your forward with every snap of his hips, pushing you up and down on Steve’s cock. Steve was breathless and moaning under you both. He reached up and grabbed Bucky’s hand, holding it against your back as the two of you fucked him.

A sheen of sweat began to cling to your skin and your skin prickled. A dull ache built in your cunt, making your walls clench and spasm around Steve’s thick shaft. Steve groaned and his hands opened and closed on your back. You slipped your hand between the two of you and began to finger your clit.

It brought you over. Your orgasm shuddered through you and you moaned loudly. Steve gasped and jerked up under you, coming deep inside your pussy. Bucky kept thrusting. His hand tightened in Steve’s and his hips began to stutter. You kept being bounced forward on Steve’s now softening cock with each thrust of Bucky’s hips. With a groan and a hard thrust, Bucky came.

The three of you slithered into a pile, your breathing coming much more labored than theirs. Bucky rolled on his side and ran his metal fingers down your stomach. “We break you?”

“Mm-hmm…” You hummed. “In the best way.”

“Well we can now do that any time,” he said.

You laughed and pushed him. “Did you forget I have a toddler?”

Bucky hummed and kissed your shoulder.

“Big changes,” Steve said. “It’ll be good though. Us together.”

You smiled and cuddled in between us. He was right. It was a big change. You had been through a lot of change in the last five years, but this was the first one since Geo was born that you felt truly excited about one.

To be continued in Until the End of the World...

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert

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sadachmesarthim · 4 years ago

Note

For the sentence starters I need 16 and 34 please!

this has porn in it, so ur all aware. links are sfw, text is not

for you, my dear, anything. sorry it took so long, i'm giving you what i have now. 'm gonna come back to it n do a second part when i can 😘

song for this one is UGH! by the 1975

@longlivestarker some light plug content 4 u! @bluestarker i love u for this one

he’s got peter pinned, yet again overtaking the younger superhero. they’d been training for a few hours at this point, and both were feeling the effects of such an intense workout.

it was tony that insisted they all start rigorous combat training. after stitching the universe back together, a good majority of the avengers realized they weren’t exactly cut out for extraterrestrial hand-to-hand.

peter honestly didn’t see the point. he was stronger than anyone there, faster. he could swing or run away if he really needed to... but tony continued to hound him over it. he caved, finally, after a solid two weeks of pestering from the older man. he only conceded when tony’d promised to leave him alone after one (1) trial session.

one session turned into two, then four, and quickly became several hours every single day. peter really wasn’t complaining at that point, though - it was a great opportunity to get tony shirtless, and he genuinely was getting better at kicking ass unaided. street vigilantism doesn’t really facilitate developing finesse, and he enjoyed sparring without consequences. what could he say, he loved teachable moments.

apparently a bit too much, from the position he found himself in.

tony might have been a “normal” human man - no super strength or enhanced awareness to give him an edge over his coworkers. what he *did* have, though, were eyes, and enough situational awareness to pick up on the kid’s sudden enjoyment of their previously 'useless' training time. his exposed, sweaty form did quite a bit to the young man in front of him, and tony wasn’t upset about it. like, at all. quite the opposite, actually - why else would he have been so adamant about being the person peter trained with?

but now, having pinned peter’s wrists to the floor in an attempt to subdue him, tony was rethinking his motives decision.

the sight of peter below him - drenched in sweat, pink and red embarrassment quickly overtaking his cheeks, his ears, his neck... absolutely helpless and trembling in tony’s grasp...

he found himself hard. this wasn’t the way his tuesday was supposed to go, but jesus, he wasn't complaining.

and peter, christ. the poor kid. tony could feel the piqued interest under his hips, peter visibly trying (and failing, miserably) to restrain himself from pushing up into the presence above him. he whimpered, soft and pathetic, like he was begging for tony to stop and keep going and fuck, do anything, please, all at once.

tony smiled, entertained by his desperation. “come on, kid. i know for a fact you can be louder than that.”

peter groaned. it was overwhelming, so much and not enough all at once, and oh my god tony was on top of him. tony was grinding back down on peter’s dick and enjoying it. his flush deepened, a desperate ‘nggh, oh fuck, god, tony, please’ wrenching itself from peter’s throat before he could think to stop it.

"love the noises you make, pete, fuck. you gotta slow down, though, baby, and tell me what you want." tony continued directing as much smooth pressure he could down toward the writhing figure beneath him, laughing lightly. peter sounded delicious like this, so fucking needy, & tony wasn’t planning on letting him up any time soon.

peter, already way too frustrated and way too turned on, took the opportunity when he saw it - just as tony was shifting his hips backward, peter thrust up, hooking an arm around tony's elbow and using the leverage to flip their positions.

"can't just pin me here & tell me to slow down. don’t start something you can’t finish, old man.” heat flooded through tony at the quip - he wasn’t prepared for the display of power, for the sass. this was so much better than what he’d planned for, so much better than the writhing & submissive boy he'd had just a few seconds ago.

“i know you like this, baby, but i think you’d like it a lot more if we took off our clothes.” and christ, peter did. he liked seeing tony underneath him - liked feeling his ass pressing against tony's cock, clothed or otherwise. but the idea sounded phenomenal - getting tony out of those stupid fucking track pants, being able to feel so much more.

he released tony's hands, allowing him to reach down and undo the tie at his waist. peter did the same, sitting up on his knees and giving them both enough space to strip down.

"jesus fucking christ, you're kidding." of course tony'd be sparring commando. only him, peter thought.

"what, don't say you haven't pictured this before. can you blame me for wanting to show up prepared??"

that's the fucked part of it - he had pictured it before - so many times. even before they made it routine, he'd fantasized about it. tony grabbing him, pinning him down in the suit, metal fingers shredding his million dollar combat suit with little more than a thought. dreamt about it - tony fingering him stupid on the mats, doors unlocked and open for anyone to catch them. imagined webbing them up, riding tony while he was literally stuck to the ceiling. making him completely helpless to peter's wants and needs.

he'd shown up prepared, before, too - even today. he'd worked himself open, stretching enough to take his favorite plug. half of training is mental, anyway. seeing if he could fight with a plug in was both filthy fantasy and a challenge.

"fuck, no, but christ tony... if you don't do something i swear to god i'll do it for you." that earned him another laugh, broken & tinged with lust - confirmation that tony'd been waiting for this just as long.

"you have no idea how good that sounds kid," tony mused, taking the moment to finally get his hands on the poor little spider. every muscle was twitching, so incredibly responsive to the circles tony was rubbing into his ilium. peter jerked into the contact, falling forward onto tony's chest.

the pressure between them mounted, spurred on by the bare contact of their cocks against one another. it was heady, fogging peter's mind with need. he'd wanted this so desperately, and was so not looking forward to it being over.

tony, the gentleman that he was, pushed peter up a bit. he spit excessively into his hand and - oh fuck, tony please, oh god, - began pulling peter off in earnest. he was entirely unprepared for just how good it felt, arching into tony's grasp. peter lurched, grinding his bare ass down tony’s groin & fucking up into his fist.

peter looked down just as something feral flashed through tony’s eyes. suddenly aware of just how wide his legs were spread, he realized: tony felt his plug. there’s no way he missed it.

tony released the hair in his left hand, snaking it down between peter’s twitching cheeks. he toyed with the plug, smirking when peter’s movement stuttered. tony hooked two fingers around the base, damn near *tearing* it out of him.

another feeling - something like pride and lust and jealousy all mixed - surged through him when he saw exactly what he pulled from peter’s ass.

in his hand, he held a custom “iron slut” plug. tony’d seen things like it before - he wasn’t a stranger to weird social media photo replies. this was so much more, though - gold colored metal shining under the fluorescents, little red rhinestones encrusting the flared end. tony’s colors, peter had tony’s colors inside him.

he growled, tossing the plug to the side. he reached back down, excited to feel excess lube still leaking from peter’s hole. he pressed two fingers in, savoring the small stretch he still needed to fully enter peter.

the kid cursed, clawing down tony’s shoulders. he knew he was sensitive but fuck, he’d never experienced anything like it before. he could feel everything, every single ridge of his fingerprints, every press of flared knuckles against his prostate. it was perfect, so balanced on the edge of too much and not enough.

peter was splitting at the seams, close to drawing blood with how deep his nails had dug into tony’s flesh. he keened, whiny moans sprinkled between gasps and cries of "fuck, fuck me tony please, need you so bad”

tony twisted his fingers, forcing peter to feel the ridges of his fingers everywhere. "oh god, nngh tony, fuck, mr. stark please, i'm-"

"don't hold back, baby. you gonna cum from just my fingers in your greedy little hole? tell me just how much you want it, baby." he ended each phrase with the drag of his fingertips along peter's prostate, just enough to push him over.

peter’s whole body shook, entirely not used to being handled the way it just had. he fell forward, pleasure overriding strength.

peter came with tony's name on his lips, breathy little puffs of air just brushing the skin of his shoulder. tony fucked him through it, only letting up and pulling out when peter’s sounds turned painful.

once he’d come down enough, peter sat himself up, blushing at the man under him. “i can’t believe we just did that in the gym, tony!”

“what, was that not how you wanted to spend your morning, petey?” tony smirked, already aware of the answer.

“oh my good shut up!”

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker/tony stark #.mine #.text #.ficpost #i didn't edit this or even look it over post copy&paste pls go easy #nff #not family friendly #like a lot

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jvnghxope · 4 years ago

Text

love sewn | final

final part;

◦ pairing: Jungkook | reader

◦ genre: boy next door au; fluff, angst

◦ word count: 9k

◦ warnings: angst, mentions of self-hatred, cheating, infidelity

◦ abstract: You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

⇥ prologue | part one | part two | part three | final

◦ a/n: It took me a lot more than anticipated to edit it, but it is finally here! Thank you so much for all your love and support. I hope you have enjoyed this ride as much as I did.

A numb feeling spreads throughout your body as you stare dumbfounded to his cellphone.

You don't know if their conversation continues and you don't care. It's like your mind has shut down. You feel a giant knot inside your throat like you just swallowed a big-ass pill without water. This is awfully like that night two years ago and you feel the breath hitch in your throat.

“Hey," Jungkook says as he appears in the hallway, dressed in jeans and a naked torso as he slides inside a t-shirt. “I was thinking we could go to this park after breakfast. It has a majestic view and you can draw something and I could take some pics– What’s wrong?” He asks the moment he sees your expression and then, his eyes fall to the cellphone.

“You have, hmm, a new text,” you say as calm as you can and hand him his phone.

Maybe it's not a good idea that you stay here. Yes. You need to go. You move past him to walk to his bedroom but he stops you, taking your wrist.

"Did you read these texts?" He asks. A part of you expected him to be mad at you for invading his privacy, but he sounds more worried than anything.

"It was not my intention," you reply, your voice just above a whisper. "I wanted to check the hour…"

"Let me explain."

“There’s no need to explain.”

"It is not what you think."

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him.

"What I think is that you have unresolved feelings for your ex."

There, you said it. The confusion in Jungkook's eyes only confirms it. He has an internal struggle.

"It is complicated," he finally says.

At that, you smile. "I know."

You can assume by his expression that he feels genuinely torn.

“Jungkook," you murmur, taking the hand that was holding your wrist in yours and squeezing it tightly. "I am not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything.”

Words that are hard to pronounce but the truth behind them might give him some perspective.

He shakes his head, "Don't do that."

You frown, "Do what?"

"Minimize this," he points at you and him. "Come here." He tugs you by the hand and leads you to his couch.

"I hate to burst your bubble Kook, but we had one date."

He nods, "I know. We might not be a couple. But that was something I was hoping we could be in the future. That we've dated once doesn't change the way I feel about you."

The small layer of ice that was beginning to form around your heart warms at his words.

"What about Zoe? Do you still love her?"

He sits there, silently, pondering his answer carefully.

"I'm going to be honest with you," he starts and your heart clenches, already fearing his words. "I don't know. I haven't seen her or spoken to her for over a year. But she was a big part of my life. I just can't forget her completely."

You nod. You understand that. "I'm not asking you to do that. I just… I think we moved too fast. Last night–"

"I don't regret what happened between us," he snaps. "Not at all. I thought I made myself clear when I told you about my feelings. I know I am a mess, and yes, maybe it was too quick. But last night was genuine and beautiful. I would do it again."

The tears sting in your eyes. Jungkook caresses your cheek with his thumb when one of them falls.

"Last night was special for me too. But there's something you need to understand. I don't think I could be with you until you resolve this. I don't want to be insensitive or selfish, or anything. I just know that, if we continue this, if we continue living inside a bubble, one day it will burst and someone is going to get hurt. What if when you meet her again you realize your feelings for her haven't changed at all? The three of us will be in a more complicated situation than none of us want to be. Believe me."

At this point, the tears are cascading freely down your cheeks.

"Don't you think that is a little pessimistic?"

You sniff and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, "It is realistic. I've been in the same position before. I've been the second choice and I don't want to be again. So, I think I should go."

You stand from the couch.

"Wait!" He stops you. "What does that mean for me? For us?"

"I think that's up to you. But, for now, maybe we should take some time to think and revalue our situation."

He chuckles dryly, "That sounds awful to 'I don't want to see you anymore'. I don't blame you. I wish things were different."

"Maybe right now it was not our time."

"I don't believe that. Everything happens for a reason."

Ugh. Even in times like this, he is so stubborn. He stands from the couch, too. His eyes are red and he looks defeated. It only makes your heart sink even more. You hate seeing him like that. You wish things were different, too.

Summoning all the courage you have, you take his face between your hands and raise on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips. Jungkook's arms find their way around your waist.

"Take care of yourself, Jungkook."

You murmur against his ear, hugging him. At that, his arms tighten around you.

"Is this goodbye?" He asks, his voice strained and face buried on your hair. You choose to not reply and give him one last kiss to his cheek.

After you've gathered all your stuff, you walk towards the door. But when your hand touches the doorknob, you hesitate.

Is this really the right choice?

It is, you tell yourself. And with that, you walk out of his apartment without looking back.

Seeing you walking away broke his heart in a million pieces.

He wanted to run after you so bad. Hug you and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t. He knew he needed to let you go. If seeing you walking was heartbreaking, seeing you cry because of him almost killed him.

Waking up the next day after your departure felt surreal. Like he was dreaming. For a moment, he forgot what happened the night prior. He stood up and made himself something to eat. As he was breeding some coffee, he was waiting for your arrival like every Monday morning. But of course, that didn’t happen. You didn’t come. And then it hit him. You didn’t swing his door open with that smile of yours he adores so much.

He wanted to call, even send a text. But every time he picked up his phone, his mind was blank. Would you pick up if he called? If so, what should he say? He wished things were different. He wished he met you in different circumstances.

He avoided all of Zoe’s attempts to approach him, too. Every call, every text since the last one. It has been a year. She had all those months to do it. Why was she contacting him now when his life was somewhat normal? She made everything more complicated than it already was.

“...so, that’s the reason why we should keep it casual,” Yoongi finishes the sentence and turns to his friend. “Are you even paying me attention?”

“W-what?” Jungkook blurts.

“That’s a no,” Yoongi giggles and punches him softly on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I logged out for a second." Jungkook rubs his temples and takes a sip of the coffee he left on the table. It is not even hot anymore, but the taste is enough to give him some comfort.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks. When Jungkook nods, he hums. "You don't seem okay."

Jungkook glares at his friend.

“Yeah. I was just… thinking,” he says. "I have a lot in my mind."

"Yeah, no wonder."

It is strange. He sometimes forgets how close to you he has become in the past few months. He is probably aware of the whole ordeal from both sides.

"Shut up."

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something snarky but gets interrupted by a newcomer: a cute redhead in a pretty business dress.

"Hello. My name is Lisa and I’m the assistant of miss Hyeri. She will receive you now," she greets them and urges them to follow her.

Then the realization hits him. Jungkook and Yoongi are about to have an important meeting with one of the curators of the most important museums in town. He doesn't have the time to be nervous because the next second the receptionist is opening one of the many wooden doors.

A gasp falls from his mouth at the sight of the meeting room. It is both mesmerizing and massive. Most of the space is occupied by an enormous table. A woman is waiting for them at the end of the table. Jungkook recognizes her from the gala.

"Min Yoongi, Jeon Jungkook" Hyeri greets them and shakes their hands. "Please, take a seat. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Maybe something to eat?"

“I’ll have a cup of tea, thank you,” Yoongi says. Lisa nods and disappears through the door. Not much longer after that, she reappears with a cup of hot tea.

“I’m so glad you guys could meet us here with so short notice.”

“It is no problem,” Yoongi comments after taking a sip of his tea.

"We were wondering why we are here,” Jungkook adds.

“Oh, right,” she claps. “I have good news. One of my permanent artists recently decided to part ways with the museum and now that we have a free spot, we would like to offer it to you guys.”

For a moment, they just stare at her with wide eyes and mouth agape. Yoongi is the first one to jump into action.

“Seriously?”

Neither of them can believe it.

Hyeri nods with a smile. “The Museum is a big fan of your work. I've been following it for over a year. It is really impressive what you guys have accomplished.”

“Wow. That means a lot coming from you. Thank you,” Jungkook musters and then exchanges a look with Yoongi, slightly panicked. He has always admired Yoongi’s ability to hide his emotions. He is there, completely serious when Jungkook is freaking out. He is both excited and afraid. They have never had a boss. Never had to meet deadlines. To be honest, Jungkook is not very good with deadlines. He likes to work at his own pace.

“So, how would it work?” Yoongi asks.

“Unless there is a special occasion, we change the exhibitions every month or two months. If you agree to work with us, you’ll have a little over a month to work on your first one.”

“Will we have creative flexibility?” Jungkook interjects.

"Totally. Unless there is a special theme or it violates our politics, you are free to create what you want.” Then, she hands them a folder. "Everything is explained in the contract. You can check it out. There is a money offer too. If you want to change it, we are open to negotiation." As if in cue, Lisa opens the door and waits with a smile. “I apologize but I don’t have more time. Please, feel free to arrange another meeting with Lisa whenever you have an answer. I look forward to hearing from you guys.”

"No, it’s okay. We understand. Thank you again for receiving us," Yoongi says as he shakes the curator's hand. Jungkook does the same.

"Thank you so much for coming. Have a nice day," she has enough time to wave them goodbye before her phone starts to ring.

They follow Lisa out of the door with dumb smiles and full of hope.

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook opens the door of their gallery.

“I didn’t expect that,” he musters as Yoongi closes the door behind them.

“Then why did you expect?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know. A part of me thought she wanted to steal Vante from us.”

Yoongi snorts, “And why would she tell us?”

“Good manners?”

“Right.”

"Anyway. It sounds like a good offer, right?"

"Yeah," Yoongi answers. "I gave it a quick check. They are willing to pay us twice the money we earn in two months at the gallery. That sounds pretty good. But I want to call Taekwoon, first. Maybe he can come next week to check the contract before we make a decision."

"Good idea," Jungkook agrees.

“Why are we here, anyway?” Yoongi asks while scrolling down his contacts.

"I need to pick something up from the office. Do you want to go to grab something for lunch? I am starving and in the mood for Thai food.”

“Can I pick the restaurant?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Sure.”

He leaves Yoongi in the entrance as he makes his way to the office. It was Yoongi's idea to have the office behind a hidden door. More like an office is more like storage. They keep there all the photographs and paintings. Theirs and their artists. But Jungkook didn’t find what he was looking for there. So, he returns to his friend.

“Hey, Yoongs. Do you know where is the portfolio of my trip to Machu Picchu? I don't find it and I want to use some pictures in the next exhibition…"

Jungkook stops on his tracks and a gasp falls from his lips.

"Zoe…"

She is there, Jungkook's ex, standing in front of him with a very awkward Yoongi.

"What are you doing here?" He manages to ask after staring at her for a couple of awkward minutes.

"I came to see you,” she says and the sound of her voice moves something inside his chest.

"You can stand,” he blurts.

"Yeah,” she laughs, embarrassed. “We have a lot to talk about."

Jungkook's face turns to Yoongi. "Go," his friend says. "I'll wait at your apartment and I'm still picking the food."

Twenty minutes later, they are both in one of the cafes near the gallery.

Jungkook shifts awkwardly on his seat.

“So, about what you wanted to talk about?”

"Well, I don't know where to start." Zoe takes a sip of her latte nervously.

And that is what sets him off.

“Since when can you walk?” He tries so hard not to sound mad but that is an impossible task. All the anger that he has been holding back for a year is finally pouring off of him.

"Two weeks after the accident, I started to feel the tip of my toes. After a month, I could feel my legs completely. After a lot of physical therapy, I finally can walk without any type of help."

Her face lights up at the memory and Jungkook doesn't know if he feels relieved or still angry. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He deadpans. "Picking up the phone was really that hard?”

Zoe gulps at that. “I wanted to reach you, but I was not in a good place. I was dealing with a lot and my body was getting used to the medication again…”

“A text would have been enough... “ he counters attacks. “Do you even realize how I lived the next months? How hard was it? I know is nowhere near what you have been through, but living with the guilt… almost broke me."

At this point, tears are running down Zoe's cheeks and his heart clenches.

"I know I'm late, but I am so sorry." She reaches out to grab his hand. He stiffens but doesn't pull away. "Jungkook, the accident was not your fault." Somehow, those words managed to lift some weight off Jungkook’s heart. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words until now. Especially from her. It is like he can breathe properly again. “I know what I said. I regretted it the moment I said those words. You didn't ruin my life… You saved me.”

Jungkook can’t help but snort. “Saved you? How? I almost killed us!”

A soft smile spreads across her face. “That night, I was in the middle of a crisis. I was a danger to myself and others around me. You might not understand how much you helped me that night. Despite what happened.”

She uses one of the napkins to wipe her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe I could have done something more.”

“It was nothing personal,” Zoe replies, taking a sip of her already cold coffee. “I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I was 12. When I told my friends, they started to look at me weirdly. Like with pity. I couldn't bear the look in their eyes. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me. So, when I started high school, I decided to not tell anyone about it. Ever since then, only my family knew about it.”

Jungkook nods, understanding.

“I was feeling so good,” she continues. “In my stupidity, I stopped using the medication. I thought I didn’t need them anymore. The first month I was okay. Fine, actually. It was in the second month when the problems started. I guess it was around the time we started fighting over nonsense…”

Jungkook finds himself squeezing her hand in comfort. Of course, he remembers those fights. But right now, they don't seem important anymore.

“But, are you okay now?”

She sniffs. No matter how many times she wipes her eyes, the tears keep coming. “Yeah. The medication is working. These last two months are the first time I’ve been genuinely happy in the last year.”

A smile tugs the corner of Jungkook’s lips. “Who is he?”

Zoe looks at him with wide eyes, “What?”

Jungkook chuckles at the way she is looking at him. “I know you like the back of my hand. Who is he?”

Suddenly, Zoe’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “I met a guy in my support group three months ago. He is an athlete too, with an injury in recovery. We officially started dating a month ago. It's pretty new.”

“He makes you happy?”

“Yes," she says with a radiant smile enough to light up the entire cafe.

"Did you tell him about it?"

She chuckles, "Yes. I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

“Good. I am really happy for you.” He offers her a smile.

It is true. There is no jealousy. He really feels happy that Zoe found someone that understands her and what she's been going through.

“Thank you,” she smiles back. “What about you?”

“Me?” Jungkook can’t hide his surprise and a smirk appears in Zoe’s lips. She still looks beautiful with puffy eyes and smudged mascara.

"Come on. I know you too like the back of my hand. I know how your 'I'm sad because a girl' face looks like. What's up?"

"Do you remember my neighbor? ____?"

She nods. "She's really beautiful. What about her?"

“Well, we had one date," he confesses.

“And? How was it?” Zoe asks excitedly and Jungkook smiles shyly. Talking about you makes his heart flutter.

“Good. Really good, actually. I asked her to be my date at the gala.”

“That’s so cute. So, are you two a thing now?” She coos.

“No," he says and Zoe notices the change in his mood right away. "It is complicated."

"What happened?"

"There was a misunderstanding… I think… And you are involved.”

Zoe chokes on her coffee. “Me? Why?”

“She thinks I still have feelings for you and I was not much of a help either.”

"Do you still have feelings for me?"

"No."

"And why didn't you tell her that?" She accuses him.

"Because I was confused when she asked me!" He exclaims. Zoe frowns and he raises a hand before she starts to speak. "We didn't talk for a year. Our relationship ended literally out of nowhere. We didn't have the time or the will to talk about it. So, I buried my feelings. At the time, they were not worth dwelling on."

Zoe shifts on her seat. “It makes sense. I think we can both agree that we shared something magical, passionate and it didn't last that much. We never get the chance to celebrate our first anniversary."

Jungkook chuckles, sharing the nostalgia. "Yeah. We had a lot of plans for that day."

“Sometimes I think we were so stubborn and more in love with the idea of love rather than with each other. If the accident it would not have happened, maybe we would have broken up in the next couple of months.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. We need to admit we were not compatible enough,” Zoe shrugs with a smile. “Anyway. One of the reasons I contacted you, besides apologizing to you, of course…”

“Of course.”

She ignores him, “...is because I miss you and I want us to be friends.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Really?”

Jungkook throws her a bag of sugar, “What do you mean ‘really’? You know my family abandoned me a long time ago. So I made a new one: Yoongi and you. For a while, we were only the three of us and everything was fine. One night, that changed. I lost a member of my family. Again. Of course, I want you in my life.”

“Owww, Jungkook…” She wipes fake tears. “I forgot you were such a corny.”

He snorts.

“I’m going to get another coffee and then you can tell me everything about her and we could come up with a plan because I didn’t raise you to be this stupid.”

And with that, she stands up and walks towards the bar.

Just like that, two old friends reunite. As the last months never happened.

The next day Jungkook wakes up feeling as light as a feather. It felt nice to talk with an old friend. He feels like Seokjin, Anna and the other guys are more friends of yours than his. It feels nice to have someone else by his side besides Yoongi. Finally, he feels he can breathe properly again. After a year of living full of guilt. Now, he can finally move on with his life. He spends the morning thinking about what he should do next.

He was looking for some of his old photos when he finds one of your sketchbooks. You must have left it here the last time you visited. He knows how important the sketchbooks are for you. They are like a window to your soul. He needs to return them. With that in mind, he takes the sketchbook and walks to your apartment.

If things were as they used to, he would enter unannounced and straight to your room. But things are different. Now, he knocks as any normal slash civil neighbor and waits. Some minutes pass before he realizes there's no one inside. Jungkook sighs disappointed. Part of him wanted to see you again.

"Jungkook?" Someone behind him calls his name. "What are you doing here?"

Seokjin is standing behind him with a lot of bags of groceries.

“Hey," he greets him. "____ forgot one of her sketchbooks at my place. I was wondering if I could leave it in her bedroom."

Seokjin nods, “Do you mind helping me first?”

"Ah, yes," he takes a couple of bags of Seokjin's arms.

“Thank you."

Seokjin opens the door and Jungkook follows him inside. Seokjin places the bags in the kitchen counter and throws the keys into the table.

“Wow, these are a lot of groceries.”

Seokjin smiles sheepishly, “Yeah. I want to perfect some recipes.”

“More than they already are?”

He chuckles, “Yes. I want everything ready when I open my new restaurant?”

“Wait a minute,” Jungkook gasps. “When did that happen?”

He suddenly feels bad for not keeping in touch with him after the little fight he shared with you. His friend only shrugs, keeping his hands busy as he places the ingredients he is not going to use at the moment in their respective cabinet.

“I bought a nice place downtown last week,” he confesses. “But I’ve been planning it for a while now. It seemed like the next step.”

“Wow, congratulations!” Jungkook beams and pats Seokjin’s shoulder over the counter.

“Thanks,” the older replies. “Actually, I may need your assistance with something.”

“What can I do for you?”

"Someone told me you are good at video editing."

A small blush appears on Jungkook’s cheeks, “I wouldn’t say good, but I am decent enough. What do you want to do?”

"I figured if Gordon Ramsay can teach cooking through videos, I can show my recipes too. Will you help me?"

"Of course."

The elder hums and a comfortable silence fall upon them. After a while, Jungkook’s gaze shifts toward the hallway that leads to your room. Seokjin notices, even when he is busy chopping some vegetables.

"___ is not here," he comments.

"Oh…" Jungkook already knows that but that doesn’t mean that he feels any less disappointed. "Is she out?"

Seokjin nods, "She went to visit her sister for the weekend. I thought she told you.”

“Well, we are not exactly in speaking terms,” Jungkook confesses, his eyes falling to his hands. "When is she coming back?"

"Possibly Monday after work,” Seokjin throws the vegetables he just chopped to a strainer. “What happened between you two?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jungkook asks surprised.

He shrugs apologetically, “Kind of. But every story has two versions."

At that, he stays quiet. Seokjin doesn't push him to talk, which Jungkook is thankful for. The elder keeps doing his magic in the kitchen and soon it starts to smell really good.

“A year ago,” Jungkook starts. “I was in a car accident with my former girlfriend. I was driving. She was the most affected. She had several injuries. She blamed me for everything and I accepted that blame. We didn’t talk or saw each other for a while until she contacted me the night of the gala. She wanted to talk. ___ saw it. We had a little… argument about it.”

“What happened?”

Jungkook's face return to look at his friend.

"That night was our first date. I was so excited and nervous. I have never felt like that about someone before. The date went pretty well. Until she saw the text."

He can still see your face. Trying so desperately not to cry but failing nonetheless. It has been printed behind his eyelids.

“She told me that we couldn’t be together until I figured my feelings for my ex. She started to ask questions I couldn’t answer at the moment. I’ve been confused for a long time and denied it for a while.” Jungkook groans and buries his face inside his hands. "I think I ruined everything with her."

“No, you didn’t.” Jungkook raises to meet Seokjin’s gaze. "Is valid to have unresolved feelings when your relationship ended abruptly. Especially after a tragedy. You didn't get closure."

"You didn't see her face." Jungkook chuckles dryly when a shot of tequila appears in front of him. It reminds him of when things were less complicated.

"She is hiding."

"Why?"

Seokjin shrugs, "You know her. Her heart is bigger than her body. She is the type to help strangers when they are at their lowest. She is that selfless."

Jungkook blushes at that. He still feels bad at the way he treated you those first days.

“But when it comes to romantic feelings… She is scared."

"Why?" Jungkook finds himself asking. You never told him about his past relationships and he never asked.

"Someone broke her heart," Seokjin confesses with a sad smile. "It took her some time to recover from that."

"What happened?" He whispers.

"Well…"

Three years ago.

"So, when is the opening night?" You asked Seokjin over the phone. You searched inside your handbag for your key.

"Next week," he replied and then groaned. "I still haven't found the perfect hostess."

"Jinnie, everything is going to be fine. You are an amazing chef. Everyone in the city is going to love your food,” you tried to calm him. “You’ll find the perfect hostess before you know it.”

"Thank you," he replied gratefully, "You are coming, right?"

You tsked, "Of course."

You opened your front door and placed the keys over the small table near the entrance. You made your way towards the kitchen.

"Are you going to bring some of your stuff? Anna brought some boxes the last time she visited and she is going to move in next month. I found this cute apartment. It is kind of expensive, but considering we're four…"

"Yeah, about that…"

"You haven't spoken with Jimin, have you?" He interjected before you could continue. It was impressive how well he could read you even when he was a mile away.

"I will! Is just… Everything is moving so quickly. You moved to the city 6 months ago and you are going to open your restaurant in a week. Anna found a good job. What if I don't get the internship?"

You finally voiced your worries.

"You will," he assured you. "You are really talented. And if they don’t, there are other companies you can apply for."

"I know. Thank you, Jin. I really needed to hear that today," you said as you took your bag from the counter and walk to the mini-studio. "I promise I'll talk to Jimin and of course I will be on your opening night."

"Sounds good!" He chimed. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I left something in the oven."

And he hung up before you could say goodbye. You chuckled and placed your phone over your desk. With a sigh, you took your sketchbook out of your bag and opened it. You meant to work on your designs to finish your portfolio but your stomach suddenly growled.

"Jimin! Do you want to grab dinner?"

When it became apparent you were not going to get a reply, you left the studio and went to the bedroom. Till then, you didn't realize how quiet the apartment was. You frowned. You were 90% sure Jimin's car was at the parking lot. But then again, one of your neighbors had the same car.

The bedroom door was half-opened and you heard the faint sound of the shower. Entering the room, you were about to scroll through Uber Eats when you noticed someone lying on your bed and it was not Jimin.

"Hmmm, Who are you, and why are you lying in my bed?" The blond girl staring at you looked… worried. She opened her mouth but got interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening.

"Hey babe," Jimin murmured, a towel around his waist. "I think you should go. My girlfriend will arrive soon…" He stopped the moment he saw you, standing there, in your shared bedroom.

Every word felt like a dagger. Your suspicions were confirmed. Your boyfriend was cheating on you. You wanted to cry, scream, throw stuff, destroy everything around you. But you were frozen in the same spot, unable to do anything your aching heart craved to.

Maybe it was a dream. Yes. You were still sleeping and this was a nightmare. Your mind couldn't wrap around the fact of Jimin –your sweet and lovely Jimin– doing such thing as betray you.

The sound of your name brought you back to the painful reality. You gathered all the courage you could to look at him.

"What it this, Jimin?" You managed to whisper.

It was a dumb question to ask when the answer was right in front of you, but a part of you wanted to be a misunderstanding, still hoping this was a sick joke.

Jimin, the man you fell in love with, was looking at you with so much sadness that it made you sob.

"Please let me explain. I never meant to hurt you. You were not supposed to know like this."

What was he talking about?

"Know what? That you were cheating on me?" You said. "Is this the first time?"

"I wish I could say yes."

What?

Involuntarily, your eyes turned to the woman you found in your bed. At least she was dressed now, a pretty sundress hugging her body. You gulped. Did he found her prettier than you? At that moment, when you were using a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, you definitely felt she was prettier than you. You hated to feel this way.

"Why?" You finally found the courage to ask him.

"Don't pretend you haven't felt how we've drifted apart."

Oh, you noticed. He had been weird the last couple of months. At first, you thought it was because of school. He gets really moody when it comes to exams. But he graduated and things were the same. There was less communication. He used to be your best friend… And now was like you lived with a stranger with whom you happened to have sex occasionally.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but you didn’t want to push Jimin in to talk about something he was not ready to share. Who would know that something was him cheating on you?

“Is that enough reason?”

“My parents are getting divorced,” he confessed then, taking slow steps into your direction. Your whole body tensed. The last thing you needed was him to get closer. “My father started to drink again.” You opened your mouth to say something but Jimin raised a hand. “No, please. Let me finish.” You pursed your lips and let him continue. “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. You were busy working at the cafe or working with your designs… They were not yours to handle, so I didn't tell you anything. Then, I met Hannah at one of my lectures. We clicked right away. I invited her for a coffee one day and it was like I could tell her anything."

"And you fell in love with her," you finished for him. You felt hot tears running down your cheeks. You couldn't hold them anymore.

"___, you need to understand…" he took another step closer. “I never meant to hurt you.”

"Well, you definitely did a great job. Why didn't you tell me when you realized that you had feelings for another woman?" You confronted him. By the look on his face, you guessed that was not a question he was expecting. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you looked at him expectantly.

“I-I tried… But I couldn’t find the right time…”

He was close enough to take your hands in his. You tried to pull away but he didn’t let you. “Really? In the six months, you’ve known her, you couldn’t mention something?”

“How am I supposed to tell the person who used to be the most important to me that I may have feelings for another woman?”

If you were not feeling like your whole world is crumbling down, you probably should’ve noticed the desolated expression in Jimin’s face.

“You are talking in past tense…” you murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you repeated.

Fresh tears fall down cheeks. You closed your eyes. Suddenly, something warm pressed against your skin. Jimin’s fingers. Your eyes slowly fluttered open. Fixed on his face, it was the first time you realized they were tears on his cheeks. Jimin was crying too. A pair of strong arms encircled your body and pushed you against him. You resisted at first, but he was holding you with so much force. Being between his arms for the last time was the last thing you could handle and you found yourself hugging him back tightly. Three years of your life were slipping between your fingers like water and there was nothing you could do about it.

It was over…

“I’m sorry, ___,” he chanted against your hair. “I am so sorry…”

That night, you drove all the way to the city and never looked back.

When Seokjin finishes the story, Jungkook is speechless.

His heart aches for you, for what happened to you.

“She was broken. It took her a while to recover. She is strong. She just needs some time.”

“I just miss her a lot…”

“I know.”

His friend offers him a smile and continues with his handiwork in the kitchen.

Jungkook stays silent in the next 20 minutes, lost inside his mind. It takes him some time to take everything in. Now, he understands why you reacted the way you did and wishes he handled the situation better. His trail of thought is interrupted when Seokjin places a bowl of homemade noodles in front of him. It smells delicious.

“Eat up. I want your opinion.”

“Thank you.”

The sound of a door being opened catches his attention and Anna appears in the hallway.

“Oh, Kook. You are here,” she greets him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” She sits in the stool beside him and squeezes his shoulder affectionately.

“Good. How about you?”

“Full of work but I smell Jinnie’s special noddles and I realized I was starving,” she was and takes a mouthful of noddles.

“Where can I leave ____’s sketchbook?”

“You can leave it at the studio. I’ll tell her you left it there,” Anna says.

Jungkook nods.

The rest of the meal, they talk about random stuff. Jungkook tells them the news about his possible new partnership with a museum and Seokjin talks more about the plans he has for his new restaurant. Soon, the moon sets and Jungkook is full of deserts. Before leaving, he walks to the studio and places the sketchbook on your desk. He takes a blank sheet from Anna’s desk and a pen and he starts writing:

Dear ___…

"So, in conclusion, you ran away because you are scared," she murmurs softly.

“Did you even heard what I just said?”

“I did and you are an idiot,” she stands from the couch and walks to the kitchen. “Do you want more ice cream?”

“Yeah.” You follow after her. “Do you really think I am an idiot for leaving him there?”

“Yes, I do.” She notices your panic. “Look. I know you are afraid. But this is not the same situation. The story isn’t repeating.”

She serves two more balls of chocolate ice cream into the bowls.

"I don’t want to live that hell of self-hatred again. It took me a while to understand it was not because of me and even more to realize Jimin and I were not meant to be. So yeah, I ran. I thought Jungkook would have chosen his ex if he needed to choose. They have a long story."

She squeezes your hand, "And you removed yourself from the equation so he wouldn’t have to choose." You nod. “That’s why I think you are an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious. He can choose you. There is a possibility. But you decided to run instead to fight for him.”

She takes the bowls and returns to the living room. Then, she turns Netflix off. You stopped paying attention to the movie anyway. You lay down and place your head on her lap with your bowl of ice cream over your stomach. You feel so tired.

"Let’s get this clear. For what you have told me, it looks like he likes you a lot. You were his muse at the gala!" She starts to pet your hair softly, "Listen. I know it hurts. Sometimes, you just need to take the risk. You can't hide here forever. Whatever that happens, you'll be fine. You have me and your friends."

You shift your body to face her, "Thank you. I really needed to hear that."

She grins, "What is family for?"

You stayed with your sister the whole weekend, eating tons and tons of ice cream and watching tons and tons of movies. It was soothing and calming. It helped you get your mind off the situation. And it gave you time to think.

You were back at your apartment morning-evening after work. You are finishing unpacking when Seokjin enters your room.

“How it went?” He sits at the end of your mattress.

“Pretty good! I missed my sister a lot.”

“Maybe you should visit her more often,” he jokes.

You giggle, "She told me the same thing. How was your weekend?"

Now that all your clothes are scattered all over your bed, you throw all the dirty ones into your laundry basket.

"Good. I tried a new noodle recipe... and Jungkook came looking for you."

He is playing with one of your jeans, folding and unfolding them.

You drop what you are doing immediately, "Really? What did he want?"

You try to keep a serene face but on the inside, you were going crazy. The tiny smile on Seokjin’s lips only confirms that you are not very good at hiding your emotions. You’ve lost your touch.

"He brought your sketchbook back," Seokjin says. "Apparently, you left it at his place. It is at your desk."

"Oh… Thank you."

"I’ll have dinner ready in 20 minutes." Seokjin smiles sweetly and walks out of your room.

You finish unpacking and tidying everything up before going to the studio. You left Jungkook’s place in such a rush that you forgot that your sketchbook was even at his place. You run your fingers over the leather cover. It is one of the fewest sketchbooks that you own that doesn’t have anything to do with your work or designs. It is more like a journal were you draw anything that came to your mind. Flipping through the pages, you remember that one time when Jungkook took you to his favorite park. According to him, the sunset looked majestic from there and he wanted to take some snaps. You were supposed to draw it but Jungkook's beauty was more enticing and you end up drawing him.

You keep going through the pages for a while. The sketchbook is full of memories of him… of memories of your times together. There is this one, where you draw the two of you. But before you arrive at that page, you receive a call from Anna. Dinner is ready. With a smile, you place your sketchbook with the others you’ve finished in the box under your desk unaware of the fact that there is a letter Jungkook wrote for you.

One year later.

It is Monday morning and you are at your office. It is surprising how much work can accumulate in one weekend. The workload helps you to ignore the curious glances Taehyung sends your way since you arrived at the office. It becomes pretty annoying at the meeting you both attend to check some details about the newest collection before sending it for approval.

Around 11 am, you go to the coffee station to make yourself some tea. Taehyung is there, too, taking some coffee. And there’s the stare again. “Some say a picture lasts longer.”

He chokes on his coffee. You take your favorite mug from the countertop and purr hot water. Today is chamomile day.

"Are you okay?" You ask him. He nods like he has not been acting weirdly all morning.

"Yeah. I am okay." He leaves his now empty cup in the sink. "Do you, by any chance, have received any texts or calls today?"

"From someone in particular?"

"You know what? Forget it. I'll see you at lunch."

And he walks out of the coffee station before you could ask him what he meant.

Yep. He is definitely acting really weird.

The rest of the morning passes quickly and you don't have the opportunity to confront Taehyung about his weird behavior. He is hiding something. That much is true.

Exactly one hour before lunch, your phone buzzes, and for a split second your heart rate increases until you see the caller ID. It is your sister.

"Hello?"

"Hey, stranger!" she chimes. "How are you?"

"I'm fine! A little busy. And you?"

"Good! At what time you leave your office?"

"At 5PM. Why?"

"I have a surprise for you: I am in the city! So, I was wondering if you want to have dinner with me today."

"Wait, is everything okay?" You sit straight. If something is wrong, she would have told you, right?

"Yeah, silly. Don't worry. I came to buy some stuff and, of course, visit you. So, do you want to go to dinner or what?"

You giggle, relieved. "Sure." You start to think of possible choices. It is the third time your sister comes to the city. You want to take her to somewhere special. "Do you want to go to Seokjin's new restaurant?"

"That sounds perfect."

"Good. Let me text you the address."

You put the phone on speaker to find the message with the address Seokjin sent to you a while ago. You know how to arrive there but you don't remember the street name.

You do small talk with your sister as you do your search, but your Skype goes crazy out of nowhere.

"Hey," you interject between her story. "I will text you the address later. My boss is looking for me."

"Ok. Don't worry. I'll see you tonight."

You arrive at 7:15pm at Seokjin's restaurant.

In less than 6 months, the restaurant is now one of the most exclusive restaurants and one of the best places to eat. That's why the place is at full capacity for Monday night and there are even more people outside waiting for a table or place at the bar.

Tonight Seokjin is the host. He receives you with a heartwarming smile.

"Your usual table?" he asks.

“Yes, please.”

He nods, “You are lucky you know the owner,” he adds with a smirk and you roll your eyes.

“Thanks, Jinnie.”

You walk through the restaurant. The table you like the most is located in one of the corners, near the kitchen. It is kind of hidden but you can see the whole restaurant from there. You’ve spent hours and hours there sketching the people that come by.

Your eyes scan the menu as you wait for your sister's arrival. Jin adds new recipes to the menu every once in a while.

"Does this sit is taken?"

You raise your head to look at the newcomer and you do not expect what you see...

"Jungkook?"

For a split second, you think you might be hallucinating. But no. He is really there. It is the first time you see him in a year. He smiles sheepishly and you remember that there's a question you haven't answered yet…

"I'm waiting for my sister…"

And then, it clicks.

Do you, by any chance, have received any texts or calls today?

"You planned this with my sister," his smile widening is your confirmation. "But, you don't know her. How?"

"We have a mutual friend."

"Taehyung and Seokjin knew about this," you accuse.

Jungkook nods, "The guys helped me to plan this. So, can I sit?"

"Yeah, I guess," you reply. "Is my sister even in the city?"

"Yes. She is waiting for you with Anna at your place."

You don’t know how to reply to that, so you stay silent. You take the opportunity to look at him. He looks… different. His hair is longer. He is wearing a plain grey shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket that fits him so well. He gained weight. The sharpness of his face is gone. His lips look more full in the way they stretch into a smirk. There’s a spark shining on his eyes. He knows you are checking him out.

You clear your throat.

"So, why did you take so much trouble when you just could have called me yourself?"

Jungkook shrugs, "I thought you wouldn't have come if I was the one who contacted you."

Before you could reply, one of the waitresses approaches the table.

"Are you ready to order?"

Jungkook gazes at the menu, "I'll have the Special Noodles, please."

She nods and turns to you, "And you, ___? The usual?"

"Yes. Thank you, Eli," you reply with a smile.

"Right away," she says and walks to the kitchen.

Once she is gone, the heavy atmosphere around you returns.

"Did you broke your phone?" You finally ask him the question you were dying to since he appeared.

"I know. I'm so sorry" he takes your hand in his. It feels so good to feel his warmth again. "You don't know how much I wanted to call. Or even go to your place to see you in person. But I made a promise to myself: I wouldn't contact you until I was in peace with myself."

It is selfish to feel this way. You know it. He did the right thing, but a part of you resents him. He disappeared. For one year, you didn’t know anything about him. Now, he appears out of nowhere and expects you’d receive him with open arms.

“Jungkook, why am I here?"

He seems confused, "What do you mean? I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About us?"

"Is there really an 'us' to talk about?"

"What?"

You shift in your seat. “You left without saying goodbye. With no type of explanation.”

He shakes his head, “What do you mean? I left the letter. Did you not read it?”

You frown, more confused by the minute. “What letter?”

“The one that I hid in your sketchbook. Do you really don’t know what am I talking about?” You shrug. “Well, that explains a lot,” he chuckles awkwardly.

“So, what was in that letter?”

He smiles over his glass of water. “It explained why I left, why I did it, and what happened with Zoe.”

“Yeah, about that… What happened? Because all this time I thought you ran away with her.”

A smirk appeared on his lips. It is not the type you like. It is the smug one. It makes you want to smack him on his pretty face.

“We talked. We resolved things. We stayed as friends,” he replies nonchalantly.

“G-good,” you manage to say and his smile widens. “Where were you staying, anyway?”

“I stayed a while with Yoongi and little with Zoe and her boyfriend. He is really cool.”

“That bastard!” you yelled and sank in your seat when a few customers turned to look at you. “When I asked him if he knew where did you go, he lied.”

Jungkook smiles apologetically, “He promised not to tell you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you huff, a little annoyed at Yoongi. He is going to hear you out the next time you see him. “You could have texted me or something. Do you know how much time is one year? That means I spent 365 days wondering if I would ever see you again." Jungkook opens his mouth but you raise your hand, "Please, let me finish."

He nods.

"One year is enough to meet new people…" You finish what you wanted to say.

Jungkook's smile falters, eyes widening, "Ohhhh… Does that mean you met someone?"

"I had a couple of dates," you confess, watching carefully his reaction. "But the two of them went really wrong."

His face illuminates at your words, "Why?"

"Because they were not you, idiot!"

He starts to laugh at your outburst. Wow, you forgot how much you liked his smile. His eyes turn into beautiful crescendos and his nose scrunched. His laugh is contagious you start to laugh back.

"I'm really glad to hear that."

A comfortable silence falls between you two. At the same time, Eli arrives with the order.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans after his first bite. “They are better than the last ones I ate.”

“Well, Seokjin had a year to perfect the recipe,” you mock.

While you eat, you talk about random stuff: how the recent partnership with a museum went; the brand new collection you and Taehyung are designing from scratch. Stuff like that. It almost feels like time hasn’t passed at all.

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” you say once you have ordered the desert.

He takes a sip of his water. “What question?”

“Why am I here?”

“Oh, I wanted to see you and talk to you,” he says, suddenly shy. “I know you didn’t read the letter I left for you. But I want to explain to you, in person, why I left…”

It doesn’t make sense. How can someone who looks as good as Jungkook does can be shy?

“Go on.”

“I know it was selfish to leave. But I needed to do it. I was not myself when we met. I was lost. Even when you helped me to raise my feet again, I was not entirely okay. I left because I didn’t want to be emotionally codependent of you. If we are together, is because we want to, not because we need each other to survive. The time I spent away helped me to rediscover myself. Now, I am more me than I have ever been. I hope you will give me another chance.”

His beautiful words make your heart flutter. He is looking at you with so much intensity and hopes that you feel bad for being cold with him for the past hour. You stay silent for a moment, though. You suppress the smile that tugs the corner of your lips. Maybe you enjoy a little bit much the way his expression turns in panic.

“Well,” you finally speak up. His shoulders tense in anticipation. “Taehyung and I have an important dinner next week. Some important designers are coming to see our collection. Taehyung is taking his girlfriend. So… Would you like to come with me? You know… As my date?”

The end. ♡

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfics #jungkook x reader #bts #story: love sewn #jvnghxope

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wonglix · 4 years ago

Text

➺ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴀs sᴜɢᴀʀ

⤷ baker!y/n x mingi

⤷ mingi was known for being somewhat of an outcast, not letting anyone get close to him. he also appears to have a particularly sweet tooth for your pastries (and you)

⤷ fluff

⤷ 3.5k words

mingi silently watches you pack up another customer's order, his eyes focusing on the warm smile on your face. the sweet smell that is prominent in the bakery is almost overshadowed by the sweetness in your voice and mingi has to blink a few times to snap out of his trance. once it was his turn, he quietly points to the strawberry-lime cupcakes. he skilfully avoids your eyes when you look up at him to ask how many; "six," his voice was calm, contrary to the excessive hammering of his heart in his chest. he doesn't know how it happened, how he became this infatuated with you. there is one thing he does know, though: he absolutely loves the sweets you make. the first time he got to eat one of your deliciously sweet treats was when you brought raspberry crumble bars to school after you made too many the previous day.

"mingi?" the sweet call of his name made him lift his head from his arms, surprise taking over his features when he realised that it was you standing in front of his desk. he stared up at you silently, making you awkwardly clear your throat, "i just wanted to ask you if you'd like some of the raspberry crumble bars i made?". he kept silent, staring at the small piece of dessert you were holding out to him. his silence began to make you nervous, anxiously pulling back, "i-it's fine if you don't want one, i'll just-"he stops your rambling by taking the crumble bar from you, making you look down at him in surprise, "thank you.". nodding enthusiastically you sent him a small, nervous smile.

you hurried back to your own desk, sitting down and eyeing mingi curiously. mingi had placed the crumble bar on his desk instead of eating immediately which, quite frankly, disappointed you a bit. you were excited to see his reaction, to see if he enjoyed it. you never got to witness it though, since mingi never ate it. that what you thought, at least. mingi had saved the treat for later and, unbeknownst to you, ate it on his bus ride home. mingi enjoyed it a lot, the sweet treat filling him with joy and excitement. he always had quite the sweet tooth, but he was convinced that he never had anything as sweet as that raspberry crumble bar from you.

mingi was just about to turn and leave the bakery when you suddenly called out to him, "uhm, mingi? could i talk to you for a second, please?" he's stunned and looks at you, merely nodding silently. a bright smile appears on your face, and you lean over the counter a bit, looking directly into his eyes. "my shift ends in 20 minutes, could you wait until then? just take a seat over there, and i'll come to you as soon as i can, yeah?". mingi didn't know what made him say yes, maybe it was the adorable smile on your face or the excited sparkle in your eyes. he went to sit down at the table you had pointed out previously. he was sitting there, occasionally letting his gazer avert from his phone to you, your eyes meeting more than once. every time your eyes met, you smiled at him, and mingi silently cursed himself for physically feeling his heart speed up every single time. he doesn't know what you want to talk to him about, but it reminds him of one of the few times you've spoken to him, a memory he holds dear to his heart.

he was sitting in the empty classroom, playing some games on his phone waiting for the lunch break to be over. he never really ate lunch, and even if he would, the atmosphere in the cafeteria was overwhelming and too much for him anyway. so he usually spent his lunch break in the classroom on his own, killing time by playing games, listening to music or sometimes even taking a little nap. mingi was so focused on his game that he didn't hear the classroom door opening and closing. neither did he notice the sound of the steps getting closer to him. it's no surprise that he let out a screech once he felt someone tap his shoulder, whipping his head around with a scared look on his face. he was met with your startled eyes, a guilty look on your face. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to startle you.." you seemed to be legitimately sorry, a small pout forming on your face. mingi cleared his throat and adjusted his posture a bit, "it's... it's fine, don't worry about it." you smile and sit down at the desk next to him. he shifts his gaze from you back to his phone, only to return his eyes to you, growing shy when your eyes meet. "why are you sitting here all on your own?" you break the silence. he looks at you, trying to determine whether your question was serious or not. "i don't eat lunch. i also don't really have friends, so sitting in the cafeteria would be quite sad.". you let out a small giggle, mingi turning to look at you with raised eyebrows. "i'm sorry, it's just...i relate. it's weird sitting in the cafeteria on your own, so i get why you rather spend your time here.". mingi was quite surprised, he always thought that you got along quite well with your classmates.

"you said you don't eat lunch, right?" you sounded curious and genuinely interested in him. it was confusing for him. "um, yeah. i just don't really want to, that's all." you nodded quietly, brows furrowed a bit and thoughts obviously running wild. suddenly you got up and went to your own desk, rummaging through your bag. pulling out a lunchbox you walk back to mingi, sitting down again and looking at him with a smile, "i know you said you don't like to eat lunch, but could you try some of these chocolate brownies? it's a new recipe, and i don't really have anyone that could try them for me, so...". mingi stares at you in disbelief, letting out an airy chuckle, "are you serious?". the second those words left his lips he already knew the answer, your doe eyes looking at him with so much sincerity in them that it made him want to cry. or maybe kiss you, he wasn't sure at the time yet.

"sorry that i kept you waiting, here's chocolate milk for you," you panted out, obviously exhausted from hurrying to keep mingi from waiting any longer. he just shrugged it off, taking a small sip from the chocolate milk, watching you with expecting eyes. "the reason i asked you to stay is that i wanted you to try something for me.". mingi furrows his brows, "try something for you?" you nodded, placing a small box with the bakery's logo on it on the table. mingi reaches out to open it, but he stops in his tracks when you place your hand on top of his, his breath slightly hitching in his throat and he prays that you didn't notice. "there are a few new recipes i tried out and i want to show them to my boss, but i'm not confident enough. so i thought that i'd ask you to try them and if you like them, i'll introduce them to my boss," you muttered softly, your thumb unconsciously drawing circles onto mingi's hand. he can feel his palms getting sweaty again, his heart pounding in his ears and his throat getting dry. it's ridiculous how weak he got at every single small thing you did, but he just couldn't help himself; he was in love.

an hour and plenty of sweets later the two of you still sat at the table, small giggles and brave flirty comments being thrown around. mingi has no idea how this happens, how the two of you fell into such a comfortable conversation. still, he was more than happy that it happened. he knew that his cheeks were probably bright red and that you most likely caught onto his stuttering, but he honestly doesn't care anymore. he has been pining for you for so long, daydreaming about your pretty face and hoping that one day, he'll build up enough courage to finally ask you out. you smile, taking his hand in yours, "thank you for trying them, mingi. i'm glad you liked them, i was a bit worried, to be honest," you giggle a bit, a lovestruck smile creeping its way onto mingi's face at the sound. "they were all delicious. i wasn't expecting anything else though, your treats are always delicious," his voice was soft. because he felt confidence rush through him for a split second he softly intertwines your fingers, a blush dusting his cheeks. the way you smile at him, the blush that spreads from your cheeks to your neck makes him want to kiss you so bad it makes his head spin. "thank you.." your voice was quiet and soft, eyes sparkling and he doesn't know what to do with himself. now would be the perfect time to ask you out, you're so close, you're literally holding hands, and there's no way you'd say no right now, right?

his mind is racing and before he can even begin to think about all the possible ways to ask you out you speak up, "uhm, mingi? would you...would you like to come over to my place? we could make some sweets together since you like them so much..." your voice got quieter with every word, and it made his heart clench. if he wasn't so busy with trying to calm his pounding heart down mingi might've felt proud at the effect he had on you. he speaks up almost too quickly and too enthusiastically. he'll probably beat himself up over it later. still, right now there is nothing he wants more than for you to understand how desperately he wants to go on a date with you. "yeah, yeah, of course. i'd like that, a lot actually.." you smile, a breathy chuckle escaping you at the excitement in his voice, "i'm glad... i'll text you when okay? you remember where i live, right?" he wants the earth to open up and swallow him at the mention of the first and only time mingi has been at your house so far.

the very first time mingi ever set foot in your house was thanks to a project. when the teacher had mentioned that it would be a group project mingi had let out a sigh. it's no wonder that he was somewhat surprised when you called out to him, asking him if he'd like to work with you. how could he possibly say no to that? you smiled and went back to taking notes, leaving mingi to stare at you for a bit longer before he snapped back into reality. you slipped a small piece of paper on his desk, "here's my address and my number. just text me when you're free, alright?". you smiled and waved at him, leaving the classroom. he stared at the folded piece of paper for a while.

that evening he decided to text you, his palms sweaty and heart hammering against his chest. he had always envisioned it to be a nightmare even trying to get your number in the first place, and now that he had it, he didn't know what to do. what was he supposed to say? just a simple "hey"? should he be a little more serious, maybe a "hey. it's me, mingi."? he was overwhelmed, the fear of making a fool of himself nagging at him. gathering up all the courage he had left in that freakishly large body of his he grabs his phone and texts you a simple "hey". pacing around his room, anxiously waiting for an answer from you. and then you answered, making him almost jump out of his skin at the notification sound. it was only a mere "hey :)" from you, but he could've sworn that he felt his heart swell. he was definitely infatuated. you agreed that it would be best if he came over on the weekend and mingi couldn't be happier. perhaps it was wrong to feel like it could be a date, but he was just too excited and in love to think appropriately.

and then saturday came. mingi had changed his outfit several times, struggling with finding something that made him feel comfortable. at some point, he just gave up. he was anxiously playing with his fingers the whole way to your house while trying to come up with conversation starters and things to talk about. mingi stood in front of your home and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. not even a minute later you opened the door, greeting mingi with an excited smile on your face.

you worked on your project relentlessly, not much talking going on between the two of you. mingi kept glancing at you from time to time, panic settling within him when you looked up only to find him staring at you. you didn't really seem to mind though, kindly smiling at him each time and quietly going back to work.

"how about i get us some snacks?" you asked while putting down your pen, facing mingi. mingi nods, getting up with you to help when you suddenly turn and smile up at him, gesturing for him to sit back down, "you're my guest, mingi. sit back down, i'll go get it." a few minutes later you came back with a tray full of baked goods and drinks, mingi staring at you in awe. "i know you like sweets, so i made some yesterday. i hope you like them," your voice was so gentle it made mingi blush a bit. the two of you snacked on your treats in silence when mingi accidentally brushed against his cup, sending the drink flying all across the table - ruining your work. "oh..oh my god, i'm so sorry, i-," you interrupted mingi when you rushed to the kitchen, coming back into the living room with paper towels in hand. "y/n, i'm so sorry, i'll rewrite everything i promise, don't-," mingi abruptly stopped his rambling when he felt your hand on his shoulder, a kind smile on your face. "mingi, don't worry about it. it's no big deal, so don't beat yourself up about it, yeah?" how could you be so lovely? mingi didn't know if he should cry or laugh, your kindness catching him off guard once again. he just ruined hours of work, and you're as calm and gentle as ever.

mingi promised himself that he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of you again. the memories of last time kept swirling around his mind while he was on his way to your house, making him cringe inside. while he was walking down the street, he noticed a small flower shop and stopped dead in his tracks. should he get you flowers? you didn't say that it was a date, but it really feels like one. what if you don't think of it as a date, though? he would look like a total creep turning up with flowers. mingi was unsure and kept going back and forth, settling for a small bouquet of flowers. incase you got weirded out he was absolutely prepared to backtrack and play the bouquet off as a late apology for the last time he came around.

when you opened the door for him, mingi had to keep himself from letting out a small gasp - you looked so pretty, heart melting at your excited smile. he just stared at you, only snapping out of his admiring state when you cleared your throat, looking at him with raised eyebrows and a small, confused smile playing on your lips. "oh! uhm, i-i brought you flowers," he held out the bouquet to you, your eyes sparking when you took them from him. "thank you mingi, so much," you said with excitement in your voice, looking at him with the prettiest smile he's ever seen. leading him inside you beeline for the kitchen, mingi following close behind you.

"i prepared a few different recipes, so i’ll just let you choose. we could make some apple pie bites, strawberry cheesecake, a peach crumble-" your rambling was incredibly endearing to him, a content smile playing on his face. he wasn't really listening anymore, he'd be happy with anything if it was made by you. and making it with you together? there's nothing more he could ask for. "mingi?" he blinked a few times, looking at you. you were looking up at him with an expectant look on your face. "i'm fine with anything, really," he tried his best to make his voice sound confident. you smiled and went to the refrigerator to get the ingredients. "let's make some dark chocolate cookies with some orange then, alright?". mingi just nods, watching you place multiple different components on the counter. "y/n, i have to be honest...i can't really bake? or even cook, for that matter," his voice dragged a bit at the end. you turned to him, shrugging a bit, "it's fine, don't worry about it. im here to teach you, aren't i?" there was a certain playfulness in your voice made a small grin creep its way onto his face. he was enjoying this laid back atmosphere a lot, his earlier panic and anxiety forgotten entirely.

mingi doesn't really know how it happened. approximately one hour later you were both covered with flour from head to toe, chocolate splatters all over the kitchen and breathless giggles sounding throughout the room. it all started out normal with you explaining the different steps of the recipe to mingi while he was listening intently. at some point he accidentally knocked over the bag of flour, thoroughly dusting you in the white powder. he expected you to go and clean yourself, maybe even make his heart flutter by being an absolute angel again. what he didn't expect was for you to grab a handful of the flour that was spread on the counter, throwing it in his face with small giggles pouring out of you. he was dumbfounded and stared at you, letting out an airy chuckle in disbelief. using his stiffness to your advantage you scoop up some more flour, ruffling his hair. "oh, it's on!" he exclaimed eagerly, dipping his finger into the melted chocolate and smearing it over your cheek. you yelped and jumped back, trying to dodge his chocolate-covered fingers; to no avail. your small food fight lasts for all of 20 minutes, both of you giggling out of breath.

"guess we won't be making cookies today, huh?" mingi's voice was teasing, making you burst out in laughter. "yeah, seems like it. this was more fun than actually baking anyways," you chuckled while wiping some of the flour-chocolate mixture off your cheek. mingi stared at you with a radiant smile on his face, making a small blush creep onto your cheeks. "what is it?" you giggled a bit, looking at him with curious eyes. mingi knew that this was his chance.

"can i kiss you?" his voice was soft, barely above a whisper and it took you a second to confirm that you heard him right. your heart was pounding, and you couldn't keep the shy smile from forming on your lips. too shy to answer him verbally you just nodded, stepping a bit closer to him. delicately taking your face into his hands, he looks into your eyes, and he feels his heart swell at the adoration swimming in your pupils. he was such an idiot for waiting this long, but now he finally has you. your eyes flutter shut as he gets closer and you can feel your heart jump when his lips touch yours. his lips taste a bit of chocolate, making the kiss even sweeter than it already was. he looks at you with so much affection when he pulls back and smiles down at you. growing shy under his gaze, you lower your face, eyes set on the floor. his gentle fingers lift up your chin, and before you can react, his lips are on yours again. breaking the kiss, he slings his arms around your waist, noses touching when he gently whispers to you, "i like you, y/n. so much." you blush again, a shy smile on your face as you look up at him. wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him a bit closer, lips almost touching, "i like you too, mingi.". you press another soft kiss to his lips, and you can feel him smiling, his arms wrapping themselves tighter around you to pull you even closer.

mingi loves sweets, but there is nothing as sweet as your love.

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

Text

the story of us

this was requested by @fantasylover16. I genuinely had so much fun with this thank you! I hope you enjoy. Also I said nb jack frost rights and I meant it.

masterlist; my links

This is a story about two people.

One died three hundred years ago and has been alive since then. They have white hair, whiter than the stars, than burning light, than heaven itself. They have blue eyes that remind you of cracked ice in melting winter. They have ivory skin, some say like porcelain, it's more like liquid opal.

The other is twenty two years old. He has black hair, like jet fuel, and midnight. He has green eyes that hold oceans lost to time, that hold memories. He has brown skin that reminds you of cool forest floors and water glistened rock.

This is a story about who they are.

"Percy!" His roommate shouts from the kitchen. "Get your butt down here and tell me if the blue skirt goes better with these glasses!"

He laughs as he pulls a sweater over his heads and grabs his phone, slipping it into his back pocket. He feels the press of his pen as he pats himself down to make sure he has everything and when he is satisfied he bolts down the passage and stops short of the kitchen where Hazel Levesque is parading in front of their grand mirror on the opposing wall. She is decked out in black platform ankle boots, white fishnets that draw out the colour of her skin, slightly dark than his, a bright blue skater skirt and a soft pastel blue crew-neck not unlike his own.

"You Hazel Levesque," He grins bright and unrestrained, "Are a vision."

"Yes," She mutters still swopping between two pairs of clear-framed glasses and scrunching her nose, "But is it enough to bring my crush to their knees?"

"If Reyna doesn't bow down to you I think we can assume she's in desperate need of glasses."

"Well then maybe I should take both pairs and offer her one." She muses, pulling at her afro distractedly.

He snorts, turning to the counter and grabbing a bowl and whatever cereal he can reach first.

"Well," Hazel turns to him, he can see the smile she's trying so hard to hide, "Shall we be off then?"

He blinks at her, blinks again, points an unsure finger at his chest.

"Oh you don't expect me to brave Reyna on my own do you? Besides we're matching today it'd be quite ridiculous if we went out separately."

"But—" He looks to his bowl, as barren as the desert, "But my cereal?"

"I'll buy you breakfast on the way!" She waves the concern off, grabbing his hand and pulling them both out the door.

Despite their height difference, she makes it look far less like he's letting her pull him and far more like she has the strength to straight up carry him across the country.

"Hazel," He giggles, "Slow down."

"I can't Percy," She shakes her head vigorously, practically running through the park next to their building and into the bustling streets beyond. "If I don't do this now I'll lose all my courage and spend eternity in self-damned misery." Her brown eyes, turning honeyed as they catch the sun through the round glasses framing her face, flash bright and bold.

He stops them, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop the laughter shaking his body." You have never been a coward Hazel Levesque. No matter the day, time or outfit you have always been brave enough to stand up and do what's needed. And telling Reyna you have a crush on her is just another battle you absolutely can win." He pulls them apart, setting a steady green gaze on her excited one. "Now let's get some coffee, and a mint tea for you because you're hyper enough as it is, and then we'll go find the love of your life and I can finally show you the google-doc I have for your wedding."

She strangles his ribs in another hug and then takes a deep breath as she steps away. "What would I do without you Percy Jackson?"

"Let's never find out," He smiles, slinging an arm over her shoulder and directing them towards the Chaos House.

As per its namesake, walking into the café is like being lost in a crowd of sleep-deprived, adhd kids all connected to caffeine IVs. In short: it's chaos. Its their favourite place on earth.

Being hit with a wall of noise after the quiet of awakening nature feels like being sucker punched directly in your ear canal. Percy cannot help but grin as he takes in the racing patrons and the sound of coffee beans being ground and the smell of cinnamon and honey and endless activity.

They immediately spot a group of their friends and bolt for the booth they're all squished into.

"Reyna isn't here." Hazels voice is pitched with panic, "Oh gods what if she's sick today? What if she fell in a ditch on her jog this morning?" She stops right in the middle of the café, brown eyes wide. "What if she knew I was trying to do this and decided to stay home today to avoid seeing me?"

He grabs her arms already shaking his head. "My darling, I need you to take a deep breath. You are spiraling."

Wildness is still tracing her expression but he feels her shoulders rise and fall as she gulps air.

"Okay," He says gently, "Now we're gonna go to our table, have a good time with our friends and if and when Reyna shows up you're going to tell her how you feel and I'll meet you back at home so you can let me know when the wedding is."

She smacks his shoulder gently, nervous giggles escaping her. "Alright fine. I hate when you get reasonable. It's very disconcerting."

"Good thing it's rare," His lips twitch, and they finally start towards their friends.

A loud chorus of hellos and how are you’s ring around his head as they get nearer and he feels right at home amongst it all.

"What's up losers?" He flops down next to Jason, pressing a shoulder into the blondes side in a hug.

Annabeth sits next to the blonde, squished between him and Piper, a leg over Jason's thigh and her hand intertwined with Piper's. Frank is on the opposite side, a casual arm slung over Leo's shoulder. Hazel squeezes in besides Leo and sighs dramatically.

"What's wrong Levesque?" Piper frowns, reaching over to clasp the girl's hand.

"She's feeling put out because she had something very important to do today and her plans are being delayed because a certain someone isn't here."

And just as their friends start reassuring and ribbing her in equal parts Percy's phone rings. With a frown he pulls it from his pocket, as he gets up and waves to say he'll be back in a minute.

"Hello, this is Percy Jackson."

He's not paying attention to his surroundings as he listens to the person on the line so when his shoulder slams into somebody he almost topples to the ground. When he turns around to say sorry there is nobody there; his frown only deepens but then the voice on the phone is pulling his attention and he makes his way outside.

This is story about they meet.

The conversation is a whirl of information about his upcoming course and what his supervisor needs from him. By the time he ends the call and tucks the phone back in his pocket his whole body feels like it's taken on the sky all over again. He has the urge to check if another grey streak has graced his hair. Instead he leans against the wall, ignoring the way his clothes catch against its roughness. He can feel the cold seeping through the cracks in the brick and into the threads of his sweatshirt.

He looks down, pulling his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep the warmth in but as he takes his arms away from the wall he sees the frost outline of his fingers. A clear, already melting handprint marking the brick like a graffiti tag. He steps back, away from the wall, to find his whole body outlined. It reminds him eerily of the chalk markings they do at murder investigations. He's not entirely sure this isn't prophetic.

The frost, little beads of ice skittered in shape, is melting at a rapid rate but the colour catches Percy's eye. It's not the usual dulled, muddy ice that coats his windows in the morning and sits atop the grass each night. It is blue, bright and pure, and looks... happy?

He's definitely going insane. The lack of coffee is getting to his brain and he has officially going mad. He should go inside and get warm and sit with his friends and have 3 espresso shots in a row.

But the phone call is still rattling his nerves and he can't bare to face the café without all his wits about him. So he studies the melted frost outline, curiosity moving him forward to trace it with his fingers. He doesn't expect to feel cold like winter mornings and snowball fights and sleigh rides coursing through his bloodstream. It's shocks him right into a new state of being. It reminds him of a poem his mother used to say at the beginning of each winter. The poem was long enough that he was always asleep by the end of the last verse but he recalls the first part clearly now

Jack Frost was in the garden;

I saw him there at dawn;

He was dancing round the bushes

And prancing on the lawn.

He had a cloak of silver,

A hat all shimm'ring white,

A wand of glittering star-dust,

And shoes of sunbeam light.

The thought is so ridiculous Percy has to laugh. It bursts out of him unexpectedly but once he starts he cannot stop. It feels like the world has turned on its side but he's still walking upright. Everything is slightly dizzying but strangely amusing from this angle. He laughs harder, ribs aching, cheeks stiff, and eyes bright. He's sure people are staring at him like he's mad but he cannot stop. Until he stumbles over the pavement and is falling to the inevitable crunch of his facial bones.

It happens almost in slow motion. He sees the ground coming towards him, bubbling up like it's going to swallow him whole. He stared it down, refusing to close his eyes, as if challenging it to hurt him, to take him as he goes. But then hands, freezing cold even through his layers of clothing, wrap around his waist and he is being hauled up in a rush of wind and dizzying speed. He bumps into a hard chest and feels as if he's stepped into a freezer.

"Hey," A voice low and playful crackles through him, "You okay?"

He turns around slowly, and is not at all prepared for the site he is greeted with. There is so much all at once, startling and glowing and fracturing. His eyes catch an warm icy gaze, blizzard white hair, pale skin, cold-kissed lips, hands running with blue veins and silver rings.

"You okay?" The stranger repeats, looking at him with concern.

He honestly doesn't know if he has the ability to talk. His mouth opens, his throat bobs, but words are lost cargo.

"Can you hear me?" The stranger asks, accompanying the question with sign language.

Percy responds automatically, raising a fist and moving it back and forth; his head accompanies the action but still no words come out.

They smile at him, and start signing another question. He doesn't bother to stop them, tell them they aren't deaf, he can hear, he just can't talk. He's speechless.

Are you okay? They sign.

He nods, and the words stuck in his throat finally tumble out. "Yes, yes," It is croaky with overwhelming emotion, "Thank you for catching me. I’m sorry I uh—" He doesn't have any respectable excuse for being mute for the entire first half of their interaction. He is just completely struck by everything the stranger is.

"Ah so you can hear me," The stranger laughs. He decides the sound is what makes stars. "Well I'm glad you're okay. I'm Jack."

Percy snorts. This cannot be real. Ice, him thinking about Jack Frost, and suddenly his saviour's name is jack? What has the universe been doing with its time to plan this?

“I'm Percy," He stares at them curiously studying the snowflakes that seem to cling to their floppy white hair despite the snow season being weeks away, and the blue eyes that hurtle him to the Abraham lake in Canada. A holiday his family had taken a mere year ago and one of the most beautiful places he's ever seen.

His demigod senses are peeking out their window, as curious as he is. The action puts him on high alert. His instincts are usually only alerted when he's in danger or............. in love.

"What are you?" He cannot stop the question. His mouth has a self-controlled function and no way to override it.

Jack raises their brow, "What are you, Percy?" His name sounds like luxury rolling off the stranger's tongue.

But the question throws him off guard and before he has time to drool over them again he is pulling his pen out and twirling it between his fingers anxiously. "Are you here to kill me?"

That barks a laugh from Jack, who looks so entirely amused he can't help but wonder if he can frame the moment to keep with him forever; a brow quirked, a slight dimple on their right cheek as their smile grows, and bunched freckles as their nose scrunches slightly.

"Get a lot of assassination attempts do you?"

“You have no idea," He feels his eyes roll in annoyance, an automatic reaction after all these years.

"No Percy," Jack says softly. It brushes across his skin like cool paint and snowy pine leaves. "I am here because the moon told me to be."

"The moon?" He sputters, "What do you mean the moon?"

"I mean exactly that. I talk to the moon and it answers."

He can feel his legs grow weak. "The moon— the moon— the....... moon," He mutters, staring at Jack.

They are silent as he attempts to compartmentalize his thoughts. "You know what?" He finally speaks, "That's not the weirdest thing I've ever heard. The children of Demeter talk to grain so this isn't that far out of reach."

Jack just looks at him with a patient, gentle smile on their face.

"So what are you? A child of Selene?"

"I am not a demigod." They shake their head. "I was chosen by the moon three hundred years ago. I am the spirit of winter."

The silence stretches between them like taffy. He isn't sure he's heard this right.

"You're—" He cannot even bring himself to say it.

"Yes, I'm Jack Frost."

Percy's legs give our from under him. Jack is not quick enough to catch him but he lands on a pillow of snow right before he bruises his knees. "You're Jack Frost?"

"Yes. And you are Percy Jackson."

"How—how do you know?"

"I've been alive for a very long time. I know a lot of people."

He just hums, trying to wrap his head sound another layer of myth and fable that makes up the fabric of the world.

"Why are you here?" He finally gutters out. "I mean I know the moon told you to come but why?"

"I uh have a theory but I need to ask something of you in order to know if I'm right."

He frowns, staring up at the stranger. No not stranger. Can you even call someone who's been around for centuries a stranger? What are they a stranger to? They have seen and heard and learnt and loved more than he ever has or ever will. It's more like he is the stranger. "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to summon water for me."

A thousand questions sit like caught snowflakes on his tongue but he let's them melt instead of spilling them into the world. Instead he gets up and concentrates on all the water sources surrounding them.

A reservoir one hundred miles away, fire hydrants near bursting with unused pressure, a small pond in a small park about five miles south, and of course the ocean in front of them, no more than fifty miles within reach.

"How much do you need?"

"Give me fifty liters."

He closes his eyes and imagines the pond, the water rippling within it. He imagines holding it in his palm as he would a basketball ball. When he feels a cool sensation wash over his skin he opens his eyes once more and sees a swirling blob of water surrounding his hand, dancing to the beat of his pulse.

"Is this enough?"

"Plenty," They smile and then their hands are reaching out and as if the water knows they're calling to it, it bounces over in little bubbles. As it touches their fingers a ray of light bursts from the contact and it turns to ice. Jack sucks in a breath, watching in amazement as the water freezes and hits the ground in a flurry of snow.

"What?" Percy cannot hold in his curiosity any longer. "What is it?"

"The moon was right." They look at him, eyes sparkling with something more than awe or curiosity.

"About?" He prompts.

"We're soulmates."

This is a story about their destinies.

"We're what?" Percy whispers. He has never gotten loud when he was surprised or angry or sad. He has always been soft.

"I usually need my staff to solidify water but if I use elements touched by my soulmate I can do it without aid."

"This is ridiculous!" He sputters. There is absolutely no way this is real. Seriously? Soulmates? He would laugh if he wasn't so outraged.

"You don't believe in soulmates?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe in!" He growls, "This whole ordeal is completely insane."

"What would it take to convince you Percy Jackson?" Jack just smiles, it is shining with happiness like it hadn't before.

"I have no idea because I have never heard of or encountered a soulmate." He hisses.

"Do you know why you can see me?"

He shakes his head, thoughts swirling faster than the hurricanes his further looses.

"Because you believe in me."

"I thought you had control over who sees you and who doesn't?" He raises a brow.

"Only with children. I can choose to show myself whether they believe or not. I have the ability since enough of them do believe." They say. "But adults are different. If they don't believe I cannot make myself appear to them. I am simply a ghost of their childhood past."

"I don't understand." Percy cannot wrap his mind around this. "How do you know you can only make ice out of whatever water I touch?"

Jack looks around for a brief moment before catching sight of something behind them. In a split second they are there and then they're back.

"Watch," He pours the water from the bottom he'd nabbed over his hand. It falls to the floor as liquid as it had started out.

"That doesn't prove anything, how do I know you're not just making sure you don't turn it to ice?"

"I cannot touch anything without freezing it, especially water." They worry at their bottom lip with their teeth, thoughts flying across their face. "It's like your friend Leo." They nod their head towards the café where Percy can still see his friends snuggled into the booth. "He doesn't necessarily turn everything he touches to ashes but he will always leave a warm imprint no matter how or what he has touched."

"How do you know that?" He gapes.

"Immortality gives you a lot of time to know the world." They shrug. "Now do you believe me?"

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. "I mean if we are soulmates..." He tries to form the question into some semblance of sense and order. "Does that mean I'm tied to you? That we have to like I don't know get married and spend eternity together?"

"No," Jack says gently, "No you can deny this bond if that is how you feel. It does not mean anything except that the universe put our souls in the same constellation. We are free to pick and choose who we love."

“And how will it work if we do decide to get together?” He frowns, “I will age but you will always stay the same.”

They look at him, head tilted, ice eyes bright. “But you know that’s not true.”

Everything in him barrels forward like a tidal wave. It cannot be. No-one knows. Not even his mother. “What isn’t true?” He will play this carefully, like the strings of a harp. He will not let his life crash through the ground.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” He is adamant in his stance. He will not bow.

“You are denying the life you chose.” Jack considers him. “Why?”

“I’m not denying anything.” He huffs, “I’m just taking it slow.”

A snort bursts of them, arrogant and amused. “You are taking becoming a God slow?”

“I want to live with my friends before they figure it out!” He cries, all the fear and terror and worry burning through him.

Jack moves closer, presses a cold hand to his shoulder. “It is okay to be scared and angry and worried but do not forget that you are worthy of the title and you should wear it like a crown, not a burden.”

“There is always some burden in this much power.” He is bitter. He is right.

“Come,” Jack pulls them together, “Go meet your friends.” The hug is so cold but comforts him to the bone. “And when you are ready to make a decision, just whisper my name and i will answer, no matter where i am, or how far apart we are.”

He studies the person before him, beautiful and strange in an inviting sort of way, like no matter how much he learns about them he'll always want to know more. "Well you are very pretty."

They laugh, and the sound lights up the ocean inside him. "Thank you."

“Live Percy Jackson.” Jack Frost whispers.

And then Percy is standing outside a café, an icy wind dancing between his fingertips, and the impression of a freezing hug still clinging to his clothes. He realizes he feels happy. He feels safe.

This is a story about their love.

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

[image id: a poem by John P Smeeton titled "Jack Frost in the Garden" the poem reads:

Jack Frost was in the garden;// I saw him there at dawn;// He was dancing round the bushes// And prancing on the lawn.// He had a cloak of silver,// A hat all shimm'ring white,// A wand of glittering star-dust,// And shoes of sunbeam light.

Jack Frost was in the garden,// When I went out to play// He nipped my toes and fingers// And quickly ran away.// I chased him round the wood-shed,// But, oh! I'm sad to say// That though I chased him everywhere// He simply wouldn't stay.

Jack Frost was in the garden:// But now I'd like to know// Where I can find him hiding;// I've hunted high and low —// I've lost his cloak of silver,// His hat all shimm'ring white,// His wand of glittering star-dust,// His shoes of sunbeam light"

the background is a light blue and white marble. end id]

Tags: @fantasylover16 @queen-of-demons-and-hell @nishlicious-01 @leyontheway @caffeinated-croissant

#Jack Frost x Percy Jackson #Crackships keep fandom alive #Jack Frost #Percy Jackson #PJJG fanfic #the story of us #not edited

38 notes · View notes

96harmony96 · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 7

I don’t remember much of what happened after we arrived. Camera flashes burst around us like fireworks as we walked the length of the press gauntlet, but I scarcely paid them any mind, smiling by rote. I was drawn into myself and desperate to get away from the tension radiating in waves from Lauren.

The moment we crossed over into the building, someone called her name and she turned. I slipped away, darting around the rest of the guests clogging the carpeted entrance.

When I reached the reception hall, I snatched two glasses of champagne from a passing server and searched for Cary as I tossed one back. I spotted him on the far side of the room with my mom and Stanton, and I crossed to them, discarding my empty glass on a table as I passed it.

“Camila!” My mother’s face lit up when she saw me. “That dress is stunning on you!”

She air-kissed each of my cheeks. She was gorgeous in a shimmering, fitted column of icy blue. Sapphires dripped from her ears, throat, and wrist, highlighting her eyes and her pale skin.

“Thank you.” I took a gulp of champagne from my second glass, remembering that I’d planned on expressing gratitude for the dress. While I still appreciated the gift, I was no longer so happy about the convenient thigh slit.

Cary stepped forward, catching my elbow. One look at my face and he knew I was upset. I shook my head, not wanting to get into it now.

“More champagne, then?” he asked softly.

“Please.”

I felt Lauren approaching before I saw my mother’s face light up like the New Year’s ball in Times Square. Stanton, too, seemed to straighten and gather himself.

“Camila.” Lauren set her hand on the bare skin of my lower back and a shock of awareness moved through me. When her fingers flexed against me, I wondered if she felt it, too. “You ran off.”

I stiffened against the reproof I heard in her tone. I shot her a look that said everything I couldn’t while we were in public. “Richard, have you met LaurenJauregui?”

“Yes, of course.�� The two shook hands.

Lauren pulled me closer to her side. “We share the good fortune of escorting the two most beautiful women in New York.”

Stanton agreed, smiling indulgently down at my mother.

I tossed back the rest of my champagne and gratefully exchanged the empty glass for the fresh one Cary handed me. There was a slight warmth growing in my belly from the alcohol and it loosened the knot that had formed there.

Lauren leaned over and whispered harshly, “Don’t forget you’re here with me.”

SHe was mad? What the hell? My gaze narrowed. “You’re one to talk.”

“Not here, Camila.” sHe nodded at everyone and led me away. “Not now.”

“Not ever,” I muttered, going along with her just to spare my mother a scene.

Sipping my champagne, I slid into an autopilot mode of self-preservation I hadn’t had to use in many years. Lauren fintroduced me to people and I supposed I performed well enough—spoke at the appropriate moments and smiled when necessary—but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too conscious of the icy wall between us and my own hurt anger. If I’d needed any proof that Lauren was rigid about not socializing with women she slept with, I had it.

When dinner was announced, I went with her into the dining room and poked at my food. I drank a few glasses of the red wine they served with the meal and heard Lauren talking to our tablemates, although I didn’t pay attention to the words, only to the cadence and the seductively deep, even tone. SHe made no attempt to draw me into the conversation and I was glad. I didn’t think I could say anything nice.

I didn’t become engaged until she stood to a round of applause and took the stage. Then I turned in my seat and watched her cross to the podium, unable to help admiring her animal grace and stunning good looks. Every step she took commanded attention and respect, which was a feat, considering her easy and unhurried stride.

She looked none the worse for wear after our abandoned fucking in her limo. In fact, she seemed like a totally different person. SHe was once again the woman I’d met in the Crossfire lobby, supremely contained and quietly powerful.

“In North America,” she began, “childhood sexual abuse is experienced by one in every four women and one in every six men. Take a good look around you. Someone at your table is either a survivor or knows someone who is. That’s the unacceptable truth.”

I was riveted. Lauren was a consummate orator, her vibrant baritone mesmerizing. But it was the topic, which hit so close to home, and her passionate and sometimes shocking way of discussing it, that moved me. I began to thaw, my bewildered fury and damaged self-confidence subverted by wonder. My view of her shifted, altering as I became simply another individual in a rapt audience. SHe wasn’t the man who’d so recently hurt my feelings; she was just a skilled speaker discussing a subject that was deeply important to me.

When she finished, I stood and applauded, catching both her and myself by surprise. But others quickly joined me in the standing ovation and I heard the buzz of conversations around me, the quietly voiced compliments that were well deserved.

“You’re a fortunate young lady.”

I turned to look at the woman who spoke, a lovely redhead who appeared to be in her early forties. “We’re just…friends.”

Her serene smile somehow managed to argue with me.

People began stepping away from their tables. I was about to grab my clutch so I could leave for home when a young man came up to me. His wayward auburn hair inspired instant envy and his eyes of grayish-green were soft and friendly. Handsome and sporting a boyish grin, he lured the first genuine smile out of me since the ride over in the limousine.

“Hello there,” he said.

He seemed to know who I was, which put me in the awkward position of pretending I wasn’t clueless as to who he was. “Hello.”

He laughed, and the sound was light and charming. “I’m Christopher Vidal, Lauren’s brother.”

“Oh, of course.” My face heated. I couldn’t believe I’d been so lost in my own pity party that I hadn’t made the connection at once.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m sorry.” I offered a sheepish smile. “Not sure how to say I read an article about you without sounding awkward.”

He laughed. “I’m flattered you remembered it. Just don’t tell me it was in Page Six.”

The gossip column was notorious for getting the goods on New York celebrities and socialites. “No,” I said quickly. “Rolling Stone, maybe?”

“I can live with that.” He extended his arm to me. “Would you like to dance?”

I glanced over to where Lauren was standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the stage. SHe was surrounded by people eager to talk to her, many of whom were women.

“You can see she’ll be awhile,” Christopher said, with a note of amusement.

“Yes.” I was about to look away when I recognized the woman standing next to Lauren—Magdalene Perez.

I picked up my clutch and managed a smile for Christopher. “I’d love to dance.”

Arm-in-arm we headed into the ballroom and stepped onto the dance floor. The band began the first strains of a waltz and we moved easily, naturally into the music. He was a skilled dancer, agile and confident in his lead.

“So, how do you know Lauren?”

“I don’t.” I nodded at Cary when he glided by with a statuesque blonde. “I work in the Crossfire and we’ve run into each other once or twice.”

“You work for her?”

“No. I’m an assistant at Waters Field and Leaman.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “Ad agency.”

“Yes.”

“Lauren must really be into you to go from meeting you once or twice to dragging you out on a date like this.”

I cursed inwardly. I’d known assumptions would be made, but I wanted more than ever to avoid further humiliation. “Lauren’s acquainted with my mother and she’d already arranged for me to come, so it’s just a matter of two people going to the same event in one car rather than two.”

“So you’re available?”

I took a deep breath, feeling uncomfortable despite how fluidly we moved together. “Well, I’m not taken.”

Christopher flashed his charismatic boyish grin. “My night just took a turn for the better.”

He filled the rest of the dance with amusing anecdotes about the music industry that made me laugh and took my mind off lauren.

When the dance ended, Cary was there to take the next one. We danced very well as a couple because we’d taken lessons together. I relaxed into his hold, grateful to have him as moral support.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked him.

“I pinched myself during dinner when I realized I was sitting next to the top coordinator for Fashion Week. And she flirted with me!” He smiled, but his eyes were haunted. “Whenever I find myself in places like this…dressed like this…I can’t believe it. You saved my life, Camila. Then you changed it completely.”

“You save my sanity all the time. Trust me, we’re even.”

His hand tightened on mine, his gaze hardening. “You look miserable. How’d she fuck up?”

“I think I did that. We’ll talk about it later.”

“You’re afraid I’ll kick her ass here in front of everyone.”

I sighed. “I’d rather you didn’t, for my mom’s sake.”

Cary pressed his lips briefly to my forehead. “I warned her earlier. SHe knows it’s coming.”

“Oh, Cary.” Love for him tightened my throat even as reluctant amusement curved my lips. I should’ve known Cary would give Lauren a big brother threat of some sort. That was just so like him.

Lauren appeared beside us. “I’m cutting in.”

It wasn’t a request.

Cary stopped and looked at me. I nodded. He backed away with a bow, his gaze hot and fierce on Lauren’s face.

Lauren pulled me close and took over the dance the way she took over everything—with dominant confidence. It was an entirely different experience dancing with her than with my two previous partners. Lauren had both the expertise of her brother and Cary’s familiarity with the way my body moved, but Lauren had a bold, aggressive style that was inherently sexual.

It didn’t help that being so close to a woman I’d so recently been intimate with seduced my senses despite my unhappiness. SHe smelled scrumptious, with undertones of sex, and the way she led me through the bold sweeping steps made me feel the soreness deep inside me, reminding me that she’d been there not long ago.

“You keep running off,” she muttered, scowling down at me.

“Seemed like Magdalene picked up the slack quick enough.”

Her brow arched and she drew me closer. “Jealous?”

“Seriously?” I looked away.

SHe made a frustrated noise. “Stay away from my brother, Camila.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

My temper ignited, which felt good after all the self-recrimination and doubts I’d been drowning in since we’d screwed like feral bunnies. I decided to see if turnabout was fair play in Lauren Jauregui’s world. “Stay away from Magdalene, Lauren.”

Her jaw tightened. “She’s just a friend.”

“Meaning you haven’t slept with her…? Yet.”

“No, damn it. And I don’t want to. Listen—” The music wound down and she slowed. “I have to go. I brought you here, and I would prefer to be the one who takes you home, but I don’t want to pull you away if you’re enjoying yourself. Would you rather stick around and go home with Stanton and your mother?”

Enjoying myself? Was she kidding or clueless? Or worse. Maybe she’d written me off so completely that she wasn’t paying attention to me at all.

I pushed away from her, needing the distance. Her scent was messing with my head. “I’ll be fine. Forget about me.”

“Camila.” SHe reached for me and I stepped back quickly.

An arm came around my back and Cary spoke. “I’ve got her, Jauregui.”

“Don’t get in my way, Taylor,” Lauren warned.

Cary snorted. “I get the impression you’re doing a smokin’ job of that all by yourself.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “You gave a wonderful speech, Lauren. It was the highlight of my evening.”

She sucked in a sharp breath at the implied insult; then shoved a hand through her hair. Abruptly, she cursed and I realized why when ahe pulled her vibrating phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.

“I have to go.” Her gaze caught mine and held it. Her fingertips drifted over my cheek. “I’ll call you.”

And then she was gone.

“Do you want to stay?” Cary asked quietly.

“No.”

“I’ll take you home, then.”

“No, don’t.” I wanted to be alone for a bit. Soak in a hot bath with a bottle of cool wine and pull myself out of my funk. “You should be here. It could be good for your career. We can talk when you get home. Or tomorrow. I’m going the couch potato route all day.”

His gaze darted over my face, searching. “You sure?”

I nodded.

“All right.” But he looked unconvinced.

“If you could go out and ask a valet to have Stanton’s limo brought around, I’ll run to the ladies’ room real quick.”

“Okay.” Cary ran his hand down my arm. “I’ll get your shawl from the coatroom and see you out front.”

It took longer to get to the restroom than it should have. For one, a surprising number of people stopped me for small talk, which had to be because I was Lauren Jauregui's date. And two, I avoided the nearest ladies’ room, which had a steady flow of women pouring in and out of it, and I found one located farther away. I locked myself in a stall and took a few moments longer to finish my business than absolutely required. There was no one else in the room besides the attendant, so there was no one to rush me.

I was so hurt by Lauren it was hard to breathe and I was so confused by her mood swings. Why had she touched my face like that? Why had she gotten mad when I didn’t stay by her side? And why the hell had she threatened Cary? Lauren gave new meaning to the old adage about “running hot and cold.”

Closing my eyes, I shored up my composure. Jesus. I didn’t need this.

I’d bared my emotions in the limo and I still felt horribly vulnerable—a state I’d spent countless therapy hours learning to avoid. I wanted nothing more than to be home and hidden, freed from the pressure of acting like I was completely pulled together when I was anything but.

You set yourself up for this, I reminded myself. Suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out and was resigned to finding Magdalene leaning against the vanity with her arms crossed. She was clearly there for me, lying in wait at a time when my defenses were already weak. My step faltered; then I recovered and made my way to the sink to wash my hands.

She turned to face the mirror, studying my reflection. I studied her, too. She was even more gorgeous in person than she’d been in her photos. Tall and slender, with big dark eyes and a cascade of straight blonde

hair. Her lips were lush and red, her cheekbones high and sculpted. Her dress was modestly sexy, a flowing sheath of creamy satin that contrasted beautifully with her olive skin. She looked like a fucking supermodel and exuded an exotic sex appeal.

I accepted the hand towel the bathroom attendant handed me, and Magdalene spoke to the woman in Spanish, asking her to give us some privacy. I capped the request with, “Por favor, gracias.” That earned me an arched brow from Magdalene and a closer examination, which I returned with equal coolness.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured, the moment the attendant stepped out of earshot. She made a tsking noise that scraped over my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “You’ve fucked her already.”

“And you haven’t.”

That seemed to surprise her. “You’re right, I haven’t. You know why?”

I pulled a five-spot out of my clutch and dropped it in the silver tip tray. “Because she doesn’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to either, because she can’t commit. She’s young, gorgeous, rich, and she’s enjoying it.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “She certainly did.”

Her gaze narrowed, her pleasant expression slipping slightly. “She doesn’t respect the women she fucks. The minute she shoved her dick in you, you were done. Just like all the others. But I’m still here, because I’m the one she wants to keep around for the long haul.”

I maintained my cool even though the blow had been a perfect hit right where the most damage could be done. “That’s pathetic.”

I walked out and didn’t stop until I reached Stanton’s limousine. Squeezing Cary’s hand as I got in, I managed to wait until the car pulled away from the curb to start crying.

____

“Hey, baby girl,” Cary called out when I shuffled into the living room the next morning. Dressed in nothing but a loose pair of old sweats, he was stretched out on the couch with his feet crossed and propped on the coffee table. He looked beautifully disheveled and comfortable in his own skin. “How’d you sleep?”

I gave him the thumbs-up and headed into the kitchen for coffee. I paused by the breakfast bar, my brows lifting at the massive arrangement of red roses on the counter. The fragrance was divine and I inhaled it with a deep breath. “What’s this?”

“They came for you about an hour ago. A Sunday delivery. Pretty and super pricey.”

I plucked the card off the clear plastic stake and opened it.

“I’m still thinking about you.

Lauren”

“From Jauregui?” Cary asked.

“Yes.” My thumb brushed over what I assumed was her handwriting. It was bold and masculine and sexy. A romantic gesture for a girl who didn’t have romance in her repertoire. I dropped the card on the counter as if it’d burned me and fetched a mug of coffee, praying caffeine would give me strength and restore my common sense.

“You don’t seem impressed.” He lowered the volume on the football game he was watching.

“SHe’s bad news for me. SHe’s like one giant trigger. I just need to stay away from her.” Cary had been through therapy with me and he knew the drill. He didn’t look at me funny when I broke things down into therapeutic jargon, and he didn’t have any trouble shooting it back to me the same way.

“The phone’s been ringing all morning, too. I didn’t want it to disturb you, so I shut the volume off.”

Aware of the lingering ache between my legs, I curled up on the couch and fought the compulsion to listen to our voice mail to see if Lauren had called. I wanted to hear her voice, and an explanation that would make sense of what happened last night. “Sounds good to me. Let’s leave it off all day.”

“What happened?”

I blew steam off the top of my mug and took a tentative sip. “I fucked her brains out in her limo and she turned arctic afterward.”

Cary watched me with those worldly emerald eyes, eyes that had seen more than anyone should be subjected to. “Rocked her world, did you?”

“Yeah, I did.” And I got riled up just thinking about it. We’d connected. I knewit. I’d wanted her more than anything last night, and today I wanted nothing to do with her ever again. “It was intense. The best sexual experience of my life, and she was right there with me. I know she was. First time she’d ever made it in a car, and she was kind of resistant at first, but then I got her so hot for it she couldn’t say no.”

“Really? Never?” He ran a hand over his morning stubble. “Most guys scratch car banging off their fuck list in high school. In fact, I can’t think of anyone who didn’t, except for the nerds and fuglies, and she’s neither.”

I shrugged. “I guess car banging makes me a slut.”

Cary grew very still. “Is that what she said?”

“No. sHe didn’t say shit. I got that from her ‘friend,’ Magdalene. You know that chick in most of the photos you printed off the Internet? She decided to sharpen her claws with a little catty girl chat in the bathroom.”

“The bitch is jealous.”

“Sexual frustration. She can’t fuck her, because apparently girls who fuck her go into the discard pile.”

“Did she say that?” Again, fury laced his quiet question.

“Not in so many words. sHe said she doesn’t sleep with her female friends. SHe’s got issues with women wanting more than a good time in the sack, so she keeps the women she bangs and the women she hangs out with in two separate camps.” I took another sip of my coffee. “I warned her that sort of setup wasn’t going to work for me and she said she’d make some adjustments, but I guess she’s one of those people who’ll say whatever’s necessary to get what they wants.”

“Or else you have her running scared.”

I glared. “Don’t make excuses for her. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours, baby girl.” He reached out and patted my knee. “Always yours.”

I wrapped my hand around his muscular forearm and stroked my fingers gently along the underside in silent gratitude. I couldn’t feel the multitude of fine white scars from cutting that marred his skin, but I never forgot they were there. I was thankful every day that he was alive, healthy, and a vital part of my life. “How’d your night go?”

“I can’t complain.” His eyes took on a mischievous glint. “I shagged that busty blonde in a maintenance closet. Her tits were real.”

“Well, then.” I smiled. “You made her night, I’m sure.”

“I try.” He picked up the phone receiver and winked at me. “What kind of delivery do you want? Subs? Chinese? Indian?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re always hungry. If you don’t pick something, I’ll cook and you’ll have to eat that.”

I lifted my hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. You pick.”

____

I got to work twenty minutes early on Monday, figuring I’d skip running into Lauren. When I reached my desk without incident, I felt such relief that I knew I was in serious trouble where she was concerned. My moods were shifting all over the place.

Mark arrived in high spirits, still floating from his major successes of the week before, and we dug right into work. I’d done some vodka market comparisons on Sunday and he was kind enough to go over those with me and listen to my impressions. Mark was also assigned the account for a new e-reader manufacturer, so we began the initial work on that.

With such a busy morning, time flew swiftly and I didn’t have time to think about my personal life. I was really grateful for that. Then I answered the phone and heard Lauren on the line. I wasn’t prepared.

“How’s your Monday been so far?” She asked, her voice sending a shiver of awareness through me.

“Hectic.” I glanced at the clock and was startled to see it was twenty minutes to noon.

“Good.” There was a pause. “I tried calling you yesterday. I left a couple messages. I wanted to hear your voice.”

My eyes closed on a deep breath. It had taken every bit of my willpower to make it through the day without listening to the voice mail. I’d even enlisted Cary in the cause, telling him to restrain me forcibly if it looked like I might succumb to the urge. “I did the hermit thing and worked a little.”

“Did you get the flowers I sent?”

“Yes. They’re lovely. Thank you.”

“They reminded me of your dress.”

What the hell was she doing? I was beginning to think she had multiple personality disorder. “Some women might say that’s romantic.”

“I only care what you say.” Her chair creaked as if she’d pushed to her feet. “I thought about stopping by…I wanted to.”

I sighed, surrendering to my confusion. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

There was another long pause. “I deserved that.”

“I didn’t say it to be a bitch. It’s just the truth.”

“I know. Listen…I arranged for lunch up here in my office so we don’t waste any of the hour leaving and getting back.”

After her parting, I’ll call you, I’d wondered if she would want to get together again after she settled down from whatever trip she’d been on. It was a possibility I’d been dreading since Saturday night, aware that I needed to cut her off, but feeling strung out from the desire to be with her. I wanted to experience again that pure, perfect moment of intimacy we’d shared.

But I couldn’t justify that one moment against all the other moments when she made me feel like crap.

“Lauren, we don’t have any reason to have lunch together. We hashed things out Friday night, and we…took care of business Saturday. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Camila.” Her voice turned gruff. “I know I fucked up. Let me explain.”

“You don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I need to see you.”

“I don’t want—”

“We can do this the easy way, Camila. Or you can make it difficult.” Her tone took on a hard edge that made my pulse quicken. “Either way, you’ll hear me out.”

I closed my eyes, understanding that I wasn’t lucky enough to get away with a quick good-bye phone chat. “Fine. I’ll come up.”

“Thank you.” She exhaled audibly. “I can’t wait to see you.”

I returned the receiver to its cradle and stared at the photos on my desk, trying to formulate what I needed to say and steeling myself for the impact of seeing Lauren again. The ferocity of my physical response to her was impossible to control. Somehow I’d have to get past it and take care of business. Later, I’d think about having to see her in the building over the days, weeks, and months ahead. For the moment, I just had to focus on making it through lunch.

Yielding to the inevitable, I got back to work comparing the visual impact of some blow-in card samples.

“Camila.”

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