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salandition · 4 years

Note

Its,,,,, so basic but Maybe Leon and Reader are training out near Circhester and get caught in a snowstorm? They find an old cabin amongst the trees and tHeReS OnLy OnE BED and they have to keep warm,,,, (Love your writing btw)

A/N: yes, the classic trope. I will gladly take a bite out of it :) Also this one kind of really dragged on, so it’s a bit long lol took me way too long to finish. if any of you recognize the title, ur a real one

Chilly Down (Good Times, Bad Food)

Leon x Reader

--- --- ---

You feel like you should have expected something like this to happen. Despite what a great guy Leon is and how fun it is to hang out with him, he was sort of a magnet for trouble. He had an ability to draw in unfortunate events wherever he went it seemed.

So you’re not completely surprised when you and Leon are hit with an unexpected snowstorm while training together outside of Circhester. Are you a bit miffed about it? Yes. But surprised? No, not really.

“Training with the Champion is great and all,” you yell over the storm, one arm in front of your face to uselessly protect you from the snow, and your other hand is holding tightly onto Leon’s. Grabbing hold of him was almost more important than making it out of the storm- if you lost sight of Leon during this, you might never see him ever again. He’d find some way to end up on an undiscovered continent, you just know it. “But I think I’ll pass on your invitations after this!” You finally finish, continuing to trudge through the snow with him.

“You know, usually I’d argue, but I think that’s fair,” Leon laughs, and then immediately shuts his mouth as a rush of cold air hits him and tries to travel down his throat. He hacks a few times- a few ice crystals probably hit his uvula or something- and then you feel a harsh tug on your hand. “Look!”

Leon points toward a dim but very much real yellow glow in the distance. Immediately, the two of you head for it- desperate for any shelter you could be given. Part of you was doubtful, wondering if it was just some luminescent Pokémon or a random streetlight. Though even a streetlight would be better than nothing- that would mean you were back on the route’s path and could find your way back to Circhester if you were lucky.

But it wasn’t a random streetlight. Thank whatever Gods that may exist- the light was coming from a big, sturdy wooden cabin, a sign being viciously blown by the wind read that it was even a hotel. What are the odds?

“This is literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Leon yells as you both make a run for the cabin.

“I believe it!”

You almost fall with the amount of force that you and Leon enter the cabin with- both frantic to get out of the biting cold. You actually do fall, tumbling into a roll on the ground and snow scattering everywhere as Leon fumbles for the door and slams it shut before you bring too much of the storm inside.

Heavily breathing, you don’t even notice the lady behind the counter before she coughs.

Leon looks up with a beaming grin, laughing as he huffs and puffs, leaning against the door. “Hell of a storm, innit?”

Not the smartest thing to say, but the lady gives out an amused snort anyway.

“I’m assuming the two of you will be purchasing a room?” She tilts her head with a gleam in her eye. Something tells you that business isn’t going so well if she’s working in a hotel in the middle of nowhere and she’s still charging when you’re both obviously stranded- but hey, that’s life. You look up to Leon as you stay on the floor, hands on your chest as you continue to try and catch your breath.

“Let me see,” you huff and wheeze, “those Champion benefits,” another huff, “big guy.”

It’s not that funny but Leon laughs so hard that he starts to slide down the door, knees buckling beneath him, and you think that’s really funny so you start laughing too, rolling on the floor. The lady watches all the while, and if you notice a flying Rotom recording you while you and Leon lose your minds over nothing, you don’t say anything about it.

Once Leon manages to shuffle over and pay the woman at the desk after your post-adrenaline delirium, she gladly shows you over to your room. You’re suddenly feeling exhausted after trudging through a snowstorm, so you don’t pay much attention to what she says as she leads you there- but it’s not like you need to. Leon does most of the talking as he keeps you steady with an arm around your shoulder.

You don’t notice the look the woman gives you, nor do you notice the look Leon gives back. All you feel is the comforting rub of his hand on your arm, and it’s nice.

“Enjoy your stay, you two,” is the only thing you pick up from her before the door is shut and you’re left alone in your newly-purchased hotel room.

There’s an important detail here, and that detail is the fact that there’s only one bed, and you’ve never shared a bed with Leon before. Sure, you’re friends, but you’ve never been the cuddling-type of friends. This detail is completely missed by both of you as luck would have it because as soon as you and Leon manage to remove your clothes, you’re out like a pair of lights the second your backs hit the mattress.

No, the problem and important detail doesn’t really announce itself in your mind until morning comes. Well- afternoon, actually, if you managed to look at a clock.

When you awake- at first, it’s not strange. It’s not strange until you recognize the hand around your waist, hair in your face, and legs entwined with yours- which is definitely not something that’s a usual occurrence for you. Recognizing all of these details, your eyes snap open, and you begin to take in the situation as it is.

Leon and you both stripped down to your underwear, definitely cuddling, and definitely in the only bed available in the room as far as you can see. And from what you can tell with how the walls shake and the windows vibrate, the storm is still going strong.

Right.

“Leon,” your voice is hoarse from sleep as you smack your lips, your hand lifting up to shake Leon’s arm that’s wrapped tightly around your waist. “Leon, you daft idiot, wake up,”

“Mmmgh,”

“I’ll… I’ll steal all your Pokémon, and run off to another country. Wake up, Leon.” The threat is creative, but lacking any real malice behind it as you continue to shake Leon’s body. A few more rough shakes and he finally blinks his eyes open.

“Where… where am I?” He mumbles almost incoherently as he blinks a few more times, lifting himself up on his elbows as he takes in his surroundings. A bit of drool falls from the corner of his mouth.

It’s kind of cute, but also kind of gross, and Leon is still kind of on top of you in nothing but his underwear. You begin to wonder if he’s ever going to notice- but finally, his expression seems to come to life as his mind wakes up and he looks up and down your body again.

“...Right. Yeah, my bad.” Grunting, Leon finally rolls off you and to the other side of the bed. You want to laugh at the pinkness of his ears and cheeks if you weren’t vividly aware you probably looked exactly the same, so you bite your tongue for now. Apparently, the both of you have agreed to ignore your partial nudity for now as Leon holds his head in his hands, keeping his gaze off you as he asks, “why on Galar am I so tired?”

“Maybe we were supposed to die,” you snicker, sitting up yourself and bringing up the covers as you do, trying to stay somewhat-modest. “And now our brains are realizing we’re actually alive and it doesn’t know what to do.”

Despite himself, Leon giggles. “Yeah, maybe.”

The window shakes from more pressure of the storm outside. It gets your attention for sure, and you realize that you should probably check your phone to see when this storm would even end. Very, very slowly, you shuffle out of bed, analyzing the floor and looking at how scattered your clothes are. It takes your tired mind a minute to find your bag, but when you do, it’s not good news.

Of course there’s no service.

“Ugh,” you groan again. “This sucks.”

“Put on some clothes,” Leon says from the bed and you roll your eyes.

“They’re drenched, mate, and so are yours,”

Leon’s head snaps up from his hands at that. “Really?” You’ve got no reason to lie about that but he scatters toward his clothes anyway, feeling the damp and dirty texture of them with his own hands, as if that would change their outcome. You’re definitely not checking out his butt as he bends over to pick them up, because that would be silly and childish.

Very nice view, though.

Leon sighs. “Of course. Don’t suppose this hotel has a store of any sort?”

“Good one,” you laugh. “Probably not, but I’ll check the bathroom for robes-“

“Oh, let me do it,”

“Why?”

“I’ve really got to pee, mate,”

“Right on, then,” you point him toward the direction of the bathroom and Leon immediately makes himself sparse. You can only laugh as you watch him go, and while you wait, you gather all of your wet clothes and start to hang them all around the room so they might dry while you wait out the storm.

“Good news,” Leon comes out of the bathroom and you look over your shoulder, seeing him hold up two white, fluffy robes. He tosses one your way and you catch it easily, wrapping yourself up quickly and Leon follows suit. “So, roomie,” Leon raises a brow at you, hands on his hips, “what do we do now?”

You wave your phone that’s in your hand. “We got no service, so we should probably check in with that lady who was at the desk if she knows anything about the weather reports.” Your eyes move to look at the bed. “And maybe you should talk her into changing us to a room with two beds.” For both of your sakes.

“Right,” Leon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

More bad news, though. The lady didn’t know anything about the weather other than the fact that these storms usually lasted a day or two, so, in her own words, ‘if you’re lucky, you won’t be here much longer, but I can’t assure that. Also, you’re charged per night, per room.’

And all the rooms in this shotty little hotel only had one bed, so the idea of getting privacy at night was a lost cause. You weren’t the biggest fan of wasting your money or Leon’s on two rooms, anyway, especially since the owner seemed to be somewhat rude. So that’s nice.

‘At least she had food’, Leon had told you positively, and you suppose he was right. She had a rather weak list of a menu, but ‘at least there was a menu’ so you wouldn’t have to eat whatever berries you had in your bag. The two of you seemed to dance around the fact that you were going to most likely be sleeping partly nude again tonight, except this time you’ll both be a lot more awake and conscious of it. You distracted yourself with the mediocre food that tasted mildly burnt or undercooked, no in-between, and playing with what Pokémon could fit in your small hotel room instead until both of your eyes were drooping and you couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.

“So.” You stand on one side of the bed, Leon on the other. Both of you stare at each other with your hands on your hips.

“So,” Leon nods.

“Should we… make rules?” Looking down at the bed and up at Leon, you know that technically you guys could try to stay on your side of the bed and probably not touch each other all night.

But you were keenly aware that this man is a cuddler and you had a subconscious habit to scoot over to the warmest thing while you slept, so it seemed like physical interaction was going to happen one way or the other.

“I think that’s a bit pretentious,” he scratches his chin and shrugs. His nonchalance is downplayed by the heat on his cheeks and the sweat on his temple. “It’s fine if we… Cuddle. Right?”

You suppose so. “I guess,” you purse your lips. “Typically friends cuddle with clothes on, though. And these robes are too awkward to sleep in.”

“I mean, we did it before.”

That’s true, but again, both of you were a bit delirious. But you can’t really argue with that, and you’re getting tired of dancing, so you nod and sigh. With a burst of courage, you square your shoulders, narrowing your eyes. Leon looks at you strangely before he squawks, his hands flying to cover his face when you remove your robe, the material falling and pooling around your feet.

“Some warning!” He chokes and coughs. You laugh through your embarrassment, quickly getting on the bed and under the covers.

“Come on. We could be sitting here all night. Lose the robe,” you cheer him on and Leon glares at you through the spaces of his fingers. “Lose the robe! Lose the robe!”

“Stop!” He laughs and you giggle along, but it slowly ebbs and abruptly comes to a halt when Leon does, in fact, lose the robe. It’s too much to ask for him to not notice how you stare, so of course he does- humming proudly as he snuggles under the covers. “Speechless?” Leon smiles.

“Don’t push it, I saw you ogling me the first time,”

He coughs when you smirk.

“Fine. Come here and cuddle me if you’re so smart.”

“Fine, I will!”

“Do it.”

“I’m gonna.”

The two of you lay under the covers, Leon’s arms open and beckoning, and you- frozen, not moving an inch. It’s not until he gives you a cocky look and starts to wiggle forward that you finally bite your lip and shove down your ego, rolling over to his side. It should be awkward, and it is, but only because the two of you somehow manage to fit together perfectly and that’s a bit odd. Your head resting against his collarbone, his arms wrapped snugly around your body, your legs entwined in a comfortable and fitting manner. It all happens almost instantaneously as if you’d both done this for years, as if it was a habit.

“Not that bad, right?” Leon murmurs in your ear and hums when your fingers trail little patterns across the skin of his waist and back. You mostly just did it to ease your nerves, not realizing how intimate the action was, but you figure it’s fine if Leon seems to like it. His hands explore your hair and the nape of your neck, the feeling making you curl further against him with a sigh.

“Not bad,” you whisper. “Still odd.”

He hums but doesn’t prod the conversation along any further.

Several odd minutes pass, your breathing slowing as your body relaxes against Leon’s. Right as you find yourself on that warm, lulling cusp of falling asleep, there’s a brushing feeling against the top of your head. Leon’s body shuffles and lowers on the mattress and you’re about to whine a complaint about him moving around so much- but you’re silenced by the feeling of lips against your forehead.

The hand that was previously teasing the skin of your neck trailed up and lightly grazed your cheek as Leon’s lips moved across your forehead to your brow. The actions are relaxing, yes, but your body tenses regardless because friends don’t do this.

“Leon,” your whisper is like a shout compared to the dark silence in the room. Leon freezes up instantly at the sound of it and when you open your eyes, his head is angled in a way with his lips still pressed against your temple so you can’t see his expression. “...What are you doing?” You lick your lips nervously.

“...I thought you were sleeping.” Is all he has to say. You can’t say anything in reply to that because it’s fairly obvious to the both of you that no, you weren’t sleeping. “Um.” The air that leaves his mouth is hot against your skin.

From where your head rests, snug against his chest, you can almost feel the thundering pace of his heart more than you hear it. You idly wonder if it’s possible for hearts to beat in sync with one another.

“Leon,” you say again when he doesn’t offer any explanation. He sucks in a shaky breath, his arm propping up from under him as he finally comes into your field of view; his eyes downcast and refusing to meet yours as he scoots away from you and lays his head back on his pillow. His hand lowers from your cheek down to your waist, touching your skin and then jolting back and insecurely moving against his chest, instead.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “that was a bit creepy.”

You remember the feeling of his heartbeat, and you don’t think that’s creepy at all.

You reach your hand forward, tenderly cupping Leon’s jaw as he had done to you. Finally, he looks at you- his golden irises shining like glowflies in the darkness. The moment held between you now is a stark contrast to the harsh snowstorm outside- if you strain your ear, you’d be able to hear the whistling of the wind and the creaking of the trees.

For now, all you can hear is your heart in your ears and the voice in your head saying kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.

You’re aware that friends don’t do this. They don’t look at each other like this and they don’t press their lips against each other so softly- meekly. Lovingly. Maybe if you’re experimenting, maybe if you’re a different type of friend. But you and Leon aren’t like that, you’ve never been like that.

So if things are different now, that’s something that’s a treasured secret between you, him, and the snow.

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a-black-pegasus · 3 years

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I see you are taking asks 🤔, I was just wondering if you could you giant Hawkeye? Maybe the tiny is falling (idk how or why they jumped or fell) from a building and he sees them and catches them, maybe Hawkeye tryes to find who did it to them, or he gets a new roomy idk I just throwing ideas around like a balloon.😅 also ur writing is really good!

Hawkeye x tiny one-shot

Speedrun story because I'm in the car.

Also in my personal universe tony is alive

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

"I think we should just let new Jersey go if you ask me." Spidey joked over the intercom.

Clint snickered as he drew an arrow and fired. From his position in the abandoned apartment, he had a birds eye view. He watched the arrow soar through the air with a whistle and land at the feet of a storming group of robots.

As soon as the first few had passed over it, it exploded, demolishing a near dozen walking chunks of metal.

Maybe they should let New Jersey go. Why did they have so many robot problems?

"Pe- Pete's sake, Spiderman," Tony stumbled, trying to cover whatever he was going to say. "What happened to that friendly neighborhood persona you said you had?" Tony quipped back.

"Pe....Peeta? Peat? Pe....?" Clint wondered to himself as he nocked another arrow and aimed. Well, either way he was a step closer to finding out that Spiderman's name.

His thoughts came to a quick halt as a tiny screaming blip fell right in front of his view towards the ground.

Barton reacted instinctively. His legs jumped out the side of the building before his brain could tell him no. He pressed his bow arm flat against his back and stretched out his other arm straight.

He picked up momentum as he fell, the sound of the wind whipping around him was almost completely blocked out by the shriek of a tiny figure.

A few more yards...

The tiny figure was spinning wildly in the air.

A few more feet...

He could see the ground approaching.

A few more inches...

That rubble was not soft looking.

His fingers closed around them as he felt an arm wrap around his waist and swing upwards.

"Mr. Hawkeye! What are you doing?!" Spiderman asked, his voice amplified by both his presence

Clint had no time to check out what he caught, but whatever it was, it was warm and moving. He slipped it in a pocket and made a note to not roll on that side.

"Nothing. I tripped."

"Bullshit." Tony's voice crackled harshly over the earpiece. "You jumped."

Spidey let Clint go on a rooftop and spun to look at him with those mechanical digital black lens that Tony built in his suit. Clint suppressed a shudder as he could just tell spiderman was running a diagnosis on him.

"I'm fine." Barton said firmly. "Let's just finish cleaning this mess up." He drew a bow and shot it at another robot.

Sooner they finished here, sooner they could get on the ship and head home.

-----

They had cleaned up most of New Jersey and shut down the source of the commotion. Clint barely paid attention. He was getting to old for this. It was just another wannabe Tony Stark, blah blah vengeance, blah blah invention.

What he was really interested in was the thing in his pocket.

As the rest of the guys went to the ship to go get showers and change out of their suits, he went to the supply room to check his catch in peace.

He pulled the figure from his pocket, and they were not a happy camper.

As soon as he pulled them out they began to push at his fingers. But Clint could tell this was not a full effort.

For one, they were slick with sweat, and covered in dirt. He held them in his open palm and let them take a few minutes to breathe.

"You're seriously dehydrated. Here, take some water." He set them on a bin and pulled out his water bottle. He unscrewed the metal top off and hesitated. The bottle was three times bigger than them.

He filled the lid up and set it next to them. Even the lid was like a bucket.

They didn't care. They dragged their body over and held the edge as they guzzled down water.

Clint got a better look at them. They were slim, almost stick thin, and had short cropped hair. Their clothes looked like they were stitched together from scraps.

"What's your name?"

When they finished, they looked up with tired eyes and sighed.

"Does it matter?" They asked in a small, shakey voice. "Isn't this where I get a tag number and shoved in a cage?"

Clint wasn't expecting that.

"No. This isn't recruitment." He said. "If you don't want to give me a name I can give you one... Tiny."

He thought he saw them roll their eyes.

"My names Quinn." They said.

"And mine is Clint." He offered his hand to them. "You look like you could use a shower and a place to crash."

Quinn took one look at the incoming hand and pulled away.

"I have my own place." They said defensively.

Clint pulled back. "New Jersey? It's under repair at the moment. It's not suitable for civilians."

Was this a civilian? A person this small probably wasn't registered under any name.

"I'll be fine on my own. Thank you." Quinn said quickly, scooting back more.

Then the plane shook slightly and tilted to the left. It was probably just a bit of turbulence.

But Quinn yelped and clung to the groves of the crate. The water bottle lid tipped and clattered to the floor.

Clint just adjusted his weight with the movement. When it settled he crouched down in front of Quinn.

"Hey hey, it's ok. It's just some turbulence."

Quinn was shaking. "What's that??"

Clint slipped into dad mode. "Turbulence is just a little patch of air that bumps against the ship. But the plane is so big that it just flys right through-"

"We're flying!?" They interjected.

Clint winced as tears cut through the dirt on Quinn's face. Maybe he should get Thor, he was better at dealing with this kind of thing.

"I want to go home!" Quinn's voice cracked. "Take me home right now!"

"Quinn," he softened his tone. "I am not going to keep you from going home. But there's nothing back there. I'm not going to hurt you, but you need to consider your options."

Quinn shook their head, "I can't let people know about me! It's bad enough I got caught."

Clint could understand that. Getting your cover blown was the worst. He nodded.

"I can keep you secret from most people but my team will need to know about you." Clint could see Quinn balk at the mention of more people. "I can promise you they will treat you with respect. You'll have a place to stay and anything else you need." He paused.

"Or, I can leave you alone on this ship and let you take your chances. It's your choice."

He didn't want to force them to agree but he didn't want to leave Quinn on their own.

Quinn's shoulders slumped. "How many people?"

Clint thought it over in his head. Who needed to know?

Well, he and Natasha. Probably Tony and that would mean Bruce. And if Bruce knew he would definitely tell Thor...and they maybe should let Steve know once he got back from Canada. He would have to remind them to keep it from the spider kid and Loki.

"Five more." He said decidedly. "Just five."

Quinn bit their lip and after a few long minutes, nodded. "Ok." They wiped their face but only spread the grime around more. "I'll stick with you."

Clint offered his hand once more, and this time Quinn climbed on.

"I promise, we'll keep you safe." ---------------------------------

@sammigruber @gatlily @nightmarejasmine @misfitsgalaxygt @obwjam @bee-wrecker @nerdqueenkat @tinyliltina @lost-done @queenofconspiracies @dc41016 @tinyinabigworld @bloodmoon-memecore @exquisiteren @smolkuriboh27 @i-like-cookiez @shortmarcy @inthemusicbox @random-fandom-dragon

#marvel writing #g/t writing #Hawkeye #tiny #borrower #ask #marvel g/t

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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 4 years

Text

Miles of Memories- 1

We’ve Got Tonight- Bob Seger

Miles of Memories Masterlist CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Dean x reader Best Friends to Lovers AU

Summary: Feeling anxious about heading off to college, you make the most of your last night in town with the help of your best friend, Dean.

Warnings: fluffy, adorable Dean and fun banter. Slight angst (goodbyes are hard). Minor mentions of childhood trauma

WC: 2,900

A/N: This part is like a “prelude” to give you a glimpse of Y/N and Dean’s relationship (5 years before the main storyline). I hope you stay tuned for the slowest of Dean x fem!reader slowburns. I’m so excited to share this story, so please let me know what you think! MASSIVE thanks to my spectacular and badass beta crew—@christopher-evxns @deanwinchesterswitch @ezilyamuzed & @wonder-cole—for all of their help and input!! I edited even after their feedback, so all mistakes are my own. Credit to Bob Seger for the song :)

Zipping your suitcase closed with a heavy sigh, you worked through your mental checklist for the hundredth time to make sure you hadn’t forgotten to pack anything.

“Jeez, you act like it’s the last time you’ll ever see this place or something.” With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you turned to see Dean leaning casually against your doorframe. “Y’know, I figured I’d talk to Bobby about renting this space out anyway. Save you the stress of missing it while you’re gone because it’ll look completely different the next time you come back.”

“I’m not too worried. I think you’re the last person Bobby would trust with anything—let alone a space in his house.”

Dean grinned, pushing off the doorframe to mosey into your room. “See, normally I’d agree with you. But it just so happens that he gave me my very own key to the garage, so I think he’s coming around. This ready?” He pointed at the suitcase on your bed, and you nodded.

“Riiight. I’m supposed to believe that Bobby would actually give you a key to come and go at the shop anytime you want.”

Dean shrugged, spinning on his heel with your bag in hand. “Guess he’s looking for a new favorite since you’re skipping town to go be successful out in the real world.”

You snorted and shook your head, silently following him to the door. He stepped out of the way, placing his free hand on the doorknob as you scanned the bedroom one last time. Gnawing your bottom lip, you sucked in a deep breath and tried to alleviate some of the tightness in your chest.

This room had been a safe haven for most of your life, and it was hard to remember the days before you called it “home.” Your mother had passed away when you were a toddler, and your father was a drunk, in and out of jail and your life until one day he didn’t come back. Bobby had often been the one who took care of you when your father needed to pass you off onto someone else.

You didn’t remember much about the “Travelin’ Man” (as Bobby not-so-lovingly referred to him on the rare occasions he was mentioned), but you could easily recall the night Bobby told you this would be your room for good. The relief and excitement you’d felt upon learning you’d have a space of your own were still vivid. Knowing you had a place you could always return to provided a sense of stability and consistency you’d never known.

Bobby may not have been your father by blood, but he was your dad in every sense of the word. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges and tended to be a hermit, but he also had a heart of gold, and not once had he ever made you question whether he cared about you.

A few weeks after settling into your new home, you had met Jessica and Sam during recess at your new elementary school. Although they were a grade younger, you’d instantly hit it off with them. Jess and Sam had always been there for you over the years, too, willing to lend an ear or make time for movie nights and spontaneous trips to the diner. Eventually, Sam had introduced you to Dean, and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. Each and every memory you had growing up involved at least one (if not all three) of them. But while it was difficult saying goodbye to everyone in general...you still hadn’t been able to grasp the idea of saying goodbye to Dean.

Dean was the one who had been by your side through everything. From heartfelt life chats and your deepest moments of self-doubt to car ride sing-alongs and your loudest belly laughs. He was always there to comfort you, remind you not to take things so seriously, and even drag you into trouble once in a while.

The thought of leaving him and your safe, familiar home brought yet another wave of apprehension and doubt. What if you were making a huge mistake?

“Y/N...” Dean’s gentle voice coaxed you back to reality. “We’ve still got a lot to pack into our night, so don’t go checking out on me yet.”

Without looking back, you slipped past Dean and heard him shut the door as you made your way downstairs.

“You know, this wouldn’t be so hard if you would’ve just applied like I told you to. Then we could both be going off to college together, and you’d find out what an honor it would be to have me as a roomie.”

“Okay, well, let me remind you that you’re the one who decided to go ‘see what’s out there’ and get a fancy college degree under her belt. And, even if we did survive being roommates without making the other want to pull their hair out, there’s no way in hell that town would be able to handle both of us.”

“That’s fair.”

“Besides, I won’t have much of a chance to miss you. You’ll probably flunk out and be back here by the end of the semester anyway.”

“Also fair,” you laughed. “Taking a year off to work at The Roadhouse and pretend to get my life together seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m a little worried about getting into the groove of studying and all that crap again.”

“You know, if you need help, all you gotta do is pick up the phone. I mean, Sammy’s a real bookworm, and he’s only a phone call away.” Dean winked as he held the front door open and motioned for you to lead the way.

Sticking your tongue in your cheek, you fought to hide your amusement at the way he threw his brother under the bus. Before you made it through the door, you whirled around toward the stairs again. “Dang it. I forgot my bathroom bag. Do you mind tossing that one in the car? I’ll be right back!”

“Another bag? Where are you gonna put all this crap?” he muttered.

After retrieving the pouch from the bathroom upstairs and making sure you hadn’t left any necessary items in the drawers and cabinets, you hurried outside to find Dean patiently waiting beside your car. You tossed the small bag and he caught it with ease, pitching it in the backseat before closing the door.

“And done. Any last-minute stops to make along the way?” he asked.

“Nope. I caught Ellen, Jo, and Jody at the end of my shift yesterday, and Charlie was over for a bit this morning. And, you know, Sam and Jess ditched us for California last weekend. That means you and Bobby are the only two left to put up with me until I leave in the morning.”

When your voice cracked unexpectedly, you cleared your throat and surveyed the scrapyard until the faint prick in the corners of your eyes faded. As your departure drew near and you considered everything you were leaving behind, venturing out into the world was quickly beginning to feel more daunting than exciting.

“Hey…” Dean gripped the tops of your arms, stirring you from your thoughts. “We’ve got tonight. Who needs tomorrow? We’ve got tonight...babe. Why don’t you staaaaaaaayy—”

You had thought he was going to say something sweet and comforting, but you playfully shoved him in the chest when you realized he was speaking in Bob Seger lyrics. He stumbled back a step, laughing as he walked around the front of the impala and climbed inside.

***

There was an old park on the outskirts of town where Bobby and John would occasionally drop you both off when they had errands to run. As the years passed, you began riding your bikes the few miles across town, taking turns balancing Sam on your handlebars until Dean was old enough to drive. Eventually, Sam stopped tagging along, but somewhere along the way the park became a place you and Dean cherished.

A large pond stretched across most of the area, and there was a stately willow tree near the water’s edge that served as your designated “spot.” It was a hideaway often overlooked by others, but it was the perfect escape when the two of you needed a place that was all your own.

“Alright.” Dean plopped down beside you on the blanket. “You’ve got your grub, an amazing view, and the best company you could ever ask for. What else could you possibly want?”

“You’re right. Baby’s good company and all, but she’s not much of a conversationalist.”

Dean grimaced. “Just for that, I might eat your food.”

“Depending on what it is, I might let you.”

He smirked and unrolled the brown paper sack in his hand. “PB&J’s, just like Mom used to make! I asked if she could whip up a few before she flew out to make sure Sam got all settled at Stanford. She said to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t catch you and to wish you good luck. This seemed like a, uh, better idea at the time...now that it’s been a couple of days, these might taste like shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the sandwich Dean offered. “We’ve probably eaten worse, but I appreciate the sentimental twist. Seeing as how you’re in your 20’s and you had your mom make us sandwiches.”

“Hey, I was going for authenticity! Trying to help you feel like a kid again before you start adulting or whatever and—you know what? Just shut up and eat your food.”

The two of you unwrapped your sandwiches and continued bantering back and forth between bites. Even though the bread was soggy from marinating in jelly for a few days, and it certainly wasn’t the best thing you’d ever eaten, it brought back a flood of nostalgia.

When a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, your thoughts began to drift to dozens of adventures you and Dean had had here. You gazed out over the water, watching the willow branches graze the surface as they gently swayed in the breeze. You tried to commit every detail to memory as you soaked in the peaceful atmosphere, not knowing how long it would be until you returned.

After a while, Dean chuckled under his breath, and you looked at him curiously.

“You remember that day we were pretending to be pirates, and Dad ended up coming to pick us up early?”

“Of course.”

“Man, he was so pissed when he saw us standing on top of that picnic table we managed to drag out and ‘sail’ into the middle of the pond. Sure made an awesome ship, though.”

You smiled at the memory, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I think he was a little more pissed at the fact that we left Sam playing alone in the gazebo. And obviously what made the ‘ship’ great was the pirate flag I made.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean snorted. “You mean the crappy skull you drew on our lunch bag and stuck on the end of a stick? Pretty sure we were having a blast with the ship because it was my brilliant idea in the first place.”

“I was like 8, and it was still better than anything you could’ve drawn.” You crumpled up your trash and threw it at him. “And I was having fun--right up until you pushed me off anyway. I nearly choked to death on all that nasty water I sucked in.”

“Okay, well, you shouldn’t have been trying to be Captain when I’m the oldest, and it was clearly my title to begin with. There was no plank to walk, but obviously, you had to go overboard.”

He grinned, keeping his gaze fixed on the water. As you studied his face and noticed the faraway look in his eye, his smile faded. You figured his thoughts had drifted back to his dad, who had passed away a couple of years later.

“I felt so damn bad, though. I really was afraid you were gonna drown. And Bobby was ready to kill me when he found out.”

“Lucky for you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The two of you joked and reminisced for several more hours, eventually watching the sun set over the water until it sank below the horizon. When it was time to head back to Bobby’s, Dean took the long way home so you could crank the radio and sing along with your hand hanging lazily out the open window. Back at the house, you sat on the kitchen counter and talked with both men until Bobby finally bid you goodnight--but you still weren’t ready to call it a night, knowing morning would come soon and it would be time for you to leave.

After convincing Dean to stay a little longer, you grabbed a couple of old blankets and spread them in the bed of one of the pickup trucks near the house. With your head on his chest and your body tucked comfortably against his side, you chatted beneath the stars until you drifted off to sleep.

***

“Got everything all packed up?” Bobby asked.

“I think so,” you answered.

“Better double-check because I’m not driving a few hours just to bring you a lost shoe or something.”

“Is that a challenge?” you teased, seeing right through his gruff quip. “Because I bet I could talk you into it. We both know you’re not gonna know what to do without me.”

He frowned a little before smiling fondly, and you could’ve sworn there was a misty glaze in his eyes.

“Yeah. I s’pose you’re right.”

“Oh, don’t get all sentimental on me now. You could probably use a little break. Besides, I’ll be back so often you’ll just get sick of me all over again.”

“C’mere, kid.”

Bobby reached out and pulled you into a hug. Much too soon, he let go and stepped aside so you could say goodbye to Dean. His soft green eyes had been fixed on you, but he glanced away and clenched his jaw when you took a step toward him.

“So, uh...don’t forget about us when you make it big out there in the real world—catch a break as an artist or an author or some music critic.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed. “I haven’t even picked out a major yet, but I think I have an advisor who can help me figure out a good fit...eventually. Maybe I’ll be a doctor—or follow in Sam’s footsteps and be a lawyer!”

“There you go. Why not just do it all while you’re at it? Jack of all trades, master of none. Whatever you end up doing, you better come back to visit soon.”

“You got it. Try not to turn into a grumpy old man while I’m gone.”

He shook his head, cracking a smile as he met your eyes. “Only a couple years older than you, brat. Anyway, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night, so I made you a playlist for the drive. Figured I might as well do something useful while I was awake. I sent it to you while you were getting ready.”

Pulling out your phone, you found a message already waiting with a link to the playlist.

“This is awesome, Dean, thank you. But if it ends up being six hours of nothing but Zeppelin, I’m gonna be pissed.”

He tossed his head back and laughed, making the knot in your throat grow once again at the thought of not seeing him almost every day. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d miss you as much as you were going to miss him.

“Don’t worry; I think it ended up being a decent mix. Not too many classics and not too much of the more modern crap. There was, uh... a certain thought process behind each song, let’s just say that.”

“We all know some of that modern crap is a guilty pleasure of yours. I mean, Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah…” His gaze lingered until his grin faded to a sad smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you leaned forward and threw an arm around each man. Squeezing your eyes closed, you hugged them tight.

“All joking aside...you got nothing to worry about. You’re gonna kick this college thing in the ass,” Dean murmured.

“Thank you.”

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of their embrace and quickly made your way to the car.

“Drive safe--and call when you get there!” Bobby hollered.

Stealing one last glimpse over your shoulder, you waved and slid behind the wheel. You hit shuffle on the playlist, letting the music fill the vehicle while you fasten your seatbelt.

I know it’s late

I know you’re weary

I know your plans don’t include me...

You shook your head and smiled, blinking back tears at the irony of the song—the lyrics perfectly encapsulating your night with Dean.

Look at the stars so far away

We’ve got tonight

Who needs tomorrow?

We’ve got tonight, babe

Why don’t you stay?

As you started the car and drove away, seeing him and Bobby grow smaller in the rearview mirror, you finally began to cry.

Part 2

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms @amanda-teaches @cosicas-cuquis @crist1216 @droidyouseek @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @flawless-disaster @janeyboo @jenn0755 @ksgeekgirl @maresmiley @memyselfandmaddox @notyourtypicalrose @randomparanoid @rynabarnesrogers @sandlee44 @scarletsoldierrr @shann-the-artist-moon @sheerioasteroidpanda @shynara51 @someday-when-you-leave-me @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @thisismysecrethappyplace @torntaltos @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @weebid @whimsicalrobots @wintersoldierbaby @yesfanficsaremylife

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23 @chevyharvelle @deangirl7695 @dean-winchesters-bacon @fandomoniumflurry @pisces-cutie @supernaturalenchanted @superromijn @thoughts-and-funnies @waywardnerd67 @x-waywardaf-x

Miles of Mems Tags:

@bobbie3939 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @mlovesstories @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @valsworldofcreativity

Also tagging those of you who seemed interested when I posted the masterlist. I don’t want to pester you, so I probably won’t tag you in future parts unless you let me know that you’d like to be tagged!

@badlittlehabit99 @cajunquandary @devvoon @flamencodiva @hybrid-in-the-making @impalackless @janicho88 @themoonblooms

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ihearthes · 4 years

Photo

Quarantine Christmas Part 1

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff/Smut (Smut in Part 2) Word Count: 2826 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

December 23, 2020

My head spins as I haul my suitcase from the trunk, using two hands due to the heft of the dirty clothes inside. Setting it on the ground, I yank on the handle before grappling with the two shopping bags filled with presents, reaching back for the decorated Christmas tin that is filled with homemade cookies, fudge, and other delicacies baked by my colleagues at Apple Music.

Wrestling with my hands full, I close the trunk with an elbow, shivering in the chilly LA air. At the front door, I want to cry. Dammit. I could clearly remember that when Glenne had given me the code for the front door and the alarm, I placed them in my phone under her contact information.

“FUCK!” The primal scream is released from my lungs, likely scaring the neighbors if any of them are outside enjoying Christmas lights or having family celebrations on this Christmas Eve Eve. Balancing the tin of cookies on top of the suitcase, I set down the shopping bags to reach for my phone. My purse slips off my shoulder, knocking the container of sweets, and in the scramble to rescue them, I nearly fall head over heels into the bushes.

It isn’t until I punch in the numbers and drag my personal effects inside that it occurs to me that the alarm isn’t armed. Had Glenne and Jeffrey forgotten to punch in the code before they left for Palm Springs? Deciding I don’t care, I leave everything by the door as I drag my suitcase to the main floor laundry room, dumping everything in without regard to color or type of clothing. Since we’ve been working remotely the majority of the time for the last fucking nine months, “dressing up” encompasses blue jeans and the occasional blouse, but most of my clothing is sweatpants and t-shirts. Deciding washing the blue jeans and blouses with the sweatpants and t-shirts is the worst idea ever, I fish those out before pouring laundry detergent over the remaining garments and starting the washer.

Glancing down at the clothing currently on my body, it seems completely reasonable to drop them into the washer too. Stripping the t-shirt from my body, I toss it into the swirling water before adding my bra, socks, and leggings to the murky mix. Wearing only panties in the cool house makes my nipples bead.

Ha! I’m sure my nips are happy to get any action after almost a year with no dating of any sort because of the fucking pandemic. Which reminds me that I’ve forgotten my vibrator at home. Shit. Of all the things I don’t mind borrowing from Glenne, I do have a line I won’t cross.

Placing the tin of Christmas yummies on the kitchen counter, I grasp the handles of the two bags of gifts. It might be silly to put them under the tree since I’m the only one in the house, but it will make me feel better. More like I’m at home with my family in Indiana. Less like I’m stuck in quarantine in an empty house for my favorite holiday. Sniffling, I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand as I pad down the two steps into the living room to the tree.

Kneeling at the fake tree, I reach for the switch to turn on the lights. As the colors begin blinking, I carefully withdraw each present, reading the tag before gently placing the gift under the tree. Even my brother had sent a present through the mail which must mean he misses me his year. Right now, we should be challenging each other to the most ridiculous games to see who is the best. Inevitably, he would win some while I beat him at others until eventually we declare a tie. My mother would chastise us both with a grin on her face, implicitly encouraging us to continue our “reindeer games” as my father called them.

From behind me, I hear a shuffling sound. Hadn’t they taken Myles with them? No matter. I could use the company a dog would provide.

“Santa, you’ve changed!” a soft voice exclaims, and I jump, twisting around to find another human wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“It’s you!” Both voices exclaim simultaneously. “What the fuck are you doing here?” We both pause, “Stop saying what I’m saying!”

Out of breath, I stare at him. The Harry Styles. Fuck.

His eyes roam over my body, and it finally dawns on me that I’m wearing nothing but my Victoria’s Secret lace panties. Shit.

Pacing measuredly to the couch without openly cringing, I grasp a wool throw and wrap it around my chest regally like I’ve just exited the pool at some exotic locale near the equator. My shoulders straighten, and I face him openly.

“Are you joining Glenne and Jeffrey in Palm Springs?” My back is a board, and my tone is barely restrained.

“Nope.” His nonchalance combined with his truncated answer pisses me off, per usual.

“So you’re flying home, waiting here for your flight tonight?” The hopeful tone is obvious to me and probably to him as well.

“No.” Those green eyes of his rake over my nearly-naked body, and I shiver. From the cold of course. Jesus. Get your heads out of the gutter!

“Watering the plants prior to returning to the Soho?”

“Uh uh.”

Delayed dread begins to fill my stomach. “You mean --” I clear my throat -- “you’re staying here?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” Running my hand through my hair, I ponder the impact and my next steps.

“You?” He asks politely, even though I know he doesn’t feel solicitude at this moment.

“Glenne told me I could stay here for a few days. I made arrangements for my place to be fumigated while I was in Indiana for Christmas.”

His raised eyebrow mocks me.

“I’m not going, though. Okay?”

“Why not?”

“Seriously? Where the fuck have you been, Styles? In case you didn’t know, there’s a global fucking pandemic, and all of Los Angeles is locked down. So no -- I am not getting on a plane with a bunch of potentially infected and contagious --” Emotion overwhelms me, and I have to stop and catch my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I turn away from him so he can’t see the tears that form in my eyes.

“Whatever, Smith.”

“My name --” I draw myself up and gather my anger around me like a cloak -- “is not Smith.”

“Yeah, right. Which bedroom are you planning to sleep in?”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we both stay here?” Appalled, I stare at him with my mouth open. “I’ll get a hotel room.” When I realize my wardrobe is in the washing machine, I softly say, “As soon as my clothes are dry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Smith. We’ll share the space. It’s only a couple of days.”

“Excuse me!?” Anger wells up. “Only the most important days in the entire year!” Superiority makes me stand up fully to him. “Besides, I’ve been quarantining for months. No way do I want to share germs with you!”

“Oh please! As if you’ve got a monopoly on quarantining! I’m perfectly safe. We get tested every morning before we film. When was the last time you were tested?”

“Two days ago!” She’s at her boiling point. “Look, if we're both staying here together, then we’re just going to have to avoid each other. It’s a big house. We can do that.”

“Maybe once you put some clothes on,” Harry comments, smirking in that way he has where the left side of his mouth tilts up.

Mortified, I glance down at myself. Briefly I consider scurrying for Glenne’s closet, but I pause. Why should I rush away? Because he’s male? Because he was here first? Because he’s sexy as fuck and my panties can’t take anymore?

“Fine,” I respond as I brush past him like the Queen of England. “I’ll find something to wear, and then we can hash out the details.”

“Great plan. I’m ordering something for dinner.”

My stomach growls, and I suddenly feel an irrational hatred for that part of my body. How I long to state that I’ve already eaten or that I plan to cook something! But alas, I’ve brought no food with me, and I’ve no clue what’s in the kitchen. If Glenne and Jeffrey even left anything.

“Does that mean you’d like some too?” He gloats, and as much as I would like to smack the grin off his face, I’ve not eaten since a quick bite for breakfast hours before.

Knowing I’m going to have to grovel, I face him. “I’m capable of ordering for myself.”

“Yes, but that’s not necessarily good for the environment, is it? Sending two drivers to the same address from different restaurants?” Pausing, he appears to swallow whatever snarky comment was forthcoming. “Can we agree on this one small thing? I’m thinking poke.”

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. That’s exactly what I would have ordered. Fuck.

Casually, I shrug. “Yeah, whatever. I can choke down some poke.” As I saunter away, tucking the ends of the makeshift shroud under my armpits, I call back to him, “Spicy please.”

Quickly I make my way to Glenne’s closet, surveying the items there. Ripping down a pair of joggers and a Full Stop Management hoodie, I drop the covering I’ve been wearing and rapidly draw the clothes over my naked body. Nothing I can do about not having a bra, but the hoodie is roomy so I worry less.

In the bathroom, I run my fingers through my hair, combing out the curls as best I can in this environment. In no way do I want it to appear that I’m trying to look amazing for Harry. Biting my lip, I admit to myself that the opposite is true. I absolutely want him to fall at my feet.

Which isn’t going to happen, I remind myself. Give up the ghost of a fantasy.

Making eye contact in the mirror, I provide a pep talk for myself. “Listen,” I remind my reflection, “this is just one more fucked up situation in 2020. You’ve gotten through worse. It’s truly a giant house, so there’s no reason -- wait. Why is he staying here anyway?” For whatever reason, I had allowed him to dodge that incredibly simple question.

Tucking my hands into the hoodie’s front pocket, I amble to the kitchen where Harry is just disconnecting his phone.

“Food will be here in 45 minutes,” he promises.

“Why are you staying here again? I missed your answer earlier,” I prompt.

I’m confident I see a flash of embarrassment crossing his face as he lowers his head. “Wine?” He asks, gesturing towards the extensive rack of reds and then the chiller of whites.

Unsure as to whether I should allow the diversion or press, I examine him. His eyes look tired and sad. His clothes, while comfortable, aren’t upbeat. Nor is his current demeanor. Is he okay?

Planting his hands in his hoodie in an unconscious mimic of my pose, he glances at me before his eyes stray to the side, examining the marble countertop. That look tells me more than I need to know, and my empath side emerges as I toss him a life preserver.

“With poke? I think perhaps a Reisling.”

He nods, bending to look through the wines in the cooler before he extracts one, holding it up for me to inspect the label. My eyes start to widen at the vineyard, assuming the extravagant cost, but I calm my features. “Perf!” I declare.

Grasping the wine opener from a nearby drawer, Harry removes the cork as I snatch two wine glasses from the cabinet and place them near him. Carefully comparing the amount in each glass, he pours enough before recorking the bottle. Taking my glass, I move into the living room where I can view the tree. It’s Christmas Eve Eve after all, and I refuse to be deterred from watching the lights twinkle and celebrating the season.

Harry apparently has a similar idea as he fiddles with the sound system before a crackle of ‘Jingle Bell Drunk’ by RaeLynn starts playing which causes me to giggle.

I settle on one side of the sofa, and Harry plants himself on the other side. Separately, we each take a sip of the riesling. My tongue does a happy dance at the flavor on my tongue. “This sweetness will cut the spicy quite well. Excellent choice.”

“You made the selection,” Harry reminds me, and I cringe.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Silence descends as the song proclaims “I’ve been naughty. I’ve been nice.”

“If there was ever a year for this song, this is it.” I announce into the quiet.

“Yeah. It’s been quite the year.”

Sharply, I glance at him. Perhaps I had missed something? “Excuse me? You’ve had one hell of a year, Styles. Grammy nominations aside, there were how many music videos released during this global disaster? Plus a movie!”

“Agreed.” He’s quiet, his jaw clenched, and suddenly his words burst forth as though a gate at a dam has been opened. “But no tour. And almost no family time.”

Wait. Was this superstar feeling some of my emotions? He’d had a stellar year in anyone’s estimation. Maybe I could be more sympathetic.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about tour. I had tickets to Vegas and one of the LA shows.”

His head swivels to me more swiftly than an owl focusing on prey. “You had tickets?”

“HAVE.” I swallow. “Thanks for not canceling by the way. I cannot imagine the bloodbath for getting tickets in the future. You’ve become the ‘it celebrity’.”

A blush is followed by a sheepish smile. “You can always get tickets, Smith. Just ask.”

“I don’t do that.” My voice is filled with the prickles that I feel at his words.

“Do what?”

“Use my privilege to get tickets to shows.”

“Oh. I…” His words trailed off.

Suddenly, I feel less uncomfortable around him. Reaching out, I shove at his shoulder. “You’re a giant star, and you have a ton of fans who want to see you. Me? I’m just happy to be a member of the audience.”

“Really?” Incredulous is what I sense in that one word. “Why?”

“Seriously?” I’m appalled. “Do you not know what an amazing entertainer you are, Styles? Fuck. If I hadn’t been able to see your Fine Line show at the Forum last December, I probably would have cried. You know exactly what your audience wants, and you deliver it. Consistently.”

“But --”

“Hush. Don’t you dare negate your talent!” Taking another sip of wine, I reveal unabashedly, “Maybe it’s the wine talking, but I really enjoy your shows.”

“Smith?” He inquires, and my hand stalls with my wine glass halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my shows?”

Stalling, I run a finger through my hair and empty my wine glass before holding it out to him. “More please?”

He rises, but I can read his reluctance. Within moments, Harry is back at my side, handing me a second glass of the riesling. I can’t help but notice that he’s topped his own off too.

“Answer the question, Smith.”

“My name isn’t Smith. In fact, there’s not a single part of my name that’s related to Smith. Why do you call me that?”

“Tell me why you like my shows, and I’ll reveal the meaning behind the nickname.”

My head feels fuzzy from the wine and the headiness of being near Harry, and I watch the lights flashing on the tree for a few minutes while Meghan Patrick belts out her version of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ over the sound system.

“You make your fans feel like they matter.”

“How?” His question comes rapidly, and I have to gather my thoughts.

“You...talk to them. Listen to them. Watch them. Appreciate them. It’s rare, Harry. I mean, I’m in this business too, you know. Not every artist does what you do.”

“False.”

“I’m fucking serious, you asshole.” I gulp down more of the wine. “You make your audience feel like they’re your closest friends. I wish more artists did that. Specifically the ones I represent.”

“Oh.” His single utterance is enough, and we sit in pure tranquility for several minutes as the lights blink and Ava Max sings “Christmas Without You”.

“Wanna watch the quintessential holiday movie?” I inquire, looking at him.

“Which is?”

“Die Hard, of course,” is my response. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“Nope. It’s pretty good. In the top five for sure.”

“Wait. What are your top five?”

“Oh, that’s easy. ‘Die Hard’, ‘Home Alone’, ‘A Christmas Story’, ‘The Santa Clause’, and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly?” I giggle at the joke since ‘Die Hard’ is full of death.

“Fine. But we watch ‘Wonderful Life’ afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Part 2

#my writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #caitlin's fic challenge #part1 #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #original writing

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

lip synch your way into my heart pt. 2

(Part One Here)

@PrissCilla: Is this the guy that your Party City video was about?

The unfamiliar user has attached a picture to their message and Geralt’s eyes widen in happy surprise when he realizes that it is, in fact, Party City Guy. The picture of Party City Guy is a ridiculously adorable candid; he’s reclining in an oversized rainbow beanbag chair, a large textbook sitting on his lap and his lip nestled sweetly between his teeth.

Geralt wants to know what it feels like to nip at that same soft skin. Gods he wants that so badly; ever since the brunette had turned around and flashed that blindingly sweet grin in the aisle of his workplace. The guy had clearly recognized him from the way he’d blushed and gone silent, somehow even cuter then than he had been when smiling a moment before. Geralt had barely paid attention to the brand of costume blood he’d grabbed from the shelf; he was too distracted by the blue-eyed beauty behind the checkout counter.

He replies to the photo-message quickly. Maybe too quickly.

@whitehairdontcare: Yeah. I didn’t catch his name, unfortunately. Are you roommates or something?

@PrissCilla: Yeah, he’s my roomie. I’ll give you his Tik Tok handle but only if you swear on your follower count that you’re actually interested in him as a person and not just as a way to pass the time. I don’t care if you’re internet famous, he’s my best friend and I don’t want to see him hurt.

@PrissCilla: Also he has a huge celebrity crush on you already so it’s barely fair.

@whitehairdontcare: I swear that I have nothing but honest intentions. I think I fell in like at first sight at his job the other day. My name is Geralt, btw.

@PrissCilla: Oh he’s gonna love that line if you ever use it. He’s a huge sap.

@PrissCilla: Alright, I trust you Geralt. You can find him at @buttercup-bard.

After that message she sends a gif of RuPaul saying “And DON’T fuck it up!” He smiles a bit at that. If this is what Party City’s friends are like then he must be the coolest person on the fucking planet.

@whitehairdontcare: Why’d he pick that name?

@PrissCilla: Ask him, fam. Later.

Geralt’s eyes flicker back up to the picture. He saves it to his camera roll without hesitation; Party City just looks so sweet. He’s so focused and intent and- and Geralt wants to know what it would be like to have that kind of intensity focused on him. He wants to mirror it back. He’s never really been the type to hit on strangers but this guy has him all kinds of fucked up.

This guy is...different. Special. Perhaps, though Geralt has no real proof at this point, this guy might even be perfect.

---

Two days later, on his way to class, Jaskier opens Tik Tok and starts to scroll his For You Page as usual. There are a few funny dances and a few skits that make him half-smile in amusement; it wastes the time between locations effectively. He’s nearly all the way to campus when he comes across the latest video that @whitehairdontcare has posted. He bites back a squeak when he reads the caption: “POV: You’re the cute cashier from Party City and your car breaks down after our first date.”

How did he know? How did he know that the car mechanic video was Jaskier’s favorite? Really, though, this couldn’t be about Jaskier. Not even possible. Inconceivable. No way.

Except.

Except that he also had a private message waiting for him. From @whitehairdontcare.

Holy fucking shit.

Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his head and he collapses off the seat of the bus, unconscious.

---

Forty-five minutes and one short walk later and Jaskier has a bag of ice pressed to the sizable goose-egg on his forehead. According to the two girls who’d sprinkled water on his face to wake him up (and then accompanied him to the campus Health and Safety building behind the library) he’d dropped his phone, crumpled to the floor “like a sad puppet” and slid forward when the bus driver hit the brakes, slamming his head into the support pole in the center of the aisle.

There would be a definite bruise and probably a raised bump for at least a week and a half according to the nurse on call.

It wasn’t until the taller girl handed his phone back to him that Jaskier realized he’d never even read Mr. White Hair’s private message before his embarrassing little accident. With one hand still holding the ice against his injury and the other trembling against his phone screen, the anxious young man unlocked the device and opened Tik Tok once again. He tapped on the private message and focused on each individual word:

@whitehairdontcare: Hey Party City Guy, my name is Geralt.

There’s a selfie. The influencer is flashing the peace sign, his long white hair pulled back into a messy bun, one eye closed in a frozen wink. Jaskier’s fingers barely manage to type out a shocked reply.

@buttercup-bard: Hello, Geralt. I’m Jaskier. No offense but...why are you talking to me?

@whitehairdontcare: You seemed nice? You’re cute? I like your hair? Do you need more reason cause I have more reasons.

Jaskier is utterly floored. No only did the popular Tik Tokker reply immediately but he’d replied with those answers. The college senior takes a few deep breaths to steady himself before snapping a quick selfie, ice and all. At least his smile is still charming, he hopes.

@buttercup-bard: I’m probably not quite as cute as you remember rn. Oops.

@whitehairdontcare: What happened?? Are you okay?

@buttercup-bard: It’s embarrassing. Maybe another time.

@whitehairdontcare: Maybe you could tell me on our date? I promise I’m not creepy. You were just so nice the other day even tho you were nervous or whatever.

Jaskier knows that if he’s going to hyperventilate, this is probably the best place to do it. The nurse is still less than fifty feet away and should push come to shove she can probably revive his stupid ass. Instead, though, he focuses on every modern retelling of Cinderella he’s ever seen.

Gods, he thinks, smiling absently down at his phone screen where Mr. Whit- where Geralt is grinning up at him with that wink and that peace sign. My version is going to be so much better.

@buttercup-bard: Yeah, alright. Maybe I’ll tell you about how your Tik Tok made me pass out on a public bus...on our date.

#geraskier tik tok au #geraskier au #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #tik tokker geralt #influencer geralt #social media star geralt #party city employee jaskier #jaskier is living his best life #and geralt is too #chris flemings references to party city fuel this fic

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Title: I wish i could forget you

Tony Stark was not supposed to be in the car when Howard and Maria Stark attended a Christmas holiday party for another company. In fact, Hydra had wanted him to stay home.

Unfortunately, Tony had ticked off Howard a bit too much, and so here he was in a tuxedo that was a bit too big, uncomfortably shiny shoes, and a temper that was close to blowing.

Thank god they were almost home.

When a car crashes, one almost can’t believe it. Tony can see the outside blurring, and he can hear glass crunching, and he hears things that he really doesn’t want to hear. He is fairly sure that Maria screamed.

A metal arm.

Huh.

Well, not the most typical. He also doesn’t think that the man knows he’s here.

Howard and Maria Stark are killed. Tony feels like shit because he couldn’t do anything. His forehead is bleeding and he didn’t want to move out of fear for himself, which seems selfish, but also maybe a survival instinct?

God, his bow-tie is still constricting air flow.

Once the man turns, Tony realizes that he wasn’t the target. They probably had no idea he was in the car, whoever “they” were.

He gets out of the car. The car door creaks, and the man whips around.

His eyes widen.

“You--what?”

The voice is surprisingly American.

Surprisingly? He’s not sure why it’s surprising, it’s not like an American can’t kill just look at history, but still, Kind of surprising.

"What, wasn’t supposed to be here?” Tony rasps out. He realizes now that he’s basically sent himself a death sentence as the man surges forward.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes are piercing. Also very, very familiar with some photographs that Peggy has on her mantle and her desk.

James “Bucky” Barnes. Son of a bitch.

“What are you doing alive?” Tony asks. “I thought you were lost in a ravine in Europe somewhere.”

“What--huh?”

“Ravine. In Europe. You know who you are, right? Is this some kind of sick...what did they do to you?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

His eyes get cold again.

“Who are you?”

“I am the Asset.”

It is now that Tony realizes that every single shitty sci-fi book is probably right, and his disdain of “wacky science” and “magic” have all been for nothing, because here is Bucky Barnes, who apparently has no idea who he is.

Then Tony gets knocked on his ass. His body slams against the icy road, and Barnes is rushing towards a motorcycle.

And he’s alone. He can’t breathe, all the wind knocked out of his chest. He thinks he broke a couple of ribs.

No one believes him. At all. SHIELD brushes it aside.

“There’s no way Barnes could be alive. You were probably just seeing things,” they tell him. “Would you like us to find you a therapist?”

“No,” Tony says, and they ask why. He laughs, sipping on his water. “SHIELD has so much loyalty to itself, I’m afraid I’d be compromised.”

“Therapists aren’t supposed to divulge any information,” Nick Fury adds carefully. “And we’re a secret-keeping bunch. Nothing goes out that comes in.”

“Unless, of course, it’s necessary,” Tony drawls, staring at Fury. God, the leather outfit...that’s weird. “Then I’m out in the open, Nicky. And what fun is that unless I get to show off an outfit in full-coverage?”

“...I’ll have an agent escort you home. We’ll have guards overnight.”

“Don’t bother.”

“And why is that? Think you can handle it by yourself?”

“Fury, my family has made a career out of thinking a lot of things. You’re not being as detrimental as you think.”

He finger-waves, grinning and winking at agents on the way out.

Now comes paranoia. This is welcome, actually, because it’s allowing him to work up new security measures and hack into various security cameras around the world to see if he can find Barnes.

It’s like he’s a ghost. And fuck, maybe Fury was right. Tony doesn’t like that, but that may be it.

Merry fucking Christmas.

Years go by, and Tony keeps a tiny ear to any news about mysterious deaths that can’t be explained. A man that glows in lamp-light, has no identity. He’s not sure if it could be Barnes. God knows he’s no longer seventeen, and Barnes--it if it was Barnes--would be way older. He should’ve been an old man in 1991, but he wasn’t.

It kind of reminds him of the conspiracy theory that Walt Disney was kept cryogenically frozen, which is just ridiculous, because as far as he’s concerned, you’d need a bit more to you than just regular skin and bones.

And this is where it hits him.

Barnes was experimented on when he was captured by Hydra. Peggy told him that Rogers told her that he was repeating his dog tag number over and over, as if someone was trying to take him over.

Yeah, you’d need a bit more.

Like a fucking super soldier serum.

This then delves into Tony realizing that if Barnes is flash-frozen, then...well, could Rogers have survived? He always thought his dad was crazy, but a broken clock is right twice a week or however the hell that saying goes. He never used it, he wasn’t a broken clock.

(He was broken, but he’s not going to compare himself to a clock. Perhaps Model-T.)

They find Rogers. Tony realizes Howard did his math completely wrong for years, and probably never let anyone look at it because he was a World Super Genius. And a Colossal Dick.

Steve Rogers is one tough cookie to crack. Tony chips off some of the ice and puts it in a glass of scotch.

“Do you really think that’s the most appropriate thing to do?” Phil Coulson asks.

He’s shocked, but mainly because Tony has seen his Cap collection, and that man has so many limited edition cards and lunchboxes that it’s a bit crazy. But at least he knows how to decorate with it and not have it look like an absolute nutjob swept into his house and did it all in red-white-and-blue.

“Phil, my darling, when have I ever done anything the appropriate way?” Tony asks. He stares at the face that’s emerging out of the ice. “Besides, what else are you going to do with this ice, hm? Besides melt it all off?”

Steve is a miracle. Every scientist on earth wants to poke and prod at him.

Tony breaks him out of SHIELD in a week, because he swears to shit if one more scientist asks to take blood samples “to see how going under Arctic temperatures affects the bloodstream” (and also take DNA for cloning) he’s going to lose it.

Fury yells at him for two hours.

Steve flips Fury off from the couch, where he’s been channel-surfing for the better part of three hours.

“You’ve already corrupted him,” Fury scowls. “Rogers, we need to talk--”

“He’s retired,” Tony says.

(Steve is not, technically. Hasn’t said anything. But Tony is putting him on mandatory retirement for at least a year.)

“What’s...what the ever-loving fuck is that?” Steve asks.

An infomercial. For an automated chair. Mostly used for old people.

Tony grins.

“You wanna see how fast I can launch you out of one?”

“I’m going to say yes. Professionally.”

Ten miles an hour, and Steve goes flying across the room into a pile of pillows.

It’s not the end-all solution. God knows Steve calls him “Howard” and asks where a lot of nasty food is, and sometimes can’t tell the difference between what his brain is seeing and what is actually there.

But Tony gets him help. And Steve goes to art school.

It’s all very funny, actually. Steve rants about “modern art” and how “if he could kill any concept it would be abstract expressionism, what the fuck.”

Tony buys and then donates a Rothko in his honor.

Steve fumes, but finds it hilarious.

Then, there’s the attack on New York.

Norse god of mischief decides to end New York, blah blah blah.

Captain America reappears, everyone loses their shit, and Tony almost dies.

Then he gets four other roomies besides Steve, and he has to make a chore chart. Ugh.

Barnes reappears in France. Tony gets a fairly good image, and Natasha stills.

“You know about Winter Soldier?”

“Barnes? Yeah.”

“You know who he is?”

“James Barnes. At least, I think. He tried to kill me, wasn’t very successful at it.”

Steve overhears.

This leads to a chain of events that ends in Steve not coming to family dinner because he’d rather sit in his room and listen to Green Day or Glenn Miller or whatever the hell gets him even more upset.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry. But up until this picture? I was only about sixty percent sure I wasn’t full of beans.”

“Why is that the phrase you use?”

“What, full of beans? Bruce says I have to work on my cursing. Apparently, children are impressionable. Who knew?”

It’s not a total success. Steve still doesn’t like that Tony didn’t outright tell him, but Tony isn’t going to tell Steve that he has the mental stability of a single cashew.

So begins the hunt for Barnes. Which actually isn’t too bad.

He’s in DC. Not for any political clean-up, unfortunately. He’s trying to kill Fury. Tony doesn’t know why, at least until he looks up Pierce, who’s technically, mostly retired from SHIELD.

And yet still uses most resources that technically? He needs more than one authorization from multiple people.

God, people are getting bad at covering their tracks. Used to be harder to catch and see if someone was doing dirty deals.

(Okay, not like he can talk because Obie was...well, no use in discussing that now. He needs to focus.)

Nat and Steve are bad at lying. This kind of surprises him, because Steve is usually a successful liar. He’s convinced Clint that it’s not him who keeps eating his peanut-butter-fudge ice cream, but Thor.

And Natasha used to be Natalie Rushman. Then again, Tony was poisoned during that one, so that might just be on him.

Helicarriers go in the water.

Tony’s working on making sure most of the information doesn’t reach the general public, although he can’t stop it all.

Barnes falls off the face of the earth, and Steve wants to go on another treasure hunt.

“Let him come to us, or figure himself out.”

“This isn’t a college kid going backpacking in Europe for a year,” Nat snaps. “He’s...you know who he is, who he was, and what he can do.”

“Counterpoint: we don’t know if he secretly really wanted to see traditional decoration of Ukrainian Easter eggs,” Tony says. “God knows that I want to learn more about that.”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

"Only on federally mandated holidays,” Tony says with a shrug. “But let him be. Steve, it’s one thing that he didn’t kill you. It’s another thing that he hauled you up from the Potomac. I’m not sure I would’ve done that because who goes up alone to a helicarrier?”

“Historically nobody,” Natasha says. “Most people don’t have any helicarriers.”

“God, this situation sucks,” Tony says. “What if. We potentially. Ignore all of it and have spinach and artichoke dip? Hm?”

“With toasted bread?”

“I’m not an animal, Steve.”

“Your penchant for four a.m. coffee while you don’t realize you’re singing songs from the seventies says otherwise,” he responds.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the punishment of you getting the aux taken away for a week,” Tony taunts.

“Oh, come on!” Steve whines.

“Nope, just you having to listen to more of Bruce’s questionable tastes.”

“Fuck.”

Barnes comes stateside. The only reason Tony knows this is because Jarvis says that he may have spotted Barnes, but he’s not sure.

“J, you’re the most advanced system in the world, not to mention my son, and you like to hack into the Pentagon for funsies.”

“All of that could not have prepared me for this.”

Barnes is wearing a neon green tank top that is advertising Coco Beach in Florida.

“Can I laugh? Or is that sad?”

“Multitask, Sir.”

“Oh, true.”

Barnes is not in New York. Tony has to near-about put an electric fence around the whole state so that Steve doesn’t go on a road trip.

Hell, Tony doesn’t even trust him to go to coffee alone, but that’s a bit much.

“We have to wait,” Tony says.

Sam Wilson is a godsend. Also the funniest man Tony knows.

He is also emotionally healthy and very perceptive, so he has been noticing that Tony is nervous.

Because how do you face the man who killed your parents? Technically?

“Are you talking to your therapist?” Sam asks. “Just thinking you should.”

“Sam, we’re working on my issues from 2007. Believe it or not, it will be taking a full year.”

“I don’t like that I can never tell if you’re serious.”

“I know you remember the tabloids from 2007, I wrote a mesh vest. Clearly, I need so much help.”

Sam snorts.

“Maybe. Hey, I’ll catch you later. Clint and I are gonna go try and find some questionable shirts to crop.”

“Did his little protege convince you? Bishop, right?”

“Kate, yeah. She’s convinced our public image will go viral or something. Good luck with helping Steve and Nat with your super-soldier hunt.”

“Thanks. Let me know if you find a shirt with my face on it. I want it.”

Sam snorts.

“Will do.”

Bucky Barnes comes to New York in early May. The springtime is slowly but surely fading off, sun approaching more and more. Tony is enjoying coffee on a veranda, and then suddenly his waiter is nowhere to be found and he’s not entirely sure if his visitor takes credit or debit.

“Can I help you?”

“Maybe. Depends on if you’re gonna kill me or not.”

“I think Steve would be a bit broken up about it.”

“Do you care what he thinks?”

“On this situation? Yes. When it comes to culinary choices? No.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. Tony’s trying extremely hard not to remember shattered glass and a motorcycle on ice.

“Can we, uh, table this conversation? For later. Espresso and all that, plus the added bonus of our shared history, so...”

“Shared history?”

“You don’t remember?” Tony asks. Bucky shakes his head. “Ah. Then this is truly a comedy of errors. Maybe. Um. Listen, I, uh...I gotta go. You need to talk to Nat or Steve or hell, maybe even Thor. Is Thor a good option?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Barnes, I can’t exactly face you right now.”

And then he jumps off a balcony.

A fucking balcony.

Jesus H. Christ, his therapist is gonna be so excited for their next session.

The suit wraps itself around him, and he can finally breathe, and he’s thinking about calling Pepper and see if she would like to schedule him a vacation for maybe anywhere but New York and Iowa.

“Why not Iowa?” Pepper asks. “They have good antique stores. I’ve gotten quite a few good finds for clothes.”

“I can do shopping retail literally anywhere else, absolutely not.”

“Spoilsport. Steve know you’re leaving?”

“I didn’t even really tell Steve what happened with my parents.”

“Oh, your therapist called. She sounded concerned, but also intrigued.”

“It’s because Sally almost became an employee of NASA and still has a soft spot for aerodynamics.”

“What exactly did you do when faced with Barnes?”

“Check the front tabloid page tomorrow, just tell everyone I’m out of town.”

“Got it. And Tony?”

Her voice is soft.

“Yes, dear?”

He can feel her rolling her eyes. Affectionately, of course, but rolling all the same.

“Be safe, and come back. You know Rhodey and I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

A week is spent in Malibu. He really is thinking about selling this place. But for now, it suffices.

Steve texts him.

bucky’s back. holy shit

be back in a week. radio silence.

got it. no more messages from me. thor tells me to tell you that he broke the sink

:((((

And that’s it. He’s sitting in the house for a week, has already called Sally once and explained how his suit works, and then listened to her talk about how “his reliance on the suit to help him escape unfavorable situations is not exactly the healthiest but also none of my clients have had to face someone who is of weird standing.”

It’s no secret that Tony doesn’t like Howard Stark. Who would’ve liked that sorry excuse for a father, a man who was so cold-hearted the Arctic looked like a tropical paradise?

Maria was...Maria was different.

She wasn’t a good mother. No, she was never a good mother. But she tried, and she didn’t deserve her fate.

And then there was the question of Bucky Barnes. Who wasn’t Bucky when he was there, but still so damn recognizable.

It’s kind of like when there’s a movie about a famous person, and another person plays them. Like Tom Hanks, essentially. Bucky played whoever the fuck they get Tom Hanks to play and it’s similar: you see the resemblance, but it’s not it.

So yeah.

There’s also the little tidbit that things get complicated when you involve personal feelings and rationality, and really? Tony misses New York. A lot. And he’s not going to let someone else overtake his life just because he’s uncomfortable.

So he flies back to New York.

He’s in a bad way, Barnes is.

“He remembered you,” Steve says. “What he did.”

“Ah, there’s that.”

“He doesn’t have to be here,” Natasha says. “I have a couple of SHIELD safe houses to choose from.”

“None would be adequate to house something like me,” comes the response.

Barnes looks remarkably shitty, as if he hasn’t slept in eighty years. And maybe he hasn’t.

“Jail would be more fitting.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“You are literally the most dramatic person ever, and Bruce threatened to take over the government because Thor ate the last croissant. Put those on the grocery list, Steve

“We’re not gonna throw you in jail,” he continues on. “Not because you happened to be used as a goddamned Swiss army knife. I have issues, sure, but I’m not going to be going all Hannibal Lecter or whatever.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Cannibal. I realized that that’s a terrible comparison, please forgive me.”

“Why a cannibal?”

“Couldn’t think of anything else but Anthony Hopkins, the actor. My mistake. Point is, we’re gonna have to go through some channels, and I’m introducing you to BARF, as well as a new person who’s gonna rock your world.”

“I’m pretty much well-acquainted with vomit.”

“No, not that,” Tony says. “Although we can cover that through my 2005 edition of partying if we really wanna dig up some old magazine interviews. No, I’m introducing you to something that’s going to change your life.”

After that, Tony doesn’t have much to do with Bucky’s life.

He serves as a permanent guilt trip, nothing says “well, shit” much like being a permanent guilt trip.

Sally tells him that they should talk it out. Do all that “and how do you feel?” questioning that makes his skin crawl and his eyes ascend to the ceiling.

I mean yeah, they share a living space. Tony has seen Bucky laugh and smile with Sam, talk with Bruce about a really interesting article about regeneration of plant cells or whatever, and Bucky enjoys videochatting with Wakandan royalty.

(It also helps that Shuri is blunt as ever, but so blisteringly smart. He’s reading her paper on regeneration of nanotechnology, and it just...it’s the Pieta of research, that paper.)

But he never speaks to Bucky. Well, he does. But it’s more along the lines of “hey Barnes” and “how are you?” which aren’t exactly the Most Thought Provoking Statements Ever Made.

Summer comes swiftly, and about near with a vengeance. Tony’s dealing with a heat wave and trying to figure out if going outside is even worth it, and then he and Bucky are alone in the kitchen.

Tony was debating getting a couple of popsicles from the freezer. Bucky is considering sabotaging Clint’s smoothie that was supposed to be special for tonight, but that he’ll most likely forget.

“Hey,” Bucky says. “Um, can we talk?”

Shit.

He’s been avoiding this, officially, for a month. Potentially more if you’re going to count a few choice events that have been brought up by his psyche.

“Sure thing, buttercup. What are we talking about. Economy, world crises, the great debate on financial advice?”

“Isn’t the third thing just the economy?”

“We can break it down over coffee.”

“Mm, maybe another time. No, I’m talking about us. About how I--I kind of ruined your life.”

Tony blinks.

“You didn’t ruin my life. If my life was ruined you’d be hit with so many lawsuits that I could make the rest of your life look like the third circle of Hell, or wherever it is that people go nowadays in Dante’s eyes. No, you didn’t ruin my life.”

“I still killed your parents.”

“If you hadn’t, someone else would’ve. Believe me, there were about fifteen others in line. Sometimes, myself included.”

“You can’t not take me seriously,” Bucky stresses. “I still did a terrible thing. I just want to make sure you know that you’re being too kind.”

“I most certainly am not,” Tony says. “Being too kind would have me feeding you grapes.”

Bucky’s face blanks.

“Don’t. I...I don’t wanna take advantage of your hospitality. I don’t want to remind you of what happened.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t wanted,” Tony says. “Believe me. And if you want to leave, you’re free to leave. I don’t want to make you feel like you need to stay here.”

“I...I want to make it up to you.”

“Then use BARF and review it,” Tony says. “I’m serious. I need user feedback, and you’re the best candidate for it. Also, please try to convince Steve to wear neon yellow. I just want to see if he’ll do it.”

Steve wears neon yellow. Tony laughs so hard he cries.

Bucky smiles.

It’s a nice smile, really. It’s wide and happy and wow. That’s all worth it.

And then BARF. Bucky just gives user feedback, nothing else. Tony doesn’t want to know anything else, but they start talking more.

Tony finds out that Bucky’s been doing crosswords to catch up on current events, and he’s bought taped recordings of World Series games.

He loves antique stores. He visits them and brings home little trinkets that he remembers in his own house, or what he remembered. He watched old commercials from the fifties and sixties, laughed as he remembered the Sears catalogs that would come in the mail.

“Me an’ my sisters would beg my mom for new clothes from the catalog, and she never would. Always sewed our pants and skirts so damn well, I probably could’ve used them for the next ten years.”

Tony laughs.

“Well, I can’t promise I can sew. But I could give you some armor that could last you twenty years, if you want. Steve told me you’re thinking about doing some distance missions.”

“Just observation, no armor required.”

“Sometimes it’s the simple missions that get the worst hits,” Tony says. “Believe me, I know how it goes. So, do you want some armor?”

Bucky smiles.

“Sure.”

“I’ll need feedback.”

“I’ll give it all I’ve got.”

Bucky is a goddamned dream to design for. He knows exactly what he needs, what areas are most likely to be pierced, and also has a flair for the dramatic: he requests an Iron Man helmet be embroidered on the back.

“You’re really just trying to be sweet on me, aren’t you?” Tony teases.

“My master plan to gain your fortune,” Bucky teases right back. “I’ll waste it all on champagne pools and the worst-looking but most expensive shoes I can find.”

Tony laughs.

“Sugar, that’d be incredible if you could spend all of my money on that. I’d commend you.”

Bucky smiles, and it shouldn’t be as nice of a smile as it is, but here Tony is with his opinions and his concerning thought that maybe he wants to see more of Bucky.

In the morning, there begins a routine. Tony is always up at eight o’clock. It’s a rare lull in Avenger-morning-routines: Nat, Steve, and Bruce are all done, and Thor and Clint won’t be in until ten o’clock at the earliest.

(What can he say? Thor’s a god and Clint...well. He needs a lot of beauty sleep.)

Tony makes coffee, and Bucky makes them both breakfast. Says that officially, it’s to test and make sure that his prosthetic is still performing under optimal conditions.

(They both know that’s not it.)

Tony always says he pours too much water, makes enough for two cups.

Steve calls them out on it.

“You two are being weird,” he says. “And not like Thor and Bruce trying to reenact that one show about ghosts and unsolved things.”

“That’s their form of courtship, don’t be fucking rude,” Clint remarks. Natasha snorts.

“What, us being weird?” Tony asks, pouring a bit more coffee into Bucky’s mug. He always uses too much creamer and then won’t finish his coffee unless there’s more. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s because you both do couple shit,” Bruce says, breezing into the kitchen. “Also, Steve, lovely to see that you have volunteered to be the next guest on Avengers: Unsolved. We’re planning on using you as a guilt-trip in order to access files about aliens.”

“Truth will be found!” Thor adds. “But also, yes. Bucky, I thought you were taking him on a date to the art museum on Saturday.”

Bucky turns red. So does Tony. It really is quite inconvenient.

“I mean, we could go on a date there,” Tony says. “If you’re okay with that.”

“You’re doing this in public?” Natasha asks, eyebrows raised. “Hm. Would not have called that.”

“You owe me fifteen dollars,” Bucky says. “Not you Tony, quit looking at me like that. Yes, it will be a date on Saturday, I’ll wear a nice shirt. Nat said that I couldn’t do anything that surprised her.”

“Technically, Tony surprised me.”

“I thought dates were mutual events, hm? Fifteen dollars. I’ll use it to buy the best bouquet in New York.”

“The best bouquet costs over a thousand dollars,” Thor answers.

“Not questioning how you know that, but I’m scared of you,” Bucky says. “Then I will get the best fifteen-dollar-bouquet in New York.”

Tony snorts, smiling.

“I guess I’ll spray a bit of my perfume on my pillow then, soldier.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon sharp,” Bucky says, grinning. He finishes his coffee. “We’ll make fun of Steve’s art exhibit together.”

#lovelyirony writes #holy shit this was longer than expected #thank you to angel for this inspiration #winteriron #avengers as a family #personally i like the fact that thor and bruce are doing avengers unsolved and have to force different avengers on #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #thor #bucky barnes #tony stark #howard stark #maria stark #sally the therapist

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jbarness · 4 years

Text

huh, that's new

a social media au

[27: news]

warnings: language, "pregnancy"?? uhh idk what else hehehe

a/n: this is a pretty long chapter i think? (2000+ words) im very nervous about this chapter cause its kinda a big deal asdfghjk anyways, please please please tell me what you think about this! and ik this idea is very odd HAHAHAHA but what else would you expect from two dumbasses named bucky and y/n? hehehe i really hope you enjoy this chapter!! ♡

flashback is italicized

huh, that's new - masterlist

You wanted to laugh so badly.

For some reason, your housemates are panicking over who the hell set this gender reveal party up in the living room.

It was you. With the help of Bucky of course.

Natasha and Wanda have been shouting “I’m not pregnant, I think you are!” to each other for about 10 minutes now. Steve decided that he needed answers too, so he joined in the shouting. Pietro’s talking to his camera, probably vlogging the whole thing. Peter’s talking on the phone with MJ asking if she set this up. Sam’s the only one enjoying the food. Bucky was looking at you from across the room, keeping the smile from forming on his face.

Just about an hour or so ago, you and Bucky were just setting the whole thing up. Bucky was pushing the table to the living room when you arrived with the cake. You placed the rest of the blue and pink food on the table along with other decorations. There were many variations of food, but the cupcakes that have toppers that said: “Here for the Sex” were Bucky’s personal favorite despite not knowing how they taste. The balloons were still lifeless when both of you hung the streamers on the walls with the banner that matched the topper of the cupcakes. After finally finding the balloon pump, blue and pink balloons filled the living room. Some were on the floor while you hung the others on the wall. When you were content with the appearance of the room, you and Bucky went your separate ways.

You got the idea of throwing a gender reveal party when you were working at the diner one evening. “You’ll be at the gender reveal party next week right?” the woman at the booth asked her friend. “Of course, Jill asked me to pick up the cake,” Her friend says. When you got the idea, you thought it was silly, so you dismissed it. Later on, you thought of more ideas and details to add, then in a blink of an eye, you were in the bakery, asking the baker if they can make a three-layered cake of your favorite flavor with the inside colored blue.

“Maybe P set this all up for a prank again?” Nat looked at Pietro who was filming the whole thing. “Just because I have a channel that doesn’t mean I always prank!” Pietro said, turning off his camera.

Steve sighed, “Okay, one by one. Nat and I were the first ones here, but it was all here already when we arrived. Wanda was the next one here, she was in the bookstore the whole morning. Bucky and Sam were next and they only came here because he saw the Instagram story of Nat. Pietro and Peter came home today from LA and Peter from Tony’s. Lastly, Y/N came home from the cafe,” everyone nodded.

After a couple of minutes of silence, you couldn’t handle it anymore, “Okay, I can’t do it. I give up. It was me. I set this up,” you laughed.

“But why Y/N?” Peter gasped, “Are you pregnant?”

Everyone’s eyes were on you now. Natasha’s eyes widened, “Wait, who’s the father?”

Bucky was laughing internally, you could tell. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he turned around to look at the window. You could see his shoulders slightly shaking, he’s definitely laughing. Good thing the attention wasn’t on him. “I uhh… I don’t know,” you said. You technically haven't met Bucky's dad, you were being honest.

“Doesn’t matter, my sweet Y/N! We’ll support you and help you. Anything you need” Sam swallowed the macaroon whole before going to you and hugging you tightly.

“I know you will.” In less than a minute, you were trapped in the middle of the group hug.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? We would’ve known the gender by now!” Pietro said as the group untangled from the hug.

You laughed, “I was enjoying the show.”

“Well, come on! I wanna know if my godchild is a boy or a girl!” Wanda yelled excitedly and went to the kitchen to grab the knife.

Bucky walked towards you before you could join the others who are now gathered at the table, waiting for plates and the knife. “I’m tellin’ ya, doll, they’re gonna be frustrated at us,” he said. You shrugged, “They already are.”

Wanda handed you the knife to cut the cake. Everyone took out their phones to take a video of the “soon-to-be-mother”. You were trying very hard not to laugh at this point and so was Bucky, who was taking a video of his friends’ reactions to what they’re about to say.

You sliced a triangle on one side of the cake and pulled it out, showing blue. “Oh my God! It’s a boy!” Peter yelled, jumping around with Pietro. Sam and Steve took turns hugging you and they were later pushed aside by Wanda and Nat. “I’m happy for you, hun I am, but I really hope that a girl comes out of you,” Natasha said while hugging you and Wanda tightly.

You cleared your throat, catching everyone’s attention, “It’s actually a Bucky” you said, nonchalantly.

“Bucky?” Wanda pulled away slightly from the hug, making Nat do the same. “A Bucky? As in it’s Bucky’s baby?” Steve asked, wide-eyed, obviously excited, looking at Bucky who is now looking back at you, covering his mouth with his hands, to keep himself from laughing.

“I meannnnn… Bucky... is my... baby,” you said while extending your arm, inviting Bucky to come closer, which he did.

Peter was still confused and it shows, “You’re Bucky’s mom?” he asked, making Pietro smack his head, “Pete, it means they’re dating... Right?”

Both you and Bucky nodded, “We are.”

“Oh my God! Fucking finally! I was starting to think you’ll never tell each other how you feel! Do you know how frustrated you two made me?” Sam yelled, throwing a pillow at Bucky.

Natasha was yelling “I fucking knew it! I told you so!” repeatedly to her boyfriend while Wanda kept pinching both your and Bucky’s cheeks saying, “CUTIESSS!”

You looked at Bucky, “they don’t look frustrated” you said which made Bucky roll his eyes and smile. Both of you laughed when you saw Steve silently saying “Yes! My ship!” Either that or something about shit.

“Calm your asses. Now, this party isn’t just for us to announce that we’re together. This is also a party for Natty and Steve. Sorta like the part one of the roomies night we’re gonna have” you said, looking at the couple.

“Thank you, Y/N, but I don’t wanna think about moving right now. What I do want is for you two to give us the fucking details about how you two finally got together” Nat said, making everyone agree and sit down and get comfortable in the living room.

Bucky cleared his throat and looked on his left, where you sat. “It happened the night that her friend came to the city.”

☆

To say you were excited for tonight was an understatement.

Last night, you already picked out the clothes you wanted to wear tonight. It was simple, really, just a pair of jeans and the most comfortable hoodie you owned. Or should you go with a plain sweater instead? Printed shirt? Oversized shirt? Your grey sweatpants? They look comfortable. Or your black ones?

You ended up with your first choice.

Wanda and Nat noticed how upbeat and cheery you were the whole day. It wasn’t exactly like you to be this happy at 7 am. You cooked a lot more food than usual and you haven’t even had your coffee yet. “Maria’s in the city today!” was the only excuse you thought of every time they asked you. You had some errands to do that day, its something you find really boring and exhausting but you found yourself skipping to the bank. Skipping, not walking.

At the tower, Bucky was a nervous wreck. He couldn’t focus much on what he was doing. He would zone out and forget what he was typing, then he remembered he wasn’t typing at all, he was fixing a floor plan. Sam being Sam, noticed how Boinky was acting. He kept teasing Bucky about being distracted while Steve kept asking him to stop. “What’s up with you, Buck? What’s making you zone out?” Steve asked, giving Bucky some water. Bucky just shrugged and continued whatever the hell he was doing.

The evening came too fast for Bucky and too slow for you. You got home, got dressed to meet with Maria for dinner before seeing Bucky. When Bucky got home, he changed into something more casual and fixed himself at his bathroom. “Tell her tonight, you fucking idiot,” he told himself, looking at the mirror before grabbing his helmet and his old helmet that you proclaimed yours when you were hanging out before. He smiled at the memory then remembered that Dot never even got to see his motorcycle. Huh.

He picked you up at the hotel that Maria was staying at. In a few minutes, you were at the bar that you two used to go to. You two bought a couple of drinks before going to the spot - your spot. You almost forgot how beautiful it was there, especially at night.

“After tonight, you’ll only have one night of free drinks, use it wisely,” Bucky said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I’ll have to find another way to have free drinks from you,” you joked.

He looked at you, “You can just ask, you know? You don’t have to blackmail me,” he smiled.

You laughed for a moment and it became silent once again. It felt... awkward. You two were seated a couple of inches away from each other, the closest you two have been since you avoided each other, but you wanted to get away. You remembered the last time you were here, in this exact same spot. Drinking the alcohol of your choice, laughing with Bucky, talking about your high school selves. Many things have changed since then. It feels so weird and new to you, sitting next to someone you genuinely like, your friend. You took a deep breath and stopped thinking.

“I like you, did you know that?” you said out of the blue making Bucky wonder if he was just imagining it and he was just hearing things. He stayed silent, deciding that it was just his mind saying that cause that was what he wanted to hear.

You turned to Bucky, waiting for his reaction. Nothing. “Buck?” he turned and looked at you as if he hadn’t heard you. “I like you,” you said once again only this time, it was louder and clearer.

“You like me?” Bucky asked, finding it hard to believe for some reason. “Like, you like-like me?” You nodded, smiling at his creased eyebrows and slightly tilted face, like a confused puppy. You almost didn’t notice how your heart is beating quickly as if it wanted to jump out of your chest. It was taking Bucky too long to reply, and that made you anxious. All you wanted was to take it back and change what you said. You should’ve said “I’d really like to go back to being close friends” or maybe ask him why he avoided you or somethi--

“Did Wanton ask you to tell this to me?” he asked with an accusative tone. “No, why would I agree to that? Even if I did, I’d only agree to say something like that if I really meant it,” your voice getting louder every word.

“So it’s true? You like me? Romantic styles?” You nodded, slightly annoyed that he would think that you would play with his feelings. “Yes, it’s no big deal. I just wanted to tell you, I don’t expect you to like me back. I just- I want you to--”

"I like you too. Romantic styles," he said holding your hand. "That was why I set you up with Loki, why I avoided you after that and why I was avoiding you until you invited me to join you and Pietro. I kinda got a bit… slightly, sort of jealous so I agreed to go with you."

"Wait, hold on, you like me... and you... set me up with Loki? I don't get it"

"I like you and… That doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that you’re happy, and I'll do anything to make you happy,” he said, offering you a small smile.

☆

"Then we kissed and… yeah,” you smiled at your friends’ faltered smiles.

Sam stood up, “Why was everything else so detailed and the kiss was just ‘then we kissed’? What’s that about?” He said, grabbing more food from the table. "And, I fucking told you so, Boinks!"

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Do you wanna hear how I kissed her softl-”

“Excuse me?” You said, raising your eyebrows at your boyfriend. “I kissed you, and it wasn’t soft”

“Y/N stop saying soft!” Peter shouted, covering his ears.

Wanda wiggled her eyebrows, "You didn't come home that night, hun."

"Yeah, I invited her to my place, we had some wine and we just talked for the rest of the night. Nothing happened. Okay? After talking we just slept. That's it,” Bucky defended.

Steve kept nodding his head, “Hence the Instagram story, mhmm, mhmm. Alright.”

“Whatever happened that night, I’m glad it did. And, I’m really really reallyyyyy happy for you, dumbasses,” Nat laughed.

Peter walked to you, “I’m happy for you too, sis. But please, don’t get detailed with… you know. I don’t need to know that.” You laughed, holding his hand. “And Bucky, if you ever hurt my sister, I’ll hunt you down and beat you up,” Peter looked at Bucky squinting his eyes, trying to look intimidating, which made Bucky laugh.

You looked at Bucky, “He’s serious. And very strong. He gave Steve bruises when they were boxing at the gym.” Bucky looked at Steve who was nodding.

“O-oh”

☆

taglist:

@intovert-gone-wild @jbb-bucky0310 @jessicakimba @mariachiii @essenceproxima @cazslaughter @eldahae @rororo06 @bonkyboinkybucky @a-hopeless-fan @danosaurushowell @hannibal-lecters-bitch @ceeellewrites @divainthesun @kseniiafirebrace @k-n-e @adriannajackson @connorhoez @fanfuckingtastic04 @cherthegoddess @captain-america5 @onlyjamesbuchananbarnes @writerwrites @lovinnholland @softboibarnes

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upamongthestarss · 4 years

Text

Perfect Timing//Bill Denbrough x fem reader

Please be kind! This is only my second time publishing on tumblr, so I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but here we are!

Warnings: smut, brief mention of fem oral receiving, swearing, mild angst, underage drinking

Spring break came way too slowly, especially for Y/n. Freshman year of college is said to be one of the best years of your life, but it’s definitely the worst. Her high school was entirely too easy for her, probably because her teachers were just idiots. Then college hit, and the workload was unbearable. Not to mention, she grew homesick for her parents and her best friends and even a tiny bit for Bill.

Oh, how she hated Bill back home.

Well, okay, she didn’t hate him, it was more of just a mutual tension that sometimes led to the Losers separating them at all costs.

They went on a few dates freshman year, and even kissed once, but it all ended when popular Autumn asked Bill to “help her with English” at lunch one day. He completely forgot to tell Y/n, but didn’t think much of the whole affair anyway. When Y/n walked out of the lunch line, she smiled at her newly official boyfriend. He was hunched over a piece of paper, diligently writing with ginger hair falling into his eyes. When Autumn saw her coming over, she tapped Bill on the shoulder, and kissed him full on the mouth when he turned to her.

Y/n’s hands went slack, causing her tray to clatter to the ground. Tomato soup splattered all over her new white Keds. She obviously looked down to see the damage, and missed Bill pushing Autumn off of him. He went over to check on her and help her clean up, but she stormed off to the bathrooms.

From then on out, there’s been so much tension between them. Even though Bill explained what happened countless times, she’s absolutely refused to listen. She’s had trust issues after her biological father cheated on her mother when she was little, and this, well, this basically made them inflate like the economy. She wasn’t on speaking terms with him until the end of the school year, and even then their friendship was rocky.

But there was also a sexual tension. Bill and Y/n still had blatantly obvious feelings for each other, whether they wanted to admit or not. In fact, they even went to senior prom together, but it ended in disaster. There was a dramatic exit from Y/n when he mentioned how he was on good terms with Autumn now, and she was really sorry for what happened.

“Why the hell would you bring that up now?” Y/n rose from her seat.

“B-b-because she t-told me she w-wanted us to-”

“Can’t we just completely forget what happened back then? It was so long ago.”

Bill flushed. “Well, it r-r-really seems l-like you’ve n-n-never forgotten ab-about it these past th-three years.”

She threw her napkin on the table and left after saying, “You’re a dick.”

That night she vented to Eddie and ultimately admitted to having feelings for him, but he knew that all along anyway.

That night was the last time they talked until it was time for Bill to leave for NYU.

“Good luck,” she told him, bouncing on the balls of her feet nervously.

“Th-thank you, Y/n, y-you too!” he was so excited that day that he even pulled her into a hug, much to her surprise (and delight).

And now, here she is, on the plane to Palm Springs. It’s a long flight from Marywood, so Y/n uses her time to finish her homework. She’s majorly jetlagged by the time she lands at Palm Springs International. Luckily, the cab ride isn’t ridiculously long. When she gets to Richie’s beach house, he’s on the porch with his feet up and a daiquiri in hand.

“Y/N!!!!” he shouts, putting his drink to the side and running down the stairs.

“RICHIE!!!!” she yells back, dropping her bags to run and hug him.

“Oh, it’s been so long!”

“I know!! And holy shit, your house is gorgeous!”

“I’m telling you, Y/n, I lucked out so much by scoring that audition. Can you believe it? Rich Records Tozier, the nation’s youngest beloved DJ.”

“Hardly,” she chuckles. “So how is the life of fame treating you?”

“Oh, brilliant. Come on in, I’ll give you a tour,” he scoops up her bag and leads her to the door. It’s an incredible house, with a beautiful kitchen and even a movie theater.

“And here’s your room,” he gestures to the first door upstairs.

“May I?” she asks, hand on the doorknob.

“Be my guest.”

She swings it open to a redheaded girl on one of the two beds. She looks up from her magazine, smirking. “Hey, roomie!”

“Bev!” Y/n shrieks as her best friend runs to her and practically knocks her over.

“When did you get here?!”

“About an hour ago. Stan’s here too, but he’s taking a nap.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Y/n grins mischievously.

“Everyone else is supposed to get here tomorrow morning, except for Mike. He’s coming tonight.”

“Oh, thank God. No Bill for a half day more.”

“Oh, Y/n, don’t be so close-minded,” Bev giggles and they sit down on the same bed, bursting with so much to catch up on. Richie doesn’t know if he should sit down with them or just go back to his daiquiri, but the doorbell rings.

“Saved by the bell,” he says, getting the side eye in response.

The girls talk for hours until they decide to say hello to Mike. Y/n stops at the bathroom first, and it takes her a while to find the kitchen after that. She has to follow the voices and Richie’s booming laugh.

“Sorry, I got lost,” she says, turning in the kitchen. “Hi, Mi-”

The third person talking to Richie and Beverly is not Mike.

It’s Bill. And she looks like a total bum in her old sundress and messy ponytail. She isn’t wearing a drop of makeup, either.

“Y/n.”

“Bill. Good to see you,” she holds out her hand professionally. He shakes it.

Is it good to see him? Looking at his cerulean eyes certainly sends butterflies through her stomach and through… other parts of her body.

“Y-you too.”

That immaculate stutter. She sits down at a barstool and crosses her legs together tightly. Richie and Beverly are quick to notice it, but restrain from commenting.

“I thought you were coming in tomorrow morning?”

She doesn’t sound rude or accusatory, just curious.

“M-my flight got c-c-cancelled.”

“Okay, gotcha.”

She drums her fingertips on the counter restlessly, not really knowing what else to say.

Luckily, Richie has a plan in case things get awkward between these two- and he’s already having to use it.

“Anyone want a drink?”

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

“Nursing school is so insane. In anatomy, our teacher dissected a literal human body, and we had to examine it.”

“Eddie, please. We’re eating,” Y/n coughs.

“It was disgusting, but it was also fascinating,” he defends himself.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Ben shrugs.

“Y/n, tell us more about Marywood,” Eddie says, but she’s way too busy watching Bill talk to Richie’s cute next door neighbor while holding her little sister.

“You’re so good with her!” she simpers, tossing her shiny brown hair.

“Y/n? Earth to Y/n?”

“What?”

“How’s Marywood?”

“Oh, it’s… fine.”

“Just fine? Did you pick a major yet?”

She shakes her head.

“What about that guy? Are you still with him?”

“David? No, we were together for a while, but I guess the spark just kinda died. I mean, he initiated the breakup, but it was all mutual.”

Eddie squirts a dollop of sunscreen the size of a clementine in his hand. “That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Y/n shrugs, averting her gaze back to Bill. She’s very glad that she's wearing sunglasses, to hide her stares.

The cute girl was right, he is good with that little girl. Her heart would be melted, but Bill keeps flirting with the older sister. It’s disgusting.

And then, that girl has the audacity to drop the rattle she shook in the baby’s face. Y/n is close enough to hear the conversation, or at least read lips.

“Oh, l-l-l-let m-me get that.”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” she smiles, bending over so stealthily so that her breasts are all but out of that bikini.

“Ugh,” Y/n rolls her eyes.

“What’s up?” Ben asks.

“Nothing. I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” she stands up and walks almost catatonically to the door.

Instead of going to the bathroom, she finds a glass and slams it on the table.

“D-damn, Y/n. That’s n-n-not a napkin, you kn-know.”

She jumps at Bill’s voice. He obviously followed her in, and she’s not too thrilled about it.

“Funny,” she replies, searching the cabinets. “Do you want anything?”

“I-I was ac-actually getting d-drinks.”

“Oh, for you and your new girlfriend? Hey, let me know when the wedding is. That is, if I even get on the guest list.”

“What’s your p-p-problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Y/n finds a bottle of straight vodka and pours it right in the glass.

“Hey, its eh-eh-eleven AM,” Bill warns her, reaching for the glass. Unfortunately, their hands grab for it at the same time and it goes crashing to the ground.

“Great, thanks,” she says.

“I didn’t w-want you to be w-w-wasted all d-day.”

“Listen, Bill,” she takes a deep breath. “I really appreciate your concern. I do. But it’s my life, and if I want to get wasted this early, then no one should stop me.”

He doesn’t answer. They both grab rags and start to clean up around their feet.

“Th-this kind of r-r-reminds me of a certain sit-situation involving t-tomato soup,” Bill risks saying.

It was a terrible idea.

“Are you kidding me? I thought we moved on from that!”

“Yeah, so w-w-we can j-joke about it now!”

She’s silent for a minute, a blend of wrath and sadness.

“Just,” Y/n says, “Just go back out with your girlfriend.”

“I-I-I h-hardly know- o-okay, what the hell is y-y-your problem? We’re n-not together an-anymore!!! You sh-sh-shouldn’t c-care about my l-l-love life.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” she stands up, vodka dripping from the rag to her toes. “I don’t care that I shouldn’t care. I do care! I’ve always cared!”

Bill is speechless, and she honestly doesn’t blame him. Y/n assumes he doesn’t feel the same about her. After all, they haven’t dated since freshman year. Sighing, she puts the rag in the sink and walks back outside.

She’s opening up her book and lying on her stomach to get a tan when Y/n hears an obnoxious “Excuse me?”

She looks up to the girl, who could literally be a bikini model.She looks at Y/n like she’s a piece of dirt, and Y/n just wants to smack her. She could never hurt anyone, though.

“Um, do you know when Bill will be back with the drinks?”

“Not a clue.”

******

Bill absolutely could not stop thinking of Y/n all day. He never really can, ever, but his thoughts have been out of control all damn day. They range from wild fantasies to regrets from way back when to just simply: She still likes me, she still likes me, she still likes me!!!!

He wants more than anything to talk to her and confess he’s been in love with her since high school, maybe even before that. But some small voice in Bill’s head tells him that even if she does have feelings, she won’t want to act on them. After all, he’s been nothing but an asshole to her.

Then again, so has she.

It’s really ironic that they’re so abrasive towards each other. Y/n is so kind and friendly to everyone she meets; that’s why Bill fell for her. And everyone tells him that he’s nothing but a sweetheart. And he’s always treated his every girlfriend like a princess.

But it’s Y/n he wants as a girlfriend, and it always has been.

Y/n comes running down the stairs, using the bansiters to prop herself up and skip the last couple steps. She’s been strangely lighthearted after she made that confession to Bill. It had been a weight on shoulders for the longest time, after all. And now that it’s out of the bag, she feels as if she can finally move on.

Holy shit, she’s so cute, Bill says to himself. She has this youthful energy, but the looks of a gorgeous young woman. Not to mention her outfit- a pastel yellow halter top, short jean shorts, and a sky blue scrunchie- looks magnificent.

“Okay, I’m ready to go!” she grins widely. “Sorry for the holdup!”

“You’re good,” Richie replies. “We were just figuring out transportation, considering I can only take five of us in my car.”

“I don’t mind taking the trunk,” Y/n shrugs. “Anyone else?”

“I will,” Beverly volunteers.

“Okay, great, and five of you can squish in the backseat. Mike claimed shotgun earlier.”

Everyone else groans while he flashes a smile and gives them finger guns.

“So charming,” Bev laughs and grabs Y/n’s hand. They run out to the car and squish in the trunk.

“Bev, I have to tell you something,” Y/n whispers.

“What?”

“I’m still not over Bill.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” she responds sarcastically.

“How did you know that? I only told Eddie!”

“It was just a little obvious,” she laughs. “And the good news is that we all think he feels the same way!”

“I don’t think he does, Bev,” Y/n shakes her head.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I told him today-”

“You what?”

“Shush!” she scolds as the boys get in the car. Luckily they’re all talking and can’t hear the girls if they whisper. “It just sort of... slipped out. But he didn’t even say anything. He just kind of… froze? It was so awkward.”

“You know he’s a little awkward around girls that he likes.”

“Is he, though?”

“Sure he is!”

“I don’t know, Bev. He stood there for a full thirty seconds without saying anything, and he just let me leave,” Y/n explains. “I think if he really liked me, he would have told me by now.”

Beverly gets quiet. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Hey, it’s okay! The timing was never right, and that- that happens. And it’s better I know now so I’m not hung up on him for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the drive is mostly just Beverly telling Y/n that there’s someone out there for her, and to keep her eyes open at the restaurant.

It’s a bright restaurant, very tropical and very flamboyant. A lush plant, obviously made of silicon, is the centerpiece of every table.

Good, it can hide me from Bill and spare my embarrassment, Y/n thinks as she sits opposite him. Unfortunately, Ben asks the hostess to take it away so he can see everyone. Y/n is mortified. Being directly across from her, he can watch and judge the girl the entire dinner.

She tries her hardest the whole meal not to pay Bill any mind, but it gets difficult when he starts getting tipsy. And drunk Bill can be wild. Singing and dancing on the tables wild. Luckily he isn’t at that point yet.

She doesn’t even know how he was able to buy drinks here; he’s only nineteen. The waitress must have a crush on him or something. Maybe she and Richie’s neighbor could start a Bill fanclub.

Y/n has a feeling the waitress would ask for her ID, though, so she sticks to soda. And three Shirley Temples is never good on anyone’s bladder.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she announces. “Anyone else?”

Everyone shakes their heads. Everyone except…

“Me! M-m-me!” Bill waves his hand around like a hyper child.

“Great, I’m a babysitter now,” Y/n murmurs.

She starts walking to the bathroom, Bill hot on her heels. Surprisingly enough, when she finishes peeing, he’s actually waiting for her.

“F-f-finally. G-g-girls take so long in the buh-buh-bathroom.”

She ignores him.

“Y/nnnnn,” he slurs. “I’ve been m-m-meaning to t-t-tell you, your a-a-ass looks fantastic in th-those shorts.”

“Because that’s not a rude thing to say at all,” she replies, feeling her face burn up.

“I’m n-n-not trying to be r-rudeeee,” Bill grabs her waist and pulls her in. Y/n can smell all the alcohol on his breath, and it’s disgusting. He kisses her full on the mouth.

She shoves him off, embarrassed by his behavior. “You’re drunk.”

“If b-b-being drunk makes me w-w-want to m-make out with you, I-I-I never want t-to be so-sober.”

That hits Y/n hard. Bill Denbrough wants her. But only when he’s drunk.

He doesn’t love her in his right mind. This is all she has, and she can’t even fathom just taking advantage of him when he’s drunk. Using someone would hurt her in such an inexplicable way, and not to mention it would tear whatever small bond she had with Bill into shreds.

She plops back down in her seat, barely touching the rest of her food or speaking for the rest of the night.

When she gets to her shared room with Bev, Y/n takes a shower. She’s always loved showers because they’re a place where you can cry without risk of anyone hearing over the water running.

And that’s exactly what Y/n does. She lets the tears stream down her face, washed away by the showerhead’s water.

*******

Bill knows he got plastered last night, so it’s no surprise when he wakes up with a pounding headache. But he isn’t sure why Y/n is so quiet, especially around him. Usually she has a remark or at least a glare for him, but she seems almost meek today.

He pulls Beverly aside at one point, and asks if he did anything to her last night.

“I don’t know, Bill. You guys went to the bathroom at the same time, and when you came back, Y/n seemed really upset.”

“L-l-like angry, or s-sad?”

“Sad. But she didn’t tell me anything that happened. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“It’s o-o-okay. Th-Thanks, Bev.”

He spends the rest of the day trying to remember something- anything- from last night. Bathrooms. Bathrooms.

There are some vignettes. Y/n across from him, in that pretty top. Watching her ass as she walked to the bathrooms.

Oh, shit. Bill made some sort of comments about those shorts. What happened after that? He kissed her, didn’t he? But why would that make her sad?

When evening rolls around, Bill still doesn’t remember anything new. He’s the only one in the living room, not even paying attention to the TV. His friends come bounding down the stairs, all wearing sneakers and athletic outfits.

“A-a-are you g-guys going somewhere?”

“Yeah, to the new rope climbing place,” Stan replies.

“Where’s Y/n?”

“She has vertigo, and wanted to stay here. We thought you could stay here so she’s not alone all night.”

“You d-d-didn’t th-think about asking me f-first?”

“We drew names out of a hat,” Beverly steps in. “You just weren’t around when we did it.”

“Isn’t that a l-l-little ruh-rude to Y-Y/n? One of us is g-g-going to st-stay with her instead of h-having fun?”

“No, Bill, it was the opposite!” Richie tries to save the group, much to their chagrin. “We were voting on who didn’t get to stay home with Y/n. And you won! You get to!”

“Wh-what i-if I want to donate m-my win?”

“Doesn’t work like that. Wins are final.”

It’s all BS, and Bill knows it. There never was a hat draw, everyone knows that Bill and Y/n have a lot to work out, and they don’t want the two to go back from spring break with even more animosity for each other.

Also, they know that the two have feelings that have been expressed so wrongly over the years. Maybe now it’s time to work them out.

“So we’re going to head out now; have fun with Y/n!” Eddie waves, and they run out excitedly.

Bill sighs, not knowing what he’s going to do with Y/n all night. Maybe she’ll just be antisocial and hide in her room all night, but he personally hopes she won’t. He decides to hang out by the pool for a while, and changes into his swim trunks.

By the time he gets outside, though, Y/n is already there. She’s hugging her knees to her chest and watching the little waterfall intently.

“Hey,” Bill says, making her jump.

“Hey.”

“C-c-can I join you?”

She nods.

“Why aren’t you with the others?”

“B-because I w-w-won their ‘contest,’”

“Contest?” she shakes her head, not understanding.

“To b-b-babysit you, ap-apparently.”

“Ah. Sounds legitimate.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just lets the sounds of the waterfall and the faint grasshoppers fill the silence. He’s sure Y/n doesn’t mind, though. When everyone else complained about the summer grasshoppers as kids, she would always dote on how they’re melodious and comforting.

Bill can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Y/n, what d-d-did I do l-last night?”

She turns to him. “You really don’t remember?”

“I re-remember making a com-comment, which I-I’m sorry about b-by the way, th-that was an a-asshole move. And I-I remember kissing y-you. But then what?”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n continues. “Well, then I pushed you off and told you that you were drunk.”

She pauses.

“And th-then?”

“Then you said, ‘If I want to make out with you when I’m drunk, then I don’t ever want to be sober.’”

That’s it? Bill thinks. He’s not stupid enough to voice his thoughts, luckily.

“Oh, Y-Y-Y/n, I w-w-was drunk. I d-didn’t know what I w-w-was saying.”

“Listen, Bill. I know you remember what I told you yesterday in the kitchen. And what you told me at the restaurant really hurt, okay?”

“Why? I-I wanted to k-k-kiss you,” he asks, genuinely confused.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes!” Y/n laughs incredulously. “You wanted to kiss me when you were drunk, not in your right mind!”

“I al-always want to k-k-kiss you in my right mind!”

“What?!”

“I-I think I love you, Y/n.”

She’s frozen. Could he actually mean that? Has he been drinking again? Hearing that from Bill Denbrough has been her dream since… forever.

“I think I love you too, Bill.”

He jumps up from his lounge chair, and leans over Y/n. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and kisses her tenderly, gently. Her lips are just as soft as he remembers them to be all those years ago, softer than any other girl he’s kissed.

“Wow,” she beams as they pull apart. “I guess I knew this, but you’re a much better kisser than my ex.”

He laughs. “W-why, thank you. You’re n-n-not so bad y-yourself.”

“Thanks,” she giggles. “I just… I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like doing something crazy now, something outrageous.”

“L-like what?”

“Hm…” she thinks for a minute. “Do you want to go skinny dipping?”

“Okay, sure,” Bill chuckles.

Grinning, she begins to peel off her one piece. She slips the straps off, and the rest slowly slides off her body. Her breasts are exposed first, then her stomach, then everything. Her skin is smooth and glorious.

Bill pulls off his swim trunks and throws them behind him. Y/n wants to tease him about his erection, but she’s way too shocked at his size.

They bask in the beauty of each other for a moment before they dive into the water, crisp and cool on their bare bodies. Y/n splashes Bill right in his face.

He pushes wet strands of hair from his ocean eyes. “H-how dare you?”

“What are you going to do about it?” she taunts.

“This,” Bill says, throwing Y/n over his shoulder and taking her outside the water. She’s both screaming and laughing her head off at this point. He carries her all the way to the deep end and tosses her in.

When she surfaces, Y/n makes sure to flip him off.

“So r-r-rude.”

He cannonballs in, and they swim around, and eventually go under the waterfall. They end up making out and gasping for air.

“D-d-do you want to tuh-take this inside?” Bill whispers.

She nods, and they get out. As Y/n shivers, Bill gets them fluffy towels from a bin by the chairs.

Grabbing his hand, she pulls him through the sliding glass doors. They run around the house in nothing but towels, giggling and kissing and dripping pool water everywhere. The two finally make it to Bill’s room and go directly to the bed (after locking the door).

“Spruh-spread your legs,” Bill breathes in her ear, sending goosebumps up and down her body.

She obeys and lets him kiss her knees, her thighs, and eventually her core. He pleases Y/n in a way her old boyfriend never did.

When she finishes, Bill holds her for a minute so she can catch her breath. Then, when he turns around to put on a condom, she moves against the wall.

“Oh, s-s-so you w-want wall sex n-now?” Bill raises his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

Instead of using words, Bill throws Y/n up against the wall and kisses her roughly. Their tongues clash, and she loves every second of it. Then he goes in. He starts slow at first, but begins to pick up the pace with her approval.

“D-damn, you’re so t-t-tight,” he whispers while she keeps muttering his name.

“Probably because I wasn’t with someone as big as you before.”

Hearing that makes him turn redder than his hair. “Really?”

“Really,” she sighs. “Can you go a little slower?”

He listens to her, and almost screams in pleasure when she starts to suck on his neck.

They both finish in a couple minutes, and are pretty burned out- Y/n especially because she’s never made such rough love before.

She lies in his arms, back on the bed, and traces the love mark forming on his neck.

“I think I love you,” Y/n says for the second time tonight.

“I-I th-think I love you t-too.”

They can’t help smiling for the umpteenth time in the past hour. Their stars had never aligned until now, and it couldn’t be a more perfect exchange of love. The wait was unbearable, but incredibly worth it.

Y/n and Bill make each other feel whole, like there was a sort of void within each other, unfilled until now.

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice is soft and gentle. “I’m so sorry about these past years. You know I have trust issues, but I took them too far and didn’t treat you right. And I’m so sorry.”

“I’m s-sorry, too. I’ve been an ass-asshole to y-y-you, a-and it’s m-m-my fault we broke uh-up in the f-first place.”

“Don’t say that,” Y/n frowns. “It was Evil Autumn’s fault.”

They chuckle.

Resting her head on Bill’s chest, Y/n asks the dreaded question.

“So what’s going to become of us? After spring break.”

Bill thinks for a minute, stroking her hair, and admits, “I don’t w-w-want us to c-c-cut each other off again.”

“Neither do I.”

“I think our sc-sc-schools are like t-t-two hours ap-apart; that’s n-not terrible.”

“It’s not,” Y/n agrees. “Maybe we could take turns driving every weekend, and find a halfway point or something.”

“A-an ex-exact halfway point,” Bill adds.

“An exact halfway point.”

They can make it work, they’ve got to. Both Bill and Y/n are extremely optimistic about the future ahead, now that every feeling has been sorted out between them. And even in the unfavorable event where things don’t work out, there will always be Palm Springs.

Bill presses a kiss to her forehead. There’s not a chance that they won’t make it. The timing is finally, after all these years, perfect.

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #stephen king IT #the losers club #mild angst #some smut

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kookoosbunnynose · 5 years

Text

Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it!

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

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship.

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.”

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles.

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table.

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?”

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!”

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple?

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go.

---

“I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class.

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class.

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use.

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home.

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name.

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic.

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.”

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out.

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels.

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.”

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries.

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.”

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?”

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?”

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought.

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.”

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect.

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up.

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends.

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall.

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead.

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.”

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch.

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye.

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.”

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.”

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send.

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (:

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great.

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will.

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall.

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob.

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen.

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so.

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little.

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne.

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute.

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair.

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows.

“Point taken.”

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis.

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?”

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.”

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant.

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’

But much to your surprise.

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.”

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable.

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you.

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself.

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him.

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey.

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp.

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer.

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot.

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice.

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started.

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky.

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him.

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust.

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket.

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness.

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow.

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced.

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.”

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil.

“Can I steal a soda?”

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you.

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink.

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot.

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!”

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best.

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone.

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you.

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?”

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas.

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute.

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art.

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you.

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you.

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile.

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch.

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body.

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth.

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature.

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made.

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs.

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him.

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed.

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question.

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock.

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between.

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away.

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely.

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again.

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock.

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land.

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement.

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin.

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay.

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again.

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you.

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about.

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence.

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him.

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants.

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you.

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint.

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed.

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part.

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle.

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water.

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him.

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him.

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does.

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you.

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first.

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck.

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis.

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst.

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax.

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin.

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture.

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time.

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes.

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile.

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that.

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?”

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it.

You pull your shirt over your head.

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks.

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

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

Taglist: @taezeus @spoopysoph @gucci-prince-tae @jiminiesthiccthighs @veryuniquenamegoeshere @hermiones-enchantment @irissilujm @flo-music @scalbra @sugarrimajins @embrace-themagic @megsmiiiii @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @livorna

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rpf-bat · 4 years

Text

Celebrate The End Of Things With Cheap Champagne

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: @sirloin-steaks requested a Frank story based on the song “New Year’s Day” by Taylor Swift.

It’s December 31st, 2006, and My Chemical Romance are ringing in the New Year, performing live in Times Square. Frank invites you to come out, and see the show. But, an after-party at the band’s hotel, takes a turn, that nobody saw coming.

Trigger warning for substance abuse.

You stood on the deck of the ferry boat, watching the bright lights of New York City draw closer and closer. You used to take this ferry every day, from your hometown in New Jersey, to your job in Manhattan. But, that seemed like so long ago now.

Once upon a time, your friend and former coworker, Gerard, would catch the morning ferry with you. But, after the September 11th attacks, he’d quit his job at your company, and started a band. His decision had puzzled you at first. But, the first time you saw My Chemical Romance perform live, you had understood.

That was also the night that you met Frank. His guitar playing was electric, and you told him as much, after the band finished their set. It had been at some shitty dive bar - the only venues that would take them at the time. But, he’d told you that night, that he, and Gee, and the guys, were going to make it to the big time. You’d admired his ambition, and the two of you became fast friends. And he’d been right.

Now, four years later, My Chemical Romance was one of the biggest bands in the country. Their album, The Black Parade, had just dropped two months ago, debuting at #2 on the Billboard charts. They had gotten popular enough, to receive a prestigious offer. Ryan Seacrest had asked them to play New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, tonight, in Times Square!

Millions of Americans tuned in every New Year’s Eve, to see the concert broadcast, and watch the ball drop at midnight. It was crazy to you, that your dorky friends from back home in New Jersey, had gotten “big” enough to perform alongside glitzy pop stars, like Christina Aguilera.

You were so psyched for them. It would also be the first time you had seen them in a while. Frank was the only one of the guys who still technically lived in New Jersey. When he was home, and off the road, he would come over to your house all the time, to watch movies, or play video games, just like in the old days. But, the last time that had happened, had been months ago. He, and the rest of the band, had been traveling around nonstop, doing radio and TV interviews, to promote the new album. In February, they were supposed to embark on a world tour.

“But after tonight’s show, we’ll have a little bit of time off, before the tour starts,” Frank had told you excitedly on the phone, yesterday afternoon, when he’d invited you to the gig. “I really hope we get to spend more time together, Y/N. I missed you.”

You had missed him, too - more than words could describe. Your heart ached whenever you drove past his house, knowing that he wasn’t in it. You had things you wanted to say to him tonight - things you’d been waiting to tell him for a long time.

Your heart hammered as you stepped off the ferry, and began walking towards Time Square. The streets were packed with people, all rushing towards the same place you were. You knew some New Yorkers had started camping out at three o’clock in the afternoon, to get the best seats. If Frank hadn’t sent you a VIP pass in the mail, you’d surely have ended up in the way back of the crowd, nowhere close to the stage.

You showed your pass to the security personnel, who were looking through peoples’ bags at a checkpoint, near the entrance to the Square. They waved you through to a special designated area, in the front row, for friends and family of the performers. You were pretty sure the kid on your left was the fourth Jonas Brother. You felt remarkably out of place.

But, then your phone beeped, alerting you that you had a text. A smile crossed your face, when you realized it was from Frank.

We r about 2 head onstage, he said. I will see you after our set, I promise! There’s nobody I’d rather ring in 2007 with :)

You heard the crowd start screaming, and your head whipped around, as you watched the announcer stroll onto the stage.

“Please welcome our next musical guest - My! Chemical! Romaaaaance!”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Their performance was amazing. They were one of a dozen artists performing tonight, so they only got to do three songs, before they had to get offstage and make room for the next act (Gwen Stefani, apparently). But, they put their whole hearts into those three tracks. Frank was jumping around like a maniac with his guitar, despite the freezing cold. Ray even had a pair of “2007” sunglasses on.

You screamed for them, like every other girl in the crowd. At this point, you thought with a frown, there’s probably ten thousand people, with a crush on the same man, that I’ve been pining for since 2002.

...Then again, you considered, the ten thousand other girls, don’t have backstage passes.

Your frown disappeared, when you walked backstage, and a pair of arms immediately circled you.

“Y/N!” Frank grinned. “Thank you so much for coming out and seeing us tonight!”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you grinned, hugging your friend back. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” Frank said sincerely, releasing you from his grip. “Are you ready to get out of this cold?”

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Back to the hotel,” he explained. “Ray’s not feeling so good.”

“Oh, no,” you frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Hi, Y/N!” Ray greeted, waving at you with one hand, while he pulled a tissue from his pocket, with the other. He blew his nose loudly. “....Sorry,” he muttered. “How are you?”

“It’s okay!” you assured him. “I’m fine...I’m sorry you’re not doing so well, though. You sound awful.”

“It’s this East Coast weather,” he shrugged, throwing the tissue in a nearby wastebasket. “I hate doing outdoor shows, in the wintertime.”

“You sounded great onstage,” you reassured him. “Nobody could even tell you were sick.”

“The dorky sunglasses conceal how puffy his eyes are,” Frank confessed. “Poor guy didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Well, hopefully, I’ll sleep better tonight,” Ray chucked. “We’ve got two rooms at the Knickerbocker Hotel - one for me and Mikey, and one for Frank and Gerard.”

“Speaking of which,” you asked, “where is Gerard?”

“Here I am!” chuckled a voice behind you, and you turned and saw your old friend Gerard, beaming at you. “Sorry, I was busy calling our cab. It’s so good to see you, Y/N! Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me!” you smiled back. “I’m really proud of you guys, getting to be part of such a major event.”

“Oh, it’s surreal,” Gerard confessed. “I used to come up here with my mom and dad, and Mikey, every New Year’s Eve, to watch the show live. I never thought I’d be in the show.”

“We’re really lucky,” Mikey smiled, appearing beside Gerard, with a glass of champagne in his hand.

“Ooh, where’d you get that?” Frank asked.

“They’re giving them out to all the VIPs,” Mikey explained. “Would you like one, Y/N?”

“I don’t think I qualify as a Very Important Person,” you confessed.

“Nonsense,” Frank shook his head. “You’re very important to me.”

“Yeah,” Mikey nodded. “You’ve been good friends with all of us for a long time. You can have whatever you want.”

“No time for that,” Gerard shook his head. “Our cab’s here.”

“C’mon,” Frank said, lacing his fingers with yours. “We have to go out through a secret exit, so that the fans don’t mob us.”

“Oh, shit, really?” you chuckled. “I feel like a secret agent.”

“Our lives have gotten so weird, honestly,” Gerard confessed. “I’m kinda glad that we’re gonna put some distance, between us and these crowds.”

“Yeah, it’ll just be five of us, once we get to the hotel,” Mikey nodded. “Well...four. Ray is gonna go to sleep in our room, as soon we get there. But, the rest of us can party in Frankie and Gee’s room til midnight.”

“Or later,” Frank grinned mischievously.

You smiled at your four oldest friends. “I can’t wait.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“Ok, question,” you asked uncertainly, staring at the yellow cab in front of you. “How are we gonna fit five people in there?”

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze,” Frank chuckled.

“Well, hey, we’ve managed to fit in smaller places before, right?” Gerard pointed out.

“True,” Ray laughed. “Remember when we were traveling around New Jersey, in our shitty little van?”

“We were all practically right on top of each other,” Mikey recalled.

When the band had first started, you had gone with them, on weekend trips, to play a gig, in the next town over. You’d squished between the boys, somehow, and helped them carry their equipment into the venue. Watching them rock the faces off the local kids, had been so much fun.

But, as time went on, they started getting offers to play at clubs across state lines. Day trips turned into months-long tours. You couldn’t commit to that - unlike Gerard, you still had a day job. And so, you started seeing the guys less and less. Then they’d gotten a record deal - and everything had gotten even more complicated.

“That was….a long time ago,” you frowned.

“Yeah,” Frank said wistfully. “I wish we had the chance to do that again.”

“Well, now, most of the time, we don’t have to squish,” Ray pointed out. “We have a nice, roomy tour bus, with bunks and everything.”

“You’ve come a long way,” you smiled weakly.

You were quiet as you piled into the car. As the taxi started driving down the street, you stared out at the night sky, and the city lights flying by. Suddenly, Frank gently touched your hand, making you turn, and face him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, giving your hand a squeeze, “are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“Tonight’s supposed to be a party, remember?” he teased. “So, try and smile for me, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you promised. It was far easier to smile, with him around.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You could tell as soon as you walked into the lobby, that this was a five star hotel. A crystal chandelier, cast a soft glow over the pristine decor.

“We already got our room keys earlier,” Gerard explained. “So, we can go ahead up.”

You nodded, and followed him and the guys to the elevator.

“I think I’m gonna crash as soon as we get upstairs,” Ray confessed, sniffling into his tissue again.

“I don’t blame you,” you said sympathetically. The elevator dinged, as you arrived at your floor.

“Since I won’t see you guys until tomorrow,” Ray sighed, “Happy New Year, alright?”

“Happy New Year, Ray,” you waved, as you watched him unlock his hotel room door, and head inside. “Feel better soon!”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Ray wheezed, closing the door behind him.

“Alright, let’s head into our room,” Frank grinned, opening the door to the adjoining room. “What do you want to do first?”

“Let’s turn the TV on,” Mikey suggested, immediately looking for the remote. “I wanna see the other performances. They’re still broadcasting live right now.”

“Oh, true,” you nodded. “We can still watch the ball drop tonight, on this flat screen!”

“I wanna look at the room service menu,” Gerard grinned. “Y/N, you can have anything you want. Just let me know.”

“Thanks, Gee,” you grinned. “Should we get champagne to toast with, at midnight?”

“I’ll get it for you three,” Gerard shrugged. “For me? I guess I’ll order a club soda. If they put it in a fancy glass, I can still clink it with yours when the clock strikes twelve.”

“Yeah, that works,” Frank agreed. “Looks almost the same.”

You frowned. That’s right, you remembered. Gerard is about two and a half years sober now.

You remembered going to see them, at their Englishtown show, during Warped Tour ‘04. Gerard had been a mess. You hadn’t seen him in two or three months, and you were shocked how much he’d deteriorated. You’d felt helpless. If you’d had more time, maybe you could have talked some sense into him. But, the very next day, he had to get back on his bus, and head to another gig, in Pennsylvania.

Frank had called you on the phone, maybe a week later, and told you Gerard had decided to get clean, on his own. You didn’t know how, or why. You didn’t know fifty percent, of what went on in your friends’ heads anymore.

“.....Y/N?” Frank called, his voice stunning you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you blinked. “Did you say something?”

“Yeah, I said I’m going out to the balcony, to have a smoke,” Frank replied. “I asked you if you wanted to come with me?”

“Oh….yeah, sure,” you nodded, and followed him out. “Got a light?”

“Here,” Frank said, pulling a lighter out of his pocket, and handing it to you.

You took a pack of Marlboros out of your purse, and lit one. “Thanks,” you said, handing it back.

Frank lit his own cigarette, and took a drag. You glanced over at him as you inhaled the nicotine, watching how the cool night breeze tousled his hair.

“I thought you said on the phone, that you were trying to quit,” Frank raised an eyebrow.

“I should,” you sighed, exhaling smoke. “I know it’s bad for me.”

“Sorry for being a bad influence,” Frank laughed. “I know I got no room to talk.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shrugged, taking another puff. “I guess I’m just stressed tonight.”

“About what?” Frank asked, looking at you curiously.

“It’s stupid,” you mumbled.

“Tell me,” Frank insisted, taking his free hand in yours again. Your heart raced at his casual touch.

“I just…,” you sighed, unsure how to begin. “I never see you guys anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank frowned.

“No, don’t be,” you shook your head. “I’m being selfish. I should be happy for you, right? It’s a good thing, that the band has gotten so successful, that you have fans in practically every city in the world, that want to see you.”

“Yeah, they get to see me,” Frank groaned. “But, I don’t get to see my friends, or family - any of the people I love most - for months at a time.”

The people he loves most. Your face reddened. Did you really fit into that category?

“After tonight,” you asked, “how long will you be in town?”

“The first night of the tour is February 22nd,” Frank explained. “The gig’s in New Hampshire, so we’ll be flying out the night before.”

“So we have….slightly less than two months, to spend time together,” you calculated. “And after that, the next time you’ll be in my neck of the woods is…?”

“Bamboozle Festival,” Frank replied. “That’s in May.”

“Wow,” you frowned. “Are you playing all three days of the festival, or…?”

“Nah, just one,” Frank said sheepishly. “We’ll be in Jersey for a night….the very next day, we’ll be playing a gig in fuckin’ Maine.”

“The fun never stops, I guess,” you deadpanned.

“I mean, it is fun,” Frank admitted. “I love being a musician. Playing my guitar, onstage, is all I’ve wanted to do, my entire life.”

“Yeah, it’s your dream,” you said quickly, “that’s why I should just shut up, and let you…”

“You don’t have to shut up,” Frank interrupted. “Y/N, I want you to tell me how you feel.”

“How do I feel, Frank?” you repeated, your emotions starting to get the best of you. “I feel like I don’t even know my friends at all anymore! I don’t want you to turn into a stranger, whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. I’m still working the same dead end job I had the day I met you….but your life has completely changed. You’re gone 80% of the year, and yeah, I know you text or call me whenever you can, but when I’m not there face to face, I still miss so much of your life! You used to be just….a guy next door, that I could listen to records and smoke with. Now you’re some….millionaire rock star. That coat you’ve got on right now is probably worth more than my first car, and you’ve probably got girls in every town, throwing their panties at you…”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t look twice at any of those girls,” Frank said, looking you in the eye, “if a certain someone, told me, that she wanted me to be hers, and hers alone.”

A certain someone….? you gasped. Did he mean…?

“Hey!” a voice interrupted, and you jumped, as the sliding glass door slid open, and Gerard stepped onto the balcony. “There you guys are!”

“H-hey,” you stammered, taken aback.

“Everything alright?” Gerard asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s cool,” Frank mumbled, not looking at you at all, as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What did you need?”

“We’ve got about five minutes til midnight,” Gerard smiled. “Figured you guys would want to come back inside, so we can count down the last seconds of 2006 together.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you blinked. “Did room service already bring up the champagne flutes?”

“Yeah, they’re ready to go,” Gerard nodded. “....Wait. Where’s Mikey?”

“We thought he was with you,” Frank said, looking confused.

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “I went to the bathroom, and when I came back out, he was gone. If he’s not on the balcony with you guys, where did he go?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe he went to his and Ray’s room?”

“Oh, yeah, that would make sense,” Gerard nodded. “Let’s go get him.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard knocked loudly on the hotel room door.

“Come on, Mikey!” he called. “We got three minutes til midnight, you’re gonna miss the ball drop, dude!”

The door swung open, but instead of Mikey, a sleepy-looking Ray answered.

“Mikey’s not in here,” Ray said with a yawn. “It’s just me.”

“Oh, sorry for waking you up, man,” Gerard apologized.

“Wait,” Frank realized. “If he’s not in either hotel room, then, where is he?”

“Maybe he went to go get ice?” Ray suggested.

“Or maybe he went downstairs, to ask the front desk guy something,” you guessed.

“Let’s split up,” Frank suggested. “You guys go down the hall and see if he’s by the ice machine. Y/N and I will look for him downstairs.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Gerard agreed. “Hopefully we’ll find him before the end of the year!”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“This elevator’s taking too long to get up here,” Frank said impatiently, hitting the down-arrow button a second time.

“Wanna just take the stairs?” you suggested.

“Works for me,” Frank shrugged.

You followed him into the stairwell, your heart still pounding from the conversation on the balcony. What would have happened, you wondered, if Gerard hadn’t walked in when he did?

Frank kept his eyes on the flight of stairs in front of you, not saying a word, as you walked past the sign, indicating that you were now on the second floor.

“Maybe he didn’t go this wa...oh, fuck,” Frank gasped, coming to a sudden stop.

Your blood froze, when you saw what he was looking at. Mikey’s unconscious body, lay sprawled across the bottom steps. He was face down….he didn’t even look like he was breathing.

“Mikey, oh my god!” You ran to his side, flipping him over, so that you could see his face. “Frank, we have to help him!”

The bassist looked deathly pale, and his lips had turned a horrifying shade of blue. You felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was disturbingly weak.

“Come on, Mikey, wake up!” you pleaded, shaking his shoulders. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!”

“I think he’s overdosing,” Frank realized, kneeling by your side.

“On what?!” you gasped.

“On whatever he went downstairs, to pick up from his dealer,” Frank growled. “Goddamnit! We need to call 911.”

“Mikey!” a familiar voice called, and Gerard and Ray burst into the stairwell.

“Oh, god!” Gerard gasped, when he saw his brother, lying eerily still in your arms.

“I’m trying to wake him up!” you explained. “It’s not working...fuck, what do I do?”

“He needs a doctor,” Ray realized, whipping out his cell phone. “....Hello? Yes, we’re having an emergency…...the Knickerbocker Hotel….umm, Six Times Square….please hurry….my friend isn’t breathing…”

You shook Mikey’s shoulders again. His eyes fluttered open, but his pupils were like pinpricks. He gasped and choked, like he couldn’t get air into his lungs.

“Come on, Mikey, hang in there!” you begged. Oh god, what if he died?!

You could see the headlines now. World Tour Canceled After Bassist’s Hospitalization. You’d wanted more time with Frank….but not like this, damnit!

Since when did your oldest friend’s kid brother do smack?!

I really don’t know anything about them anymore, you realized, tears clouding your vision as you listened to him wheeze. Minutes felt like hours.

“Out of the way!” called an unfamiliar voice, and you gaped as two paramedics dragged a stretcher down the stairs.

“Ma’am, we need to move him,” a uniformed woman barked. “Time is of the essence.”

You let the EMT scoop Mikey up, and load him onto the gurney.

“What did he take?” the second paramedic asked.

“I….I don’t know,” you stammered. “We just found him like this.”

“Ma’am,” the man pressed, “we’re not here to judge anybody. But, any information you have, can help us figure out what antidote he needs…”

“Here,” Frank said. “I found this next to his body.”

He handed the paramedic a needle. Oh, god.

“I see,” the paramedic nodded grimly. “Judith! Get this man two milligrams of naloxone, stat!”

“Is….is he gonna be okay?!” Gerard gasped, tears in his eyes. “That’s my baby brother….”

“We’re going to try our best to save him, sir,” the female paramedic (Judith) promised. “We need to move him to the hospital, as soon as possible.”

“We’re only going to be able to fit two extra people in the ambulance,” the male paramedic warned. “Who’s going?”

“Me,” Gerard said immediately. “He’s my family!”

“Who else?” the paramedic demanded. “We don’t have time to waste.”

Mikey gasped for air on the gurney, his face growing bluer by the minute.

“I’ll go,” Ray decided. “Frank, you stay here with Y/N, okay?”

“O-okay,” Frank stammered. You clung to him,shaking, as you watched the paramedics drag your friend out of the hallway, to the ambulance waiting outside.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“.....Happy New Year!” the oblivious voice of Ryan Seacrest rang out from the television screen, as you walked back into the hotel room, wiping your eyes on your sleeve.

Confetti was falling in Times Square, as the credits rolled. You’d missed the countdown. There had been no toast, no midnight kiss (although perhaps, the latter had been foolish to even hope for.)

“This wasn’t how 2007 was supposed to start,” Frank sobbed, sinking down onto the bed. “Fuck!”

“H-he’s gonna be okay,” you stammered. “The doctors are gonna save his life…”

“You don’t know that!” Frank cried, kicking a bottle of Dom Perignon off the coffee table. It shattered, sending broken glass and alcohol all over the floor.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N,” Frank apologized, kneeling to pick up the shards. “I shouldn’t have done that…”

“Ssh, stop, you’re gonna cut yourself,” you warned, grabbing his hands. “We can clean that up later, okay? I understand that you’re only lashing out, because you’re scared…”

“Of course I’m scared,” Frank wept, burying his head in your shoulder. “That’s one of my best friends.”

“He’s my friend, too,” you said softly, stroking Frank’s hair. “I’m scared, too, but there’s nothing we can do now, but pray.”

You sat down on the bed, and Frank sat with you, still sobbing into your shirt. You were choking back tears yourself.

“I….I didn’t know he was doing that stuff,” you said guiltily. “I’m never around you guys anymore….I….”

“I didn’t realize the extent of the problem, either,” Frank confessed. “And I’m with the kid almost every day. I should’ve noticed, but I was too self absorbed, doing my own dumb shit…”

“Ssh, it’s not your fault, Frankie,” you soothed. “We got him, to the people that can help him. That’s all we can do.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Frank sniffed, still clinging to you tightly.

“No,” you agreed, your heart aching, “it doesn’t.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You woke the next morning, to the feeling of warmth against your side. Your eyes fluttered open, and you realized that Frank was sleeping next to you. What?!

Your cheeks reddened as you stared at his sleeping face, so close to your own. “...Frank? Why are you…?”

Reality filtered back into your head, slowly, as you recalled the events of the previous night. Oh god….Mikey!

Was he okay? You still didn’t know. You and Frank had sat beside each other on the hotel room bed, crying, clinging to each other for comfort. You supposed you had fallen asleep like that.

“.....Huh?” Frank groaned sleepily. “Y/N…?”

He shot up, jerking away from you, almost as soon as he realized, that your bodies were touching. “I...I’m sorry!”

“N-no, it’s fine…” you stammered.

“Fuck….I need to check my messages,” Frank realized, groping for his cell phone on the bedside table. He sat up,and put his feet on the floor. “Owww!”

“What’s wrong?” you gasped.

“I just stepped on a shard of the bottle I broke last night...fuck!” Frank swore.

“Oh no,” you winced. “Is it bleeding?”

“No, it’s just cut a little,” Frank shook his head.

“Do you want me to call the front desk,” you offered, “and see if they can bring up some Band-Aids?”

“No, it’s not that serious,” Frank insisted, opening his flip phone. His eyes widened, as he clicked through his inbox. “Oh….oh, thank god…”

“What?” you demanded.

“Ray texted me, around like two in the morning,” Frank explained. “He said Mikey’s gonna make it. The doctors were able to reverse the overdose in time, and he’s gonna make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” you cried, tearing up from sheer relief. You had been so scared, that Ray’s text, would say that Mikey hadn’t survived. He’s gonna be okay. He’s alive.

Frank, however, didn’t share your grateful smile.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m sorry that you had to see that, last night,” Frank frowned. “We ruined your New Year’s Eve.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. “I’m glad I was there, to help you find him. I wouldn’t have wanted you to go through this alone.”

“I hate to ask you for even more help,” Frank grimaced, “but, we need to clean this shit up.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, leaning down to help him pick up the glass shards. “It wouldn’t be fair, to leave it for the hotel staff to pick up.”

“Some bands dig trashing hotel rooms,” Frank sighed, grabbing a towel from the bathroom, to mop up the puddle of champagne. “Not me, though. I feel bad, making a mess, that some housekeeper is gonna have to deal with.”

He’s a kind person, you thought to yourself, as you carefully placed the pieces of bottle into a waste basket. Not everyone would take the time to do this, after the night we had.

“Shit, look at this,” Frank sighed, pointing down at the hardwood floor. “Nobody blew out the stupid scented candle, that Housekeeping lit before we checked in, to make the place smell pretty. Now, there’s dried wax all over the floorboards.”

“You had bigger things to worry about last night,” you reminded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice the candle was still burning, with everything else going on. I would’ve reminded you to put it out.”

“That’s not your job,” Frank said, pulling a guitar pick from his pocket. He tried to use it to scrape some of the wax up, but it didn’t seem to want to budge. “None of this is your job.”

“What do you mean?” you blinked.

“You said last night, that you don’t see us for months at a time,” Frank reasoned, scraping harder with his pick. “And then...last night, you finally see us again, and this happens.”

“You couldn’t have predicted something like that,” you assured him.

“We complicate your life, Y/N,” Frank frowned. “I complicate your life. You don’t need this fucking drama. The best thing I could for you, is probably just leave you alone. Stop inviting you to see us when we’re in town. I’ve grown apart from a lot of friends since I left New Jersey. Why can’t I just let this relationship go, too?”

“I don’t want you to do that!” you protested. “Frank, our friendship is really important to me. I would be miserable if you suddenly stopped inviting me to hang out.”

“I don’t just want to hang out with you,” Frank mumbled. “I want more than that.”

“....Huh?” you cocked your head.

“But it’s not fair, for me to ask you for that,” Frank signed. “Not when I know damn well, that I’m about to spend the majority of 2007, hundreds of miles away from you.”

“Ask me for what?” you demanded. You suddenly remembered the words, he had spoken to you on the balcony, before your night had gone straight to hell.

“I wouldn’t look twice, at any of those girls, if a certain someone, told me, that she wanted me to be hers, and hers alone.”

“Nothing,” Frank murmured, picking fruitlessly at the wax on the floor again. “It’s stupid. Ignore me.”

“I won’t ignore it,” you insisted. “Frank, what were you going to ask me?”

Frank looked at his shoes.

You sat down on the floor next to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “....Frank?”

“I was going to ask you...to be mine,” Frank confessed.

You gasped, audibly. No way….he really felt the same way about you, that you did about him?!

“But, it’s not right, for me to ask you, to make that commitment to me!” Frank said miserably. “Not when I’m just gonna disappear on you again. And...you saw, last night, what my life has turned into. What my band has turned into. I’m a mess….why would you want to be with someone like me?”

“Frankie, I love you,” you said plainly. Now that you knew he returned your feelings, there was no point in hiding it anymore. “I’ve loved you for years.”

He raised his head to look at you. His hazel eyes, swimming with tears again, stared into yours. “You….you mean that?”

“Yes,” you said emotionally. “I’ve been in love with you for so long….but, you’re a famous rock star now. I’m still just an art school dropout. You can do so much better than me.”

“Funny,” Frank chuckled bitterly, “I was about to say the same thing, about you.”

“Frank, there isn’t anybody better than you,” you sighed, and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a searing kiss.

His lips met yours, hesitant at first, but then suddenly you were toppling to the floor, as he pressed himself against you, with four years worth of buried desire.

Life was so short. You realized that now.

His hands tangled into your hair as he kissed you over and over. “Be mine,” he gasped, coming up for air. “Please be mine, Y/N….even if it fucks up everything…”

“Frankie, it’s okay,” you assured him, as you gazed up at him tenderly. “I don’t care if you’re gone a hundred nights. You’re worth waiting for. Just promise me, that when you do finally come home, I can….have you.”

“Oh, you can have me any way you want me,” Frank breathed, leaning down to kiss you passionately again. “I won’t touch anyone else while I’m away on tour….nobody else is as beautiful as you. You’re the only one that I want.”

“You’re the only one that I want, too, Frankie,” you promised him, claiming his mouth once again. “I want you every day. Not just when you’re the toast of the town. Not just when times are good. I want to be there with you, through the bad times, too. I want to help you when you’re scared, or even when something fucked up happens, like last night... because I love you. I’ll stay with you, no matter what….even when it’s hard, or it’s wrong, or you’re making mistakes. I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too, Y/N,” Frank vowed, kissing your eyes, your nose, your mouth. It was like he couldn’t get enough. “You’re the woman I choose….because, hey, there might be lots of women who’d love to be my New Year’s Eve kiss. But, you’re the only woman I know, who would stick by my side, helping me clean up bottles on New Year’s Day.”

#frank iero x reader #frank iero imagine #substance abuse tw

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sidemenimaginesss · 4 years

Text

and they were roommates - simon minter

requested: yes - “Hey can you do number 40 with Simon?☺️”

prompt: 40. “stop saying things that make me want to kiss you”

summary: you barely know your new roommate simon. what happens when the tension between you keeps rising after multiple inconvenient run-ins?

wordcount: 3500

you got linked up with simon through your mutual friend vik after he found out that the both of you were looking for a roommate in london. you couldn’t contain your excitement and immediately agreed to live with this unknown man. he’s a friend of vik’s so he must be nice. you’ll probably get along just fine... right?

you’ve been texting him back and forth about certain aspects of your new home, such as who gets which room, who brings which piece of furniture et cetera, but you haven’t really had the chance to get to know each other. guess that’ll have to wait until the day you actually meet.

it’s the day of moving into your new flat and you and your parents are the first ones to arrive. simon texted you earlier that he still needs to figure some stuff out before he can move in. and so box after box filled with your belongings and pieces of furniture fill the room. you sigh when you’re finally done bringing them all in. you thank your parents and say your goodbyes before you sit down on the floor for a few minutes and take in your surroundings. finally, your own place.

you put on some music and spend the next few hours unpacking. you start with your bedroom, making sure your bed is all set up so you don’t have to sleep on the floor tonight. you continue by setting up different pieces of furniture around the living room, making sure that there’s still enough room for simon’s stuff.

at around 9pm you realise you’ve been working the entire day and still haven’t eaten any food. you decide to quickly order some chinese before continuing the unpacking process.

at around 10pm you’ve finished your takeout meal and you decide it’s time to get some rest. you want to take a shower, but are simply too exhausted to do so. instead, you simply jump into bed and fall asleep soon after.

your alarm goes off at 8am, reminding you that you still have a lot of work to do. before you start though, you decide it’s time to go take a shower first.

grabbing a towel and some shower gel, you walk into the bathroom and get out of your clothes. you put on some music you can sing along to and figure out how the shower works before jumping in.

whilst washing your hair, you receive a notification on your phone, but you decide to ignore it. about 15 minutes later, you turn off the shower and get out.

you grab your towel and dry yourself off before realising you need to grab some clean clothes. you put your hair up in a quick bun, ready to walk to your room, before the bathroom door suddenly opens. “oh my god!” you scream loudly when the man who opened the door looks at your naked body in shock and quickly turns around.

you slam the door shut and start breathing heavily. you grab your phone, thinking of calling the police, when you notice a text message from simon on your homescreen: ‘surprise! almost here. finished up packing everything last night. can’t wait to meet you.’ you quickly wrap your body in a towel and call out “simon?”

when you don’t get a response, you open the bathroom door slightly and peek around the corner to see simon’s back facing you. you realise your music is still blaring loudly through your phone’s speakers and you turn it off completely before trying again, “simon?”

this time, he turns around slowly and you’re met with a smug face. “that’ll be me. nice to meet you, roomie,” he extends his hand and you awkwardly shake it through the small gap.

you let out a small laugh when he lets go of your hand. “hey, you wouldn’t be willing to grab me some clothes, would you?”

he smirks and answers coolly, “not a problem. where can i find them?” you step out of the bathroom slightly to point towards your bedroom door and he follows your finger with his eyes. “that room, box next to the wardrobe. you can pick out something nice,” you smile. he nods and looks back over to your face, suddenly making you realise how close the two of you are actually standing. you meet his eyes, lick your lips and look down to the floor, only looking up again when you can’t feel the heat of his body next to yours anymore.

“so how do i look?” you ask simon when you’re finally done getting ready in the bathroom.

after looking up from his phone, he looks you up and down from the couch and nods. “you look great.”

you nod and can’t help but feel flustered when you remember he didn’t just see you naked a few minutes ago, but also picked out your underwear for you. talk about a first impression.

you join him on the couch and try to start a conversation. “so, simon, tell me about yourself,” you smile at him as he puts his phone away and sighs. “well i’m simon, but you already knew that. i do youtube, just like vik. did i ever mention i have like nearly 9 million subscribers? it’s no big deal. but you probably already knew that though, right?” he asks for confirmation and you nod slowly, feeling weirded out by his big ego. you didn’t catch that vibe through his text messages.

“oh by the way, because of that, don’t get confused when i have some people over and throw parties here from time to time. that won’t be a problem, right?” he stares you down with confidence, seemingly trying to intimidate you. “as long as there aren’t too many people, it should be fine,” you answer skeptically and smile, trying to hide how uncomfortable you feel. “good. well what else do you want to know about me?”

you cringe slightly at his tone and think of how to phrase your next question without sounding too rude. “where did you get that arrogance from?” you perk up one eyebrow and watch his jaw tense, your own lips curving into a smile. he quickly readjusts his demeanour as he once again looks you up and down. he narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head to the side slightly, poking his tongue in his cheek before a sarcastic smile settles upon his lips. “where did you get your feistiness from?”

“i asked you first,” you shoot back, quick-witted. “and i asked you second,” he smiles sweetly.

the two of you stare each other down for a few seconds before you sigh and look away, making him puff out a chuckle and say something under his breath, “that’s what i thought.”

the rest of the morning was spent pretty much avoiding each other. you went back to your room and continued unpacking the boxes whilst he worked on the living room. you didn’t do any bonding, getting to know each other or even much more talking except for when you asked simon if he wanted anything to eat during lunchtime. he declined and kept on installing your new tv whilst you sat in the kitchen, munching on some leftover takeout from last night.

you watch him struggle with several cables for a while from the kitchen island, minding your own business until he groans out of frustration. you let out a snort and see his head snap up to you in anger, “what‘s so funny?”

you chuckle softly and smile it off, “nothing, please continue putting those cables in the wrong places, i’m quite entertained.”

after a few seconds of silence you look up from playing with your food to see him staring at you. “oh, so you think you can do this better?” he answers, nostrils flaring in anger. you nod cockily, jumping off of your barstool and joining him in front of the tv.

you grab the instructions out of his hands and feel his breath on your neck when he towers over you to read where you’re pointing on the paper. “see, you keep putting them in this,” you point at a real plug-in, “but you should be putting them in here,” you hold the paper next to the right plug-in post to compare the two.

you look up to see his jaw tense up once again as he nods at you stiffly. “i guess you’re right. how do you even know this stuff?” he mumbles, earning a victorious smile from you. “i studied cinematography for 4 years. i also learned how to install cables there. see, i would’ve told you earlier if you had asked. but you were too busy bragging about all your 9 million subscribers or whatever. anyway, i’ll be in my room if you need me.”

it’s 7pm when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. you look up from the box you were digging through and towards the door and answer, “you can come in.”

the door opens slightly to reveal simon holding a bag of more takeout. “so i noticed you eating chinese during lunch and didn’t know what other kind of food you liked so i just ordered us some takeout.” you laugh, making him look at you confusedly. “why did you order me chinese?”

he blinks, taken aback, “oh, uhm, i can just order us something else if that’s what you want. if you’d rather have, like, i don’t know, pizza? or anything, i don’t mind ordering-“

“that’s not what i meant, simon,” you look at him sternly and let him think over your words for a few seconds, watching the realisation hit him through his facial expression.

“right. i just wanted to say thank you for helping me earlier and sorry for accidentally walking in on you as well, i guess,” he answers awkwardly.

“and?” you smirk, liking the fact that you’re in control of the situation now. he sighs, “and sorry for pretty much being a dick the entire day without reason.”

“i accept your apology, roomie. now, let’s go eat before the food gets cold.”

about a week after moving in, your new apartment is almost fully finished and you and simon both agree on throwing a housewarming party. the two of you have had time to get to know each other better over the past few days and you’ve realised that a kind heart lies behind that stupid smirk of his. you just gotta make him feel guilty for being an absolute pain in the ass to reveal his sweeter side.

you’ve also learned that the two of you have loads of stuff in common and you seem to be hitting it off pretty well. except for the unexplainable tension the two of you have from time to time. you brush it off and blame it on your similar personalities clashing and competing for the title of the alpha in the house.

you snap out of your thoughts when you hear the front door open and simon yell “honey, i’m home!” you let out a giggle and get up from the couch to help him unpack the groceries for the party tonight.

“that’s... a lot of alcohol,” you laugh as he puts down several bags full of bottles onto the kitchen island.

he looks you in the eye and smiles, “there are going to be quite a few guests, remember? better too much than too little!”

you help him put the stuff away in silence for a few minutes before you attempt to start some small talk, “so how are you when you’re drunk?”

“i get really horny,” he answers within a heartbeat. instead of bursting out into laughter, you can feel your cheeks heat up and so you quickly turn your back to him, pretending to be putting something in one of the cupboards to hide your red face.

“oh, i-“ your breath catches in your throat and you can feel your blood stream through your veins when you suddenly feel simon’s presence right behind you. you turn around, biting your lip when you see him tower over you. he innocently smiles down at you, “well? are you going to move out of the way so i can put these chips away or what?”

you quickly close your mouth when you realise you were gaping up at him and move away from the cupboard when he gives you the space to do so.

“sorry about that. uhm, is it just me or is it getting hot in here? i think i’m just going to check the thermostat real quick,” you stutter out an excuse to leave the room, still feeling the blood pulse through your body in certain places.

you lock yourself in the bathroom and try to catch your breath. you can’t believe that just happened. you can’t believe you’re feeling this way about your roommate after meeting him just a week ago. you want this feeling to stop so you don’t ruin the small beginnings of the friendship you’ve only just started to create.

so you decide then and there that you’re going to shut him out. at least, in that way. you’re just going to ignore the sudden attraction you feel towards him. well, you’re going to try to.

it’s around 11pm when the first people start showing up. you and simon entertain your guests with tours of the house, beer pong, music playing loudly on the dance floor created in the living room and enough booze in the kitchen to pass out from. you don’t hold back on the alcohol yourself either.

“vik! oh my gosh i cannot thank you enough for messaging us about this place. this truly is all thanks to you,” you greet him with a tight hug and kiss on the cheek. he smiles at you brightly, “no thanks needed! i just felt like you and simon would be a perfect fit!” he grins and you try to shake off the stupid smile forming on your lips. “thank you again vik, please help yourself to something to drink in the kitchen! i’ll try to catch up with you later.”

after the next hour of greeting guests your house is fully loaded with people and it’s going to be a lot harder to move around in. abandoning your hosting duties at the front door, you go to grab yourself another drink in the kitchen when you bump into an old friend. “harry! hey! when did you get here?”

you can tell just by the look on his face that he has been here for a while: he looks absolutely shit-faced. “i don’t remember, to be quite honest,” he slurs out his answer, making you giggle a little. “what are you doing here? i didn’t know you knew simon,” he asks and you raise your brows. “i’m literally living with simon. this is our housewarming party!” harry seems to be in thought for a moment before it all clicks, “oh! you’re the hot bird he said he was living with, it all makes sense now. hey, wanna dance?” he practically drags you over towards the dance floor when not only your vision, but also your thoughts get a little cloudy.

your mind wanders over all the reasons why simon could’ve said that to harry. what else did simon tell him about you? does he usually describe his girl friends as ‘hot birds’? does this mean he is as attracted to you as you are to him? lost in your thoughts about simon, you barely even realise the fact that you’re grinding against harry.

when you open your eyes the room is spinning. you blink a few times until you can see clear. only now you notice simon standing across the room looking at you, jaw tensed as always, nostrils flaring and steam practically leaving his ears. still oblivious to your close proximity to harry, you eye him with a frown on your face.

you can see simon roll his eyes and disappear into the crowd so you decide to just ignore him, like you promised yourself you’d do. you continue dancing to the blaring music, swaying your hips dangerously from left to right. you finally remember harry dancing behind you when he grabs your sides and pulls you even closer. you lean into his touch, your head pretty much on his shoulder. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the music.

after a while, you can feel yourself get tired and tell harry you’re going to get yourself another drink, leaving him on the dance floor.

suddenly getting overwhelmed by the huge crowd in your living room, you make a beeline for your bedroom instead. you close the door behind you, still feeling the bass of the music in your body but only hearing muffled lyrics being sung.

you sigh and make your way over to the bed to lie down for a second. you’re so intoxicated and don’t know what to do with yourself. that is, until someone barges into the room.

you sit up straight and see simon at the door, looking at you angrily. “what the hell are you doing in my room?” your eyes widen when you take in your surroundings. “shit, i thought- thought this was my room,” you stammer and stand up quickly, a little to quickly: your knees give in and you stumble to the floor. “fuck,” you groan, simon immediately coming over to help you up. “how many have you had to drink? christ, you can barely stand up,” he shakes his head in disappointment.

“i don’t- don’t remember. what about you? are you horny yet?” you ask him in a sudden boost of confidence.

he once again shakes his head in disappointment, biting his lip at but ignoring your comment. “we should probably send everyone home now, i think the party is over.”

you sit back down on his bed and pout. “you’re no fun! it’s only- it’s barely 1 am! right?” you slur out, looking at the blurry numbers of the alarm clock on his bedside table.

“it’s 3 am. i think it’s best if we send everyone home-“ you cut him off, “but harry is- he’s still waiting for me out there. i- i told him i’d be back.”

this immediately gets a reaction from simon: tensed jaw, narrowed eyes and crossed arms. “you’re not getting back out there. especially not to dance with harry,” he spits out his name in disgust, making you giggle, “hey, hey what’s up with that? i thought you were friends?”

simon rolls his eyes while he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “i don’t want to talk about harry right now. just- stay here for a sec and i’ll-“ he is about to open the door when you cut him off. “wait wait wait! did i just hear... jealousy? in your voice?” you bat your eyelashes at him innocently while he grits his teeth.

“no, i-“ he tries, but you cut him off once again, standing up when you speak. “it sure sounds like jealousy to me! what, you didn’t like it when i was dancing with harry, huh?” you slowly make your way over to him, continuing your innocent act.

“is that it? you’d rather have been the one who was dancing with me? the ‘hot bird’ you’re living with? right? harry told me that’s what you called me. i bet you still think about that first time you saw me-“

“shut up! we’re not having this conversation right now. you’re- you’re not able to think straight right now,” he frowns, yet his cheeks still redden when you get close to him. you smirk and touch his chest with both of your hands.

“maybe not, but jealous you is like... really turning me on right now,” you bite your lip coyly and look up at him through your lashes.

you leave him breathless for a second as he rolls his head back for a second, slightly gasping for air. “you know what you’re doing to me, don’t you? you’re making it very hard for me to control myself right now,” he licks his lips and his eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth.

“then stop trying to fight it, simon. i want you,” you drag out your words slowly. at this, he switches positions with you and pins you down against the door, foreheads touching.

“stop saying things that make me want to kiss you,” he mutters to you, breathing heavily.

you finally close the space between you and kiss him harshly. after a few seconds, you gasp for air and he leaves your lips to work his way around your neck, locking the door whilst doing so. “simon,” you moan, throwing your head back as he trails kisses down your neck. once again, you feel your blood and the bass from the music pulse through your body. “fuck,” you trail off as his hands roam your body. you meet his lips again in one of many heated kisses that’ll follow that night.

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trashforhockeyguys · 5 years

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Don’t Hold Me -2- Carter Hart

A/N: The long awaited second part! I’m trying my best to really start working on this, so that I can queue it all up for you guys. I’m pretty excited for where this series is going to go. Just stick with me for a bit

You tried to convince Travis that you didn’t need to go to his game. You’d been to one already this season, and all of the people were too much for you. But he wouldn’t listen, despite the fact that you tried to tell him that you had projects due on Monday, and not that you didn’t love him, but you just couldn’t all of it.

So, you found yourself sitting in the family box, hiding out in the corner, as far away from the rest of the group as you could. Maybe Travis told them to leave you alone, because after a quick round of hello when you walked in, no one said anything else to you.

So, you sat and watched. Anxiety bubbled up during the whole game. You hated watching them play in person because of the feeling you’d get inside the arena. All you could think about was what would happen if one of them got hurt, if Travis got hurt. You didn’t know what you’d do if he got hurt.

“Y/N? Honey? Are you okay over there?” One of the wives finally asked.

You looked up and nodded. You hadn’t realized that a good majority of them were all looking at you. You could feel the worry rippling off of them. You tried to talk yourself out of whatever you were feeling. You found yourself playing with the sleeves of your baggy jersey. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have even worn one if Travis hadn’t insisted.

You normally didn’t feel this sick when you were at a game, yet you felt like you might vomit at anytime. You wanted to run, but you couldn’t do that to Travis, or Nolan. They both wanted you here, so for them you’d stay.

Your hands were shaking by the end of the third. You couldn’t calm your nerves for anything. No matter how hard you tried. Your eyes kept dating around the ice, from Travis to Nolan, even to Carter. You couldn’t get your head straight.

When the buzzer sounded. They won at least, but they’d all been pretty beat up during the game. You could tell by the way that Travis was skating around, he was stiff and pain was already starting to set in after a bad hit half way through the second.

You found you way down to all of the guys. Travis was already waiting on you by the time you got down there. He looked alright, but you knew that he was going to feel it all later. You just hoped he’d remember to take advil before he went to bed.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my place,” He shrugged, “I know you have that project due, but I also know your computer is in your bag in your car. So, I promise you can get it done.”

“Why?”

“Ethan was worried. He called before the game. You should probably call him tomorrow, or he might actually fly out here.”

“I’m fine Travis, you don’t need to babysit me. Roomie is gone for the weekend, I think she’s with one of the frat boys. So I’m just going to go back to my room and finish my project.”

“Exactly, you wouldn’t do anything else if I didn’t force you to leave every now and again,” he argued, “Please, I’d feel better if you stayed with me for the weekend. Please?”

“Yeah, c’mon Y/N, please?” Nolan joked, popping up behind Travis.

“You two are worse than toddlers, you do know that, right?”

“So, you’ll come?”

“Fine, Travis, if I say yes will you shut up?”

“Yes. For now.”

You sighed and hauled your bag back onto your shoulder. You hadn’t planned on staying anywhere but your own bed. But you also had clothes already at Travis’s place, because you stayed there so much.

“I’ll meet you two dumbasses there.”

Hour later, you were actually able to finish your project before settling down with the boys, a bottle of beer in hand. Normally you wouldn’t drink, you never liked the idea. But occasionally you’d have one or two with Travis and Nolan, just because they were your boys.

You felt comfortable and at home with them. Truthfully you didn’t know if you’d ever really be able to feel this safe in the presence of guys again. But you knew that when it came to the two of them, they’d never lift a finger to hurt you.

So, you all stayed in the living room together, just enjoying the simplicity of being together. They were the closest thing you had to family here. You loved them in ways that you couldn’t always explain. You didn’t know why you were able to let the two of them in, and no one else. But they were here.

You stayed there all weekend. Laughing with them as they tried to play the Xbox, and failed at it. You let go and just allowed yourself to be. It was easy to do with them. They didn’t judge you or push you. They’d pick you up from as many parties as you tried to go to. They took care of you in ways that you didn’t even realize you needed.

“So what’s your project on?” Travis asked.

“Van Gogh. It’s for my Art History class.”

“I keep forgetting you’re an art major.”

“Yeah well, I am.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

The boys didn’t see you covered in paint or smudges of charcoal and graphite. There were days that almost your whole body would be covered. They often missed you bent over a project in the studio, trying to get a little bit of shading just right.

Sometimes, while you were watching their games from your dorm room, you’d try to sketch them out. Even if it was just a way for you to take a break from whatever project you were working on for school.

Your big brother Ethan used to make fun of the way your face would scrunch up when you were trying to get everything just right. Travis wasn’t unaccustomed to seeing you working hard in the corner after a game was over. Back when they played together, the rest of their teammates loved it when you drew them.

“Done anything new?” Travis asked.

“Nothing worth seeing.”

He sighed and fell back onto the couch, positioning himself in a very strange way before cracking a smile, “Paint me like one of your french girls.”

You busted out laughing and chucked a pillow at him, “Ew. Absolutely not.”

You fell asleep on the couch, practically laying across both boys. You felt safe with them, and you liked that feeling. They were your family, not by blood, but by everything else that matters. They were probably the only things keeping you sane in Philly.

The weeks went by slowly. You’d go to games, hang out with the boys, go to classes, and do it all over again. You liked the routine and you liked being able to spend time with them. Yet, every now and again they’d bring up Carter, and why you acted the way that you did.

Travis knew not to push about it. Nolan was just curious. You did your best to answer what you could. But even you didn’t understand why you acted the way that you did. But something about Carter scared you in a way that you hadn’t experienced before. You weren’t sure what to do about any of it.

The following week was the same. Classes, spending more time in the art studio than you should’ve, and catching a game or two if you were able. If they were home, you’d spend time with Travis and Nolan, mainly because you wanted to avoid your roommate.

However, the only thing that you decided to do differently was go to a coffee shop, two weeks later. Truthfully, you weren’t big on coffee, which was something you got made fun of for. You never lived and breathed Starbucks in high school like half of the other girls in your school. Nor did you feel the need to drink coffee every single morning. So the fact that you felt the need to stop at the small little cafe just off of campus was unusual.

But you’d been up all night trying to finish a project, and for once you needed coffee to get you through the day. You weren’t opposed to something sweet either. You could practically hear your brother and Travis making fun of you. You knew the second you walked into Travis’s apartment you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

You were bouncing on your toes as you waited for your order. You promised Travis you’d be at his place by now. Although, knowing him, he was too wrapped up in a game to realize you were already late. You knew he was probably sprawled out on the couch, yelling at someone over a headset.

You were about to cross the street and start your walk to Travis’s apartment when someone grabbed you and pulled you back, just before a car came speeding past you. Your heart started racing as you realized just how close you were to turning into Regina George at the end of Mean Girls. You barely even noticed that your coffee was now all over your shoes and jeans. Nor did you notice that the stranger still had a hold of your shoulders.

“Shit! Are you okay?”

You quickly turned around and removed yourself from their grasp, “Yeah...Thank you.”

“Y/N? Shit you need to watch where you’re going.”

“Carter? What are you doing down here?”

You were a little shocked to be honest, normally none of the guys came this close to campus. Aside from Travis, but only when he was coming to get you. As far as you knew, most of them avoided campus all together. Yet, here Carter was, way too close for comfort.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He replied, “But I was grabbing a bite before heading over to Teek’s.”

“You’re going to over to Travis’s?”

“Yeah, he texted not long ago and said him and Patty were playing Fornite or something. I don’t know. I figured it’d beat sitting alone all day.”

“Damnit. I’m going to kill him.”

The realization seemed to hit him and he took a step back, “You’re on your way over, aren’t you?”

“We have a stupid tradtion. But it’s fine, I’ll just go back to my dorm and work on another art thing I’m doing.”

“No, don’t cancel because of me. Actually, why don’t you let me give you a ride?”

You shook your head and took another step away from him. Getting in a car with him was not something you wanted to do. Nor did you want to spend a whole day with all of them. You knew Travis would just make fun of you the whole time. You weren’t going to put yourself, or Carter, into that situation.

You took another step back, finally realizing your shoes were ruined from the coffee, and your pants were wet, “Damnit, these were my favorite pair.”

You groaned and looked around. You knew Carter was still waiting for you to agree to something you weren’t going to do. You knew Travis was trying to do something that you didn’t agree with by forcing you two to be together. You couldn’t understand why it was so important to him. He never cared if you were friends with his teammates before.

“I’ll just call Trav on my way back to my dorm and tell him something came up. Go keep him company or whatever. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, please.”

You turned to start walking down the street when Carter called after you again, “Look, I’m sorry for being a dumbass before. But seriously, why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you. You think I hate you?”

“You’ve kinda made it pretty clear. This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to me, and it’s because you’re arguing with me.”

“Yeah well, I don’t hate you. Thanks for making sure I didn’t become roadkill.”

With that you turned and finally started to make your way to your dorm. He didn’t try to stop you this time, which you were thankful for. When you were sure that you were far enough away, and he’d have no chance of hearing you, you pulled your phone out and called Trav.

He didn’t answer, which you half expected, he hardly answered his phone, unless it was his mom.

“Travis fucking Konecny, I’m going to fucking kill you. Seriously? What were you going to do? Lock Carter and I in a room together until I decided I wanted to be friends? Have fun playing Fortnite or whatever. And please just stop whatever this is. I don’t want it, or him, or whatever.”

You knew Travis wouldn’t be happy with you when he actually listened to it. Nor would he be thrilled when Carter told him about your run in today. He’d probably tell you to stop pushing everyone away from you, because that’s all you ever did these days. But it was all you knew how to do.

You were just fine the way you were. You didn’t need anyone else. Other people just complicate things. You were fine alone. Why Travis felt the need for you and Carter to be friends, you couldn’t understand. But you didn’t need him. You were fine. You were okay.

#Carter hart #Carter hart imagine #Carter hart imagines #Carter hart fanfic #Carter hart fan fiction #flyers imagine #flyers imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #nicolewritesthings

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razorblade180 · 4 years

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Twin Snowflakes pt21:Ice Breaker?

[Part 20 here! <-]

Snow, as far as the eye can see. Summer has had enough of snow. A terrible thing considering her move sets and living situation. The frozen rain gently fell down into a meadow of pure white, blanketing any beautiful flowers that could be right below the surface. Her body fell flat, landing stomach down. Cold, but not too cold; the usual case for her mind every time she ended up here. Why was she here? Her heater was definitely on before she laid down. Wool socks kept her toes nice and toasty, and windows were shut tight. She had triple checked. Perhaps this was an actual dream this time instead of an unpleasant visit from the worst guest ever. Summer didn’t want to deal with Shiva. She didn’t want to do anything really. Her body felt...tired. Eyelids were heavy and energy was spent. What was this?

The crunch of snow being crushed broke the silence of the meadow and obstructed Summer’s already limited view. Her head lifted up to see the last person she wanted to. Now she really hoped this wasn’t a dream. It would be dreadful for Shiva to take those away from her too.

The problematic entity laid down on her side. Her hand reached out to brush away a few strands of Summer’s hair to get a better look. “Tired?” Shiva asked, rubbing the girl’s cheek. “I’d be too, faking joy in my life. How long do you think you’ll last? You feel it right, time slipping past you? Days, hours, minutes, seconds; how much more time can you spend failing at everything? Aren’t you tired of it all?”

Summer didn’t respond. Summer couldn’t respond. All she could do was stare into Shiva’s alluring gaze and weep, motionless.

“Awww poor thing.” Shiva rolled Summer over on her back, then straddled her. Her left hand kept rubbing Summer’s pale cheek. Shiva looked down at the girl with a smile that while small, was still oozing with a smug attitude despite her calm voice. “Just close your eyes and surrender to me. What else can you do? You can’t beat me, out think me, or do anything that matters when it counts the most. Do you enjoy it, burdening everyone? How much longer will you hold Nick back?”

Summer’s lip began to quiver. The warmth of her tears was the only source of heat filling her. They began to run faster and faster down the side of her face, only to meet Shiva’s gentle hands rubbing them away. Those same hands drifted lower down and stopped on Summer’s eck. Shiva never squeezed or even entertained. Her demeanor felt almost infant like, the way she tilted her head as she examined everything Summer did. Or...what she didn’t do.

Above, the ice ceiling began melting away again, the meadow fading into dust along the way. Shiva was the last thing Summer saw before everything became an empty space of black. Then, she woke. Dried tear marks were strong on her face and something pinned her right hand from trying to rub them off. Summer looked at her bedside and was taken back by the sight of her brother sleeping with his head laying on the mattress and hand holding her own. “Nick?” Summer said softly, pulling her hand free gently. Nick had always been a light sleeper. Summer had barely done anything and yet Nick woke up.

The boy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Hey sis. Did you sleep okay? You kept crying and trembling.”

“I was?” Summer rubbed her neck and rubbed her tear tracks away. “Sorry. I...guess I had a nightmare.” The sun barely hit her curtains so it must still be pretty early. “Were you here all night? Nick, you’re sick.”

“It’s not like you can catch a cold, miss immunity.”

Summer pouted. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re not gonna get better sleeping on the ground. Worry about yourself first for once?” She said, dry and tired. Summer laid back down and faced away from her brother. She heard him stand up but didn’t hear him walk away. Her mattress sank down seconds later and his hand took hers again.

“Are you...mad at me? You were pretty upset a couple days ago about the Paladin match, and Valerie sure had some choice things to say to me. I know I can be…overbearing at times. I get that you probably want space, but can you at least tell me if there’s anything I did specifically.”

His voice sounded hurt and tired as well. Summer didn’t know Valerie and Nick were on shaking ground. Is that why Nick didn’t tell her he was sick? Summer turned around. “I’m not mad at you. Things have been really low lately is all. I’m sorry if it felt like I’ve directed any of it at you. Things should get better after the tournament. Veronica will probably leave, I’ll have nothing but school lined up, and Oscar will hopefully be back by then. Not the biggest fan of virtual sessions.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Listen if you want more free time then I won’t make you-”

“Performing at the tournament is just fine.” Summer smiled. “Like I would miss a chance to stun a crowd, all of Remnant in fact. Besides, I made an Acr promise to an orphan, remember? I couldn’t back out if I wanted to.”

“Yeah...that would be pretty bad:” Nick cringed at the thought of an entire orphanage being sad and lied to. That’s guilt that would follow someone forever. “Got any plans today? It might do us some good to practice at least once together before the tournament. Not that we really need it.”

“Please, if it isn’t our dual summoning then we’re set. We can’t do that today though. Veronica and I are...umm…” Summer wanted to tell Nick about their argument yesterday which led to Veronica all but forcing her to agree to a fight today and the use of stolen diamond dust, but it wouldn’t make much sense to. Endangering him with her risks was the main reason things escalated. “We’re...going around town and the woods to get things for my outfit.”

“The woods?”

“Yeah she wants to see me fight grimm and we’re gonna look for pure dust and stuff. So don’t worry if you get one of your little twin chills or whatever you call it.”

“I don’t call it anything. Twin chill is nice though. Well be careful. Expect a call if I feel it. Better safe than sorry. It would suck for me to be grabbing school papers while Shiva is rampaging through the woods.” Nick was getting a little stressed thinking about it. One minute he’s stapling papers then sees a massive glacier outside the school window. Not to discredit his sister, but that’s the kind of luck Nick typically had. Things go fine, and then they don’t.

“School papers?” Summer questioned. “Nick it’s not a school day.

“I know. I’m gonna stop by there this afternoon and get the work I missed.” A look of disbelief and judgement shot him right in his heart from Summer. “What!? Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean the homework disappeared. I’m simply going to get it and come back home to rest. Summer’s look did not waver. Nick turned a little red for the nonverbal call out. He stood up. “Leave me alone! I’m going back to bed and then I will do exactly as I said I would do.”

“You’re full of shit…” Summer said while doing a fake cough.

“Night, you little diva.” Nick walked out her room and grabbed the door to shut it.

Summer reached out for a second. “Wait a second.” She said, her voice more reserved. “Nick, y...you love me right? Like, spending time with me?”

Nicholas looked at his sister with a raised brow. “Of course I love you. You’re my baby sister. Not that you being that means I have to hang around you or anything. Why, someone dumb tell you otherwise?”

Summer couldn’t help but smile. “No, hearing you actually say it is just nice. Rest well.” Nick smiled back then closed the door. The smile Summer wore tried its best to stay, but left as quick as it came. Her swarming thoughts made her head feel heavy and cluttered until Summer found herself resting it in her hands as she attempted to rest a little more. Sleep never came back for her unfortunately, no matter how many minutes passed her by.

It felt like no time at all before Summer was out of her bed and getting dressed for the day. She decided to keep her hair down for now and was more concerned about if she was gonna be warm enough. Her standard black thermal leggings and old white over coat should do the trick, but Summer felt compelled to put her ear muffs around her neck and wear warmer socks with her already poofy white winter boots. Snow gloves were put in her coat for safe keeping. Testing diamond dust without Nick was more stressful than she thought it would be. At least the layers of close gave her a good excuse whenever she’d start sweating.

The fated knock on the door finally came and took ten years off of Summer’s life. “Y-Yes?” The door creaked open before being fully swung open with Veronica on the other side. An exceptionally beautiful soft brushed purple winter coat that had a belt around the waist and big black buttons to bundle the whole thing up. Her color of choice was complemented with grayish-white jeans that looked roomie; a weird choice for the girl. Then there were her gym shoes school? Her entire bottom half was casual in contrast from the coat.

Summer got a bit worried. Veronica dresses herself with purpose. Her wardrobe doesn’t sacrifice functionality for flare, yet is stylish nonetheless. This one felt disjointed however. “Ummm what’s with the shoes and jeans? I would’ve thought you’d look a little more...stunning?” Said Summer, choosing her words carefully. She must’ve succeeded because Veronica gave a rude look and nothing else. It was easy to tell that she was still tired from the way she rubbed her eyes. “Didn’t sleep well either?”

“I’m sore and the time difference hasn’t gone away yet. As for my clothes, why would I wear my good clothes when I’m going to the woods and things can get physical? I’d wear a different coat if I had one.” Veronica pulled out a scrunchy and put her lion’s mane of a hair into a ponytail tail.

The sleeves of the coat fell down and Summer became a little more anxious to see Ember Cilca on Veronica’s wrists.“ Oh right, of course she’ll dress comfy in a fight. And use a strong weapon. Why not use her own? Is punching me that exciting?” Her eyes looked down and noticed a small duffel bag outside the door. “What is she gonna do to me!?” Summer ‘casually’ walked over to her sword and put it on her hip. It made her feel a little safer. Then she grabbed a hidden vial of diamond dust. Safety was right back out the window.

“You’re only bringing the one?”

“If this goes terribly then I don’t need Shiva getting a double dose. One is more than enough.” Summer held it out. “Here. It’s probably better you have it for now.”

“On that, we can agree on.” Veronica took the vial and grabbed and used her tail to grab her bag. “Let’s get this over with already…” she stormed off immediately.

Summer thought it best to follow Veronica’s lead. The girl was clearly in a bad mood. “Dying in the woods by a girl crushing on my brother. Yeah, that’s on par with the rest of my life.”

xxxx

With two of noisiest people out of the house, it was pretty easy to tell something was amiss for Weiss. It’s almost eight in the morning and the sound of guitar or vocals hadn’t rattled her morning coffee. Yeah they had a sound room, but that never stopped Summer from playing a rift on the way to it. “It’s quiet, too quiet.” She took a sip from her mug then went to the garden. “Maybe Summer is training? Veronica could probably hear through the sound room.”

The closer Weiss got to the garden, the easier it was to hear that someone actually was there. Yang. She was upside doing push-ups in just a tank top and yellow pajama pants.

“Forty five...forty six...forty seven…forty- oh hey Weiss.”

“Hehehe, how are you not freezing? It’s barely warmed up yet.”

“Since when have I ever been bothered by a little cold air?” Yang let her balance slip to land right side up. “I’m hot every day all day.” She flipped her hair for dramatic effect.”

“Well Mrs. Hot stuff, have you seen Summer? Despite her reluctance to go to school, the girl is an early riser. Especially on the weekends. Is- hey, you got a little…” Weiss pointed on a few bruises on Yang’s right shoulder.

“Oh this? Veronica wanted to spar yesterday. Her mood wasn’t exactly friendly.” Yang sighed. Her body flopped on the soft grass near the tear area. “That girl, it feels like all we do these days is spar rather than trying to talk.”

“Gee, I wonder where she gets that from.” Weiss said with the most sarcastic tone in the world. “I guess I’m in no position to make fun. Summer is hard to communicate with too. Teenagers man.”

“Tell me about it! Were we this bad?”

“Yeah.” Weiss nodded, remembering everything and cringing. “Yeah… gods, we were a lot to deal with.”

“You maybe. I was pretty-”

“Hard headed and passionate? Uncompromising on everything? Loud as hell?”

Yang sat up. “Okay already! Point taken hehe. Oh if you’re looking for Summer, she’s out in town with Veronica.”

That wasn’t an answer Weiss thought she’d hear. “For what? Those two can’t breathe in front of each other without wanting to fight.”

“Well they don’t have a choice if Veronica wants to make a perfect outfit for her. Walking, running, sitting, posture, Veronica likes seeing all of that in order to make a quality design. Kid has a real gift.” Yang crossed her arms. “Too bad people don’t give her the time of day.”

“Oh. So the situation hasn’t gotten any better for her?” Weiss asked.

Yang shrugged. She began pacing around in circles. “Besides what happened here, there hasn’t been a school fight in a while or calls home. Grades are average but that’s to be expected. No drugs either, thankfully. Pretty sure that was a one off thing. Still, Veronica is clearly unhappy and not even Blake gets much out of here these days. We’d take her therapy but she’ll run off or flat out won’t go.” Yang let out another huge sigh, slouching over. “I’m worried. I just want her talking to somebody that will listen and care.

Weiss could relate to that. “Well, at least Nick chips away at that armor of hers.”

“True. That boy is magic. I don’t wanna have him doing it all by himself though. I’m positive he has his fair share of problems too. How is he?”

“All work and no play recently. You saw how sick he was yesterday right? If I could just take a little bit of his drive and replace it with Summer’s reasoning….”

“Ruuuuude! I’m reasonable!” Shouted the boy from the balcony. “Some would say I’m actually quite flexible.

Weiss scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Those people don’t live with you! How are you feeling? Still have a fever?”

“A little one, but I think I’m alright. Well enough to go get my assignments from school? Please?” He said, giving puppy eyes that made Yang laugh and Weiss facepalm.

“Hahaha. Nick, I wish my horses worked half as hard as you do, but I think you might be giving your mother gray hair.”

“Oh he knows! I tell him all the time that one day he’ll notice my hair is gonna go from white, to silver over night because of him and his sister.”

He smiled. “And you’ll look just as beautiful.”

“Nice try, Jaune jr. Fine, you can get your work. However, you’re not walking. I’ll drive you there later and just like with training I’m gonna time you. I swear I don’t know where you get this drive from. Even I know when to take a break.”

“Not at his age.” Yang shot back. “Jaune and Ruby mellowed you out. Nick, your mother didn’t know what to do with herself sometimes. Especially when nobody was around. I’ve walked in on her reading a cookbook, in Menageran! I live there now and I barely know one dialect!”

“Blake didn’t teach them all?

“No point. There’s tons of different languages. Just ask Veronica. She knows two fluently and will gladly show it off. Did you by any chance hear the part of the conversation where your mother and I talked about her? If so, can you not mention it?”

“No worries, didn’t hear anything besides you wanting her to open up more. I don’t think you gotta worry about that too much.” Nick spoke with confidence, hitting his chest. “Veronica might not know it yet but I’m positive Eliza enjoys her company; and I’m trying my best to get Veronica to talk to Summer semi-friendly.”

Weiss was skeptical. “You’ve tried that before. Got a master plan you haven’t shared?”

He shook his head proudly. “Not at all! Hahaha!” Nick looked to the sky. Gentle snowflake flowed through a slow air current like a frozen river. “All I have is hope.”

xxxx

“This is utterly hopeless.” Was the only thing Veronica can say in despair as dozens of people stood in multiple lines to board airships. “Why is everyone up so early!? It’s been half an hour and we haven’t budged. The week day isn’t like this.”

“Of course it isn’t. People work.” Summer looked around to see familiar citizens going on and off ships with luggage; as well as complete strangers who haven’t adjusted to the cold of Atlas. “Many important people have already started showing up in advance for the tournament. They may not help like you will but coming so soon is a great excuse to explore the kingdom and gain influence. They might even drop by the schools and try recruiting if they can get away with it. Almanac is a place where-”

“I know, I know. It’s where society collides. It’s built down on Mantle as a way to expose youths like yourself to how the less fortunate live and inspire you to make the city better. Conversely, all the trips and equipment allows the kids in Mantle to have quality equipment and see Atlas up close; giving them a goal to work towards.”

“It also exposes the older people here to the citizens of Mantle. Creating situations where interactions between the two isn’t rare changes some people’s perspective, or at least makes them think twice about deciding on some affirmative action that hurts the people below. It’s a little harder to disregard the common man whenever their kids are friends with them and you know some.”

“Not really. They think twice because it isn’t smart to angry people who can get to your front door with ease.”

Summer felt her entire vibe get a little bleeker. “Way to make it pessimistic.”

“Hard not to be with a line like this!” Veronica shouted too loudly, drawing a few eyes their way. Not that she cared. “Ugh, isn’t there another means of getting down? Can’t you flex your last name and skip?”

“Weren’t you listening? A lot of high profile people are here. If I throw titles around then so will they. Then you have a bunch of rich people being snobby and being put into a bad light. That includes your family.” Summer witnessed Veronica’s agitated state get a little more restless. It was very strange. This wasn’t the “people agitate me” kind of mood Veronica showed off. No, she seemed torn up. Against her better judgment, Summer took the girl's hand in concern. “Hey are okay? You’re acting weird.”

Veronica looked at the girl's big blue eyes. It was scary how pretty those eyes were. Arc blue had its own appeal that was different then Nick’s chilling Schnee eyes. Veronica looked at her hand and pulled it away. “I’m just a little hungry and you know, lady stuff.” She lied about the second part. “Also don’t touch me without asking. You know I don’t let anybody touch me without asking.”

“Yeah between that and your semblance I can’t imagine you being much of a hugger.” Summer laughed nervously, wondering why she said that of all things. This line has single handedly forced the longest interactions they’ve had without a fight in an extremely long time. Summer was waiting for Veronica to decide on fighting here instead. They were running out of banter! “So umm...wanna eat and pray the line gets shorter when we get back?”

“Will it?” Veronica deadpanned. The lack of eye contact told her all she needed to know. This line was only gonna get worse. “Ugh. Fuck it, new plan. I’m not waiting any longer to get a ride.”

“I told you, using your title is a bad idea.”

“I’m not going to, genius. Follow me.” Veronica ditched the line and started heading back more towards the outer rim of Atlas, right where buildings and watch posts were stationed. “Let’s play a game.”

“That’s never a good sentence.” Summer instinctively moved a little slower. She was not about to get sucker punched. “What kind of game?” She was already regretting asking. It was gonna be crazy.

Veronica finally stopped moving and turned around. “A race to Mantle. The fun way.” She pointed to the edge.

Summer looked out and saw the chains extend down. One of them had a good enough angle to point them in the direction where the woods are. Right at the edge of the old slums in fact. “You’re nuts…”

“Don’t play that card!” Veronica pointed at her. “I know all about you snowboarding on these things!”

Boom! Caught red handed. No way Summer could deny that. “I promised Winter I wouldn’t needlessly endanger myself.” That was a solid excuse.

“Aren’t we literally going to the woods to mess with dangerous dust you stole?” And that was a solid answer. “You’re not gonna talk me out of this. I debate and public speak on national levels. You have a school club.”

“I’m not even in the debate club.”

“Exactly. Now stop arguing. We’re wasting time.”

As usual, Summer could only fall into whatever crazy thing would happen next. But she wasn’t giving up that easily. Veronica wouldn’t dare be too rude in public. “What’s stopping me from walking away right now? I could get on an airship and make it to the forest before you get down the chains.”

An amused chuckle came from Veronica. “Hehehe, it’s funny how wrong you are sometimes. I said race to Mantle, and I never said I was gonna use the chains.” Before Summer had a chance to even think about what she just said, Veronica fell through the ground.

It was so sudden that Summer was thankful she didn’t blink. “Veronica!?” She gasped. Now there wasn't a choice at all! “That’s so...I can’t believe..aaah! Why is she like this!?” Summer shouted to nobody. Her feet raced to the edge, then jumped. The rush of cold early morning air was more than enough for her to create a snowboard of ice that planted her right on the chains. “Can’t things be normal for once?” A path of glyphs shot down the chain. The use of her semblance with the little control over diamond dust she had made for a potent combination. Summer was blazing down the chain! The links between each one were terrifying though. A late hop could shatter the board and send her flying. “Don’t fuck up don’t fuck up don’t fuck up don’t fuck up, and juuuump!” Little hops was all it took for her to soar down wards for seconds before landing. “Doing a trick or two would be pretty amazing if this wasn’t so dangerous and a race.” Summer looked around the air. “Where is she anyways?” Her gaze finally spotted the girl. Veronica was actually beneath her. The girl’s back faced the ground while her hands rested in her pockets, eyes closed blissfully. “Veronica?” Summer said. She got noanswer. Veronica continued to fall effortlessly. As if she was unconscious. Summer shouted again. “Veronica! You alright over there?” Still no answer. Now Summer was worried. “HEY!? VEE VEE!”

Not even her despised nickname gave Veronica a reaction. Summer could feel her heart start to race. “She can’t actually be unconscious right!?” Reasoning with herself wasn’t working. If by some chance Veronica was knocked out...Summer didn’t want to think about it. There was no time to think. Without another second to waste, Summer jumped off the chain and began falling towards her long term acquaintance. She brandished Myrtenaster and angled three glyphs to bounce off of to reach Veronica. Summer extended her hand in fear of the girl’s safety. “Veronica!!!!”

“Huh?” Veronica opened her eyes to see a blur of white and blue hurling towards her. “What in the-” She wasn’t the only one surprised. Summer’s eyes bugged out. The girl was completely caught off guard, crashing into Veronica and sending them spiraling through the air. Fortunately, Veronica was quick to grab Summer by the sleeve and pull her into a tight embrace for the girl’s own safety. “Summer!? What the hell!? Why did you jump!?”

“Why were your eyes closed!?!?! I thought you had passed out or something. I was screaming your name!!” Summer yelled with tears in her eyes from the fear.

“Summer I can’t hear shit when wind is roaring through my ears! I was relaxing!”

“RELAXING!? YOU ARE FREE FALLING!!!!” Summer screamed. No doubt Veronica heard that.

“IT IS A LONG FALL, SUMMER! IT IS LITERAL HANG TIME!” Veronica yelled back. She finally noticed the tears coming from Summer. At first she thought it was because of the wind but they kept coming. “Are you crying right now!?”

“YES, DUMBASS! I THOUGHT YOU WERE FALLING TO YOUR DEATH!!!”

Veronica’s heart felt like it stopped for a moment. She had no response for that. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect Summer, anyone, to freak out over something like that. It was a little haunting. If she didn’t feel like a jerk before, Veronica definitely was feeling that way now, just a little. She looked over her shoulder to see Mantle buildings and ground coming in hot. Her arms fastened tightly around Summer’s upper and lower back. “Wrap your arms and legs around me, tightly!”

Summer did as she was told and felt Veronica’s hand press against the back of her head. What should’ve been several seconds before a splat became extended free falling. Summer went from seeing the sky, buildings, the pavement, and then minerals. Crushed sediments and pavement that were firmly placed within the dirt. Summer was experiencing seeing underground for the first time. “Woah…. you can do this all the time!? You see €€this all the time!? How deep are we?

“You are quite literally being impressed by things you can see with a shovel. Now flex your stomach and try not to get the wind knocked out of you.”

Once again, Summer listened and gave a pat on the back for confirmation. A weird feeling ran over her body. As if going down an elevator, then €€boom! That feeling became ten times worse. It was like a rollercoaster on the highest drop. But instead of going down, their bodies were being forced up. The world of minerals was left behind for streets once again. Their momentum kept going up until they came to a midair stop. Summer instinctively made a platform at their feet before they fell again.

Veronica finally let go and pulled Summer off of her body. “Well that’s one way to stop. I’ll admit, clever thinking.”

“What was your plan?”

“I would five back into the ground and back up. Each time would get less air then the last before eventually I would be like several inches from the ground, or I’d land on a roof on the way down. Simple stuff.” Veronica brushed off her outfit in an attempt to get the wrinkles out. The puffy eyes looked from Summer made her let out an auditable little laugh in disbelief. “Tsk, I cannot believe you actually cried.” She teased.

Summer squinted at Veronica before folding both arms and turning her head away dramatically. “I don’t see what’s so funny. Not in the slightest.”

“That’s because you have no sense of humor.”

“What’s humorous about a death like that? It’s terrible.”

Veronica shrugged casually. “Eh, there’s worse ways to go. But ummm thanks for checking, and stuff…” Veronica jumped off the glyph and onto a roof before Summer got any mushy ideas from a thank you. “The race is null in void. Move your butt. We have ground together since we made an emergency landing.”

“We’re skipping the fact you just showed me a little gratitude?” Summer teased. She couldn’t help it. The glare shot at her for it though reminded Summer that teasing a person she had to fight soon wasn’t a great plan. Unlike Valerie, Summer wasn’t gonna get any buffs or debuffs from it. “Hehehe….I’ll start moving my butt.”

“A wise decision.”

xxxx

“Alright, we’re here.” Weiss said, parking her car into the mostly empty school parking lot. “Nick, you have fifteen minutes to get what you need. Anymore and I’m coming in to drag you out myself.”

He laughed. “Can you at least send the gigas in? If you’re gonna be extra then go all the way.” He hopped out the car and ran inside.”

“Don’t tempt me!” Weiss shouted. She was not above embarrassing him like that. Not in the slightest.

Nick jogged his way down the halls. Benefit of the weekend, no crowded halls. Just him, the occasional faculty, and the sports team. Basketball, soccer, the usual suspects. However, the sight of favorite blue haired girl in an Atlesian military uniform and the kingdom’s flag had caught his attention. Seeing Eliza with her twin tails undone and in one regular ponytail was always so shocking to him. “Yo, Eliza!” He waved.

She looked at him briefly before doing a double take. “Nick? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed resting?”

If he had a nickel…. Nick walked up to her in disbelief. “Is everyone my mom today?” He joked. “I am fine. Just grabbing my assignments. Anyways, color guard practice today? Cool. Didn’t realize I wasn’t the only one doing double duty for the tournament; though I guess I’m technically doing triple.” The weight of that hit him a little. How’d he manage that!?

“Yeah, just for the opening ceremony. I’m the lead when it comes to the flags so hehe, all eyes on me.” It was hard not to hide her nerves about the whole thing. “In terms of weight, it’s not too different from my spear. The routine is almost solid.”

Nick could tell she said that more for her benefit than his. It was funny. Eliza wasn’t one to waver most of the time. Then again, this was her first time doing this and second time competing in this tournament. “Hey, you survived cameras on you before. You fought me last year without choking.”

“Yeah, and lost miserably.” Eliza would never forget that day. “Thanks for the reminder.” She said sarcastically.

“Shut up, you got third on your first major tournament. You couldn’t ask for a better debut against veterans like myself and Val. Oh, thanks for sticking around Vee by the way.”

“Don’t mention it. I did it more for me than you anyways.”

“Ouch. You’re so cruel to your work husband.”

Eliza’s face turned a little red. She pointed her finger at him and sparked it with magical electricity. “Never say that again.”

“Hahaha! I’m just teasing. I still appreciate the help. Anyways, I gotta go get my stuff and bail before my mom makes due on a not so empty threat. Bye!” He ran off past her towards his classrooms.”

“Council room” Eliza said, making Nick stop halfway down the hall. “All your work...I put it in the council room for you.” Even from a distance she could see Nick’s eyes light up. Did it really not take much to make this boy happy?

“Awww Eliza-” she pointed at him again with Fire this time. Nick thought it best to quit while he was ahead and continued walking. Although, he made a little mental note for later. “Hmmm, I wonder if Eliza would be good at candle training. Fire is fire after all. Magic or dust wise.” Nick continued pondering the idea. Magic has always been cool to Nick. The fact he actually knew a person could do it was especially cool. If he could trade being the heir for being the first person with magic in centuries, he might not think twice about it. Nick couldn’t help but fantasize about a life with lower expectations and no heavy title. “Vee is right. I should really talk to my uncle about this. Well, after the tournament, or maybe do it beforehand then soften the blow by winning gold? That would be good.” He turned a corner, failing to check for on comers. “Look at me, talking as if I don’t have to face-” Nick ran head onto Valerie hard and stumbled back.

His friend dropped a bunch of hockey sticks. Some of which hammering her toes. “Ow!” She screamed, her team hearing from several feet away. “Hey watch where you’re- Nick?”

“Hey Val…” He said nasally. The impact had him rubbing his nose gently as it turned red. “Tackling you must be a nightmare. You're like a wall of tanks.” His strange analogy was ignored entirely. He looked up at Valerie and saw nothing but shock and irritation as she pulled him close, real close.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? I’m the one who told you to get rest? I didn’t know it was bad enough for you to be bed ridden.”

“I uhh well you see…” Focusing was hard enough from the crash. The literal inch between them made Nick feel unprepared. Though her face was upset, he still found beauty in it. Especially with the hint of care he saw her turquoise eyes. “You said you wanted space. So I thought I wouldn’t bother you.” He finally said, hesitantly. Valerie didn’t seem too happy with his response.

“Idiot.” Valerie said, “If it’s about your health then blow up my phone for all care!” She huffed. Valerie’s cheeks turned a little red. “Are we clear?” Nick didn’t respond back. His eyes avoided her gaze and he seemed uncomfortable. “Nick? You alright?”

He looked towards her, a little nervous. “Can I make it up to you? Since you were worried and all?”

“What are you-”

“Not as a date if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Nick reassured, “Clearly I upset you so let me fix it by taking you to your favorite dine in restaurant? These last couple days I…missed you okay?” He could feel his face turning red. Platonic or not, this sounded like a confession. And yet Valerie hadn’t let go of him yet. It might’ve been his imagination, but he could’ve sworn she had gotten redder.

Valerie could feel herself being apart mentally. Nick wasn’t one to lie, but enduring was what he did best. How often did he think about her while he was sick? Did she make his fever worse? Was not telling him more painful for him than it was her? Valerie didn’t know. Making sense of any of it wasn’t important. “Nick I-” her voice was cut off by the murmurs of the halls. Athletes and onlookers passed by with their whispers and giggles. They had once again made a spectacle out of nothing. Another thing for idiots to gossip about and spread their lies. Valerie couldn’t stand it. Her blood began to boil. It never failed. Nick had made life, her life, a little more about him and less about her. Valerie finally let go of him, pushing him away. “No, sorry.” She said, clearly irritated. “I still want my space; and we both know how you are. Date or not, you just can’t help yourself but pull out the red carpet act like if I need you when I don’t. It’s pretty…” Nick didn’t let her finish. He turned his back to her. It was only then Valerie realized just how much she was mouthing off. “Wait that came out wrong.” She double backed, “I…”

“You don’t get to do that.” Nick finally bit back, “Telling me I should’ve called and that you care, only to push me away at your convenience. Now you’re berating me? What is with you lately!?” His voice echoed through the hall. It was only then he paid attention to his peers who quickly moved along the moment he tried meeting their gaze. Suddenly, something clicked. “Are you...embarrassed by me?” He said, mid revelation.

“You’re causing a scene, Nick.” She muffled, unusually reserved. “Listen, I just think the tournament takes priority is all.” Valerie lies, unknowingly letting her pride get the better of her. “I’m not embarrassed by you, honest.”

“So why do you brush me off every time people are around huh? I’m not a mind reader. Just come out with it.” He got no answer. Just silence while Valerie’s eyes looked for people who might still be watching. Now he was really annoyed, and he wasn’t even sure if it was because of Valerie or himself for getting worked up in the first place. “You know what? Forget it. Have it your way. I’m too ill to argue.” He said dismissively. Nick walked away from the argument to get what he came for. He was on a time limit anyway.

Valerie watched her friend turn the corner, hurt by her words. Or maybe the lack of them. Valerie turned around to go back to practice and stopped after only one step, stunned by the sight of her mother carrying extra sports gear.

Nora let out an exhausted sigh then smiled, “Oh boy. Here I thought your biggest worry today would be run down knee pads.” She laughed awkwardly at her own ice breaker. “Wanna talk about it later.”

Valerie got closer. She took the gear from her mother and went towards the gym. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Nora let Valerie get away. There will be time for questions later. Nora put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Teenagers.”

xxxx

Neither twin was having the best mood right now. Summer could feel her heart beating out of her chest the deeper into the woods she went. Ever since the free fall, Veronica had gone silent. Any attempt at conversion was ignored. She just kept walking deeper and deeper until everything started to look the same to Summer. Thankfully no grimm had appeared, but if they kept walking aimlessly like this… “I think this far enough, Veronica.” Summer said. Veronica actually listened and stopped before turning around.

“Yeah, this’ll do nicely.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the diamond dust while dropping her bag. “I say it’s about time we get this over with. Catch.” She tossed the vial of dust, underhanded.

Summer nearly panicked as she caught it midair. “What are you-don’t do that! This stuff is dangerous!” If her nerves weren’t shot before, they were now.

“The dangerous part is yet to come.” Veronica engaged Ember Celica and brought her fists up. She would’ve liked to remove the jacket, but a piece of her mind told her it was far wiser to keep the extra layer of warmth and protection. “Well?”

“Yeah, what are you waiting for?”Said the alluring lethal voice inside of Summer’s head, sending chills up her spine. This wasn’t the cold’s doing. No, this was fear. Pure unkempt adrenaline that made her stomach twisted into knots and body shiver. “She’s asking for it, so let her have it. Better her than fear sweet Nicholas, right?”

Summer couldn’t stop shaking in place. This wasn't the plan. Not like this so much could go wrong. Was she really to fight Shiva again? Did Veronica stand a chance? Just how much stronger would Shiva’s grip be by doing this. If they failed, if she wasn’t strong enough then…that might be it. This wasn’t just her own life at stake either. Summer already thought Veronica might’ve died today. If it was by her own hands…

Bile threatened to come up and out of throat. Summer couldn’t even see straight anymore. The trees spun around her and her balance felt off. The whole world seemed to crush her under her own weight and tears-

“Lesson learned.” Called out Veronica, bringing reality back to Summer. She hadn’t realized it through her panic attack, but Veronica had gotten remarkably close to her, looking right into her soul and placing a hand to rub Summer’s pale cheek. Summer was so overwhelmed she began stammering. “W-What a...are y-you-”

“This terrifying fear that’s crippling you; the absolute anxiety of knowing how potentially dangerous it would be to pull a stunt like this? Maybe remember it the next time you wanna drag Nick into one of your reckless training, kay?” Veronica took the Diamond Dust away from Summer and returned it to her pocket. “Okay, now for the real reason we’re here. We need things for your outfit and so on.”

Summer watched Veronica nonchalantly lift her bag and walk off again. She couldn’t be it. This entire was a set up. A guilt trip into thinking more about Nick’s safety, and it worked. The humiliation of it all. What’s worse was Summer felt...like she deserved it? Did Nick ever feel this, this fear? How many times did she want to train her control and he went along with it? Why did he go along with it!? Her body felt weak, exhausted. Summer stumbled back against a tree, sliding down until she sat in the snow on the verge of breaking down. “Stop.” She said, weak and afraid. “I need a minute, so please stop.”

Veronica looked back to see the state Summer was in. No longer was she fighting back tears. Summer openly wept as she hugged her knees tightly to try and stop the shaking. She wasn’t the only one feeling guilty.

“Damnit Veronica! I didn’t think it would scare her this bad or make her cry!”Veronica walked back to the fragile girl and sat next to her quietly. This was a complete disaster. Emotional vulnerability was never a thing Veronica was good at doing or dealing with. She took a chance and used her tail to wipe Summer’s wet face, gaining her attention. “I ummm, wasn’t trying to...a panic attack was not in my plans. You looked a little frantic at first but then you spiraled in the blink of an eye. I’m…” Veronica looked away, her ears folded in shame. “I fucked up. My bad. Nick told me to take it easy on you and here I am being worse than usual.”

Summer sniffled. She wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to being comforted. Especially by Veronica of all people. Still, it felt nice. Different from others. That’s for sure. “I’m sorry.”

That was out of left field. “What?” Said Veronica, turning back around. “Umm I don’t think you know how apologies work. I mean I barely do, but this isn’t right.”

“I said some things I didn’t mean about you yesterday. I was angry at myself and directed it to you. I may not know what bothers you but I know you probably have shit in your life going on too.”

“Yeah well...we’re famous. Problems come with the territory, and puberty.”

“Eh, can’t relate. High regen and pain tolerance. I don’t get cramps, or get sick. The only upside to getting blasted with dust no scientist can identify.”

“I probably shouldn’t envy you but maaaan, little jealous. Not gonna lie.”

The girls shared a small chuckle for what it was worth. Summer sniffled again and rubbed her eyes. “Ya know, we don’t really...talk, do we? Not since we were five. I’m sure there’s a lot of things we could learn.”

Veronica couldn’t suppress her unwilling groan. Bonding was not on her agenda. However, Veronica couldn’t help but think about Nick’s words and her promise to him. “Let’s make a truce? We have to spend time together. There’s no getting around it.”

“I’m painfully aware…” Summer moaned. “What’s the truce?”

Veronica stood up and reached for Summer’s hand, lifting her up as well. “I will do my damnedest to be less confrontational if you do as well. Also if you are willing to explain this whole Shiva business to me, then… I’ll explain my faunus business. I suppose.” Her tail instinctively wrapped around her waist for security. She could tell by Summer’s expression that she was definitely intrigued. It was warranted. Veronica didn’t speak much about it on purpose. Now she was offering it on a silver platter. “Well?” She said anxiously”

Summer retook Veronica’s hand and shook it. “Alright, truce.”

#rwby #rwby au #rwby twin snowflakes #summer schnee #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #nicholas schnee #val valkyrie #veronica belladonna #nora valkyrie

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fmdaidynnarchived · 4 years

Text

hello i return from hiatus, and i’m ready to plot for this event! under the cut i’ll leave some general things for aidynn, yeol, and mav and also some more ideas specifically related to them. so if you’re interested in plotting feel free to like this or just slide into my ims/discord (feel free to ask for it!). what i end up listing here probabyl won’t be exhaustive, if you have thoughts pls feel free to share them all!

general:

backstage interactions are open for any of the three! mav will probably find somewhere to sit back there and watch the show but the other two will be doing who knows what, could just be eating snacks they somehow obtained or hiding in a closet with someone, there’s options

aidynn

hwan is stealing his usual roommate for fucking purposes so aidynn is in need of a roomie

idk why but ever fiber of my being tells me that this kid will be sea sick for the first bit of being on the ship, motion sickness is a part of him i don’t talk about, but catch him being useless at some points in time

during this time period he is finally make actual effort to fully get clean again, he’s trying to better himself here before his solo album at the beginning of the new year so he might be a bit out of it at times but overall he’ll be more lively than he has been in recent time

december 26: aidynn is drawing a blue card, catch him in a pool floatie doing absolutely nothing for the camera, but like he’s nice to look at, he is of no help to anyone here. also aidynn can’t swim, feel free to clown. he’s freaky tall so he just walks everywhere. but in all seriousness he’ll put minimal effort into pool games if he gets dragged into them

at the ball he will just be vibing as much as he can at what he’s just considering a company christmas party, just drinking and relaxing for the most part. probably won’t stay the whole night, could be because he found someone to sneak off with to fool around or he gets bored enough he just leaves

december 27/29: someone drag this boy out to activities on the ship and later into taipei on the free day to do something other than nap and spend money on the internet to play games on his phone

december 28: this day he will be drawing a yellow card, which he’ll lowkey love, he loves animals a lot. so he’ll just be vibing and taking photos along the way

december 30: for this card draw he’s getting a yellow card once again. i am just amused by the thought of this tol boi trying to casually slip into the activities with no one noticing he hasn’t been there the entire time

december 31: once again just drinking and vibinb but he wont’ get drunk or anything. open for a midnight kiss if anyone wants to sneak off to do that

january 1: feels kinda weirdly about a fan sign on a ship but overall is just going about his day and doing what he has to, nothing special going on

yeol

yeol doesn’t have a roommate yet either so if you want him, he’s free to be yours

the entire time yeol is gonna be trying to see how many people he can sneak off somewhere with to make out with or fool around with, so just know at any point in time, that is more than welcome for him

december 26: he will pull a red card and join in on the decorating, both a blessing and a course. yeol will love decorating in general and is helpful with it all but also he will spend a lot of time messing around and decorating other people or doing dumb things

basically the same as aidynn, just vibing, he’ll hang out with friends and do whatever for the night

december 27/29: will be out and about on the ship and later exploring the city (when applicable) once they dock so adventure buddies?

december 28: will be on the blue team for this day. he vaguely hates shopping so mostly he’s gonna complain about it until they go back, someone feel free to join him or make him at your personal bag carrier

december 30: yeol will be on blue team and living it up at the spa honestly and getting a massage because he swears he works hard

december 31: repeat of the last party and what aidynn is doing, just vibing and drinking a bit. will pout if he doesn’t get a smooch tho

january 1: nothing special truly just doing what he’s gotta

mav

mav is just happy to be here the whole time tbh, will make the absolute most of whatever he ends up doing

on a mission to try as much food as possible

december 26: mav will also find himself on the red team, as tempted as i am to throw dance illiterate mav at the yellow team i will spare everyone. he’ll actually be decorating the whole time and is very pumped to be there

probably not drinking at the ball, but will have a cute christmas sweater on, no one is stopping him. overall just relaxing with others again but will be making a gingerbread house happily

december 27/29: just vibing around the ship all day until they dock then he’s busy

december 28: he’ll be on the red team! cooking is his passion and he will be having the absolute time of his life! always in welcome of taste testers or helping people who aren’t that good at cooking!

december 30: mav will be on red team and tbh he doesn’t mind, he is a hosue husband in the making and cleaning is something he finds relaxing so he’s down for this

december 31: just vibing during the party and not doing much

january 1: same as everyone else

#fmdcall #fmdfantasycruise

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earthendandinbetween · 3 years

Text

This was literally supposed to be a quick prompt. But no. It’s so long. Why. What happened to me here.

Everything was loud, indistinct, too close, too far. Snow clumped together with blood and trampled footsteps from the battle, the only real distinction that he had infact won was the still retreating forms of the bonedeths in the distance.

It wasn’t really much of a true battle, more like a cowardly- stupidly pathetic infact – ambush. They had tracked the zigotons’ patrolling path and tried to pick them off like simple prey animals. ...Perhaps they would’ve, if they had accounted for his presence. He could feel enough pride that it was rather difficult for enemies to truly plan for his strength. It wasn’t like they knew how to fight against an akumapon, what with the two tribes being supposed allies and such.

Though, he had expected the commotion to have died down by now. There were still shouts, not easy to make out from his focus on his blurry vision, only really able to make out the puffs of breath that froze in the snow-field’s cold. It wasn’t easy to get out of an ambush unscathed, he certainly expected a few hits. Some were deeper than others, but at least nothing was broken.

...He assumed such at least. The exhaustion and chill from the freezing temperatures made it difficult to tell anything anymore as he lowered down to kneel.

Just a moment. He’d be fine. He had survived much, much worse before.

A singular shout got a bit closer. His name, maybe? Probably.

He was too tired to move or acknowledge such. He didn’t usually like to acknowledge the little zigoton soldiers anyways outside of an order or two. They weren’t his troops, he held little interest towards them. Give him a minute to catch his breath, it’s fine. He’ll take them back to their general and they’ll probably plan some new stupid patrol path.

...Was it snowing again already?

Gods, he hated snow.

That was the last real conscious thought Kuwagattan had before collapsing. At least, that he could remember.

–

“He’s...Going to be alright, right?”

“Well, thanks to the others on the patrol, yes. The Snow-field can be unforgiving when one’s alone.”

“Poor dear...The zigoton scouts told me about the ambush...”

“Hm. I’ll have to plan with Gong for a new patrol route. Gathering Intel on our enemies is good and all- until things like this happen. I keep asking to send in one of the machines I’ve been working on, it could make the process so much safer.”

“It’s only a prototype, dear.”

“I know I know but-”

“I know, you’re excited, but--- Let’s save that for now, please. I don’t think a patrol route is really on his mind right now...”

“...You’re right. I’m just...Worried. You know that. I ramble when I’m nervous...”

The odd warmth and idle, soft chattering had slowly sunk into his regained consciousness, bringing with it a confusion and ache that lingered in the back of his skull. Where was he? It had to be familiar. He could recognize these voices, at least a little.

It took a moment as he squinted his eye open, blurry imagery of bricks, a desk, flames--- Ah. Part of the hideout. That seemed clearer now. One of the tents...shacks...buildings? Whatever stupid name the barracks were referred to. A mismatch of all three, really. It was dark, with only the warm glow of the small embers of the fire-pit bringing light in.

Well, at least he wasn’t freezing anymore. When had he fallen asleep? Or gotten back here for that matter? Last he remembered, the battle had just ended in the morning. This, this wasn’t morning. Dusk--- maybe. At least that guess was closer than the early morning sun. Did the scouts help bring him back? A little ridiculous, he would have been fine. He just needed a few moments and then he’d be right back on his feet again, like always.

Giving a soft groan as he moved, Kuwagattan shuffled in the thick fabric that he had been nestled in, cracking a few sore joints as he glanced about the bandages covering his form. There were an awful lot this time, almost shameful really. He was tougher than this, that was just a fact! Lousy cowards, hiding in the treelines instead of facing their own demises head-on. What good did ambushing even do for them in the end? It was the same result either way for the opposing tribe.

...The only thing the ordeal had done was plague him with an obnoxious stinging pain across his body, as well as wasting his time. If he wanted a battle, he would have gone to one. An entire day- just gone like that. The gall-

Where was his helm? Ugh, it had to have been that stupid Almighty that moved it. Anything just to be an obnoxious, soft hearted nuisance. He could mock her tone firmly in his head. ‘

He would be more comfortable without it!’ in her soft, annoying trill of a voice. Others would describe her voice as soft, kind, gentle. But to him it was all just high pitched chatter.

Great. He would have to reclaim his helm soon.

“Oh!”

Speak of the devil, and she will appear. Or whatever that saying was. He couldn’t care enough to remember. Moving his eye enough to see further into what he could only assume was a makeshift infirmary, the akumapon squinted at the two figures.

The irritant of a deity and...Of course it had to be Spiderton. Both pests he frequently had to deal with, even if the latter was only mildly less obnoxious. ...Very mildly. Maybe if he sunk further into the blanket, neither would pay him any mind. Or better yet, leave.

Calle offered a gentle wave as she spotted him, one he returned with a grunt of annoyance and roll of the eye. Not interested in the formalities. The two’s chatter resumed, quieter this time. His brow quirked slightly as the deity quickly shoo’d the spider-helmed zigoton out of the area, watching as he disappeared behind the cloth that closed off the outside world from view. Great. What ridiculous thing had she sent him off to do that he apparently wasn’t allowed to know?

“Stop starin’ at me,” Kuwagattan growled softly, not exactly up for his usual bite, “What do you want?”

“I was just worried,” Came the trill of a response, “I’m not staying for long.”

“Ugh. Good, get lost already” he hissed, “I can barely tolerate you when I’m not injured.”

Instead of the typical argument that would ensue between the two, typically resulting in the deity becoming annoyed and referring to him as ‘childish’ or ‘cruel’ before stomping off angrily, Calle simply creased her eye in worry as she dipped her head in silence. An abnormal response, not something he was used to at all from anyone. He knew the Almighty was soft hearted, willing to spare anyone and anything. He knew she did hold concern for him but--- without an argument or attempt to reach a mutual understanding first was not usual.

Had things really been that bad while he was out of it?

Couldn’t be. It was just a ridiculous display of patheticness. It didn’t matter, it kept her from speaking for now. That was fine by him.

...He wasn’t used to being cared for anyways. It didn’t matter.

Wordlessly, Calle stepped towards the cloth entrance, pulling it open without so much as a hum or chirp of wishing his swift recovery like she usually did when she found even a simple injury on him or others. A silent respect of his wishes to leave. He got a glance at the sky as she left, it was much darker than he had first thought. Truly, an entire day left wasted. Of course, just his luck.

Silence reigned, with only the crackling of the fire present as his gaze wandered about the unusually roomy area. Where even was this located in the hideout? He surely hadn’t seen it before. A vague recollection of a project the others were working on floated by his memory. ...Maybe this was that project. It would make sense, to build an infirmary of sorts. That, however, wasn’t what the akumapon was looking for right now. As he reached a hand idly to the soft tangle of fur on his head, he grumbled in annoyance, right now he was looking for a particular accessory of his that was unceremoniously stolen.

Laying on the slightly crowded table was the object in-question. Perfectly intact and completely unnecessary to remove. It didn’t exactly matter now, as he slowly stood with a grimace, popping his knees softly to try and shake the pain out of them. ...Might as well just drag the blanket with him and settle over there. He truly did not feel like playing a game of back and forth right now. He was not in the state to do such, slowly dragging his body across the room, flinching at every jostle of one of the wounds. ...They were much deeper than he had first assessed. What a shameful thing, to let himself show such weakness in battle. He would need to do better in the future.

It hadn’t taken long to retrieve his helm back to its rightful spot, tucking away a few loose strands of troublesome fur back under the accessory as he adjusted it, but the action certainly had felt longer than needed. The silence was welcome at first, slowly ebbing away into boredom and the urge to fidget about once more. This was why he hated vigils, typically. Standing around and accomplishing nothing, not even the tiniest bit of entertainment.

Kuwagattan was aware he was always seen as brash and stubborn, but he knew better than to strain himself currently. He’d come to regret it later if he did. He had done such in the past, albeit in a much weaker form, and it only resulted in a much longer rest time in the end. He could handle the boredom.

Instead, he put more of a focus on the surroundings, adjusting the thick blanket back over his own shoulders with a contented hum. The area was cluttered, clearly not entirely finished on its interior. A few bricks lay loose on the floor by the fire-pit, with tools and various maps laid about on the table. It was probably a hasty move to bring him here was the assumption. Warmer, most likely as the snow-fields could be intense. Ugh. Snow. He remembered being dragged through the Bryun snowfields and ice forest back over the bridge. He hated it then, but not nearly as much as the Sullied Tears. The storms were much more intense here, casting even part of the Field of Angry Giants in a thick ice at least once every other week.

This whole place was insane, now that he thought of it. Things were much more simple back home.

...Partially because he wasn’t expected to do much else than fight and die. That, that was most likely the major factor of not noticing how dangerous things had gotten in the world.

In the end, the general wasn’t given much time to dwell on that subject. Maybe a sign to keep the past in the past or---some weird thing he was often told or thought about on his own.

The cloth marking the entrance had moved slightly, causing him to squint in predetermined annoyance. His pupil formed a thin slit to show that whoever was here to bother him, that it was not welcome, and that it would be best to leave.

“Evening,” The voice was low, and yet even with a singular word the tone still was laced with a clear concern.

Almost immediately, the akumapon let his shoulders drop as the now identified stranger entered, allowing the curtain-like fabric to fall back into place. Soft footsteps followed, approaching him with an air of caution. Something he knew was not directed at him, just more of a mannerism picked up over years of battle.

Ah. Someone he could tolerate.

“Hey,” Kuwagattan offered a ‘grin’ as he adjusted the hold on the blanket, “I’m surprised you’re not..uh...Keeping watch or something. Isn’t it late?”

Gong stayed silent for a moment in response, taking a slow seat directly infront of the other, pupil turned away to avoid his gaze and brow furrowed. His eye was glossy, swimming with multiple thoughts he most likely wouldn’t say out loud, but were still clear. He hated these moments. Hated the soft looks and attempt at good advice to keep himself safer next time. He didn’t need to be babied, be patronized---

He didn’t need to know he made someone worry so stupidly over himself. And deep down, he didn’t want to acknowledge that he felt guilty over never listening to the others. He hadn’t made a mistake this time, it was a true ambush where quick thinking was needed. What could he possibly be chastised on this time?

“Don’t look at me like that,” He grumbled, “I’m not in the mood for another conversation about my battle plans.”

“No, I’m not here for that,” the zigoton half whispered, “My scouts told me how well you had protected them. Not a scratch on a single one of them.”

Kuwagattan huffed proudly, giving a more smug, prideful look as he responded, “Well yeah. I said I would look after your troops when I left, didn’t I?”

“Hm,” Gong dipped his head slightly in a nod, “Of course, I had no doubts of such to begin with. I just--- I had not expected an ambush, especially of that size for such a small patrol group. I suppose this entire time I’ve...let my worries wander. About you.”

The akumapon paused his quip he was about to speak. Typically this would be where the two would prod fun at each other and laugh off the danger, like any other time the other was harmed in a fight. They had both faced death and returned stronger from it, they could handle just about anything. This really wasn’t much different from a typical battle, so why the dire atmosphere?

The tone was all wrong. This was too serious for his liking, not a conversation he wanted to be apart of. He allowed himself to shrink further into the fabric draped around himself, gaze darting away from the tateton as he heard him clear his throat to continue.

“I know that you are--- Not used to being shown concern for your well being. Kharma did not treat you with much respect as a general and--- gods know how that star treated both you and Makoton as disposable pets. I just wish that you would not push yourself like you still need to prove you are worth belonging.”

“I thought you weren’t here to chastise me,” Kuwagattan muttered, trying desperately to chase away the pushing guilt and just get away from the subject, “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” Their eyes met for just a moment, “You know yourself best, after all, and you will follow any path you see fit. These….these are just my own worries and thoughts, especially after today. We all care an awful lot about you here, this isn’t like the akumapon tribe, not by a longshot. Perhaps not even like in our old territory, either.”

“They ‘care’, sure,” the beetle-helmed general huffed, sarcasm biting through that led to vague annoyance,“Whatever. You can go now.”

“I’m tired of you acting like you’re indestructable!” Came the snapping, surprisingly harsh tone thrown his way, “I did not track you down and face you alone over the bridge because I needed another soldier. I did it because you deserved to have a chance to do something other than be expected to waste your life in an unwinnable battle. You can act crude and sarcastic about the rest of them but you cannot say to my face that I don’t care or that I do not know what I am talking about.”

Kuwagattan paused before he could even will himself to utter a word. His arm twitched nervously as he thought of any comeback or way to guide this somewhere else. Away from the concept of his ever need to prove his strength to everyone and anyone. To avoid being soft.

...He had not wanted to push the one being in this camp that he truly tolerated enough to give even a fleck of vulnerability to, and the guilt clung uncomfortably heavy to him. He hated it. If he kept quiet, maybe the other would leave and things would go back to normal by morning. It had to, right?

Hands gripped the outer section of the almost sort-of cocoon he had made of the blanket, causing the akumapon to jolt slightly, gaze finally lowering to the other general. The glossy look in his eye had only increased, leading into a stray tear or two. This...wasn’t right. This was never how their conversations had ever gone in the past. Why was it like this now?

“Why won’t you let me help you?” The burst of anger had quickly turned into a pained, hurt tone that was trying to hold back a worse choke-up, “Why won’t you let anyone help you? I don’t want to lose you, not again. There’s so much left for you here.”

Kuwagattan waited for a further word, a snap that he was being foolish, how to fix it, how to plan better. Anything that he was used to hearing, maybe an odd saying or metaphor, but he was left with the silence. Any conversation had stilled, and the only real way he could tell the other wasn’t about to up and leave was still the tight grip held onto the fabric.

He’d rather be shouted at, questioned for his mindlessness, told not to be stupid and not to ruin a plan. Anything but being left with his own thoughts right now. The ever present worry of showing vulnerability or weakness, the fear that such would make him been seen as not as worthy as others. That if he was not always striving to crush his foes that they would up and walk over him. Or that those he was told to defend would up and leave.

The presence of what a second death might mean, and that the slightest of hesitation could bring that upon him.

It didn’t make sense. Not at all. To be encouraged to feel anything other than a dull rage, an urge to fight for a tribe that insisted it was in everyone’s best interest. He wasn’t good at having a choice, he just fell back into his old habits of defending without much thought.

Yet it had also grown so differently here. More open. Friendlier.

And he couldn’t handle such.

It felt like a ploy to get him to care, to feel like he could simply be without having to defend his worth at every angle. To be vulnerable to strike his pride down and lose everything he had begun to work for. He had been shown enough that leaders did not care for him, and that most of a tribe would not remember his name.

...He hated this. He hated it.

His body shuddered instinctively. His views had been challenged and though he had thought once or twice about it, he still had kept himself shut off. He wasn’t allowed to care so much like this. He couldn’t figure out why, in the end, that he wasn’t allowed to. It was just how it had always been before.

Kuwagattan had often thought of letting himself simply be... it just never made any sense. Clearly, if this was all he had ever known and been taught, it was all he was.

Without his gruff attitude, rage, and strength…What would be left of him then? A shell? A stranger?

...Would he like to be a stranger? Something different? Not wholly different, mind you, but with less of a bite towards those that only meant him well. What would he have to really leave behind to do such?

He wasn’t sure. He hated himself for being so unsure.

His body shuddered again, and with that his eye watered without being able to mask it, nor stop it from happening. ...He would succumb to this weakness. For now. He was being shown vulnerability from his companion, it was possibly only fair to do the same. He...did not want to lose his second life, either. Not now that he had more of a choice, whatever it may be.

It was more of an involuntary motion, but the akumapon made no conscious effort to stop himself as he lowered slightly, pressing his face halfway against the base of the smaller general’s helm, fur brushing across his face softly. Familiar, comforting almost.

“...I’m sorry,” His speech was so much softer than he anticipated, almost foreign to himself despite it being clearly his own voice, “I’m...I’m no good at all of this...Changing, I mean.”

“...You’ve certainly come further than I’m sure you thought you would,” Gong’s response was barely audible, muffled as he adjusted himself a bit more comfortably, “You would not have admitted to this in the past.”

He wouldn’t have. He was sure of that. The general wouldn’t have even questioned for a second that he had done anything wrong, that what he was doing was anything but correct. Yet, here he was. Feeling guilt for causing worry. Something he once never even gave a second thought to, since worry thrown his way was so rarely shown. And even then, it was less personal and more of a worry of losing numbers and strength.

This. This was much different. More personal.

Kuwagattan should’ve expected as much, he had heard the term friend spoken to him a few times here and there, but the concept never really stuck. That someone would really want him around.

He wasn’t sure if he would often set aside his pride and facade like this. But, he wanted it to stick this time around. That he also cared, that he understood the risk and the worry. That the effort spent on him wasn’t in vain.

It was just showing it that made it so difficult.

“Yeah I guess so,” The pause he took in the middle of his sentence was unusual. He typically thought of his responses quickly, this was so much slower, “I-- I do appreciate what you say to me. It’s just hard to….accept it...I guess. I don’t know.”

“I understand, of course I do...You were not taught well. I should have been there more to help before.”

There was a twinge of anger. Not at Gong, not in the slightest, just the wording, the self put blame. The other general did this far too often with others. A blame that he is always the last line to catch a disaster before it happens.

...Both of them were pushed to be something more than just a general. He vaguely understood the worry with the zigoton tribe. They needed a strong leader when their queen was not enough, and she sought after strength as well to keep enemies at bay. They hadn’t seen something quite as dangerous before. Thus, the two were set up from the beginning for such.

After that...that was when he felt any comprehension ended.

With a sigh, he moved one arm from his cocoon of blanket, using it to pull Gong in closer to himself. It was the only real comforting thing he could think of other than words.

He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work. He was never one for comforting or to be comforted.

“...Not everything is your problem, you know,” Kuwagattan muttered softly, “Nor should you make it your issue. Things can just be.”

“Hm, and yet I still feel as though, if I had done better-”

“...What difference would it have made anyways? It would’ve played out nearly the same.”

“I suppose you��re right. At least here, there was a chance to set things right.”

A chance to set things right. He understood that, at least, when he was first asked what he truly believed in. He wasn’t ever really able to answer that question before. Maybe he believed in this world being saved to use that second chance better than he had so far.

It wouldn’t make sense to leave it behind in ruins. Not really.

“Yeah. I guess,” the akumapon flinched slightly when a hand came up to flatten a bandage that had become bunched up on his side, “I think--- I think once things are back to normal I can focus on--- I don’t know. Figuring things out.”

“Of course. I can’t imagine the stress has been good for anyone’s thoughts.”

“...But if I let myself go –ugh--- soft….What would be left of me then? This is all I have.”

There was a slight shift in movement, followed by a much calmer laugh and a soft pat to his forehead.

“Changing does not mean you’ll lose all parts of yourself,” Gong responded, tone having changed from the hurt he had heard before, “Besides. Whatever you become, I’m sure you’ll be alright in the end. Give yourself some credit, my friend.”

“Hm. You think so?” The idea of still being himself was a comforting thought, being a complete stranger to himself was….Too much, “Think we’ll still be friends by then?”

“I’m very certain of such. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The akumapon gave an amused snort, quirking his brow in question with a ‘grin’, “All of them? You sure?”

“If you want me to be there, then yes.”

“Well, remember that when you get sick of me then! You’re stuck with me now,” It was odd to feel more at ease as he tightened his arm around the other just slightly.

“And you, General Kuwagattan, are stuck with me. We are both equally stubborn, you know.”

Oh yes, the akumapon was very very aware of such, if previous conversations and sharing of views was anything to go by. Admirable at times, for the both of them he presumed. To be passionate for something, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was so passionate about.

...

“Y’know, Gong…I’m really glad you’re here.”

#Writings (oneshots)#Stubborn Beetle (Kuwagattan)#Wise General (Gong)#Loyal Almighty (Calle)

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