#its always burnt.... maybe i need a new kind of coffee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spgothkidsheadcanons · 2 years ago

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hi:) making a request for a henrietta x goth lesbian reader!! they’re all hanging out and the boys are silently fighting over the reader, but the moment henrietta makes a move, the reader like IMMEDIATELY shows interest.

I LOVE HENRIETTA SO MUCH IF SHE WERE REAL ID MARRY HER

This was so funny. It kinda gives a little more backstory of my headcanons of them and being grown up.

~~~~~

It had been too long since the goths had actually been around each other. Everyone dispersed after highschool, and with the parting of ways came the familiar drifting of friendships. Not that they didn’t speak with each other, but they only spoke once or twice a month, usually to inform each other of how adult life was going and how their careers were. Michael was the lead singer in a band, Henrietta was an indie model/aspiring clothes designer and Pete was a semi-popular painter with a healthy sized following, and each of them hardly had anytime to follow through with their plans on being close until the end. Which was okay, because they’ve settled on monthly meetings back in their hometown just to catch up.

Pete was the first to arrive seeing as he stayed in South Park. He shared a house with his uncle and saw no point in moving away. Too nervous for big cities and too lazy to go to college, he stayed in his quaint little town, going about his daily life as usual and never complaining, happy to stay where he’s comfortable.

Michael was second, seeing as he moved just a few cities away. He ended up in Denver, Colorado, a large but humble town. There is where he found a few people who needed a singer for their band, and he applied and forgot about it. After getting the job and releasing an album or 2, their band, The Velvet Pulse, began to rise up the chart, and Michael was satisfied with his future.

Henrietta was the last to arrive. After graduating, she moved to Los Angeles, California to pursue a career in fashion design. There was never a large variety of gothic clothes that she could wear comfortably, so she decided to start her own brand. She picked up modeling for some indie clothes brand on the side, finally content with her life.

They met at the Benny’s, as they always did. Everything still looked the same, the wall behind their normal booth still stained yellow from their underage smoking habits, remnants of the times they were the closest with each other. The lights were still obnoxiously bright, the menus were sticky, the coffee burnt. It was disgusting to outsiders, but to the Goths who had come back after so many years away, it was home. Michael sat beside Pete, Henrietta in the bench across from them. The trio were happy to finally be back together, even if they only had 5 days to visit.

“And then we went to New York, and kinda traveled down the east coast.” Michael was telling the two others of how his current tour was going. “The only reason I’m here is because after our show in Atlanta, I kind of maybe snuck away and got on a flight over here. The bus is on its way back, but I wanted to go ahead so I could spend a few days back home before it got here.” he finished, taking a swig of his black coffee. Pete and Henrietta smiled, greatful that the tall goth was still humble. “So when you said you were joining a band, did you expect for it to take off?” Pete asked, lifting his own mug to his lips. Michael shook his head, brows furrowed in thought.

“Not really, but I didn’t care for the fame. I was honestly just bored and sent in an application. Don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative for where we are now, but I do hate not being able to go in public anymore.” Michael lamented, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s the price you pay, though.” he added, looking down at his cup. “Well, I’m very proud of you,” Henrietta said, shooting a smile at the man, “And Pete, I’m proud of you. Your art is amazing. I’ve been keeping up with your posts on instagram and I’m always blown away.” she turned towards the red and black headed goth. Pete grinned shyly, his cheeks turning red over the compliment. “Thanks, Henri. That means a lot. How are things going with your business?” Pete asked in return. “It’s going, that’s for sure. I started selling some of my finished clothing to some boutiques in LA, and that’s really taken off. Overall, I’m pretty happy about how things are going.” the woman replied, tracing patterns on the table infront of her.

The three continued chatting, not stopping even with the bustling of people around them. Every now and then, the old waitress, Betty, would come and refill their mugs. She had become timid in her older years, no longer fussing at the trio and acting cold to them for just drinking coffee anymore. Instead, she welcomed them warmly, seemingly happy to see her once annoying customers. “How are you kids?” she asked, stopping by their table for the 3rd or 4th time. They struck up conversation, reminiscing on how they used to act hostile towards each other, laughing about the good old days. “Well, I’m glad that you’re all back in town again. My niece is coming to work in a few minutes, she just started and I’m still training her. I hope you don’t mind if she stops by with me.” the waitress informed, before walking over to another table.

Michael, Pete and Henrietta dived back into their own conversation, once again not paying mind to anyone around them. They were absorbed in each other’s lives, wanting to know everything that one another was doing. They could have stayed like that for hours, drinking their bean water all day and all night. Well, that is, until they heard a timid voice that pulled them from their conversation. “Would you like some more coffee?”

The voice wasn’t the same as the old lady’s, and they all turned their attention to the person it came from. At the end of the table stood a young woman, no older than 22. Her (h/c) was pulled up away from her face, a few strands of loose hair falling against her forehead. Her eyes, warm and inviting, were a beautiful (e/c) hue, complimenting her (skin tone) skin. She wore the same blue waitress outfit, complete with a pair of white shoes. In her hand, she held a freshly brewed pot of coffee, a soft smile playing on her lips. Michael couldn’t take his eyes from her, and red began to creep over Pete’s cheeks. The pair stared at her, unable to find the words to talk, stricken by her beauty. Henrietta glared at the duo, a silent way of telling them that they looked like idiots and they needed to get it together.

“Yes, please, if you don’t mind.” the woman finally piped up, drawing her friends out of their love dazed states. The new waitress happily refilled their mugs, turning away from them and moving to the next table. Henrietta grabbed her coffee cup, bringing it up to her mouth. “You guys looked like complete idiots.” she noted, taking a sip of her drink. Now boths men were blushing, looking down at the table while mentally beating themselves up. “Dude, she was beautiful.” Michael finally said, coming to his senses. Pete could only nod, not being able to get her eyes out of his mind. Henrietta rolled her eyes, shaking her head at them.

“Would it be weird to ask for her number?” Michael asked, a grin crossing his face. Pete’s head snapped up at that, his eyes casting a glare to his taller friend. “I don’t think you should. She probably wouldn’t be interested in you.” the shorter male noted, drinking from his cup. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked defensively, his attention turning to Pete. The man shrugged in response, setting his cup down. “Well, you’re out on tour for months on end, you barely answer your phone as it is, I just don’t see how that would work out.” Pete replied, casting a glance to Michael. The curly haired ravenette raised his eyebrows incredulously, scoffing at his friend’s words. “Listen, you can be jealous or whatever, but I think I have a better chance with her than you do.” he noted, playing the same game Pete was. Michael’s retaliation only added fuel to the fire that was already forming, and soon, the two men were bickering quietly with each other, giving reasons as to why they would be better and reasons the other didn’t have the chance.

Henrietta sighed, her eyes rolling once again. While Michael and Pete were distracted with each other, the goth woman scanned the room, looking for the new waitress. Her eyes landed on the young woman behind the bar, washing dishes as she listened to the older waitress training her. Quietly, Henrietta slid out of the booth, not gaining attention of the two men who were still quietly arguing, and made her way to the bar. Perching herself on the seat infront of the two waitresses, she waited until they took notice of her at the bar.

It was only then that Michael and Pete had turned to Henrietta, wanting to see who she thought the waitress would pick, and noticing that the goth woman was gone. They looked to each other, brows furrowed before scanning the room. Hearing the familiar laughter of their friend, they both turned towards to the bar in time to see the young waitress writing something on a napkin, passing it to Henrietta before giving her a shy smile. The goth woman stood from the bar, walking back over to the booth where she was previously sat. The two males attentions were on her, watching as she nonchalantly picked up her cup, raising it to her lips. “The answer is neither of you. She’s a lesbian.” Henrietta smirked behind her cup, flashing the napkin the waitress had given her, a name and a phone number written in pink on the white paper. The men could only gawk, their cheeks turning red in embarrassment at the fact they acted like stray dogs fighting over a piece of meant. At the end of the night, they left, Michael and Pete having apologized to each other and now playfully giving the silent treatment to their female friend, who turned and shot the waitress a wink before leaving the building.

#sp goth kids #south park goth kids #south park headcanons #sp fanfiction #south park michael #sp michael #south park pete #sp pete #south park henrietta #sp henrietta #sp henrietta biggle #sp pete x reader #sp henrietta x reader #sp michael x reader

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rarijackistheshit · 2 years ago

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Writing prompt:

"Once I tried to save you. Now, I'd rather watch you burn.

We have this really old and really bad coffee machine at work. Now, that's not really unique for any company. A friend of mine works as a consultant, meaning that she spends an unhealthy amount of time in other offices than her own. She grades her coffee on a 20 grade scale, because she claims that you need to be that precise and that a 1 on a 1 to five scale isn’t low enough to describe some of the atrocities she has tasted.

Now, this story isn’t about her, really, but it is a fun anecdote and always an icebreaker at lunch tables. So many people have opinions about coffee, I once spent an hour discussing…

Okay, this isn’t about that either. It's about him.

Him in the meaning him. Him, in Sloane who works three cubicles down from me. I may walk a bit slower as I pass him on my way to the printer. Or the bathroom. And I may find way to many reasons to talk to Kae the manager about work place issues. Because HE sits just a few yards from her office. Perhaps he will hear me and think that I sound intelligent and that I care about our work place. And maaaybe I have been choosing the vegetarian alternative just a bit more often lately because he usually goes with that. Okay okay, I have a severe crush on my coworker. Sue me.

And he is 3… maybe he's a bit younger than me… But he is so damn cute. And he has that kind of smile that means "I haven’t given up on the world yet." And he has pun mugs, one with the text "espresso yourself" and another with "Love you a latte". And I have seen him at the gym wearing a my little pony t-shirt without shame.

Few men can wear that tee and make it work. I bet that Richard Ayoade could do it.

He has begun to grow a five o clock shade, He looks a bit like Richard Ayoade but without glasses.

AND he's single. (Yes, I have tried poly. I'm all for it, but it wasn't my thing. Sorry Kae.)

As you may have understood I haven't exactly gotten around to talk to him, we only share workspace.

But I have a plan. You know what the call me? Stan the coffee man.

My name isn't really stan, but it's close enough and I can accept that nick cause it rhymes and it's pretty fun.

And they don't call me that because I'm the one the force to bring everyone coffee, don't worry, it's not that kind of story. It's like this, I have my workplace close to the coffee machines. Yes, there is more than one.

And I am the master of them all.

The one on the left is the new one. It can produce 10 different varieties of coffee, all of them without any resemblance to the name that stands on the button. But the correct number of espressos with a touch of hot water is close to real coffee.

The one on the right has only three options.

Large coffee, small coffee and hot water.

The hot water is the product that is the best, however, that coffee is a 7 on the Catrina scale so it kinda works. With lots of milk. lots.

Then there's the one in the middle. The scrooge of coffee machines. What that one produces is nothing like coffee. It's hot and it's burnt and its dark, and if you call that coffee I call you a racist.

And that's not all the bullshit it brings you. The tray where you put your cup is loose and if you don't place the cup in the exact position, you end up with everything on your pants, and that is if you're lucky.

Who do you think knows when to remove your cup before the small coffee accidentally becomes a large one?

Who has the knowledge how many espressos you mix to get one good cup?

Who knows exactly where that position is on Scrooge?

You guessed it, Stan the coffee man.

I have made it my task to help newcomers. And boy, do they need it… I take their hand and lead them through our coffee breaks, making sure they don't die and stay focused. I teach them how and when to press or which signs to look for before the hot water tap turns your mug into a geysir. To name only two of my special skills. I take great pride in my work and I am good at it, if I may say so. But, with great power comes great responsibility. I neve refused to help anyone. Not even Boss Angie's wife who is an absolute brat and not worthy of our boss's love, even to her, I lend my expertise.

Except for one. I refuse to help Sloane. I sit in silence as he puts his punny mug on lefty, pushes one Button to few and make a face as he drinks it. I bite my lip as I watch him go to righty and removes the cup to late, I have to hold back my emotions every time I see his face scrunch up but I must not give in. Why, you ask? A bitter reminded that I can’t have nice things? A silent reprimand to him not reciprocating my feelings? Oh, far from it. I am waiting, you see.

He is smart. And intelligent. And sooo good looking and.

Ehrm.

Point is, he kinda knows lefty. And has a bit of knowledge about righty. So he gets his coffee there.

But.

One day he will have to try scrooge. One day lefty will be self-cleaning, at the same time as Janitor refills right. And I know what will happen. The tray will fall althouhj he will catch his cup before it breaks against the floor because that's the guy he is. Or maybe he has the right touch, and he will manage to push "coffee", but then he will put his cup to his lips and go "What the hell IS THIS?" Just like everyone else.

And then I will be there. I will be Swift. I will be helpful. I will be extremely untoxic and absolutely not mansplaining, I will be my best self. I will be "Yeah, scrooge here needs a bit of special handling. And even then, he can’t really produce good coffee. None of these machines can. But if you like coffee, I know this little place just around the corner? I can show you? Perhaps at lunch?"

It's a long shot. But if the stars are aligned right… Stan the coffee man will get all the right Buttons pressed.

And it will be just the right taste and very hot. A 18 on the catrina scale, minor

#writing #dialogue prompt #actually original for once.

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tubi505 · 1 year ago

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Fading Warmth

I wake to the sound of someone shifting in my bed. Sunlight pours into the room and my silk sheets move like waves of the ocean. Ironic, a huge storm rages in my head. I squint to see clearer, and like children opening their eyes to their first sight, the warm feeling of love in you stomach, I see him. A flash of memories speed past my eyes. Its all a blur. All just splashes of color and feelings; confusion. I rub my eyes and focus harder on the strangers features. He's mumbling something, something sweet, maybe he knows of my sweet tooth? No. I close my eyes again and shudder at how he's still mumbling.

I close my eyes and focus into the darkness, only for another rush. This time, I see clearer. Shapes are defined and I can feel my hands. A dark staircase lit by some dim light. I try to walk up the stairs, only for my knees to buckle and almost trip. My hands hold purchase of the railing and I pant. I sigh and look up to the source of light, a phone's flash light. Someone standing on the upper platform holding a phone. I try to call out to him, only to open my eyes again.

This time, the stranger has sat up on the bed. He looks at me kindly, gently. I shudder and open my mouth, no words escape my mouth, so I close my mouth and look at the ceiling instead. The stranger chuckles and I notice only now that he's holding a mug. It fits perfectly in his hands, like gloves. He holds it gently but firm enough that it doesn't spill onto my sheets. I sigh and reach out to his mug but pull back when I realize he's not mumbling anymore. He starts again. I think he believes he's coherent now, shame. I wish I make out the words, shame.

I gather all my strength and sit up next to him now. He reaches for my hand and I let him hold it. Its warm, his hands. Must be from the mug he was holding. He squeezes my hand lightly and I flinch. I can't look into his eyes. I can't look at him. I just stare at our hands. With hesitance, I interlock our hands. His lips form a thin line, then their corners lift. He whispers something, I refuse to listen. He cups my face, I close my eyes.

My hands still feel warm, someone's still holding my hand. Its late, I need to go home. But his hands feel warm, the kind of warm you get from drinking coffee in an autumn morning, so I stay. He leads the way, we're walking in a New York street. I don't remember which street, I follow him anyway. The streets are glassy with remnants of rain and the apartment window's lights reflect on it like lanterns. I shiver and look down at the ripples we cause as we walk. Its cold, I scoot closer to him, he holds me. I can't help but wonder if the red on his cheeks and ears is because of the cold or love. I shiver because of the cold and, realize its just another fading blur of a memory.

I open my eyes with a gasp and the warm on my hands have became a burn. I stare at the red tips of my finger and the tea on the table. I sigh and cool my hands off by washing the pain away with water. He leans on the counter next to me and sighs. He takes my burnt fingers and gently pecks them. My cheeks match my burnt finger's redness now. He smiles and picks my cup and passes it to me. I take it cautiously this time, careful not to burn my fingers again, and sip a bit --- Its still hot. Instead of letting my fingers linger on the cup, I raise them to push back a stray strand of his hair. I manage a tired smile and study his face. The warm grace of the Sun rests on his face and the corners of his lips are lifted . I feel jealous of how he always smiles sometimes, but remember he shares. He cups my cheek and caresses my lip with his thumb. I let my eyes wander around his lips and his neck, then look away guiltily. He redirects my sight again by holding my chin and makes me look at his eyes, and pointing to his lips. I blush and lean in.

Lean in and trip and almost fall. We're shoved out the bar and I trip on my own feet. If he didn't grab my arms, I would've fallen on my face. He's giggling, face flushed from the amount of alcohol we drank. I hold up the bottle of Barolo I sneaked and chuckle. His eyes widen and he laughed louder. He pats my back and steadies himself and tries to help me stand straighter, only for me to continue babbling and swaying from side to side. He pauses and sighs. I pause too, worried I've drank away his patience, so I slowly offer the bottle of wine to him. He chuckles, shaking his head, and lifts me. I kick at the air and giggle loudly. The residents probably woke up from the noisy chortles we had made , but all I could hear was the thumping of my heart, his light ones, and our laughter. My stomach begin to hurt from how much I laughed and I didn't bother covering my smile anymore. He pulls me in and pecks my cheek. I giggle and point to my lips. He pecks me there too. Satisfied, I jump out of his hold, drink a bit of the wine, and insist he drink some too. He takes a swing and gives the bottle back to me. I feel the bottle in my hands. Smooth and slightly heavy, perfect for swings. And cold, cold not like the breeze of starless nights or soda on summer days. Its cold like... ice, ice on your skin. Cold enough for you to shiver, cold enough to burn you, cold enough for it to numb your fingers.

Cold. Who left the windows open? No, its the balcony. The balcony doors are open and I stare at the figure looking out into the New York night. Many of the flashy billboards and apartment lights have disappeared. The breeze still stays though, cutting through the air onto your cheeks like a knife. I walk up to the figure in my balcony, and smile when its just him. I join him at studying the night and notice he's drinking wine. I lean onto the railing and take the glass from him. His hands brush over mine and I guess he must have been here for more than just a while because of how cold his knuckles felt. He sighs shakily and rubs his hands. I take them and put them in my pockets. His eyes widen slightly, zoning in and out. Its always been bittersweet, like coffee. I used to hate it but can't get enough out it now. Everything feels as if its slowed down now. Most of the lights are nothing but a dark shadow of what it was and the lively chatter of the people reduced to murmur every now and then. My heart's in my throat, words would choke out so I let my eyes speak. His breath hitches, he takes his hands out, and holds me instead.

Its cold, but you are my Sun.

#light angst #oneshot #Drabble

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katyavinogradov · 5 months ago

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Silk sheets brushed against freshly waxed legs, sunlight pouring through the chiffon curtains blowing gently in the wind. Usually, when the sun was just rising, her floor-to-ceiling windows towered high, the sky painted different colours every single day. However, this morning, the smell of burnt coffee awoke her, cramming its way up her nose. The clambering sound of metal in the kitchen was jarring, as she squinted away the sleep that had found a home in the corner of her eyes.

It only took a moment to orient herself before she remembered exactly where she was.

Pushing thin sheets off her toned, naked body, she was quick to collect her clothes that were littered around the room in various places. She never stayed over; it was against the damn rules. Aware that whatever sound was coming from the kitchen was a man preparing her breakfast. And she...no, didn't want to stay. A check of her watch told her it was seven a.m, which meant Jason would have to leave for work soon.

The excuse was enough, she thought, yanking last night’s dress up her slender frame, trying to detangle her white blonde hair in any way that she could. A smudge of black mascara lay embedded beneath her lower lid, a reminder of how she’d ended up here. Again.

Katya had plans later, important ones, and that meant she needed to get home and begin the routine of scrubbing off the night before from her body. Slowly, step by step, as light as a mouse, she tiptoed down the stairs. But her luck had run out.

"Oh, you're up," Jason called, two plates in hand, causing her to jump with a squeal.

Just like a fucking mouse. “Fucking hell, Pizda.” Katya muttered under her breath. The smell had her stomach rumbling. She was hungry. Famished even. But there were some rules she just wasn't meant to break. Not to live the lifestyle that she had. She forced a smile, trying to ignore the pang of hunger that was currently waging war on her stomach. “I didn’t want to disturb you. I have, you know, busy day ahead,” edging closer to the door. It didn’t take her long to see the disappointment pooling in those doe-like orbs.

Jason’s eyes searched hers, almost as if he was begging for a different answer. Not today, my friend. “I made breakfast. Thought we could enjoy it together before we both head out.”

“I appreciate it, really. But I have to go. Early meeting,” the lie rolled off her tongue so smoothly, it should’ve almost been sickening, inching towards the exit again.

“Alright. Okay, yeah. Maybe next time.” Jason said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Maybe,” she echoed, knowing full well there wouldn’t be a next time. Not if she could help it.

Katya Vinogradov slipped out the door in South Kensington to the usual manic London streets, the cool morning air slapping her face with a whip. British weather was never one to assume: it was as bipolar as half the people in this damn city. It didn’t take long for her Uber to arrive before she was heading home.

The city streets blurred into a piece of art that transfixed her gaze.

It’d be the same routine as always: shower, workout, lunch, promo on her Instagram—there was a new nightclub opening up downtown. Owned by the other place she worked at from time to time, kind of. But the promo did good for her business, and for that, she was thankful. Much to her father’s chagrin. He wanted complete control over the content she posted, and for the most part, he could veto anything if he truly wished to do so.

The joys of being a Russian Diplomat’s daughter.

The arrival home had her relaxing a fraction. Not long before, she was downing coffee and smoking a cigarette out the window as she tapped away. Three calls, five appointments pencilled in for the week and she was napping: this was how her days went. Leisurly. Not always this relaxed, of course, but none the less.

Anything to stay in England, anything not to go back to Russia.

Some time later, makeup perfected, dress in place and her hair swept back: she was ready to go. In all honesty, she'd been so busy all day she hadn't allowed herself much time to think about what was to occur within the next hour. To be in a room of people who'd seen her at her strongest, and wondered, if they knew what she did now, how they'd react. But it was a tightly kept secret, only her clients and her intermin manager knew anything about her said business. And it'd stay that way.

Black stillettos echoed against smooth pavement, pushing out of the car, eyes slowly trcing up at the front of the Grove. Beautiful, as it always was: she came here more than she would ever feel the need t tell them. Especially Xavier. The itch for a smoke tugged, however, she swallowed it down.

Once inside, it became a whirlwind of conversation, old faces reinvoking memories of a past that felt oh so long ago. When had they last all been in a room together? Well, almost all. As adults, their schedules had never aligned as they had when they'd been members of The Rose.

The moment she walked inside, her phone buzzed, once, then twice...thrice. Annoyingly so, because her phone was meant to be diverted. There was momentary panic, had one of her clients seen her here? Katya pushed it down, especially when he friends came into sight.

One second it was calm, and the next -- it was what it always had been. Hugs, laughter, family. It'd been so long since that lonely had been chased away, not numbed by alcohol to feel something. The way Katya smiled, though, told a story of a girl who was enjoying her socialite lifestyle. The photos she posted on her instagram did exactly what she needed them to, and showed her life.

Her digital one.

"It's good to see you."

By the time the conversation had began to quiten, excitment relaxing somewhat, she found her way to the bathroom. In all honesty, it was a moment of peace. Until she felt Xavier's presence. Watched him, observed, turning, watching, a small smile tugging on the corner of her lip, a difference to a usually stoic and harsh expression she wore.

In, out. She didn't dawdle, ever. However, her exit had her running back in to the man who'd been on her mind since she arrived. Like seeing a ghost, except this one didn't haunt her. It was a comfort, like an old dream. A moment alone, to talk, before the rest came gallivanting in as they always did. She peaked a glance to where the rest had congrigated and nodded.

"I think that's the best idea you've had thus far, Penaud." knocking her head towards the doors. "I haven't had chance to question you myself, yet." the russian twang always heavier when she was playful. Although dialled up when she needed to work.

She didn't wait for a response, as she turned on her heel, with a flash of a smile over her shoulder. Just as she would've done in the halls of The Rose all those years ago. "Quick, we might be late to class." something they might've said to each other once upon a time, when their worst fears was scoring bad on a test they'd crammed for. Oh to be twenty again.

Katya soon took down the steps, a smoke already between her fingers as the flame came to life, the end burning from orange to red. The clamour of a smaller group of middle aged couples coming huddled together as they joked and boistered. When they'd been young adults, they had always been the loudest, but always the most fun to be around.

"Your cigarettes look like they're about to fall apart. Want one of these? I thought you were rich, what's with the homeless boy act -- this is pathetic. Crushed cigarettes, Ridikulos" the final word slipping out from her mother tongue, but a smile crept in, unable to stop it. "You look good, Xavier."

The rugby pitch stretched out like a battlefield under the waning afternoon sun, its green expanse dotted with the moving forms of high school players engaged in the rough dance of the game. Xavier stood at the sidelines, his frame sturdy but subtly bowed by the years and the burdens he carried. His eyes, sharp yet softened by time, tracked every pass, every tackle, his body subtly tensed as if ready to spring into action, even though his playing days were far behind him.

His fingers, traced the familiar contours of scar tissue around his knee. It was an unconscious habit, a physical manifestation of the memories that flickered behind his eyes. The scar was a memento of a different time, a different life—seventeen minutes into his professional debut, a cruel twist of fate had ended his career. An ACL tear, they called it in English. A simple term for something that shattered dreams and left scars, both seen and unseen.

On the bench beside him, a well-worn copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh lay open, its pages creased and edges yellowed. He had been reading it during setup, lost in the familiar yet ancient world. The epic resonated with him; the ancient battles, the war cries, the honour—these were themes that had initially drawn him to the game, much like the tales that had captivated him in childhood. After setting aside the sticks used in duels with his sister, he discovered in rugby a new outlet for his adventurous spirit.

"Hold the line, boys! Keep pushing!" Xavier's voice, still laced with his French accent, boomed across the field. He was not just a coach but a mentor, a warrior still fighting, albeit through his players. The sounds of the game—the thud of bodies colliding, the scrape of cleats against turf—were a symphony of strength and strategy. He called out plays, his mind a tactical map, his body almost moving with the players as if the game were an extension of himself.

As his assistant blew the final whistle, signalling the end of practice, Xavier called the boys to hit the showers and instructed Marcus to ensure they did. He then gathered his belongings and embarked on the familiar forty-minute drive back to London. The journey was a mix of movement and reflection, the car's engine humming softly as he changed gears and let his thoughts wander. The day's physical and emotional efforts culminated in a persistent ache in his knee, a reminder of the injury that had been his constant companion for nearly a decade now.

He arrived home to a clean, modern apartment, its minimalist design starkly contrasted by his collection of medieval art and weaponry. The warmth of the space stood against the chill that had begun to seep into his bones. The cold in London felt different from the winters he remembered in France—deeper, clinging to his very marrow. Shedding his coat, he made his way to the bathroom.

In the shower, steam enveloped Xavier, yet the persistent ache in his knee persisted. He stood there, allowing the water to cascade over his body, while his thoughts drifted to the past and the friends he was about to reunite with. Would they hold it against him for not keeping in touch? He had stayed close with Adam and Jessica, but that was largely due to their proximity and shared faith. He hoped not.

Despite the season, he dressed in layers, choosing a coat more out of habit than necessity. The pain in his knee flared up again, prompting a mental note to take another pill. He swallowed it dry and then stared at his reflection in the mirror, watching as the pain dulled, allowing him to gather himself and walk out the door.

The Grove was a familiar haunt, a place that echoed with the laughter and camaraderie of old friends. Xavier arrived to find Harry and Katya mingling outside, his face lighting up at the sight of them. The customary cheek kisses were exchanged, a cultural gesture as ingrained in him as the verses of the French anthem. Then Don appeared, pulling him into a hearty embrace that made Xavier's smile grow broader.

He withdrew his attention after Don shifted his focus to Will, and it was then that Xavier noticed a woman nearby struggling to light her cigarette. He paused, offering a steady hand and a lighter, a small act that elicited a grateful smile from her. Returning to his friends, he brushed off their playful teasing about his attire. "London never agrees with me," he chuckled, his accent blending softly between French and English. "Now, let's go find the others." Assuming they were at the bar, he figured he would have been there earlier if he had arrived sooner.

Inside The Grove, warmth enveloped Xavier, a stark contrast to the cold outside. He spotted Orson and Charlotte at the bar and pulled them into hugs, their familiar presence comforting. Glancing at his watch, he expected the booth he reserved to be ready by now. "I'll get the first round," he offered, his voice reflecting the confidence of someone accustomed to such gestures.

Leaning over the bar, his rugby-honed muscles effortlessly lifted a round of ales. The weight was negligible compared to weights he'd lifted with his boys earlier, and he navigated through the bustling crowd with practiced ease, delivering the drinks to the table where Jessica and Adam had joined the group. Respecting the priest's collar, he extended a hand first, a gesture from his Catholic upbringing. He greeted Jessica warmly in their customary Burgundy manner before settling into the spare chair at the now-full booth.

The banter flowed easily, a reminder of simpler times before life's trials had weighed so heavily. It was easy to lose himself in the camaraderie, momentarily forgetting the reality of his physical limitations and the pressing need of his bladder.

"The Church pays for the next round."

Excusing himself, Xavier headed to the bathroom, the ache in his knee intensifying with each step. Inside, he relieved himself and then leaned against the sink, the pain demanding his attention. Fumbling for his pills, frustration washed over him as they slipped from his shaky hands into the sink, disappearing down the drain.

"Putain," he muttered, anger coursing through him as he hurled the empty bottle across the tiled room. There was no label to call anyone to his attention. He was going to have to to call his supplier again. With that concern on his mind, he stepped out of the bathroom and accidentally collided with Katya in the narrow hallway. His apology was swift and automatic, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady her. After ensuring she regained her balance, he ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his sleeves around his elbows, seeking any sense of composure that had recently left him.

Considering a momentary escape, a thought crossed his mind. With a hint of a smile, he pulled a cigarette packet from his pants, waving the crushed packet teasingly in front of Katya's face. "Time for a breather?" he asked, the irony not lost on him as he sought a moment of quiet, a brief escape from the weight of the pain digging into his knee.

#i: persephone's zemblanity #feat. orson marlowe #feat. charlotte hastings #feat. donaghy langford #feat. william hamstead #feat. xavier peanud #feat. sophie dlamini #feat. harry lyndon #location: the grove #location: london

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searidings · 3 years ago

Note

hi, i just love you and your writing

can i suggest something - you are in love (taylor swift) and supercorp

i cannot listen to that song without going yeah, that's them

(also on ao3 if you prefer)

Five years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, five years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which is as close as Lena's come to happiness since she'd woken up ziptied to a chair in her brother's office. This moment which, despite the fuzzy feeling of her unbrushed teeth and the pungent aroma of burnt toast filling the air, is perfect.

Kara, bed-warm and sleep-heavy, is gazing beseechingly down at the charred remains of a slice of a bread as though if she only pouts hard enough, its edges will un-blacken and its corners will stop smoking.

“I'm so sorry,” she says as Lena rounds the screen separating Kara's bedroom from the rest of the apartment and perches herself on a barstool, tugging her borrowed sleep shorts a little lower down her thighs.

Kara's tone is mournful, her face so forlorn she looks to be one deep breath away from tears. “I wanted breakfast to be perfect, since it's your first time staying over and if it's terrible you might not want to stay again and I, I really want you to stay again, but I don't know why you would since you probably have a private chef waiting for you at home and I can’t even manage toast—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupts, biting at the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Kara's bottom lip trembles. “It's fine, really. I once set fire to my dorm kitchen trying to boil an egg. And besides,” she winks as blue eyes meet hers. “I like to give my personal chef the weekends off.”

Kara huffs out a relieved chuckle, her face brightening. “Oh, well, in that case,” she grins, a sparkle returning to her eyes. “I'd better feed you up before you go home. Never let it be said that I don't look after you.”

Lena can't help the smile that pulls at her as the warm bright feeling in her chest grows and grows. She tugs the sleeves of Kara's sweatshirt over her hands, fighting the urge to fidget as the blonde orders a frankly obscene amount of food from the brunch place on the corner.

She feels exposed like this, face bare and hair sleep-mussed, unshowered with unbrushed teeth, huddled inside borrowed clothes after the impromptu invitation to stay over when last night's movie marathon ran late. It's a far cry from the regimented composure she fights so hard every day to project, and something in her chest twists anxiously.

Kara is a reporter, after all, and National City really doesn't need any more reasons to hate Lena right now. The darkest corner of her mind – the one which has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to come crashing down ever since the whirlwind of Kara's too-good-to-be-true friendship had come blazing into her life – still worries that this may all be an elaborate ruse. A trap, a way to get close to her in order to assess her weaknesses, to bring her down with an inside scoop.

But in their six months of friendship, Kara's never given her any reason to believe she has any kind of ulterior motive. And despite the suspicions and anxieties hammered into her by a lifetime of hurt, Lena knows now that even if this is a trap, she'll take the bait willingly. Especially if it means Kara will keep looking at her like there might just be something in Lena that's worth her time.

"Hey,” the blonde says gently, leaning back against the counter opposite and pinning Lena with a searching look. “You okay? You kind of zoned out on me there.”

Lena jumps, blinking back into herself with a start. “Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”

The blonde only smiles, flicking on the coffee machine at her elbow. “You sleep okay?”

“Very well, thank you,” Lena answers, fighting to lessen the formality of her tone, to soften the edges her harsh childhood had sharpened into a fortress to keep the world at bay. “Your bed is surprisingly comfortable. I had a great night's sleep.”

"Perhaps the company had something to do with it,” Kara winks as she turns to pull two mugs down from the hooks at her shoulder. Lena thinks back to the smell of Kara's sheets and the soft pulls of her breathing, to the warmth of Kara's ankle against her calf and the strong fingers that had wrapped themselves in the sleeve of Lena's sweatshirt in sleep, anchoring them together. She blushes.

Kara only smirks, pouring their drinks and grabbing the milk from the fridge. “Well, the food's all ordered, it should be here soon,” she says over her shoulder, the waterfall of her golden ponytail mesmerising in the bright rays of morning light filtering in through the vaulted windows. “And you don't need to head off in a hurry, unless you have plans—?”

She glances back at Lena, who shakes her head. “Great!” she grins. “’Cause I was thinking, maybe we could check out the botanical gardens, since it's such a nice day? Oh, and there's a new bakery right across the street that I've been dying to try—”

Lena listens to the blonde's excited rambling with an endeared smile plastered to her face, feeling happy and warm and wanted with every fibre of her being. The feeling is new but so welcome she could cry, and Lena wonders – not for the first time – how she ever got so lucky.

Kara's presence in her life is like sugar in her coffee; meant only to sweeten that which has always been bitter.

Lena's always taken her coffee black. Softening the blow was never much her style.

But here, now, perched at Kara's breakfast bar with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug the blonde has brewed to perfection, sunlight streaming in and highlighting the angles and planes of Kara's face, the way she’s smiling at Lena like there's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be, she realises her reasoning is twofold.

Sugar isn't just appetising. It's addictive. And now that Lena's had a taste of sweetness, she's hooked.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

Four years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, four years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which may well be one of the lowest of Lena's life. And she's had some doozies.

The two bottles of wine she'd managed to mainline between Sam leaving to orchestrate damage control at L-Corp and Kara arriving and attempting to confiscate her glass have well and truly caught up to her now. She sways heavily on her stool, the room spinning. Tears sting her vision and guilt scorches her throat as she presses a hand over her eyes so she won't have to look at Kara's face anymore.

“Please, just— just, stop believing in me, okay?” she slurs, heart full to shattering with the faces of lead-poisoned children. “I am not worth it.”

She hears Kara sigh, and the room falls silent for a long long time. Lena drops her head fully into her hands, fighting the nausea that's taken root in the pit of her stomach. It could be the booze that's causing it, of course, but it could also be the incessant headlines baying for her blood, the bullet James had taken for her that she'd fully deserved, the curse of her family finally fulfilling itself.

The guilt, the worry, the crushing disappointment of the knowledge that despite her very best efforts, she'll never be anything but a monster— it's too much to feel. It's too much to bear.

So, Lena drinks.

She drains her glass. She pours another. Kara watches, silent and disapproving, fingers twitching against the granite countertop between them.

Lena finishes her glass. Splashes the last dregs of the bottle into it, blood on ice. Still Kara watches, motionless and mute. It's only when Lena's swallowed the last of the red and is lurching unsteadily to her feet to source another that she moves, a hand reaching out to encircle her wrist.

Shame ignites beneath her skin and she pushes Kara away. Snaps at her to go home, to learn to recognise a lost cause when she sees one and just give up already. Kara refuses with a stoic shake of her head, and Lena sighs.

They repeat the same routine three times en route to Sam's wine rack, the blonde shadowing her every step. Each time, Lena wobbles, head fuzzy and room spinning. Each time, Kara steadies her, and Lena flinches from her touch like her palm is a brand, snarls at her to leave, to cut her losses, to just fuck off. Each time, Kara refuses.

She eventually retrieves the wine after a number of unsuccessful attempts but overbalances on her toes, bottle slipping from her grip as she sways dangerously. And then Kara is there, glass bottle caught a split second before it can shatter, a firm arm at her waist that will not be rebuffed.

Lena struggles, shoving and protesting, but this time Kara does not give in. “Enough,” she says quietly, firmly, blue eyes burning a mere inch from Lena's own. “Lena, enough.”

Lena's unsteady legs buckle further and Kara’s basically holding her up now, walking her slowly over to the couch and she shouldn't be this strong, surely, shouldn't be lifting Lena onto the cushions quite this easily. But it's such a minor concern when weighted against the fact that Lena is personally responsible for the hospitalisation of children that her mind brushes over it, forgets it immediately.

"Please go home,” she slurs as the blonde arranges her on the couch, as she stashes the unopened wine far out of reach and sets about finding blankets and pillows in various cupboards. “Please, just— leave me alone.”

“No,” Kara says, almost snaps, glancing back over her shoulder. Partially hidden in the linen cupboard, her face is cast deep in shadow, a splinter of half-concealed truth. “I made you a promise, I gave you my word. I'm your friend, and I will protect you. Always.”

She crosses back to the couch, soft blankets and pillows held out in invitation. When Lena refuses the offering Kara sighs, draping a knitted throw over her anyway and perching on the cushions beside Lena's hip. “I'm not going to leave you, so you might as well stop asking,” she hums, softer now, a hand reaching toward her that Lena no longer possesses the strength or coordination to bat away.

Long fingers make contact with her cheek, with the mussed curls tangling in her eyelashes, and Kara sighs. “You are not your brother,” she murmurs, fingertips grazing Lena's cheekbone, sliding back to thread into the fine hair at her temple. “And you never will be. There's too much light in you to allow for that kind of darkness, so put that fear down, Lena. Let it go. Be free of it.”

Tears spring unbidden to her eyes. “I poisoned children.”

Kara tilts forward and Lena wonders if it's just that her vision has upped its spinning, but then warm lips are pressing against her forehead, soft and delicate as gossamer wings. Kara's mouth moves against her skin, breath damp and sweet and unmistakeably her. “You saved the world.”

Neither one of them moves. When Lena speaks again, the words hit the elegant hollow of Kara's throat. “I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve you.”

Kara's lips are still on her forehead. “I don't care.”

Lena feels as if her throat is splitting open, every last fear and hatred and worry and insecurity gushing out of her in an unstoppable stream. “I'm scared.”

“I know.” Kara's lips press once more, and then withdraw. They watch each other in the dim light from the kitchen. Lena's vision is beginning to blur at the edges. Kara's hand is still in her hair.

“You will get through this,” the blonde whispers, so earnest Lena almost manages to believe her. “We'll figure it out. Together.”

Heart in her mouth, tongue sticking behind her teeth, Lena's eyes slide closed.

The sweetness of Kara's words, her gentle touches, seep inside her like honey. She doesn't deserve it but God, she wants it. She wants to be worthy of Kara's faith in her more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. She wants Kara more than she's ever wanted anything in her life.

And it's telling, she knows, that she's just lost the trust of all of National City, that she has no way of easing those children's suffering and no way to prove that she isn't the cause of it, that she's finally living up to the Luthor name she's been running from ever since she'd learned what it truly meant and yet in this moment, with Kara's hand in her hair and the ghostly imprint of her lips on Lena's skin, none of it seems to matter.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

Three years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, three years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which stands alone as an oasis of calm in the turbulent tumult of the past days, weeks, months of chaos. Lex's escape from custody, Eve Teschmacher's betrayal, James’ shooting, the Harun-El serum, the whole shitty totality of it all has been weighing Lena down like an nth metal chain around her neck.

And Kara, Kara hasn't been around. The one person who has always managed to ease Lena's suffering has deserted her when she needs her the most and it feels like she's been sliced open, cracked in two.

She tells her as much, when Kara at last comes to see her. Tells her she's missed her, tells her she needs her, all but begs her to stay. And what does Kara do? She leaves.

And when she leaves, Lena is gripped by a panic so intense she fears she may never breathe freely again. So terrified is she that Kara is gone for good, that she's forced away the best thing that's ever happened to her, that almost before she knows what's happening she finds herself at Catco with apologies dripping from her own tongue.

Anything to get Kara back. Anything to keep her.

Lena apologises. Kara apologises. Lena cries, and Kara holds her, and tells her that the decision to help her brother when he was dying of cancer doesn't make her the monster she now believes herself to be. And standing on her office balcony with Kara's fingers wrapped around her biceps, with her own tears spotting dark on Kara's blazer, Lena manages to believe her.

When she's collected herself, smoothed away the wetness coursing down her cheeks, she speaks. “I really want to help you with your investigation on Lex.”

Kara's face lights up; Lena's whole world along with it.

“I'd love that,” Kara says, voice quiet and still a little tentative in the wake of their new truce. “But first— would you, um. Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Lena blinks. “Don't you want to get started on the exposé?”

“I do. But—” Kara's face is still painted that earnest shade from earlier, when she'd smoothed her hands over Lena's shoulders and whispered you are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lena feels her cheeks heat up at the memory, at the intensity in the blue eyes still roving her face.

Kara shuffles her feet but her gaze is clear, unwavering. “But you were right. I've spent too much time recently prioritising the wrong things. So, I want to work on this exposé with you, and I want to bring your brother down. But first, I'd really just like to have lunch with my best friend.”

Lena's heart trips in her chest. “I'd like that too.”

So, that's what they do. Kara asks her to wait, which she does, idly tapping out a few emails on her phone. And then the blonde is back, far quicker than should have been possible, with her arms full of takeout bags from the café on the third floor and she's taking Lena by the hand and leading her to Cat Grant's private elevator. She presses the button for the roof and Lena's gaze jumps to her face but Kara only smiles, and squeezes her fingers. “Trust me, it'll be worth it,” she hums, her excitement infectious. “You'll be safe with me.”

And Lena believes her.

That's how she ends up sitting at the edge of Catco's roof on a clean sheet Kara had borrowed from the builders on the second floor, heels kicked off, Kara's red blazer draped around her shoulders. It is worth it, she'll admit; the view from this high is phenomenal. The sun burns bright in a cloudless sky, glinting off the glass-sided skyscrapers of the business district, the glittering waters of the bay beyond.

Kara had picked up Lena's favourite salad, some flatbreads and dips, and they drink kombucha and eat strawberries in the sunshine. They talk and they laugh and they catch up and there's no more fighting, no animosity, no megalomaniac brothers or backstabbing secretaries or worlds needing to be saved. There's only them, she and Kara, and it feels like all she will ever need.

The blonde's hands are braced behind her on the rooftop and she looks happy and carefree as she regales Lena with stories of her upstairs neighbour's antics, and Lena feels the tight knot of tension that had taken up residence in her chest begin to unfurl.

"Hey,” Kara hums, pushing up straighter as Lena licks strawberry juice from her fingertips. The motion brings them closer, their shoulders brushing. “Look up.”

Lena does. High above them, a huge murmuration of starlings whirls and swoops through the air. Thousands of birds move together as one, a vast wave cresting but never breaking against the blue canvass of sky.

“Wow,” Lena gasps, awed.

Against her side, Kara hums. “Yeah.”

They watch the birds for a long moment, captivated by the ceaseless swirling and diving. When Lena at last tears her gaze away from the sky, Kara's eyes rest intently on her face. "Here,” the blonde murmurs, reaching out. The pad of one finger makes feather-light contact with her cheek. Lena's breath catches in her chest.

Kara holds out her finger, proffering the stray eyelash she'd captured with a smile. "Make a wish,” she whispers, her fingertip an inch from Lena's mouth. Her eyes never leave Lena’s.

Lena looks from Kara's face to the eyelash, and back again. From somewhere deep inside her heart, the truth bubbles its way to the surface. “I don't need to.”

Kara smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile, and Lena knows. The stresses and anxieties of their current crisis feel far away here, harmless as birdsong. She's meted out forgiveness, received it in return. For the first time in her adult life Lena has communicated an issue with a loved one and been heard, understood. She has admitted her own mistake without having it spell out the end of her relationship.

Lena smiles back. The weight of the world sublimates into nothing beneath the bliss of a simple picnic in the sun.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

Two years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, two years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which has sapped the both of them to the bone. Another fight, another screaming match, another quick-fire back and forth of accusations and recriminations. Another night of cursing and crying and choking on all the things they never said before this, on all the things they can't now that Kara's secret has detonated in the shrinking space between them like a nuclear bomb.

Another round of bloodshed, and for what?

Lena sags against the arm of the couch, exhausted. Her face is hot, scratchy with salt from the tears still drying on her skin. She's dehydrated, probably, and half hoarse from shouting, tongue blistered with the bitter sting of betrayal.

Across the no man's land of her living room, Kara slumps against the floor-length windows, drops her temple to the cool glass. She's breathing heavily, cheeks wet, posture battered and eyes dark-bruised beneath the force of Lena's wrath. As Lena watches, her eyes slide closed.

It's been three months since Lena found out. Three weeks since Kara found out that Lena had found out.

Every night since, they've done this. Every night, Kara has shown up on her balcony and begged, pleaded, apologised, cajoled, defended, rebuffed, and sobbed. Every night, Lena has unleashed the hollow agony of Kara's deception masquerading as anger in her chest, incinerating the both of them in the fires of her desolation.

She would have expected the wounds to have cauterised by now. To feel some kind of release, the relief of catharsis. Or at least, to have expended some of her fury after all this time.

She hasn't.

They've been at this for three hours already this evening, and gotten nowhere. Kara's skin is pale above that fucking supersuit, face drawn and complexion sallow.

Lena knows how she feels. The singular exhaustion that is her rift with Kara has sapped her in every way imaginable. She can't sleep. She barely eats. She's no longer interested in work, research, friends. There's nothing in her life that isn't tainted by the shadow of the lies her best friend told and kept telling, every day for four years. Lena doesn't know how any amount of screaming and crying is ever going to get them past that.

Across the room, Kara sighs. It might be the saddest sound Lena has ever heard.

“Should we keep doing this?” she asks after an interminable silence, voice rough with tears still building. Her eyes are still closed.

Lena manages, with exorbitant effort, to raise her drooping head. “What?”

“Is there a point to all this?” Kara asks quietly, hunched body sliding a little further down the glass. "The explanations, the fighting?”

Blue eyes blink open. The weight of the sadness in them is unbearable. Lena struggles to find it within herself to care.

“Lying to you about who I am is the single biggest mistake I have ever made, and if it will make even one single shred of difference I will apologise to you every day for as long as I live,” Kara says into the aching chasm between them. “But I can't keep doing this. Not if it won't change anything. I can't— I don't want to keep hurting you.”

An hour ago, Lena would have scoffed at a sentiment like that. Would have parried back with some piercingly dry comment about how the blonde should have thought about that before she decided to betray Lena's trust as soundly as she possibly could.

Now, though— now, she's just too tired.

“So, should we keep doing this?” Kara whispers, throat working. “Or— God, Lena. Should we just— should we give up?”

Green eyes meet blue, two shattered hearts haemorrhaging between them. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” Kara's voice is loud, fiercely determined in the face of Lena's hesitant whisper. “God, no. Never. I don't ever want to give up on you, Lena. I don't ever want to give you up.”

Kara straightens then, with a strength Lena cannot imagine mustering herself. Perks of being a superhero, she supposes. Perks of being Kryptonian. The thought stakes another shard of ice through her bleeding heart.

“But I know that I've spent four years calling the shots for both of us by keeping you in the dark,” Kara continues. “I've taken away your agency. I've taken away your choice. I won't do that again.”

She sucks in a deep breath, a little of Supergirl's regality seeping back into the defeated slump of her shoulders. “So, I'm doing what I should have done from the start. I'm being honest with you, and hoping that you'll be honest back. I'm asking what you want.”

Kara's fingers twist anxiously before her, bottom lip bleaching white beneath the nervous pressure of her teeth. “Do you think we should keep doing this? Or do you— fuck.” Her voice cracks, the tears brimming in her eyes once again breaking free. “Do you want to give up?”

Jesus Christ. Lena never knew that the prospect of doing the right thing could hurt so much.

“Fuck,” she mutters as she kneads her knuckles over her closed eyelids, digging in until white lights starburst across her vision. “Fuck, Kara.”

“I know,” the blonde whispers from across the room, brittle and broken. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Lena slows her assault on her own eyelids, pinching thumb and forefinger hard at the bridge of her nose instead. “I want to give up,” she mutters, and in the taut silence between them she hears the blonde gasp, watery and thick.

Lena blinks open her eyes to find Kara's face crumpling, every facet of her seeming to fold in on itself even as she visibly fights to keep herself upright.

Lena sighs, and hates Kara, and hates herself even more. “I want to, but— I can't.” She sucks in a ragged breath, hating the truth that's just fallen from her lips, hating the lies that had necessitated it. Hating everything and everyone and most of all, hating just how much she's hurting. “I can't give this up.”

The tiniest spark of hope flares to life in Kara's eyes. Lena hates that she notices, hates that she cares, hates that the sight eases the tight knot of devastation clawing at her ribcage just the tiniest bit.

She also knows that this was inevitable. She knows that, though she hates Kara, though she's nowhere close to forgiving her, though she has no idea how they can rebuild from here or even if she truly wants to try, a question like Kara's could only ever have one answer.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

One year from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, one year from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which is barely even a moment at all. It's more like a dream, warm and faded and fogged in darkness, seconds stolen when sleep should have long since claimed them.

Kara's nightmare had woken them both. In the month since they'd pulled her out of the Phantom Zone, she hadn't slept alone once. Often, she stays with Alex, curling into her sister's side the way she would when they were just kids after one too many late-night horror movies. Once, she stays with Nia, tucked up snug in a borrowed pair of puppy print pyjamas.

Mostly, she stays with Lena. It's natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, the way Kara will show up at her place after a Supergirl save or Lena will let herself into the blonde's apartment after a late night in the lab. They cook dinner and watch Celebrity Masterchef and brush their teeth elbow to elbow at the bathroom sink and when Kara is inevitably tugged screaming and sobbing from her night terrors, the way she presses her face to Lena's neck and her hand over Lena's heart is natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, too.

Kara's racing pulse has calmed a little, her grip on Lena's body beneath her losing some of its urgent desperation. After a long moment of Lena's hand stroking her hair, of gentle reassurances and lips pressed to her temple the blonde pulls back, just enough to rest her head on the pillow facing her.

In the dim light filtering in through the bedroom window Kara's pupils are blown, her face solemn. There's something in her heavy gaze that Lena can't identify; something weighted and potent that prickles goosebumps up the length of her spine.

"Feeling better?” she whispers into the inch of warm air between them, reaching out to tuck a sweat-matted curl reverently behind the blonde's ear.

Kara catches her retreating hand and holds tight, twining their fingers together on the narrow swathe of pillow between them. If either of them were to move so much as a millimetre, their clasped hands would press against their lips.

The blonde nods and sure enough, the soft heat of her mouth brushes the back of Lena's knuckles. She shivers.

Kara is still watching her, the intensity of her gaze causing Lena's heart to thud hard in her throat. She squeezes lightly at the fingers threaded through her own. “What?”

A pause, heavy and sweet as overripe fruit. Kara blinks once, slow. “You're my best friend.”

Lena swallows down a sudden swell of emotion. The blonde nudges closer and when she speaks, the wet seam of her lips catches on the angle of Lena's bent knuckles, painting her skin with the words.

“You're the most important person in the world to me,” Kara whispers, breaths skating fire-flashes across Lena's fingers, voice muffling out past the mouth pressed to her skin. “You know that, right?”

Lena's voice deserts her in the wake of the quiet words. She leans forward instead, presses her lips to Kara's fingertips where they rest against the back of her own hand. It's answer enough.

She hears Kara's breath catch, feels the disruption mirrored in her own chest. Both their mouths are pressed to the joined hands clasped between them. If they were to move their fingers down even just a fraction, there would be nothing separating their lips but a promise, a prayer.

Kara's eyelashes flutter in the semi-darkness. The tip of her nose brushes Lena's own. Neither one of them moves their hands.

They only gaze at one another a long moment, and Lena wonders if the blonde is memorising the planes of her face the way she's memorising Kara's. She could look at her forever, be happy here with her forever, and in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

For the first time, she wonders if she might not be the only one.

Right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking Lena's hand.

It's been three weeks since they'd taken down Lex for the last time. Three weeks since Kara had stormed into the Tower's med bay to cup Lena's bloody, bruised face in her hands; since she'd brushed her thumbs feather-light over Lena's split eyebrow and purpling jaw and growled don't you ever scare me like that again. Three weeks since she'd leaned in and pressed her lips to Lena's.

It's been two weeks and six days since Lena, confined to a gurney but utterly uncaring thanks to the warm Kryptonian curled against her side, had pressed her aching face to Kara's shoulder and first whispered that she loved her. Two weeks and six days since Kara had first said it back.

It's been two weeks and five and a half days since Nia had walked in on Lena in Kara's arms, lips pressed to her neck and hands wandering beneath her sweatshirt, and promptly shrieked the place down. Since their friends had exchanged pointed glances and relieved sighs and congratulated them on finally making it official, their expressions ranging from overjoyed to exasperated to plain exhausted.

It's been two weeks and four days of she and Kara dating; of morning kisses and shared showers and the perfect partner at game night and all of Lena's wildest dreams coming true.

It's been less than a minute since Kara had admitted, hushed and wondering, that she'd known she was in love with Lena ever since she'd found herself suddenly prepared to poison National City's entire water supply rather than let Lena fall. That she hadn't been able to fully it admit it to herself until she'd found herself suddenly prepared to alter the course of all of history in order to get Lena back.

And right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking her hand. She's looking deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice barely rises above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And now that she has, Lena is sure of her answer.

The highlight reel of her relationship with Kara lays itself at Lena's feet, each precious memory between them stretching out like a roadmap of her growing affection, with every hard-won step leading her right to this moment.

And in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love with Kara. Really, she always has been.

#sorry this took approximately 8932018207402 thousand years to materialise #if you've ever sent me a prompt and thought well fuck she's taking so long with this she's clearly forgotten about it i'm just here to say:#nope!#still here #unsure how inspired by the song this actually was in the end #it's either way too close to the lyrics or not close enough #who can say #but anyway yeah. supercorp song #thank your for the prompt and the lovely message! hope you like it #asks #anonymous #ridings writes #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers

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asavt · 3 years ago

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Another cookie squad Headcanons

Featuring Sparkling, Vampire, cellphones and the Espresso and Madeleine Story of how they came together. Consider it an AU now baby!

-As a note, when I say the squad I'm mostly referring to the adults, so no worries about Walnut or Creampuff useless I mention them too

-Each one of the squad has been in Sparkling's bar at last once. There's no need to say who has been there the most. Sparkling has a time every time someone besides Roguefort comes, because to him it's mostly like "Oh I'll finally know the continuation to the burnt toast accident or maybe the cat catastrophe? Maybe a new POV of the--"

He practically knows a lot of what happens in between the squad.

-As another note, Sparkling's bar is called Milabo (You know, like the song from Zutomayo of the same name, which, btw, I relate a lot to Latte)

-*A great part of this “AU” is kind of inspired by the song. Part of its lyrics and vibe.

-Vampire is there most of the time when the squad visits the bar (it's almost as if he never leaves the bar and this is definitely not me low-key putting sparkvamp in this oh no--) Sometimes the fakes his sleep to listen to the things others say (Which is how he knows most of Rogue's pan-ic).

-Walnut has been in Sparkling's bar too, but at day and for case-solving purposes only. Sparkling will give her some alcohol-free drink for free sometimes (mostly because he gets along pretty well with the nut family and because Almond usually pays him whatever he serves her).

-If the squad had cellphones (and probably an app like discord because.), their group chat would initially be called "Coffee mage appreciation group" and then be changed to "Coffee bean appreciation group"

Coffee Bean: Can we please change the group name and mine?

Guided by the Devine: No <3

Coffee Bean: Fuck you.

-*And they all would dedicate half their time to make fun of Almond but with love.

-Espresso has been mistaken for a dark mage before by Almond. It was how they meet actually. Almond had pulled him to interrogate him and got a long lecture on the differences between black magic and coffee magic.

-Madeleine gets along rather well with Roguefort. Rogue seems impressed by Maddie’s acting skills.

-Madeleine is currently living with Espresso. Out of his armor most of the time. He usually takes care of keeping the house clean and preparing meals (He never really had to cook before but the first dish he made wasn’t bad at all). Sometimes he will tag along Almond in the detective’s work, or Almond will ask for his help.

-I’m still unsure if I want the Almond/Roguefort/Latte to be romantic or platonic. But honestly? Both are good. Latte is pretty close to Almond and Roguefort but not in the way she is with Espresso (that makes them look like siblings jkashduawhu). Perhaps I’ll keep it platonic.

-The Espresseleine/Madespresso story of how they came together, because I seem to not be able to write it down JSHALDHUIWADWA-

--It happens after the Puppet Show mini quest. Madeleine starts to ask for Espresso's "assistance" in different mission that are given to him. Angel is there too, of course.

--During these missions is that Essy clarifies that no, they are not friends, no, he does not like Madeleine. Bringing up the knight begin too prideful and self-centered if not all then most of the time.

--Is not until one of their missions goes wrong, were Angel is knocked out and Espresso (seeing and knowing that if Madeleine is knocked down too they might not be able to go back to the kingdom ever) pretty much receives a rather big attack for Madeleine is that he kind realizes the facts given by espresso true. All while he is carrying Essy and Angel back to the kingdom, running and exhausted too.

--Clover begin kind of a mediator between the two (I want to see more of my son--)

--"Devine, protect us" Should happen too after this. An scenario like, Madeleine coming to think something like "I'm the shield, the one who goes on the front line and receives the blows for those who can't, always looking straight ahead... but if I am doing that then who watches my back? Who do I rely on and trust to take care of most enemies so the damage received is not overwhelming...?"

Power of team work baby!!!

--As a note to this, Maddie getting his cape damaged as well as his hair. So, you get short hair Maddie~

(I've been drawing him with short hair in secret now I have an excuse to show)

-- "You...cut your hair..." *Madeleine touches the points of it with one of his hands, pensive* "...pft it'll grow back!"

--There's also this "Search for your own light" thing between Angel and Maddie. Angel encouraging Madeleine to do so. Maybe Madeleine giving his best wishes to them for their wish to fly before they decide to part ways.

--Madeleine trying other ways to befriend Essy. Which at first Espresso mistaken as the knight usual attempts to befriend anyone he sees out of habit and attention seeking, but once they realize the feeling is completely genuine, Espresso is rather perplexed.

--"You can't just befriend people by buying them gifts (although I do appreciate them)" "Then what?" "hmm..."

--Said gifts used to be rather expensive things, simple though. Eventually Madeleine settles to just pass by Espresso's place, give him any food he had bought that day (which usually is glazed donuts), ask if he needs any help with something (getting a vase, materials, moving things), and if not then he just says his good byes, best wishes and silently leaves. (A note on the "silently leaves": Madeleine is pretty much used to speak loudly and enter loudly anywhere, he still does this at this point, but when it's about Espresso he is a bit more quiet, a bit showy over his entrances still, but less loud, and he actually knocks the door)

--Madeleine eventually manages to go out with Espresso to other places that aren't some place in the forest full of enemies. Probably after some more visits to his place and more calm talks between the two, Madeleine brings up that Espresso tends to act a bit cold or distant towards a lot of people, and that, although he understands his discomfort at begin in public spaces or too long out of his work, he should try and open up a bit. This reminds Essy of a certain friend he hasn't seen in some time, and from whom he keeps getting letters.

--Shenanigans.

--There's still some bickering between the two, always with a playful undertone though.

--Espresso explains Madeleine, one time the knight has gotten Espresso wrapped in a blanket burrito again and got him to bed, that sometimes, no matter how tired he might feel, he is simply unable to sleep. Part of a headcanon of mine that coffee magic has this side effect on it's users, prolonged usage of this kind of magic will induce a high caffeine kind of state, which on the long run can fuck up the user's sleep schedule. Madeleine understands this, but remains stubborn about keeping Espresso in the bed so at last he can get some rest from his work and clear his mind a little, the idiot falls asleep in the process and Espresso doesn't try to wake him up.

--This happens several times after, neither of them thinking of the implications of not begin bothered by the sudden closeness they share until it's too late.

--Espresso realizes first that he has slowly, yet nicely, fallen for Madeleine. I think I talked about this before but I'll do it again: Is in one of the times Madeleine has gotten Espresso to bed to get some rest, Espresso not begin able to fall asleep and Madeleine doing again. Is while he thinks of how he has gotten to know Madeleine for real, not the Knight Commander from a noble family or the Chosen by the Devine, but as he is, that he comes to think that "Ah.... I love him" and he remains calm about it.

--Espresso doesn't overthink it, just thinks that, if Madeleine ever got an interest in him, he would surely show it. So he waits. Even if in the end his feelings aren't mutual he knows he'll do just fine remaining friends.

--Madeleine realizes not many days after. And the realization hits him like a truck. Alone in his place and probably in bed looking at the ceiling thinking about Espresso. Once he realizes and thinks about it a bit more his face gets all red and chooses to scream in the pillow.

--He would think about telling Espresso as soon as he can, after all, he doesn't want his feelings to make their friendship weird. He values it, a lot. Maybe because his friendship with Espresso it's the first one where he genuinely wanted to become friends with someone.

--Espresso takes the confession calmly, gets all flustered after they kiss for the first time.

--As a few extras of this: Madeleine goes back to the Republic, asked to be seen by his family and Espresso goes to Parfedia, where a few students have applied to his class to his surprise. When they see each other again is at Parfedia (Madeleine sending a message to Espresso beforehand about his arrival) -there was this one drawing I did once of Maddie running to hug Espresso, something like that happens-. Madeleine gets very clingy for some reason, which they speak later and comes out as “Home doesn’t quite feel like home…” “Why is that?” “I don’t know… maybe I’ve become used to be around you”

--Espresso lets ends up letting Madeleine stay with him until he either feels like returning to the Republic or is called back, whatever happens first (though none will happen for maybe a year or a little more).

--Ends with Madeleine meeting Latte and Almond.

#Headcanon time baby!#The cookie squad #Espresso Cookie #Madeleine cookie #espresseleine #madespresso #Roguefort cookie #Almond cookie #Latte Cookie #Sparkling cookie #Vampire cookie #Walnut cookie #Bar gays

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softyoongiionly · 4 years ago

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Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again.

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll

Fresh coffee.

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.

As he remembers exactly where he is.

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter, “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.

“You’re wet.” He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi? You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

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blxetsi · 4 years ago

Note

HIIIII!! can i get a pieck finger dating headcanons if that’s alright with you of course? your stuff makes me soft, stay safe!

yuh ‼️ tysm for your request

pieck finger dating headcanons (modern au)

pieck finger x gn!reader

warnings: literal fluff, no angst or anything i love pieck

- bc pieck is assumed to be like 23-26 this wont be a uni au or anything

- idk i rlly think you guys wouldve met in a mundane way

- like you bump into her on the sidewalk and try to the really awkward "oh im so sorry i didnt see you there- no really it was my fault- are you sure youre okay ?- okay great- no im not hurt- yeah- okay have a good day and again im so sorry !!" thing with her

- and then maybe you guys see each other again at a coffee place, youre there with your friends and shes there with hers, and you dont wanna talk to her obv bc that would be awkward

- then ur friend makes u go and order another coffee for them, and while youre waiting for your order pieck comes and stands beside you

- and shes very observant yknow ?? if she sees a face its very hard for her to forget it

- so she immediately recognizes you and blurts out "its you !"

- and you have to be like "oh yeah ! it is me ! its you too"

- she finds it quite cute and giggles about it

- a very laidback person but also a very blunt person

- she doesnt find any harm in asking "can i get your instagram @" look she doesnt wanna be a creep and ask for ur number right at the start

- and it gives her a chance to find out what kind of person you are

- it would absolutely suck for her if such a cute face was posting fishing pictures and alt right propaganda yknow ??

- so you two do and then both of your orders come so you two give awkward goodbyes before going back to your groups

- her instagram is very pretty, nice themes

- she posted a couple of hours ago, with her and her friends in a park, taking a couple of posed photos while some looking like they were natural

- shes adorable and you cant help but feel your cheeks go warm as you basically stalk her page

- she dms you and says "are you too busy looking at my feed that you havent followed me yet ?" and you see this mf staring at you across the room like 👁️👁️

- okay nosy lets calm down now 🙄🤚

- you try to defend urself but ur typing so quick you keep making errors in your writing, she ends up saying something else

"you know, i was doing the exact same thing. youre beautiful you know"

- thank you pieck 🥰

- over the next couple of weeks thats how you two communicate. she'll send you instagram memes and edits of her favourite shows, movies, games etc. and you find yourself having a lot in common w her

- you check her story so frequently it becomes one of the first accounts on the top of your homepage

- and FINALLY, when she feels she can see you as a friend and not just some pretty stranger she met on the street she asks you out

- it was a simple thing, just to the movies, and she even let you pick which one !! (imagine its pre covid idfk)

- you two go and its an awkward hug before you both head inside

- you pay for your tickets and she gets an extra large popcorn and a drink

- you assume shes just v hungry but before you can order yourself something shes like "what are you doing i got this for us !!"

- rlly cute bitch omfg

- during the movies, after she eats literally most of the fucking popcorn, she pulls your hand out of your lap and holds it with her buttery one 🥰🤚

- this bitch had crumbs and didnt even think to wipe them off

- you still held her hand tho anyways

- after that night you parted ways in front of the theater after making sure you two would be getting home safe

- and that became routine for a couple of weeks, not going to the movies obviously bc thats expensive but watching movies together !! youd go over to her apartment or she would come over to yours

- one thing about pieck is that shes very touchy

- one way or another she will end up cuddled with you on the couch

- it doesnt matter if its you being forcefully pulled on top of her body or her draping herself over you like shes a blanket, you two WILL be cuddling and you WILL enjoy it

- but finally, as if the gods gave you mercy, she finally kissed you

- it felt so nice, her lips were soft and sticky from her lip gloss and she tasted like the swedish berries you had gotten for her to munch on

- and the rest of the movie you two just sat there, kissing each other and giggling like teens

- she ended up staying the night, and complimented your bedsheets

- your relationship moved pretty fast after that

- she had already told all of her friends about you, they werent very surprised

- when you got officially introduced her friends zeke and porco tried to do that whole "if you hurt her.." speech before she slapped them and had marcel pull you away to safety

- other than that the night was very fun, you got to talking about your career, why you moved to the city, and other mundane topics

- pieck is actually a graphic designer, and everytime she comes to sleep over she just HAS to bring her laptop with her

- its basically just her laying in between your legs while she types away, youll pet her hair and lay soft kisses on her neck, and occasionally ask what shes doing

- she likes to tell you, has no problem in answering the questions you have, even if you think theyre stupid ones, shes very soft with you

- also a bit of a trickster

- for your first april fools together she slept over, you didnt have anything planned for her bc youre a good person and wont hurt the ones you love

- she stuffed your breakfast muffin with mustard 😁👍

- you gave her the cold shoulder for the rest of the day until she apologized by getting you a new muffin

- now she always dropped the l bomb to you, but she never needed you to say it

- thats why, when you were helping her cook dinner at her place you softly said "see ? and thats why i love you" she kind of,,, stopped what she was doing

- you realized why she wasnt washing the knife she used to cut your vegetables and tried to backtrack, but it was too late, she was already tackling you into a hug and taking you down onto the floor

- she just gave you kisses while repeating "i love you i love you i love you" over and over again

- bc of her you burnt ur fucking chicken smh

- you spent that night eating junk food and watching movies

- piecks a very observant person, so she always knows when youre sad too

- when you give that little huff when you come home to your (new !) shared apartment she knows something is up

- she'll slowly trail behind you as you walk to your bedroom, stripping to your underwear and changing into your pajamas

- you crawl into bed just wanting a nap to forget about the day, and she'll crawl in with you and hold you

- you never like to cry but youre so frustrated and upset at your coworkers, at that rude customer, at those deadlines, that you just breakdown

- and she lets you, she lets you almost suffocate yourself in her chest with how much your pushing your head into it, she strokes your hair while you choke on your own cries and hands you tissues when you need to blow your nose

- "what do you need my love ?" "i just need you" "okay baby"

- communication is a big thing in the relationship, and because shes been so open and honest from the beginning, talking about how you feel has never been easier

- in fact, you like talking about how you feel about your relationship, or how you didnt like what pieck said to your friends the other day, this and that, you feel comfortable and safe with pieck no matter what, which makes talking about even the most hardest things seem so simple and natural

- all in all, even when she wakes you up with spontaneous ice cream dates or asks that you put raisins in the popcorn during movie night, even with the fights and the crying and the exhaustion the next day, life would be much duller without her, and you only have to thank your clumsy self

uhh i feel like this is very short but yeah ❤️ requests are open so go crazy mfs ‼️

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #hange zoe #pieck finger headcanons #pieck finger x reader #pieck finger #pieck x reader #pieck headcanons #pieck aot #marcel galliard #porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x reader

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voiceswithoutlips · 4 years ago

Text

Calico - Chapter Two

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU , fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 2K — Rating: M — warnings: trauma, mention of past abuse.

Click for Tag List

— chapter summary:

Y/N runs a animal shelter, Calico was built on a simple principle, to help those who were in need. What will Y/N do when her sanctuary is threatened by an unexpected hybrid?

— A/N: This is going to be a series, I’m just getting back to writing, so I’d really appreciate your input and feedback <3

Ch. 1 Ch. 3 Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

I stumbled out of bed with a groan, it was almost noon and my hangover was killing me. Last night I was too stressed so I drowned my worries in a bottle of whisky. Why was adulting so annoying, ugh. The house was quiet, Jason had probably already gone to the shelter. I made my way to the kitchen, my zombie brain screaming for coffee. I like my coffee black and bitter, just like my soul. Kidding, I don’t have a soul.

My phone rang somewhere in the living room. The place looked like a tornado had torn through it. The floor was covered with papers and cushions and clothes and other unidentifiable mess. What the fuck happened last night? By the time I found my phone the ringing had stopped. 28 missed calls from Jason and 2% battery ...great.

I made my way to the exam room, the most likely place for Jason to be. It was just a five minute walk from the house. I was in my pajamas, my hair sticking out and the coffee cup in my hand. It was Sunday, I was grumpy.

There was a half-naked man sitting on the exam table, no not a man, a hybrid. His white fluffy tail was droopy. Long white ears poked from his long black hair, he desperately needed a haircut. His ears were limp on his back. There was a hole in his left ear, it was properly done but too big for a piercing. My eyes widened with realization, I’d seen that before on cattle, his previous owners must’ve tagged him.

The hybrid showed no reaction as I went to stand beside Jason, and directly in front of him. His upper body was muscular, he had a thick neck and washboard abs. He was gorgeous. He had a strong jawline, cute eyes and a small nose. The combination of cute and sexy was deadly. His hands were clasped together and he was hunched over, trying to make himself look small, not an easy feat to achieve.

“Y/N, this is Jungkook,” Jason introduced the hybrid. The bunny stiffened, he didn’t raise his head to look at me. What do I do? I wasn’t good with people, I preferred animals to humans.

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” I greeted. He was sitting so still that you would think he wasn’t even there. Was he even breathing? He was still looking down.

I looked at Jason, I didn’t know what to do. “I found him near the hatch this morning so I brought him in for a checkup.” I nodded.

“Are you hungry? I’m practically starving!” I asked, extending a tentative hand towards the bunny, palm up. He flinched. I kept my hand where it was. I would stand here for hours if I had to. My stubbornness knew no bounds. Minutes passed slowly, Jason was leaning on the counter perfectly at ease, he was a good actor.

Slowly Jungkook took my hand. “Let’s go have breakfast,” I whispered, a smile on my face as I slowly led him to the kitchen. Well kitchen was an overstatement, it was a small room with six refrigerators and two freezers, most of them contained medical supplies. A sad, overused coffee machine and a small stove for “Emergency Ramen”, it was our own special recipe.

I opened the fridge with a “No Science Allowed” poster taped to its door. I pulled out a bunch of greens to make a salad, rabbits need their greens. We always stocked the fridge for humans and the animals. I wasn’t a particularly good cook, I could cook enough to not starve but that was the extent of my cooking skills. A quick chicken salad, eggs and toast and a bunch of pancakes and breakfast was served.

Jungkook was still standing near the door where I had left him, eyes downcast, ears flopped. I was an idiot, a massive idiot, I assumed he would sit at the table on his own. Bad Y/N!

“Jungkook, come sit with me,” I mentally hit myself, it sounded like a command, I was terrible at this. I was used to animals, you tell them what to do, you can’t ask a dog if he’d like to sit with you, but Jungkook was a person. I can be an animal therapist but humans? They were beyond me. I didn’t know how to get to him.

He sat at the table. I pushed the food in front of him, expecting him to eat, another mistake. Hybrids are supposed to obey, they don't do things on their own. I was supposed to tell him what to do. I wanted to pound my head on the table. Stupid Y/N.

“What would you like to eat?” I asked in the gentlest voice possible, at least I hoped it was gentle.

No response.

“Go on this is all for you,” I tried to be encouraging.

Nothing.

“Tell you what, if you finish your breakfast, I’ll give you a treat,” his ears twitched. He tentatively picked up a fork and started eating. His movements were small, he barely made any noise as he chewed but at least he was eating.

I was still confuzzled, it is a word, a made up word, but then again all words are made up words. Confused and puzzled. I had no idea how to approach him, do I treat him like a human or a rabbit. The ‘treat’ card worked but will it work every time? He was taking small bites, I wondered if the food tasted bad. Maybe I forgot to add sugar to the pancakes? Did I forget to season the salad? I sighed internally. He needed a proper meal but sadly, Jason and I were terrible cooks. We lived on take-outs and ramen. Maybe it was time to learn how to cook.

I stood up, he froze. I had to get him used to people. I ignored his stiff posture as I walked to one of the freezers and pulled out a container that held my favorite ice cream. It was ‘ice cream for breakfast’ kind of day. I didn’t bother with bowls, two spoons and I was back in my seat.

“You know this is my absolute favorite ice cream in the entire world. It's called Chocolate Brownie Fudge with Marshmallows. It's like a little piece of heaven in a plastic container,” I offered him a spoon. He looked at it as if it was going to bite him. “Go on, it's your treat!” I encouraged with a grin. It was meant to be a small smile but he was too cute and the ice cream made me happy.

I dug into the ice cream as if my life depended on it. Jungkook watched me curiously, the spoon still in his hand. He hadn’t finished his breakfast but it was a start. For me, it was Sunday, the day where I threw caution to the wind and ate what I wanted. He hesitantly took a spoonful of ice cream, watching me as if I was going to pull the container away from him and tell him it was a joke.

As soon as the spoon touched his tongue his eyes lit up like christmas. “Amazing isn’t it?” I asked, taking another bite. He nodded excitedly. Apparently he had a sweet tooth. I pushed the ice cream towards him and watched him devour the whole thing in minutes. God he was adorable!

I settled down on the couch in my office, I desperately needed a shower but that’d have to wait. Jason had taken Jungkook back to our house, he was going to stay in the guest room for the time being. It's not like I was going to put him in the hybrid shelter building, nobody deserved that and he couldn’t stay as a rabbit forever.

I had a file in front of me, a file on Jungkook. All hybrids are installed with a microchip and registered in the hybrid database as soon as they are born ...or rather created in the labs. Hybrids couldn’t procreate, they were made in labs owned by big corporations. Jason had scanned Jungkooks microchip, the file contained everything about his life.

He was created in Corebear Tech’s lab and sold at the age of six to a wealthy family as a pet for their son. He was sent back to the company when he was twelve because he had grown too big for a rabbit hybrid. Corebear Tech then sold him to Apexi Pharmaceuticals and I guess that’s where Yonu found him.

I felt …I didn’t know what I felt. Maybe a sense of defeat. Jungkook was twenty-three, he was in that lab for eleven years. He was just one year younger than me. I was lost. I couldn’t even imagine what he must’ve gone through. There was no way I was going to let Apexi take him back. I called Song Hwa and gave her the file. After all we had evidence to collect and a case to build.

“Not this again!!” I ran through the front door as soon as I smelled smoke in our kitchen. Jason was standing in front of the stove fanning a pot with a newspaper.

“I was cooking rice, I don’t know what happened,” he said opening the windows.

I took a peek, the rice was black, utterly totally burnt. “Jason …you’re supposed to add water to cook it…”

“Oh,” Jason loved to cook, the problem was he just couldn’t. I was 200% sure that he was cursed by some evil witch. The moment Jason tries to cook, all hell breaks loose.

“You’re on clean-up duty,” I grumbled. At least it wasn’t that bad, the cake incident was still fresh in my mind. Once upon a time, when we still lived in our dorm, Jason decided to bake a cake …in a pressure cooker. Needless to say, it was a disaster. The cooker blew up, damaging half the kitchen. Thankfully no one was injured.

I softly knocked on the guestroom door. Jungkook had spent the whole day in his room, not that I blamed him. New place, new people, it was bound to be scary.

“Hey Jungkook, you want to come out for dinner?” I asked. I could deliver him ramen to his room if he wanted but I hoped he’d come out and eat with us. Yes, we were having ramen, Jason and I still lived as we had lived in our dorm, the only difference was our house was nicer and we had a garden.

Jungkook opened the door, he hadn’t locked it. He scrunched his nose as soon as he stepped out. The house was full of burnt smell from Jason’s cooking adventure. The smell must be stronger for him.

“Yeah, Jason tried to cook rice. Pro tip, never eat the food that Jason makes, he’s a terrible cook. Do you want to come eat with us?” I asked. I got a small nod in return.

“Let’s gooooo!! Do you like ramen? We have a really good recipe, well its nothing special, we just throw in some bacon and rice cakes and of course a fuckton of cheese,” I rambled as he followed me to the dining table. “You can never go wrong with cheese, unless you’re Jason,” Jason made protesting noises, I rolled my eyes at him.

Dinner was a bit awkward. Jason and I kept trying to make Jungkook talk but it didn’t work. The poor bunny hadn’t spoken a single word since he’d arrived at Calico. The only thing we got out of him were small nods and silence. I wondered if we should consult a therapist. He was human after all and he needed help.

I heard a sharp gasp from my left. Jungkook’s eyes were huge, he was frozen in his chair. He had accidently knocked the salt shaker off the table.

“I’m so..sorry. Please don’t punish me. I’ll do anything,” his voice was so small, it made my heart ache.

“Oh honey no!” I said as I held his hands. “It was an accident. You remember what I told you? This is a safe space, you’ll never be punished here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” I was mentally cursing myself for holding his hands on impulse. What if he didn’t like people invading his personal space? My worries were put to rest as he squeezed my hands.

“Okay,” he said in the smallest voice.

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imagineabrighterworld · 4 years ago

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A/N: I fought tooth and nail for this prompt so I hope you like it anon 👀

—

Dabi had left the Nightscape for several reasons.

For better scenery, for less screaming, for.. for a third reason, and to escape his crazy as fuck ex girlfriend who never seemed to get the point that they were done. She was a phase, she wasn’t the endgame.

Did she get that as he tossed her ass out of his apartment? No, she just came back with a lighter to set his home ablaze. But the woman didn't realize he controlled flames as easily as he did breathing.

So he left. He packed a few things, clothes and whatever currency the humans were using nowadays and went up to the world beyond. His father was one of the lords of the Nightscape, but he didn't need to worry about slipping past him, Dabi was thought to be dead for ages.

More like “Touya” had been dead for ages, but that was a clusterfuck of different issues he didn't care to unfold.

Living above ground had added perks beyond escaping a crazy ex and not being surrounded by shades and wraiths on the daily. He could take on the form of a true human, not the horned and fanged form he usually wore. His tail was gone, and his scars and staples were replaced with tattoos and piercings, but he grew used to his new form very quickly.

In the human world, humans had long since developed quirks, so his flames were not an oddity. He was thankful for them when he was questioned about how he got his scars, scars that would occasionally show through his glamour. It was an easy answer, his body couldn't handle his “quirk”. People gave him sad eyes and let him go.

Easy.

What he did struggle with was the occasional demon hunter nearly tracking him down, but he always managed to turn their eye the other way. Was it testing the line choosing to live so close to a school that trained demon hunters? Yes, but he was always good at magic, a simple glamour always did the trick.

When he scored a job at a coffee shop, he was pleased to see it was a simple transaction kind of job. No one would be able to ask him why his eyes were constantly rivaling the blue of his flames or why a phantom tail would lash out and occasionally spill the row of cups behind him.

He pegged it as a ghost haunting the shop, and so it became a little inside joke within the workers ranks and some of the shop's patrons.

Opening on a rainy Wednesday, he looks around the room before lighting the candles at the tables with a flame on his pinkie finger. Setting up the tables and scooting in the chairs, he walks back to the counter and sets up the machines when the door rings, signalling someone had entered.

“Welcome.” He rolls out in a soft purr, a habit from years of toying with his playthings as an incubus. Eventually he would get rid of the habit. “What can I get for you today?” He turns around.

You were soaking wet with a satchel above your head, you were shivering and looking at the coffee machines as if they were god sent.

You looked adorable.

He leans on the counter with a growing smile. “Wet out there isn't it?”

Your gaze snaps to him. Your eyes were a soft mahogany color, reminding him of a tree. It wasn't the most romantic thing he could come up with, but trees were also very rare to find in the Nightscape, so he supposed it was based on your point of view. “C-Coffee. Please.”

“Sure thing babe, what kind?”

“A mocha cappuccino with three shots of espresso.”

He quirks a brow as he types in your order. “Three?”

“I usually get five but my doctor told me I need to cut down.”

“How about you aim for two?”

“I don't think I’d survive that loss sir.”

He chuckles. “Sir?” He asks as he tells you the price of your drink, accepting your soggy wad of cash and giving you your change once the transaction was complete. “Well madam, your drink will be out shortly, take some napkins to dry up, they’re by the sugar.”

He spots a small blush on your face as you go to the condiments counter. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He prepares your drink as he hears you pluck a plethora of napkins out of their container. Small curses are all he hears as you open your bag, he hears the clicking of latches and the zipping of zippers. You scuttle past the counter and stop in front of the register again.

“Do you have a bathroom? My bag is drenched..”

He brings you your drink and tilts his head as he debates your question. A bathroom wouldn't solve the water issue, you just thought it would.

Dabi places your drink on the counter and holds his hand out. “I can dry your bag.”

You smile, adjusting your glasses in the mean time. “You have a wind quirk?”

“I'm not a blowdryer.” He grins. “But I can still dry it for you.”

You debate his words, looking down at your soggy satchel that was only getting worse as time passed. You hand him the bag with an accepting sigh. “Please.”

He takes your bag and lights his hands on fire. You nearly scream before he speaks up. “I can control my fire, this one won’t burn anything, it's just warm.”

“Oh.” You shut your mouth with a sheepish bow of your head. “Sorry.”

“It's alright.” He turns the bag in his hold, looking at the patches and bad attempts at embroidery on its edges. It was cute. The sad little attempts seemed to get better as they reached the top, which led him to believe this was your first attempt at embroidery.

What would you do if he had burnt it to ash?

His flames were highly destructive, and sometimes even he couldn't handle them.

Maybe he was being risky to test his powers like this. It had been ages since he last used his flames for something more than lighting a silly candle or a cigarette.

“So..”

Oh right, you were still there.

He looks at you and rotates the bag in his hold. “Yes?”

“Is it always this empty?”

“Only when you're here.” He winks.

“Rude.”

“Rude, sir.”

You laugh, and from that point on he's hooked to the sound.

Dabi used to like his job, now it was turning into something akin to gratitude. It allowed him to see you on most days.

He had learned quite a few things about you ever since that rainy day.

You were a teacher in training, specifically the nearby high school. You were aiming for Shiketsu and had a foot in the door with the vice principal taking notice of you during their mock trials. He didn't peg you for a demon hunter, but everyone had a hidden side to them. Hah. You had two pet birds named Sweet Pea and Darlington, you had a snake named Petra and were looking into getting a newt.

You loved coffee but hated it black, it needed sugar or chocolate of some kind because you couldn't stand bitter food. You loved spicy food even if you couldn't tolerate it, and you adored sour candies.

While you looked book smart, you were also street smart, and he was beginning to believe you might be vying for a spot as a demon slayer teacher. He just didn't know what your quirk was yet.

“Hey Dabi.” You chime in unison with the doorbell as you walk inside, this time with an umbrella to keep yourself out of the rain.

He leans on the counter with a grin. “Hey babe. What is it today? The usual?”

“Just a shot of espresso this time.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you sick?”

“Nope.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking back and forth on your heels with a huge smile on your face. “I got news.”

“Do tell.” He says as he starts preparing your shot.

“I got the job!” You squeal in excitement, arms coming out of hiding so you can clasp them in front of you. “Starting in the spring I’m going to be the new first year homeroom teacher!”

He genuinely smiles. So you wanted to ruin your happiness with a shot of liquid bitter? He didn't understand you sometimes. “I thought your celebration drink would be a sakura latte, not a shot of espresso.”

You wave your hand dismissively, already removing your wallet from your pocket. “I'll come back for one.”

“Two visits in one day? Is that a gift for you or for me?” He chuckles and hands you your espresso, taking your yen and entering it into the register.

You adjust the glasses on your face. "I figured I would grace your presence because you've been so humble as to fuel my caffeine addiction."

"It's my duty to make sure you don't kill some other sorry bastard with a coffee maker."

Your eyes flash green for a split second, and in that moment he has to keep from reeling back. Did he really see that?

The cups behind him tumble to the ground.

His tail had appeared in his brief moment of shock.

You cock your head to the side. "What happened?"

He kneels and collects the cups. "The shop's ghost. Don't mind it."

"I thought I saw a-"

"How about I give you the latte now? On me." He interrupts you mid sentence, standing up with the cups in his arms.

The blush on your face was one of his favorite sights in the human world.

"You don't have to Dabi."

"It's just a drink." He waves you along to one of the booths. "Sit, it'll be ready soon."

You take your shot of espresso and go to the booth he had motioned you to.

The way you scrunched your nose in disgust as you drank your shot was also one of his new favorite sights.

Maybe it was just you.

After you had gotten your job at Shiketsu, you were around every morning to prepare for the day. Sometimes you would come by for lunch, unfortunately he clocked out on those days, but sometimes he would make sure he was in the area just to catch you off-guard. Those days he spent his lunch with you, and you got to tell him stories about your students.

It was one of your lunch breaks when hell came to toll.

His eyes were trained on you as you spoke, you were talking about a girl who wielded fire similar to him when the bell of the cafe rang.

The sound resonated through him, and in that moment he knew who was at the door.

What was at the door.

His glamour of his new human form nearly drops as he hears a woman's voice ask from the counter of the cafe.

“Is Dabi here?” She croons in a sickly sweet voice he hadn't heard in nearly a year. He doesn't hear his coworkers' response but he feels the air fill with the flowery scent of her. He grits his teeth to keep his fangs from showing through as he hears her heels click against the ground.

You had stopped your explanation and looked behind him, adjusting your glasses as you did so. “You're looking for Dabi?”

“I am, what a sweet peach you've got here Dabi~ I didn't know you still had it in you to snag such a cutie, your charms must still be working even in this sad form.” He feels her hand on his shoulder, her fingernails drumming along the stitching of his jacket. “Did you catch her, or did she come crawling to you?”

He knows he has to speak up, before she says another word, but his fangs were already piercing the inside of his lip as his glamour slipped.

He looks at you with the most apologetic gaze he can muster. Grabbing his coffee, he lifts it to his mouth to hide his fangs and he speaks. “Excuse me.” He stands up and slams the cup on the table, grabbing the wrist of the woman behind him and dragging her out of the shop and into the closest alleyway.

He slams her against the wall with her arm pinned above her head. His glamour drops completely, his scars and horns bared for the world to see as he growls with rage. “You!”

The succubus in front of him smiles coyly, dragging a finger across his scars and the staples holding his mouth together. “Aren't you happy to see me? To see one of your own again?”

“No. What do you want?”

She plays at pulling on one of the staples but is stopped as he pins her other hand up as well. The succubus sighs and turns her head, “I come see you and all I get is this. And seeing you with a little human.” She peers at him with violet eyes. “Don't tell me you've gone soft Dabi. She’s human, she’ll die just like a human too.”

He hadn't let that thought slip into his mind and wasn't planning on starting to. He tightens his grip on her wrists. “We broke up, I made that clear.” A feral grin forms on his face, pulling at the staples on his face. “I told you, if you try me again, I’ll kill you.”

“I heard you had a human now. We all heard.” She whispers, her eyes glowing in the dark of the alley. “They know Dabi.”

His grip falters.

Shit.

Shit. Shit Shit-

He lets go of her wrists and he paces in the alleyway, flames licking at his face as his emotions spiralled.

“They need your power, but you’re squandering it here with a girl who will die before you know it. While you're full of youth, she will be an old crone with nothing but a coffin awaiting her.” She didn't sound bothered at all as she rubs her wrists. “Honestly Dabi, you were the one that taught me never to fall for a human. They’re too brittle, their life essence too weak.”

He did teach her. He taught her to keep her heart shut and to leave it open only for him. He taught her a little too well, as she now believed she had rights to him.

But he never taught himself as well as he did her.

He fell for you bad, and you were mortal.

“Anyway, I was told one of two things. Either bring you back with me, or expose you so you have no other choice but to return.”

He looks back at her, his rage quelled only by the dread that was now spiralling in him. “You will do no such thing!” He roars, his flames igniting and setting him ablaze. “If you dare go near her-”

The succubus’s body transforms into mist starting from her feet then rising to her waist. She puts a finger to her lips. “I’ll be back in three days. If you don't do it, I will.”

She was gone. Leaving him alone in the alley with nothing but flames that wouldn't stop burning.

Dabi spent the next two days trying to find ways to tell you, but with each scenario came the same question.

What would you do if you knew he was a demon? You worked at a school that trained demon slayers- what other option for you would there be if not to turn him in? It was your duty to turn in any demon that showed up at your door, and here you were having coffee with him.

He couldn't do it.

On the third day, it was raining, just like the day he met you.

He hated the mist that had surrounded the shop, reminding him of the succubus and her promise.

Three days.

He had to tell you.

But why was it so damn hard to do? He used to be cold and calculated, having his fun toying with human emotions and killing without regret. He had no empathy, no sympathy for the lives he ruined.

But you were kind. So incredibly kind.

He rests his head on the counter as the door opens. He scents you in the air before you even step through, the smell of milk and honey wafting in the air as you approach the counter.

He had to tell you.

“Morning Dabi!” You cheer as you fold up your umbrella. “A mocha cappuccino with two shots of espresso please!”

He looks up and smiles crookedly. “Finally down to two?”

“I figured I would finally listen to you.”

“That's my girl.” He chuckles as he grabs a cup and prepares your drink. His hands were shaking, but he knew what he had to do.

When your drink was ready and paid for, Dabi keeps his hand on the cup as you take it from him, your hand overlapping his. You look at him with curious eyes behind your wide rimmed glasses. “Dabi? What’s wrong?”

“If I told you I was a bad man, what would you do?”

You narrow your eyes, but keep your hand over his. “Stealing a croissant from the place you work at isn't evil Dabi-”

“Not that.” He laughs but it's noticeably strained. “Not that.” He looks you in the eyes, greedily taking in the sight of you, for perhaps the last time. “What if I told you I was a bad man, who did horrible things. Whose caused terrible things.”

Your hand tightens around his, he feels the tremors in your body before you still.

“I would tell you I know better than to judge you for what you've done, and tell you that I judge you for who you are now. Does that forgive you of what you've done or what you've caused? No. But I judge what I see. And I see a good man.”

He lets out a shaky breath as his glamor drops, revealing his true form of scars and fangs and horns. His flames curl around him as he whispers. “What if I'm not a man?”

You jump back, hands flying to your glasses before they could tumble off of your face. You stare at him with your jaw hanging.

He looks at the coffee still in his grasp. At the scars covering his body.

He knew it.

He puts down the cup.

He knew it.

Clapping comes from the corner of the room where the succubus has taken form, her body still halfway between corporal and mist. She smiles, showing off her sharpened canines. “Bravo Dabi, I almost thought I’d have to do it myself.”

You shut your mouth and look at the succubus. “You're from before-”

“I am.” She purrs. “And I’m here to take Dabi home. Shigaraki will be happy to see his lieutenant again.”

Dabi burns away his apron, leaving him in his normal attire, the stitches of his black coat catching his eye. Memories of your embroidered bag slip through his mind, though are soon flushed out entirely when he hears the shattering of tables as a high pitched shriek comes from the mist succubus.

He phases through the counter in a wall of heatless flame as he sees you covering your ears.

The shriek had destroyed the tables and windows turning them into scrap, and had shattered your glasses. Blood was running down your ears from between your hands.

He stands between you and the succubus, his arms lit with powerful blue flames. “This wasn't part of the deal!”

“Not our deal. Shigaraki doesn't want you to have any temptations for returning to the human world. We need your girl gone for good.” She grins fiendishly. “She will never grow old, isn't that the best gift you could receive?”

“Dabi-” You call out from behind him.

“Stay back!” He yells at you. “Get out of here!” But he knew if you went into the rain outside, you would be done for. The succubus would be able to drown you where you stood.

Her body turns to pure water as she rushes at him. With her power boosted by the rain that washed in through the broken windows, all he could do was send wave after wave of fire to evaporate the water.

But what was evaporation if not mist?

He was fighting a losing battle as he backed up until he finally reached you. He covers you with his body as he puts up a wall of flame.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers to you as his flames are soon put out. “I’m sorry.”

You lift your hands to his face, eyes still closed, and pull him in, pressing your forehead against his.

“Don't be sorry for the things you can't control.” You whisper in return.

The succubus’s body turns corporal from the waist up. She coos. “How sweet, one last goodbye.”

You press a kiss to his lips.

“Don't open your eyes.” You murmur against his lips before letting go of his face and turning around to look at the succubus.

He closes his eyes, prepared to hear you scream in pain, prepared to hear your body drop to the ground.

But all he hears is the loud boom of thunder from outside and the crackle of rock breaking.

Rock?

He opens his eyes and sees you on your knees in front of a marble statue of the succubus.

His eyes widen as he sees you stand up. From the reflection of the marble, he can see your eyes flashing green.

“Did I ever tell you my mother was a demon?” You ask as you kneel and pick up your eyeglass frames from the floor. “She called herself Medusa. Silly, huh? My dad was human though, and well, as you know, they had me..” You turn around, your eyes now closed. “I guess you can say my quirk is having a very strange lineage.”

Dabi gets to his feet and runs at you, barreling into you with his arms swiftly wrapping around you.

You return the hug, your face nuzzled into his chest.

“So.. you're not mortal?” He says quietly, as if the good luck that had been shone upon the both of you would wither out.

“I'm not. It's my hundred and twenty-fourth this year.” You look up from his hold, he could see the faint glow of green from under your eyelashes. “Will you be there?”

He tightens his hold and presses his lips against yours.

“As if I'd ever leave.”

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi x reader #my hero academia dabi x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #- Luca #I snatched this prompt and I will fistfight Jesus all over again #- beta Andro #wHo aPParEntly cAnt ReAd

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grey-water-colors · 3 years ago

Text

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

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

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

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

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

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

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

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

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

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

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

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

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fic #mcu #x reader #x female reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes au #reader insert #mcu imagine #marvel universe #the avengers

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5uptic · 3 years ago

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hey fanfic spotlight again:)

arm candy by amsves (5up/Fundy, general rating, m/m | 300 words)

Summary: The first thing Fundy does after the stream ends is lean over and engulf 5up in his arms.

a chance encounter by mangoedges (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 450 words)

Summary: Who would have thought Apollo would find his soulmate now?

Desecration Smile by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: No summary.

She said to me, Oh Death / Come close my eyes by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve thought the words on his wrist were the coolest thing ever, but they just didn’t make sense. No, really; he even asked 5up–had called him in a possibly drunk state on his twentieth birthday, when a prickling sensation on his arm made him think that he was about to die, 5up, help, and was reminded drily that it was his soulmark, dumbass–and the best his smartest friend (self-proclaimed) could offer was, “Maybe your soulmate’s a poet?” Completely useless. Steve remembered hanging up on him, the click of his mobile cutting off his indignant exclamation. It was only the next day that he looked, properly looked, at his soulmark and tried to make sense of it. Nope. That didn’t work out either; he blamed the hangover. For the longest time ever, he just dismissed it as the universe fucking up. A slash in the middle of a phrase? Ridiculous.

why’d you only call me when you’re high? by LVTO (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I miss you,” Steve mumbles through the phone, and his voice has that soft, honest tone that it always does when he’s like this. 5up’s heart clenches. It’s these moments that keep him from leaving like he should’ve done four months ago, these soft-spoken truths that time and time again have him believing that maybe, maybe this time will be different. It never is. or 5up receives a phone call and ponders his life.

jealousy, jealousy by planetwitch (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy are best friends and have never crossed that line into something more. Until Fundy gets jealous at 5up's constant admiration for a certain 6 foot tall musician.

mimi's menagerie of the miraculous & the mundane by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a drabble for the word of the day, every day, for 100 days.

5up & Co. Throw Yarn at a Wall (and more) by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 1.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Hafu neither confirmed nor denied, instead snatching the half unraveled ball of yarn out of his hands forcefully, a cheshire grin finding its way onto her face. Before 5up could clearly decipher the situation, she flung it at him, smacking him directly in the center of his face. or 5up loves throwing yarn at walls, and everyone else quickly picks it up from him. But in different ways.

Inside My Mind by SilverSprinklez10 (5up/Apollo, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: Soulmates are usually a blessing. But sometimes, a soulmate connection can feel like a curse.

(2021, 190 x 172 cm, oil on canvas) by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.9k words)

Summary: Nobody ever painted anything if they’ve never painted the way 5up closes his eyes when he laughs, how his slender fingers wrap around a new tube of paint, how his smile is all teeth and eye-crinkling. Cabanel’s Fallen Angel has curls, but they aren’t 5up’s, are they? Hyllas, in the nymphs, has fair and delicate hands but 5up’s are prettier, especially when he accidentally squirts paint everywhere and slams his palms on the table and goes “fuck!” Steve cackles until he can’t breathe.

Don't Take Me Tongue-Tied by AoDity, LovelyDayForIt (5up/Sleepy, 5up/Apollo, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words)

Summary: "Sleepy found the ring by luck, something that matches his lover's graceful beauty that he could still afford. Twisted strands of thin silver with a little shimmering opal in the center, it was perfect." Aka: Sleepy's love for Five brought him heartache. If they try, there's still a chance the two could be happy.

implying that the ferris wheel's your body (and i'd really love admission to it) by homeward_bound (David/Hafu/Steve, mature rating, multi | 2.2k words)

Summary: Steve might be drunk out of his mind, but David's just really hot, okay? [or, steve propositions david, kind of. hafu and dumbdog bear witness to his lapse in judgement.]

mi casa es su casa by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.9k words)

Summary: Apollo's soulmate is cautious. Except, apparently, when it comes to coffee. Because, for the fifth time this week, Apollo wakes up to a burnt tongue. It's annoying. He can't really be mad though, because he has given his soulmate so much worse. The occasional burnt tongue is a meager act of penance, comparatively.

I love you too (I love you too) by some_spooky_shit_right_there (5up/Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 3.9k words)

Summary: Apollo comes into 5up's coffee shop. He always gets a cup of coffee and either a bagel or a croissant. He always seems tired, and he never comes in on weekends. Steve would really love to find out just who, exactly, he is.

i'm more fool than wise by 5fu (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steven Suptic is a brilliant crewmate - ask anyone. Okay so don't ask Janet. Or Dk. Or Koji. You know what, don't even ask - it's pretty obvious he is. But when new recruit and stunningly intelligent 5up boards the Crewfu, Steve isn't so sure he can compete. Not that he cares. Totally. Absolutely. On their mission to gather intel on Polus and find out what happened to the previous crew that disappeared from the planet three years earlier, Steve may realize that maybe he was indeed more fool than wise - and maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

i was praying that you and me might end up together by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Four years at Polus University. Four first weeks of school. Two strangers become two friends, and maybe even something more. Apollo hates being seen, hates having attention drawn to him, hates living in a world that feels like a game where everyone knows the rules except him. Steve thrives on attention, purposefully draws the gaze of everyone in the room, making his own rules as he floats through life. They're a match made in hell, but Apollo finds that when Steve looks at him, gives him nothing but attention, he doesn't mind being seen after all.

Long Journey Home by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 9.6k words)

Summary: Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue Feeling kind of blue, boys, feeling kind of blue Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue I'm on my long journey home

there’s so many ways to say “i love you” and i wouldn’t wanna waste ‘em (on someone who, don’t feel it too) by Dear_MaedaysUnwelcomedGhost (5up/Steve, 5up/Hafu, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 13k words, chaptered)

Summary: Love was a strange thing, 5up found. It was everywhere. And not in the way it may seem. It wasn’t in the adverts of perfect couples with artificial lighting. It wasn’t in the glittery cards made by factories or the flowers sold at grocery stores. Not in the TV shows made to bring in cash and be thrown out, with couples who don’t have anything to hold onto but brief infatuation and physical attraction. But in the friendly smiles of strangers as they pass by. In a mother cutting fruit up for their child. Running a hand through the hair of your partner, as their eyes flutter close and to sleep. Helping a stranger pick up their dropped papers, asking for nothing in return. In the graffiti on the wall by the alleyway you walk by everyday to get to work. To the goods baked by small independent bakeries. Flowers planted in parks to make it just a little nicer, or the ones growing out of pavement cracks with determination.

Also!

GuardianPuppy‘s this city needs to be destroyed or at least painted in a different color collection.

spaded_ace’s Casino in the Sky collection.

5fu’s among all this pain collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight #long post #finally a steve/dogfu fic.... come kiss me author

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