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multiwreckedmess · 6 months ago

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Seonghwa Syndrome

Pairing: Robber!Seonghwa x fem!reader WC: 11k Summary: The joke that you’ll only meet a man if he breaks into your apartment suddenly becomes all too real. Warnings: Starts rough, ends bittersweet. More detail under the cut. Seonghwa is really bad at being a bad guy but he’s not a good one either.

As usual this does not claim to represent Seonghwa or any member of Ateez. This is just silly fantasy. Please do not interact with my work if you are under the age of eighteen. This is for my comfort thank you!

TW/CW: Seonghwa is bad at being a bad guy, nearly suffocates the reader. Noncon restrainment, strangers who fuck, unrealistic. P in V sex, oral (fem receiving). Pet names (babe, baby) unprotected sex. ALL SEX IS CONSENTED TO PRETTY LOUDLY THOUGH HE’S NOT ALL BAD. I’m sorry if i missed something, i’ve been writing this for two years and just need it out of my drafts.

Sirens. Every night there were sirens. Sirens were a package deal with the roaches in the shoebox of a studio apartment you were able to afford. The city was so full of sirens their frequencies almost canceled each other out. An app pinged your phone resting on the nightstand, “ACTIVE ROBBERY 1 MILE AWAY Do you want to alert your neighbors?” It wasn’t even worth swiping to see the location. A friend had urged you to get the app after hearing the location of your apartment. Her reasoning was sound, if you knew a fight was happening you could avoid it. It made sense. A single woman in the city, just another tool, you argued with yourself. The semi constant pings only added to your notification clutter and numbed you to the violence surrounding you. Unless it was happening on your side of the block, you could ignore it.

Slowly the traffic sounds lulled you into a half sleep, sinking into your bed in your dark apartment. A wonderful dreamless black abyss of rest curled around your heavy arms and legs. Down down down, falling and tumbling. You jolt suddenly, soul smacking into your body as you return down to the waking world with a thud. A hand is pressed to your mouth.

Not your hand. Your brain desperately tries to understand the phrase. Not your hand, you repeat, mulling over each word. Not. Your. Hand.

Your first instinct is to fight. This is how you discover your hands have been tied in front of you, slip knots around your ankles. You throw the full weight of your body against the unknown perpetrator’s grasp, thrashing and wriggling to free yourself from it. Anything to get a good breath in, a strong yell. Maybe if you could just yell your neighbor’s name they’d hear it through the joining wall. His shoulder lands somewhere in the middle of your torso, knocking the wind from you slightly, forcing your limbs to quiet.

“Please. Please. Stop. Please. I don’t want to do this.” A man’s voice whispers urgently in the dark. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It’s disarming. The pleading as if he is the one held captive by you. Your body is tired, chest heaving with every labored breath through your nose. As your eyes adjust to the lack of light you can barely make him out. All black, leather gloves, long black hair, black bandana covering half of his face.

Sirens.

Ducking close down to you his eyes lock with yours and flash with fear, a cornered animal. Both of you breathe together waiting. The pitch changes as the cops blaze down the main street toward the end of the neighborhood grid until you can no longer hear them. Fuck. As if they would’ve stopped anyway.

A long rip of cloth.

“Sorry.”

You worm under him as his grip shifts. Fabric presses to your mouth.

“I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly you are fighting to keep your mouth closed as his hand pinches the sides of your cheeks. Bunched cotton, almost overflowing, forced between your lips, gagging you.

“I really fucking hate this too you know.” He clamps his hand down again, you can hear the distinct tugging noise of duct tape being ripped from the roll, confirmed as he pulls his bandana down to bite and tear the piece off, replacing his hand with it with a sigh. “I’m not just saying that. I really do hate this.”

Handsome, you shake your head in revolt. How can you think that at a time like this? How quickly can stockholm syndrome occur? You chide yourself. But really, you’d have to google it when this was over. Assuming this would be over. Assuming you’d be able to google when it was all over. Assuming.

The man has busied himself with something at your window. A black duffle bag, of course. He bends down with a groan and tosses something back towards you. A brick is your first thought. You start plotting how to prevent him from bashing your skull in, itemizing all the things in your apartment that might be of value to him, appraising their approximate worth monetarily and emotionally. But the object lands too lightly on your bed to be a brick.

“Sorry, I had to use your bedsheet. I can at least pay for that, if not the therapy you’ll need.”

A wad of cash? You shift around and squint, knot tightening at your ankle. Sure enough a band of bills sits near your shin. What the fuck, you repeat over and over as he sidles up next to you, bed shifting slightly from his weight. You want to fight harder, fling your arms up at his head with a side swipe, but your body seemingly has accepted its fate with a whimper. The man is jittery with leftover adrenaline, leg bouncing uncontrollably. He curses, he does nothing but mutter curses and shake for a solid minute before jolting up again and beginning to pace a short distance next to your bed.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye. As attractive as he may be, he is frightening. His energy is erratic and unstable. In all of the anxiety ridden scenarios you’d thought up, this was not one of them. Your body is racked with sobs, choking on the fabric in your mouth, snot bubbling up in your nose. His footsteps are more frantic around your bed, eyes too full of tears to see him.

“Oh shit oh fuck,” you feel his weight press into the spot near your waist and you flail your arms out half heartedly towards your approximation of him, connecting but bouncing off of him without much heft behind your swing. Undeterred he presses a tissue to your nose and wipes down over the makeshift gag. “I’m. I’m not good at this. I haven’t had to do this. Oh fuck I’m so sorry.”

His voice sounds genuinely distressed. He’s so strangely polite, he’s so confusing. He could’ve left you to sob and drown in your own snot but instead he has busied himself with an almost sisyphean task of keeping your face relatively clean with gentle dabs and calming swipes. Suddenly your sobs turn to laughs. It’s ridiculous, it must be a dream, it’s unreal. Laughing and crying and shaking until your body can heave no more. The man is still next to you with your box of tissues half gone, used ones neatly piled on top of your phone. He seems relieved that you’ve quieted, shoulders relaxing downwards with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats his mantra, low and soothing, “but the less you know the better.”

The man pads off into the dark of your room, leaving you to stare at the ceiling. You can’t help but wish you’d met under different circumstances, maybe at a bar or club or running errands. Certainly not in the middle of the night, bound and gagged on your bed. It had been a joke in your friend group that in order to meet someone, anyone, they’d have to come to your doorstep, but through the window seemed a little much. A harmless little joke about how you never got out anymore. A harmless little in group gag that you’d played along with turned into a fucking nightmare. How could this possibly end well for you? You’ve seen his face, heard his voice. However, if he was going to do something to you, wouldn’t he have done it already? You couldn’t quite remember from the true crime podcasts you’d listened to, how long you had to wait with your life in the balance. What sort of sick freak would do this? Ted Bundy. Ted Bundy was a handsome, well mannered man and yet he did the things he did. Fear rises in the pit of your stomach as you hear his footsteps returning to your side.

“A lady shouldn’t live alone in a second floor apartment. Don’t you know that’s dangerous? You should at least put some men’s work boots near the door,” you hear him chuckle slightly and wince. Oh great, the potential serial killer is giving life advice. He seems to be bent over oddly to one side, hand covering the other. “Do you have like…something like a first aid kit? Fuck, needle and thread might do.”

You look at him bewildered.

“I really don’t want to turn your apartment upside down to find it. I wouldn’t know how to put everything back and things might go missing. I’d hate to leave a worse mess than I already will.” He smiles, which you think is meant to look kind but comes off as sinister.

You halfheartedly nod your head towards your entryway again.

“I checked as best I could without moving anything but honey…” you hear a note of judgment in his voice.

You loudly humph and stare straight up. Fuck him, make a mess of your fucking apartment. Make a mess of your life. Make a mess of your corpse.

He sighs and sits on the far edge of your bed from you. You hear a rip of fabric again. Your sheets. “You know I’m not a bad guy.” He pauses.

You stare at him, incredulous.

“Okay well, I’ve done bad things but I’m not a bad guy. I swear there is a good reason. The less you know…” he trails off again, head snapping towards the sound of another passing siren.

Whole body tensed and alert, he breaks your gaze and watches the light scatter from the street reflect off the adjacent building and into your window, hawk-like, perched apprehensively. Staring at his side profile, you try to memorize every little feature, anything that might help the police identify him. Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. Full lips. It’s an itemization of the statue sitting in front of you, the only movement is his chest as he breathes slow measured breaths. Slim muscular build. Or at least he seems slim. The leather jacket he wears hides his true shape well, maybe the reason he wore it. You continue your itemization. Sculpted eyebrows. Are those his god given brows? No one could naturally have that shape. High cheekbones. Again, well shaped lips. If you gave this description to a sketch artist they might think you’d hallucinated the entire “experience.”

Lights having passed the man slumps back inwards, wincing slightly, only caught because of your intense focus on him. He doesn’t seem to care how much you stare at him, quietly accepting of the situation the two of you were in. It’s infuriating. The bindings on your ankles dig in more as you wriggle your legs again, attempting to kick out at him. He doesn’t flinch. Sweat drips down where your arms are bound to each other, if you could just bend your elbows enough to reach the tape covering your mouth you could scream.

But what good would any of it do? A wash of calm passes over you. What would one more scream in the night mean to the soundscape of the city? The rational part of you begs to give up, to let yourself slip back into sleep and hope that pain will be quick if anything. The animal part of you is raging, unwilling to go down without a fight. Didn’t you already lose the fight? Bound and gagged on your own bed, that seemed like losing.

You hardly notice the shift in the bed as the man gets up and hobbles away again, too at war with yourself. It’s not until the stove light comes on and blinds you that you notice that he’s moved at all. He doesn’t look well, by your estimation, even by the yellow light of your kitchen he looks drained of color. The slouch to his side is more noticeable as he digs through your pantry and fridge, still carefully closing the cupboards as though he lived with you. The kitchen isn’t much to speak of, a single line up of appliances and two small counters, one taken over by a drying rack and dishes, so there is not much for the man to look through. Still the search seems to exhaust him and he comes up empty handed. Another strange realization washes over you: if you were hosting him, if you weren’t being held hostage in your own home, you’d want to ask him the same question. What did he want?

Divorced from your body the scene is almost like a noir film. Things feel hyperreal, like watching a movie in full sixty frames per second. Every second of life is a shot in a soap opera. It’s a natural response to a traumatic event, the dissociation. You let it happen, as though you had a choice. The man shuffles back cautiously, giving you a once over. You imagine you look as gnarly as you feel, hair wild and unkempt, dead eyes, legs splayed, ankles and arms rubbed raw from fighting your bonds. You see it in a nicely framed shot, him towering over you, backlight by the stove light. It’s not a triumphant pose, it’s almost protective, slightly hunched over you. That’s when you feel him gently guide you to one side of the bed and secure a wrist in a loop of rope. He leaves you shuffled to the side and disappears from your line of sight, you don’t bother to move or fight or even look for him. You close your eyes as his fingers work to untie the arm bindings. Done with fighting you possum, limbs heavy and unsupported, pure dead weight. Yet even with his injury and slight build he seems to move you with ease, with the deftness of a person who is used to taking care of others. Still he holds tight to the wrist not yet bound to the bed as he pulls it to the new loop from the final corner of the bed. A lump forms in your throat, you are truly exposed to him. Eyes still closed, his weight on the bed shifts away from your side. You crack open one eye to sneak a glance in his direction. He’s busied himself with inspecting the rope burns on your arms, tutting to himself before getting up from the bed.

That’s when you start screaming.

Full body convulsing on the bed you make a scene. Kicking, flailing, choking on the fabric in your mouth. Hair is matted and in your eyes and sticking to your snot. It’s horrifying. You mean it to be horrifying. Every moment to convince him you are a human, whatever he is going to do to you isn’t worth it. Every moment you feel violent and on edge, an inhuman strength building in your body.

It all happens in an instant but feels like minutes. The fabric gag shifts just enough to unravel in your mouth, your labored breaths are just hard enough to pull the edge down the back of your throat. The panic shocks you still. You can’t breathe. Eyes wide and fixed on the man who is now slumped into your greyish green loveseat, you can’t talk. You can’t even make a sign to him that you are choking. Darkness creeps into the sides of your vision, already distant street sounds get farther away. You hope against hope that he notices, that he cares. There is a ringing in your ears, the thundering of a distant storm, then nothing.

Pain.

And air.

And warmth.

You cough. It burns your lungs. It is delicious.

You cough harder, mucus ejecting from you. Your abs hurt.

He’s staring down at you.

He has kind eyes.

“Why?” Your voice creeks and your lips are tacky from the adhesive of the duct tape.

The man pulls your head to his stomach in a rough approximation of a hug. Lumpy fabric pressing into your face and your cheek hits a cold slightly damp spot on his tshirt. His chest heaves above you.

“Seonghwa, my name is Seonghwa,” his voice trembles. “I just need a place to stay. Please. I’m so scared and I don’t know what I’m doing.” He sounds near tears and his entire body shakes.

“Untie. Now.” Your voice sounds cold and hollow, even to you. He lets your head down from his torso and occupies himself pulling the slip knots over your wrists. Your hands scrabble up his leather jacket, nails leaving half moons as you pull him to you, forgetting your bound ankles and twisting your spine uncomfortably. You’re not sure why you’re holding onto him like this. Clinging to him, arms around his neck, you can sense the shared hesitancy, uncertainty.

“I’ll leave tomorrow night, I promise. I promise,” he continues to repeat his last words until they lose meaning and form. His arms stay hovering, never closing in on you, giving you space to decide.

“Legs too.” Your hamstrings twinge and burn as a reminder of your splayed out state.

“Ofcourse, ofcourse, ofcourse,” he mutters into oblivion.

Newly released you inspect your limbs. Traces of rope burned into you in angry red stripes. The worst is your ankles, raw and bloody. While your arms may sting, it will likely only last a couple days. No matter how you think about the care your ankles will need to keep from scarring it’s hard to ignore the fact that the worst of the wounds are internal. A heat rises in your stomach, a burning fury.

Kneeling at the foot of your bed Seonghwa waits for you, head bowed, hardly the hawk he originally seemed to be. He waits for your decision, unable to look at you directly, as he should. Another person would take the opportunity to inflict the pain back. They’d be right.

“Seonghwa,” you put your palm to his cheek. It’s cool and damp and soft.

He flinches.

“Are you hurt?” Whatever you had originally planned flies out the window as he nods into your hand and melts. From hawk to kitten, man to mouse. Ungagged and bound he suddenly seems so much more fragile to you. Sliding off the bed you begin to move towards your kitchen, no matter how disarmed he seems you need protection. Your knees are uncooperative, wobbling and knocking into each other, landing your ass back on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa nearly teleports near you, hand hovering and waiting to brace your fall.

Shaking off the stumble you find a sizable knife from your drawers, one with some heft to aid you just in case, and a glass of water before returning to your bed. Grabbing the economy size bottle of painkillers from your bedside table you pop two in your mouth and swallow them. A light smack on your bare thigh you see Seonghwas hand outstretched, nudging you insistently.

“One or two?”

He wordlessly presses the tips of two fingers to your thigh. Although you offer him water he swallows both pills dry.

Both of you are utterly exhausted.

“Why?” It’s now Seonghwa’s turn to wonder fruitlessly. Of all the people you’d owe explanations to, he is at the bottom of the list. His finger ghosts over the red markings left by his rope. Goosebumps follow in his wake, hairs standing on end.

You wonder it yourself honestly. A small extraordinary act of kindness. You’d always been too soft, too willing to believe. It’s your turn to stare at the person on your bed. The most dangerous thing about Seonghwa was the element of surprise, you decide. He watches you in turn, like a hurt and mistrustful stray.

“We should swap your bandage,” you say, noting his hand pressed to his side.

“We?”

“Your sewing kit comment has me nervous,” you shrug. “Seems like it’s in a pretty awkward spot anyway.”

“Right.”

The way he follows you to the bathroom, it is clear he’s not in a space to argue with you. The mix of exhaustions, mental and physical, and pain weigh him down, the dual weights almost visibility dragging behind him. It gives you a bit of time to situate yourself in the small tiled bathroom. A full stock of hand towels, in various states of newness, a small first aid kit your parents had gifted you when you’d moved in, nearly completely intact, and of course your trusty knife. Seonghwa watches bemused as you drag out a plastic shoe storage bin full of knick knacks from beside the toilet and retrieve a spray bottle of wound wash.

“You can get nice bamboo shelves for behind the toilet, you know,” he leans casually in the doorframe.

“It’s money I don’t have.”

“I’ll buy it for you.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”

He reevaluates, “I can buy it for you.”

“You know money can’t solve everything.”

He flinches. “I can pretend. Please.”

“What happened to ‘the less you know, the less you are involved…’ huh?” You fold your arms over your chest and plop down on the closed toilet lid.

“You know what happened,” Seonghwa is sheepish, the dirty grout of your bathroom suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. His hair flops in front of his eyes which he doesn’t bother to move. There’s a definite charm to him. He should’ve tried being a door to door salesman instead of whatever it was he did. Housewives of the tristate suburbs would’ve loved him.

“Seonghwa,” you call to him, each syllable floated carefully through the air, beckoning.

The leather jacket, his carapace, thuds to the ground just outside the door. A small glint at his waistline catches the bright sterile light of the bathroom.

“Remove it,” you point the tip of your knife at the source of the shine.

“I’d never- I’ve never-” he stutters, hands flying up in protest.

“I don’t care. Remove. It.”

Seonghwa turns around unbuckling and shuffling the hostler and the concealed gun from his jeans. “It's not even loaded.” The heavy thunk of the hilt hitting the ground punctuates his words as he locks eyes with you.

“Then you won’t mind not having it.”

Seonghwa smells so good it intoxicates you. He really shouldn’t smell good. The closer he gets the less wits you seem to have. He’s like a deadly flower that draws in its prey with the promise of nectar but then drowns them in its inescapable sweetness. But he doesn’t smell sweet, it’s not a perfumed smell, just him. It makes you want to bury yourself deep in his chest.

Your hands slip under his black tank and glide along his stomach as though he were a gift that you were desperate to savor the revealing of. Even this soft touch has him tensed and ready to act at a moment's notice.

“I have to take this off to clean your wound, you know.”

“Mhm,” he inhales deeply and knits his brow. The arm on his uninjured side slides into the sleeve and down along his torso, letting you gently slip the shirt over his head and down to the opposite side of his body where the wound sat. A strip of cloth from your bedsheets wrapped around him in the middle served as his temporary bandage job. Carefully snipping and peeling the layers back you reveal the gash at his hip - red and angry, edges puffed up. Thankfully it seemed any oozing or bleeding had finished.

“Well, it’s not happy but I can’t say much more. I’m no nurse,” you continue to inch closer to the opening, inspecting for debris. Suddenly Seonghwa grabs your shoulder in an iron grip, abs tensing and face contorting. You cry out in pain pulling down and away from, twisting free, dashing to the door, totally forgetting your knife by the tub. Now you know which you are. Fight or flight, you choose the latter.

“Breath, tickles. Tickles, hurt.” He manages to stammer out, face settling between labored breaths, now sitting on the lip of your tub.

“Don’t fucking grab me like that again.”

“I’m sorry I-I-I- I don’t know what to say I’m sorry. Please.”

You glare at him, wary of the man half in your bath-both pitiful and dangerous. If he can’t even tense his abs in laughter how will he be able to support himself enough so that the water runs into the basin.

“Do you need a plushie or are you a big boy and can take it?”

He bites his inner lip and rolls his eyes, “I’ll be fine. It was a surprise.” His breathing is still labored but slower. “It hurts but I can do it.”

Wordlessly you approach the tub and sling your legs over the lip, silently thanking your past self for wearing shorts to bed. You pat your thigh, gesturing for him to lay back against you, draping his top half over the basin, lower half still dressed and stuck out into the bathroom. Tucking a hand towel into the waistband of his underwear you start up the water, testing it with the back of your hand before detaching the shower head and aiming it over the tear in his side. You can feel his back tense, shoulders reflexively curling inward. Somehow he remains calm and noiseless, knuckles clenched white. Water rushes over him, some traveling down your legs, pink hue gathering around your feet and swirling into the drain. A moment of compassion for a wounded creature, a potential Darwin Award winning episode in your life. Eventually Seonghwa’s expression relaxes, breathing slowly in your lap.

“Thank you, my night nurse,” he speaks softly and smiles, eyes closed. You should kiss him, his lips look lonely.

“I really think you need to go to the hospital.”

He shakes his head against your thigh with a hum. The two of you sit there a few minutes more, the whine of the water pressure in the pipes and splash into the tub filling the silence. Seonghwa looks peaceful for the first time since the beginning of the ordeal. It feels wrong to appreciate him like this but the intrusive thoughts won’t stop flooding your guilty brain. Remember to google stockholm syndrome -- the thought flits through your mind. Mindlessly you find your arm maneuvering the shower head over to Seonghwas head, carding through his hair with your fingers, wetting the mop on his head. Nails gently scratching into his scalp you can feel his head get heavier as though you had hypnotized him by washing his hair. You sigh too, he’s like a kitten. Flighty but easily soothed. Legs drenched with runoff you finally turn off the water, Seonghwa still weighty on your thighs. Curse your general love for humanity.

Craning his neck Seonghwa starts to attempt to sit up with a groan.

“Just sit, we need to let the wound air dry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest to weigh him back down. You sound surprisingly stern and robotic, but it doesn’t seem to phase the man sprawled across you and your tub. The redness at the site of the injury seemed to have been tempered slightly, much to your relief.

“Neosporin?” He cracks an eye open and searches your face.

“Hypochlorous acid, once it’s dry. Then I’m going to circle the red area with a sharpie to see if it grows larger and then we’ll put some gauze and tape on you okay?”

He nods and waits patiently for you as you work on him. Seonghwa barely even flinched as the sharpie tickled his side while tracing the borders of inflammation. He even stood as you bandaged his side, gently tacking the gauze to him as you taped the edges, planting a kiss on the middle as your mother had done to you as a child. The two of you could’ve fooled the world into thinking you’d always been like this.

But there were sirens, ringing ever so faintly in the distance, to break the spell. Sirens to remind you how you got here. Sirens that made Seonghwa hunch, tense.

“You should move,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah. Planning on it.”

“Sorry.”

“You know you say sorry a lot for a home invader.”

Somehow the bandage and damp tousled hair make him look even more attractive. You could swear up and down that it was some sort of hormonal imbalance. Maybe it was the position he’d assumed on your bed, shirtless with his knees bent and akimbo. A textbook picture of manspreading, usually obnoxious and yet he made all the difference. Or even it could’ve been the hazy look in his eyes, a mixture of relief and appreciation, a look you’d not gotten much in your life.

You could turn him in right now.

If you just take the phone on your nightstand all you’d need to do was hold the emergency call button down for 10 seconds.

Your heart skips, eye flicking to the peaceful Seonghwa, studying you.

“Do I still make you nervous?” He looks concerned.

“Yes.”

“Would it help to sit down?”

You still haven’t moved an inch, stuck in the bathroom doorway. The simpler solution for getting help would be running and banging on a neighbors door. Or just running into the street, to one of the many corner stores.

Seonghwa groans as he gets up and shuffles towards you, palms up as an offering of peace. Your ability to run safely closing in as he approaches.

But you stay anchored in place and take his hand. Slowly his hands creep up your arms until you are chest to chest. Seonghwa can feel your body quake in his arms. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. His thoughts loop around that phrase, spiraling, fixating.

“The thing on my waist? It’s from hopping a fence. I got caught and sort of impaled I guess. If that helps,” he feels his ears burn with embarrassment. You can almost see the red flush creeping up his neck from where your head is buried. “Now the money…see that I can’t tell you but…you are the only one who has been harmed in the uhh…getting of the money.” He chuckles as he moves his hands from your shoulders, winding his arms around your mid back, cradling you. “I really try not to hurt anyone. I really, really try.”

Your body stills and softens, adrenaline slowly working its way out. Seonghwa feels your weight push back into his palms resting softly along your spine. He stiffens and prepares for the drop, the collapse, but you simply bend into him. It’s almost romantic.

“Would you kiss me?” It’s an absurd question springing from an intrusive thought. A terrible deep dark thought. And yet the phrasing makes it feel silly coming out of your mouth. Almost a request but not quite there, a part of your rational mind keeping you from asking outright.

“...kiss? Like now?” Seonghwa stares down at you, expression unreadable.

“...in the grand scheme of things. Would you?” Your cheeks heat up under his eye and you burrow your face down into his shoulder again.

“Yeah. I would. I could now, if you want.”

“Mmmmaybe,” you hum in reply.

His lips brush against your forehead, “you kissed me where it hurt so…I’m returning the favor I guess.” Seonghwa drops his embrace and returns to the bed, satisfied with his attempts at calming you. He smiles slightly to himself, watching you follow him and sit warily on the side. Your bed is a single; a sensible size for a single girl in a studio apartment. The two of you fit uncomfortably to each side, nearly sliding off in an effort to keep space and modesty. This gesture feels strange after the events of the night, yet comforting to the sliver of your mind which was made up against Seonghwa.

Seonghwa notices goosebumps trail up your arms, your slight recoil and hesitancy to touch the torn covers. “You could hold me if you want. I’ve been told I run warm.”

He wants so desperately to go back in time. To undo all of the past few hours. To choose another alley to run down. Another apartment to try the window of. The guilt settled heavily on his chest, he’d chosen the absolute right apartment for his escape. Poorly guarded, close to the alley, single woman inside with her defenses lowered and a heavy sleeper. If only he was a different person. He was what was wrong. If it wasn’t him it could’ve been much worse, the thought made him shudder. Harm coming to you, the person who had so carefully washed and wrapped him, his muscles tensed in response. No, it was best that it was him.

Seonghwa does run warm. Or maybe all humans do. At this point you aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed if either statement was more true. Still, the heat radiating from him as you tentatively press your spine into his undamaged side feels good. Hand resting on the hilt of the knife beneath your pillow, Seonghwa’s slow steady breaths hypnotize you. In and out, expand and contract, fullness and emptiness. His breaths gently press him closer to you. Sinking deeper into the bed you once thought of as your liferaft the tension in your body drops like an anchor into the sea. Almost nothing could pull you from the weight of weariness that had set in.

That’s when you see them. Slowly rotating red and blue lights. No sirens. Sitting perpendicular to the mouth of the alleyway, blocking the road.

No way.

A heavy thud at your door echos in your tiny apartment.

No fucking way.

“Ma’am?”

A second series of heavy knocks rouse a bleary eyed Seonghwa.

“Whossat?”

“Ma’am, it’s the police, we just need a moment.”

Why can’t the goodness of humanity ever work in your favor?

“Just a moment!” you hear yourself call back in an unnaturally chipper tone.

Cracking open the door, your eyes meet his eyes - deep sockets with larger bags. His 5 o’clock shadow long into extra hours. He looks bored, or tired, maybe just generally over the whole night shift. It occurs to you that you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror since the beginning of the night.

“I’m sorry officer, I just woke up…” you hesitate, your tone is pitched higher in an attempt to sound amenable. “Is there an issue?”

The grizzled man studies your face for a second, measuring his response. “Well miss. I received a request to check in on your well being. It seems there’s been some…unusual activity at your residence.” His lips press to form a flat line, blank expression holding. Waiting for you to talk. It's hard to escape his eyes, your stomach forms knots around itself from holding the mounting ways of responding. You know he wants you to talk. You can’t talk. You have nothing to say. You have too much to say. You can’t decide what to say. Nails dig into the several layers of paint on the door, leaving small crescents in their wake.

“I-I-I-” you stutter, trying to fill the awkward air, keenly aware of the discarded gun laying casually on your floor, close enough that a few steps past the threshold would be enough to spot it. “I brought my boyfriend home for the first…well I just assumed my neighbors…well my last neighborhood…see my last neighborhood was much nicer and they didn’t seem to really…” your tongue trips over your excuses, fumbling this way and that. You can feel the officer’s eyes boring holes in your face, watching you boldly flail in your entryway. Suddenly the intensity of the man’s gaze is gone, moved onto another target. A hand gently placed at your waist slides across your stomach and pulls you into a back hug.

“Sorry sir. Next time we will…uh… ‘experiment’ at my place,” Seonghwa’s voice is gravelly, you can almost hear the slight smile curling at the corners of his lips. You can certainly feel the subtle knowing nod he gives the police officer. He cradles you closely, almost protectively, chin propped on your shoulder, as though you were a real couple. Your fingers reflexively search for his hand, weaving into the space between his fingers.

Seonghwa prays silently that the old misogynistic ‘bro code’ had not missed this man’s ears in teenagerdom. The slight nod to a wild night in, the cheeky eyebrow raise, even down to mussing the back of his hair up and appearing only in his boxers and t-shirt, all carefully calculated to sell a story to this audience of one. “Baby,” his voice teasing, “you didn’t tell me your neighbors were so interested in you! Did you think I’d be jealous?” He plants a small peck on the side of your neck, tickling you, a poorly suppressed giggle erupting to break the tension. It feels believable to him. It feels real. The officer’s expression softens.

“I’m so sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” The short lived smile faded, you stare sheepishly at the floor between yourself and the policeman.

“Ack, I figured,” he huffs. “Just get to sleep you two.”

“Must be a slow night if you’re responding to this kinda call,” Seonghwas winks back at him.

The officer rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning away from the scene. “You kids have a good night.”

Door closed, you heave a sigh and shake off Seonghwa’s limbs to turn to face him. He’s smirking. And also less dressed than you left him. And annoyingly cute. Maybe even sexy. Heart jumping to your throat you re-evaluate, definitely sexy.

“You lied for me.” He continues smirking, tongue caught between his teeth.

“Not really.” You try to walk it off but he doesn’t budge, keeping you in the little alcove by the door. God why do you feel your heart fluttering?

He leans on the frame of the arch, eyes raking over you. “You lied for me to an officer of the law.”

“I just didn’t say the whole truth.”

“You called me your boyfriend.”

“You called me baby.”

“You started it.”

“Excuse me. You definitely started it. ALL of it.” You’re incredulous, flames fanning the sides of your face. Tension stretched thin like a rubber band waiting to snap. You want to grab him and do…something. You hadn’t figured out what you were going to do after you touched but you were sure it wasn’t good.

“I never lied.” He sounds so cocksure and annoying, just standing there, unaffected.

“But you started it.”

“And you didn’t finish it so what now?”

Neither of you had noticed it, the way your faces slowly inched closer and closer with every volley back and forth. Noses nearly touching. Eye crossing and unable to fully see his face you can feel his steady weighty breaths on your collarbone. You need him to admit it. Moreso you need him for yourself.

You kiss him. It’s a brief and forceful meeting of lips, crashing together with the full weight of your anxieties and frustrations. The world spins as he reciprocates with equal force, chest pressing to yours. In the fray your back ends up against the wall, arms draped over his shoulders.

“I started it,” Seonghwas eyes are half lidded, lips red and parted, waiting for your next move.

“And I want you to keep going.” You pull him by the nape of his neck to you into another bruising breathless kiss which he eagerly chases, pressing his hips and slotting his leg between yours. It’s just enough pressure to make you dizzy. Kissing him feels dangerous, ill advised. You like how close he is, you want him closer. Your hips rock of their own volition against his bare thigh.

When he moans into your mouth your brain numbs momentarily, reverting to base instinct, driven by the need to hear him again. All the sirens in your body set off at once. A bad idea. But you don’t care, you ride the rush of adrenaline to the last drop and pull away once more.

“Normally I'd fuck you right here but my fucking side…” he gasps and gulps, forehead still pressed to yours.

Staggering only slightly, you pull him blindly backwards towards your bed until the backs of your calves touch the familiar wooden framing, tumbling into the squeaky box spring. Gathering yourself to your hands and knees with Seonghwa in front of you, you indulge in him, hands trailing up the front of his torso, a known path by now but finally able to properly appreciate him; firm and warm beneath your fingertips. He’s lithe but strong, a good build for a cat burglar. You kiss right below his belly button, right about the waistband of his boxers, a smooth expanse of soft pale skin. Feeling his abs tense and release with his sharp intake of breath is the strongest hit of dopamine you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Oh fuck yes,” he sighs into a moan. Your hand slowly stroking his growing erection a small wet spot begins to form on the cloth. Mouthing his bulge you feel him throb, hips stuttering, his hands fighting him by his side. You want to show him it's okay. You know why it shouldn’t be okay but you need something to be. Tracing your cheek his nails are well kept and smooth, cuticles trimmed. Not the hands of a man who was made for violence. Slowly he shifts forward, tipping you onto your back.

“You’ve done too much for me,” he breathes heavily, carefully hovering over your lower torso. “Let me do something for you.”

Losing sense of time and place as you stare at him, he tugs your sleep shorts off with little help from you. He looks up from between your thighs, his belly pressed to the mattress, face inches from your mound. A shiver of heat spreads from your chest outward. He’s a hawk again, perched and ready for the kill. Handsome, dangerous, hungry.

Mouth hanging loosely your gazes remain locked as he lowers himself to you, face shifting again from animal to demon, making a show of flicking your clit with the firm tip of his tongue. He wants to see you squirm and writhe in pleasure, erase the memory of the pain he caused.

“Seonghwa,” you fight to keep your thighs open as you moan his name. You’re glad you know at least this much about him, toes curling and flexing.

Pleased with your reaction he inserts his middle finger, crooking upwards. Lapping at your button with short sure strokes, you feel the familiar fuzz of arousal clouding your brain. Fingers threading through his hair you push the curtain of bangs back momentarily. His eyes are closed, lids fluttering lightly as his pillowy lips envelop your slit. Lewd slurps and pops and moans fill the room, punctuated by the squeak of the bedframe, shifting as his hips subconsciously hump into the mattress.

“So tight. Gotta prep you. Don’t wanna hurt-again,” he emerges, mumbling. It sounds like nonsense to your cotton filled brain.

Nodding along you watch him insert a second finger, curling it to match and drag along the front wall of your cunt. It feels impossibly much, his long tongue, his slender fingers stroking softly against your spot. Almost as if to punish the good samaritans for calling in your very real cries of distress he adds a third finger, an enraptured wail escaping your lungs. Eating you like a starving man whose last meal is your cunt, you grab his hair forcefully, without thinking, to stabilize yourself.

“Good girl,” his guttural growl that vibrates from his lips to your sex has you seeing stars. Heels digging into the bed as your hips jut upwards, allowing his arm to snake under your ass to hold you to him.

“Coming. I’m coming. Fuck- oh god- Hwa-” your voice trembles as you babble helplessly trying to warn him. “ComingcomingcomingcomingCOMING.” Back arched your walls seizing and clenching around his fingers fuck you through your high, waiting for the crescendo to cease. He pulls his face from you expectantly as his fingers find their target. Your chest feels like it’s going to burst, abs tensed impossibly tight, you want to tell him something but your jaw moves wordlessly, connection to your brain severed. Everything happens in both an instant, your soul leaving your body momentarily as you climb higher than you ever have. With a sharp gasp you cum, liquids drenching his palm and your sheets.

“Yes oh fuck, thats it,” Seonghwa almost speaks for you, dipping his head down again to kiss oversensitive clit carefully. He’s messy, long tongue licking around his slick cover jaw and lips, three fingers still buried inside of you, slowly and subtly fucking you as you come down from your high. “I didn’t push you too much right?” A twang of concern running through his tone.

“Hwa, I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He gulps and nods.

“Cmon, what happened to the man who tied me to the bed and nearly suffocated me?”

His grin returns, “oh you liked that?”

“No. But I like this now.”

Leaning over you he kisses your nose, you can smell yourself on him faintly, his natural aroma tinted by yours. The rough edges of his bandage tickle your stomach with each breath. Both of you are breathless and starry eyed. So far from your studio bedroom that you could’ve sworn you were floating alone on a raft at sea with him.

You don’t get a chance to look properly at his cock before it's laying heavily on your mound, aligned just so it brushes over your clit. Seonghwa gazes down, eyes wide, telling you everything you need to know.

“Will it fit?” You stare up at him doe-eyed. “It feels so big.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he whispers, reassuring. Slowly running himself along you, shaft wet with your juices, the valley of your cunt looks like it can barely accommodate his girth.

“Please, I need it.”

“I want to fuck you so badly, but we-”

“Please,” you mewl, the friction building a tight coil in your core, painfully clenching in on itself. “Fuck, Hwa, please more please-” you beg in broken up sentences. Both of you move in sync, his hands pinning your hips below him, grinding into your tight wet slit. An exquisite sloppy mess mixes and marks both of your bodies in new ways. If you could just move your hips high enough from the mattress you could press him past your entrance, just the tip, it would be enough. The mere thought forces your pleas harder and faster and more insistant.

“I know but we need a condom,” Seonghwa cranes his neck to survey the room, no obvious convenient location to store a box or even a spare few foil packets.

“You don’t have?” You practically yell.

“I was--, this was not--,” Seonghwa stutters. “The last thing I thought about was fucking when I got ready tonight to be honest.”

“I’m okay. I don’t have any--I’m on--”

“You’re fine? You don’t--” you both overlap hurriedly. He is easily convinced by your assurance, letting the fat mushroomed tip of his cock slide down your slit to prod at your entrance. “You’re so fucking wet I-- if you are sure.”

Spreading your cunt with his thumbs he slides the first inch in, testing the waters. Watching you stretch around the head is electrifying. The way your walls hug his cock so tightly he nearly bursts at the seams there, huffing and puffing. What doesn’t help are your little whimpers and whines, subconscious to you but deafening to him. All consuming in his blood.

“When was the last-” he gasps, withdrawing for his own sanity for the next push.

“I don’t remember- I don’t know- please-”

A second attempt, this time almost half of the way before your pained sounds start, nose scrunching and brows knitting. Each inch that makes it past brings a sick sense of accomplishment flooding warmly into your chest. Seonghwa mutters in time with each circular pass of his fingertips over your clit. “God you’re amazing, you feel so good,” he hisses and groans. “Just a little more, that’s it, you’re doing so well, taking me so well. I know, I know babe it hurts, just be a good girl and take a little more.”

His eyes roll back in his head as he cages himself over you, pushing the final inch past triumphantly. His chest pressed to yours, the shared warmth, the sound of his breaths, the sheer closeness, it’s the first time you feel safe since the incident began. It’s overwhelmingly nice. Your chest tightens and a tear slips out of the corner of your eye.

“You ‘kay?” Seonghwa kisses your cheek, careful not to squish you below him.

“It’s so nice,” you burble.

Tenderly he kisses your nose. “Told you not to worry.”

Rolling his hips into you he barely pulls himself back before thrusting up. The deeper he pushes the more you can feel him in your guts. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose pressed to your throat to hear your small soft moans better. Time seems to contradict itself in the moment, too fast but so slow. Neither one of you wants to leave it. But hormones have other ideas. Your clit aches and Seonghwa isn’t fairing much better, a low groan spilling involuntarily from him.

“Wan’ you to cum again. gotta- on my cock,” he’s breathless as he increases his pace. You want to cum on his cock. The way it feels so complete, nestled deep in you, you want him to know how whole you feel. It’s difficult from below but you do your best, rolling tightly back onto him, sweat slicked bodies easily sliding together. Blood abandoning your brain in favor of your cunt leaves you in a haze, eyes unable to focus.

“T-touch-” you mumble, fingers wrapping around his arm to try to move it south. Luckily he gets the hint, snaking his hand down between the both of you. Each circular motion of his fingers winds you closer and closer, choruses of yes’s flow uncontrolled from your lips. It burns but you can deal with it later, for now you chase the pain back with promises of pleasure. Arms slung over his shoulder you hold him to you, more frantically grinding against each other than thrusting. Your hips kick up as you release with a small shaky sigh, muscles of your core contracting around him expectantly..

Seonghwa’s eyes shine as he looks at you, all his handiwork. Work he can be proud of. Blissed and exhausted below him, dopy smile plastered to your face. Detangling himself he leans back, smirking as he slowly drags his cock along your walls.

“Feels so good, don’t stop.” You slur.

“Can you cum again?”

“Dunno.”

He growls under his breath turning into a chuckle, “not a no?”

“Fuck I-, just don’t stop. It really,” there are words that you search for in your quicksand laden brain, wading through the muck they feel hopelessly lost to you, heavy and sluggish.

Seonghwa returns to your neck, palm cupping your breast, fingers busy playing with your nipple as he continues his long slow thrusts. Your skin collects condensation and sweat, droplets running everywhere, soaking into the sheets. Not that you mind, not that you can currently tell. The slight fray at the end of his moans is all you care about. The throb of his cock against your walls as you fuck, unhurried by the encroaching dawn.

“I need to cum,” he sounds apologetic. “Babe, do you want to cum again?”

“Mhmm,” you nod against the side of his face. “I can one more.”

With a kiss he gathers you underneath him, pulling your hips into just the right position for him to easily pound into you. Even 20 minutes prior you couldn’t have imagined taking him at this speed. Practically pressing your knees up to your ears your weary legs shake as you sob in delight. You’ve never felt so full, so overwhelmed. Blunt tip rubbing against your gspot, in this position you can’t brace yourself for the climax.

“I’m-it’s-I’m-” you stutter. “Seongwha, Hwa-”

He looks more beast than man as he grits his teeth, “I know, me too.” He loves this feeling almost more than cumming. The seconds before. The uncontrolled trembling. The power he holds as you’re folded beneath him, using your body as a means to an end.

His ass flexes, hips suddenly erratic. Your mouth is open but nothing comes out as the world seems to darken. The second you feel the first spurt of warmth filling you, you cum around him. Both of you are panting and grunting, ready to collapse. Biological imperatives working for you, your walls squeeze him dry. A mixture of his and hers cum slowly forcing its way out of you and around the base of his cock. His lips stay on your neck and collarbone and cheek, kissing softly at the skin there.

It’s cold, you’re thankful for his warmth pressed firmly on top of you. You want sleep, you want rest. Now you think you can maybe find it, breath slowing as your eyes close. He withers slightly inside of you, falling out with a soft plop.

“What do you need to clean up?”

You shake your head, “just give my pjs.”

Out of the crack of your eyes you can see him, shifting slightly to gather his bearings in the apartment again. Once again he surprises you, returning to you with a perfectly warm and damp washcloth, slowly wiping off the mess left streaking down your buttock and thighs. Things feel normal. The night is finally calm.

“If you prefer, I can give you-” he mutters as you wriggle slightly at his touch.

You hum, “no it feels good.”

“Ah-oh,” he stutters and smiles. “So you like being taken care of?”

“Not sure,” the admission is easy. “It’s not something I’m used to. This at least, this feels nice.” It sounds more sad coming from your mouth than it had sounded in your head, awkwardly tripping out with unexpected bare honesty. Not that much was left to hide from the handsome stranger.

“I wish I-no-well-” Seonghwa sucks his breath back. Helping redress you before hopping back into the bed. The birds chirp in the sudden silence. “I’ll just need a couple more hours of your care. I’m sorry.”

You must’ve rolled and wiggled and wormed your way to his side, limbs and eyelids heavy in a pleased hazy sleep. Even though the man is mostly skin and bone and muscle you manage to find the perfect valley of his collarbone to rest your head on. The day is well risen by the time you shake yourself from the blanket of sleep.

Seonghwa’s jaw is slack, opened slightly as he lightly snores. It’s cute, airy, more of a wheeze than a honk. An arm is tucked behind his head, the same knee bent up to the ceiling. You’d be forgiven if you’d thought he was simply leisurely resting his eyes instead of dozing heavily in the mid morning sun. His hair is sticking wildly in every direction, haphazardly covering half his face.

“I have to check your bandage,” you nudge him. He groans as you peel back the gauze carefully. The jagged gash isn’t worse, at least in your untrained opinion. The edges are inflamed but the redness and swelling hadn’t worsened from the untreated hours nor the vigorous fucking.

Seonghwa grimaces, then laughs. “I like it when you touch me.”

“Pervert,” you try to hold back your own smile as you spray his abdomen with wound wash to rebandage him.

He stays where you leave him, in your bed relaxing in the midmorning sun. The only sun your apartment gets. In the pool of light he looks more like a cat than a hawk, smiling drowsily. Everything feels normal, copacetic aside from the torn bedsheets and tumble of clothes that sit near the bathroom door. It could pass as an everyday Saturday morning from a wild night out. Except you don’t have those, wild nights out. It’s what you imagine a wild night out after could look like, for someone who isn’t you.

You pat around barefoot, reaching into cupboards and the fridge, grabbing the making for cereal. Two of each for the first time in a long time. The slight clattering is cheerful and bright. Seonghwa stays still with his eyes closed, slight smile passing his lips. Despite it all, you are glad you lied.

“I don’t need that,” he states simply, eyes still closed. “I’ve imposed enough.”

“Don’t be a baby, it’s already poured,” the dull clang of the bowl hitting the tiny table set for two punctuates your sentence. Hand on your hip, you suck your teeth, eyebrow cocked. Waiting. “It’ll get soggy.”

He hrmphs his way from the bed. Rolling dramatically off the side and slouching his way to the diner chair you’d bought from a liquidation sale. Seven dollars and virtually indestructible, a steal. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself. Steal. Seonghwa sits, lowering his face close enough to the bowl that when he eats he practically speed-shovels the mixture of crunchy cereal and sloshing milk from the bowl directly into his mouth.

“You’re so strange, you know that?”

“Didn’t seem to mind that last night,” he gulps down a mouthful of chewed bits, “when you called me your boyfriend.” He pauses again, finishing off the rest of the bowl by picking it up and tipping it back into his mouth.

You can’t stop thinking about him. His slender body curled around you, warm skin to warm skin. How good he felt filling you up. Toes curling reflexively to a point, the butterflies in your stomach feel more like flying bricks rocking around your intestines. His bare leg bumps into yours beneath the table and you jump clear out of your chair. Seonghwa also retracts noticeably, jutting backwards from the table to give you space.

“Are you okay? It’s just me, just my leg. I swear I’m not trying anything.”

Your heart breaks a little as you watch his face wracked with concern and guilt. Arms outstretched, fingers spread wide to indicate he means no harm. “I’m fine, just startled. Not used to another person being there I guess,” you try to laugh it off.

“Did I make you like that?”

“I don’t think you helped.”

Seonghwas eyes plead with you, big dark irises searching for an answer he can’t find. “Can I? Can I help? I need to-”

It hurts to watch, “you don’t have the time,” you snap. You hate yourself for feeling sorry for him. For taking care of him. Still you can’t help yourself, swirl of emotions twisting and writhing like a snake in your gut.

“But if I did-”

“But you don’t.”

“I could-”

“You can’t. Seonghwa. You can’t. You made a choice before you even knew my name. Here are your consequences. I don’t know what carefully crafted plan went awry that you ended up here in my apartment but what’s done is done. If you turn back now I’ll look like an idiot so you have to keep going. If it isn’t to fulfill your original goal, make it so that this nightmare wasn’t for nothing.”

Seonghwa can barely manage a whisper, “I wasn’t all bad though, right?”

You groan, throwing your head back dramatically. “No okay, you fuck great but really…? Really?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still thinking about it,” he says from the corner of his sheepish half smile.

Your thighs squeeze together as a flush of heat migrates between them. “Yeah thinking about what kind of idiot fucks someone who held her hostage in her own apartment.”

“Thinking about what kind of idiot misses his window of escape for a second round.” Seonghwa’s hand rests just millimeters from yours on the table, so close your brain swears it can feel the sparks of electricity at the tips of his fingers. Your pinky twitches, smacking his.The room is still humid from the rainy night in a way that sits in your lungs and clings to your skin. Fingers laced with yours, he tugs gently, most of a suggestion to come closer, guiding you to his lap. You swing a leg over confidently, bulge in his boxers evident to the both of you.

“Second? She must be really dumb to let him.”

Seonghwa hums a reply, lips already pressing to your collar bone. For as angular of a man he appears to be, he’s soft when he’s nuzzled into your chest. Your shampoo smells different when it’s in his hair. “Can we take your shirt off?”

Everything that was intense and heavy from last night has lifted. Soft sighs and giggles emanate from both of you, his fingers bumping into yours clumsily as you both reach for the hem of your pj top. Normally you’d cower close, or at least that’s what you did with the last person. With him, the promise of impermanence gave you courage.

Tits out, Seonghwa’s eyes blown wide, you roll your hips back and slip your hand into the waist of his boxers, just enough to pull his cock free. He fits snugly between your folds as you rock back and forth over him, grinding your swollen sex against him.

“Did I die?” His eyes are hazy as he rakes them over you. “God I must’ve died. But you feel so real.” Seonghwa holds your hips as he reciprocates, unwilling to tear his gaze from your face. You ride him like that, his jaw slackening as he forces his eyes to focus on each part of you for even just a moment, hands exploring further. A memorial for the journey ahead.

Your hand drifts to your clit, rubbing in small circles as you cautiously inch down his impressive length. He looks good below you, eyes flicking from cunt to face.

“That’s it, nice and slow baby, I’m not in a rush,” he says, practically drooling on himself.

Finally to the hilt you rest your elbows on his shoulders with a groan, rocking yourself slowly in his lap. Leaning in you kiss him gently, full lips plush and warm on your own. “Liar,” you whisper, “you have to leave.”

“Pretend I don’t,” he volleys back, arms snaking up your back and pulling you chest to chest. “I’m not going to leave babe.”

The way he fucks you almost has you believing it. Close and slow, almost unbearably warm in the morning light despite the lack of sheets. Sitting you on his cock like a throne and encouraging the wind of your hips, filling every inch of your warm walls. Whining and groaning as they lazily squeeze around him appreciatively. His mouth works wonders on your breasts in a way you’re almost sure no other partner has. Alternating between the soothing pressure of his tongue lapping and the sizzle of his teeth just barely nipping at you. More bruises, at least these would be easier to hide.

Seonghwa’s breathy moans increase in pitch as his movements lose coordination. The desperation in his grip on your hips is dizzying. You ride him faster, thighs burning as you try your best to finish the job. Your core is ready to implode but the exhaustion quickly overwhelms you.

“So-close-” you mumble through gritted teeth, desperate huffs escaping your nose.

Arms wrapping around your middle you feel the table shift behind you. Seonghwa grunts as he stands up with you on him, placing you haphazardly on the surface, used plates clattering. Gathering your legs around his hips he pistons like his life depends on it, deep into you. Your toes curl as your muscles spasm, back arching as you cum on him. Seonghwa collapses over you, hips still jackrabbiting as he chases his high. His face buried in your neck, he spills inside of you with a choked whine. “Should’ve asked-” he begins to slur apologetically.

“It’s fine.”

Seonghwa only lays there for a minute or so, waiting for both of your breathing to slow. The cotton pad of his dressing is stained red. So is the inside of your thigh.

You state the obvious, “you’re bleeding again.”

Cleanup is eerily quiet. No sirens, no giggles, no sighs. You work efficiently as a team, as much as it pains the both of you. Seonghwa would’ve pampered you, you know that. Even in the still air, his small touches reveal his thoughts. He washes the dishes, even the ones he didn’t use, wipes down the bathroom sink after you re-wrap him, gathers the sheets into a disgraced bundle.

“Would you be my girlfriend it if-” he shatters the silence suddenly, watching you stuff new pillow covers onto your pillows.

‘I don’t know, what will tell our kids? Oh hey when daddy met mommy, he broke into her apartment and they fucked like bunnies.”

“We could just lie. Our parents probably did that.”

You stop mid shove of pillow, “maybe omitted details but I’m really not a bar hopping type and you don’t seem like a Sunday morning coffee shop sort of man either.”

“I could be for you.”

Dropping the pretense of making the bed you stare at him. “You have to leave. Don’t make me think otherwise. I know you have to leave. And if you want any hope of taking care of me I cannot know where you are going or when you’re going or any more than I already know. Got it?”

Seonghwa looks defeatedly at the floor, head hung low. “No, I know. I got it. I just-”

“We met, that was bad. We fucked, that was good. Leave it at that. For both of us.”

Seonghwa waits for you to busy yourself with dinner. Back to him as he slinks out the door. He’s never been good with goodbyes. He doesn’t even look as he catches the door to stop it from slamming into the frame. Ten bands sit under your couch cushions waiting for you to discover. Yet another five are more conspicuously placed beneath your pillows. He wishes it were more. For everything. The sirens start up again, the sun still sits at the horizon.

“I should look up stockholm syndrome,” you think to yourself as you push your food back and forth on your plate. “Is it even real?”

Carefully you wrap the second portion in an old takeaway container and shove it into your fridge. Leftovers were always good to have. You’d forget they were there and your friend would discover it and throw them out three weeks later. Time passes weirdly for those two weeks, days dragging but weeks flying. You hoped Seonghwa made it, wherever he was. The thought made you nauseous. Everything made you nauseous. Still, you watched the sun rise and you hoped he was looking at the same sun somewhere.

#ateez fanfic #ateez smut #atz smut #atz fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

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apalkenndream1 · 1 year ago

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I'll Follow You Into The Dark || !Tav/!Reader x Astarion

(The brain worms demand this be posted)

Tags: fluff, soft, full squad, end-game spoilers

Word Count: 3,664

With the Netherbrain defeated and everyone cured of the tadpoles, Astarion has to flee from the sun once again. You follow him, of course, so he doesn't have to face the darkness alone. You head to the Underdark to help the vampire spawns find their way in this new world. Watching Astarion help his brothers and sisters warms your heart, reminding you of their freedom and how far he has come. He was once a man who only knew to live one way: deceive others and fight his way through everything. Now, he accepts the role of being a hero and helps out his siblings when he could've left them behind. Of course, his personality stays the same, including his sass and silly jokes in every interaction with them.

The two of you have found a home to call your own, making it comfortable for the time you can spend alone. While there may not be any sun to bask in, you make it comfortable with lanterns and a fireplace to keep you both warm. However, it never seems like quite enough.

_____________________________________________________________

Lately, it seems Astarion has been less of himself, diving into readings and drawings instead of keeping up in conversation. Similar to humans having seasonal depression, it seems this vampire has a similar affliction. He has become a recluse, only coming alive when he's helping out the vampire spawns. You decide to bring it up to him, hoping to find a way to help him out.

"Hey," you say softly, hoping not to disturb him.

"Hello, beautiful." He smiles softly, finally looking away from his book.

"Whatcha drawin'?" You say casually, ensuring he doesn't know what's happening.

"My muse, darling. You." He uses his wicked grin, the one that always knocks the wind out of you. You softly giggle, eyeing his drawings of you.

His attention to detail, including your wrinkles around your mouth and by your eyes. He shades every detail exactly, capturing your essence in picture-perfect form. It's like you're looking into a grayscale mirror.

"Wow, you're incredibly talented. That looks incredible." You're taken aback by his abilities, speechless.

He blushes slightly, as much as a vampire can, "Oh, you're too kind. Now, what did you actually want to talk about?" He says, a little more sternly, as he can see you're holding back.

You sigh, let out a large breath, and look into his striking red eyes, "You seem a little...off. I'm worried about you, is everything okay?"

His eyes drop, and he sets down his book, looking at his hands, "I miss our adventures, our team, and the sun. A part of me wishes we had never gotten rid of those tadpoles. A part of me wishes it had never ended so that we could still be out exploring the world, exploring my home. I guess I didn't realize how much it affected me."

Your eyes well slightly; he has never been able to be this open to anyone before. You know how important it is to take this lightly, and you must comfort him. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and smile softly at him, "I miss it too, but we also got to save a lot of good people. I'd rather be down here, safe, with you than, ya know...growing tentacles and eating brains."

He laughs softly at you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. "I know you're right; it's just a hard thing to move past...Thank you for talking to me; I love you." He stands up, giving you a peck on the forehead, "I'm going to go gather some things for dinner; I'll be back shortly."

You both smile softly at each other and say, "I love you too." before he heads out. While it helped slightly, you can tell that he is still not 100% back to himself. Then, a lightbulb goes off, and you know exactly what you must do.

______________________________________________________________

You leave him a note so he knows you haven't disappeared forever:

Dearest Astarion,

I will be gone for a short while, but I will be back shortly. I've gone into the city, as someone needed some help retrieving an important item for them. Continue with dinner; this shouldn't take me long. I love you, see you soon.

Yours always,

(Y/N)

You gather some supplies for your trek back to Baldur's Gate, made simple by the Ancient Sigels, and get ready to assemble some people as well.

___________________________________________________________

Your first stop is the Sorcerous Sundries, assuming that's where he might be staking out. Since the end of Lorrokan, the tower has been home to Rolan, but he also wanted to learn more about the weave. What better person to do that with than Gale? He also took over the entire running of the Sundries, ensuring knowledge was accessible to all wizards. As you walk in, a familiar face lights up and runs to you with arms wide open.

As you embrace him, he laughs, "I wasn't sure you'd ever come out of the Underdark without your trusty lover!"

You chuckle, "It's good to see you too, Gale." You back up from him, looking him over in his newest and finest robes.

"You're on a mission, I see. What can I do for you?" Gale says, his voice more matter-of-fact.

You sigh, hoping he will understand what you're getting at, "Astarion hasn't been himself lately. He seems down like he needs a pick-me-up. I hoped to gather everyone to get together and see if that helps. Would you be willing to come to our home for a small party?"

Gale looks inquisitively at you like he's trying to read your mind. Then, he lets out a laugh as he grabs your shoulders, "Of course I'll come! Anything to help an old chum out of a rut. I'll also let Rolan and the tieflings know; it would be great for them to take a break!"

You smile, giving him a firm hug with a bit of a squeeze, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You don't know what else to do, as thanks would never be enough.

You head off to your next destination with a large smile on your face.

____________________________________________________________

One of the few places with a lot of greenery is where two of your Druid friends spend their time: Halsin and Jaheira. When you find them in Bloomridge Park, you see them and Arabella assisting other Druids to become one with nature. They are so focused on the task at hand that they almost don't see you walking up.

"Y/N!!" Arabella shrieks, running to give you a hug around your legs. You bend down to return the favor.

Halsin smiles in your direction, crossing his arm across his chest and smiling towards you. "It is great to see you, friend. It's been a while; glad to see you getting some sun."

"Welcome back," Jaheira says softly, giving you a nod.

"Hello to you all. It's great to see you helping out the younglings," You grin, wondering if you'll be asking too much of them. Taking them away from the younglings seems like a large ask, considering the kids are new to this side of nature. You start to second-guess yourself, wondering what aspects this might have against them.

"You are concerned; let us know what you are thinking," says Jaheira, a fellow look of concern on her face.

"I don't want to take you away from these children; it seems like a bad time to ask something of you." You kick the ground lightly, feeling nervous.

Halsin smiles, looking at you caringly, "Whatever you have to ask, I'm sure it is necessary."

You look up at them all; they have warming smiles on their faces, making you feel better. "Okay, well, Astarion has been feeling a little down lately. I was thinking of ways to make him feel better, so I thought about getting everyone together in the Underdark. It's a lot safer, and Astarion has been working with the vampire spawn to teach them how to take care of themselves properly. Only if you're able to; not a big deal if not." You realize you have rambled on to them and get nervous awaiting their answer.

"YES! Let's go, please, please, please!" Arabella shouts, vibrating with excitement.

Halsin and Jaheira laugh, holding onto her shoulders to try to calm her down. "Of course, we'll be there, Y/N. That is never too much to ask of us." Halsin exclaims, smiling to try to comfort you. Jaheira nods in agreement, a similar smile across her face.

You grab them in a group hug, feeling fulfillment all throughout your body. "Thank you. I appreciate this more than you will ever know." With a final squeeze, you allow them to get back to their hard work.

___________________________________________________________

Your idea is finally coming into fulfillment, adding a skip to your step as you head to Wyrm's Rock Fortress. There are quite a few people you can talk to here, but the chances of them being able to step away is very slim. The first stop is the barracks to chat with the two behind getting the military ready to protect the people. You walk in to see them hard at work, helping the beef up the crew.

"A'right, soldiers, take a moment to recoup before we get back into the training," Karlach states in a stern tone, one you've never heard.

"T'saik, I never rested in my training; you are too soft, Karlach," Lae'zal exclaimed, rolling her eyes at this obviously tense partnership. Karlach gives her a soft punch on the shoulder when she sees you out of the corner.

"No fucking way," she states, running towards you and tackle hugging you. Lae'zal sanders over with the slightest smile on her lips.

"Why are you here?" she asks, some confusion in her voice. It's only suitable; it's been a month since you've seen the surface.

You let out a sigh, feeling their confusion, happiness, and slight sadness. You've been so concerned with helping Astarion that you never thought about how it could affect the others.

"I'm sorry I've been gone so long and that I've come to ask a favor. I should've come and visited earlier; I apologize." You say sheepishly.

"Oh, soldier, don't worry about it. I'm sure you've been just as busy as us." Karlach states, flinging their arm around your shoulders. Lae'zal crosses her arms, looking into your eyes with dismay.

"I still came to visit." She seems a little more cranky than usual, probably since she's here helping people who aren't even Githyanki. Perhaps it's disappointment in her high expectations, or maybe she's worn out from defeating Vlaaketh and rebuilding her home.

"Lae'zal, ease up, will ya?" Karlach says, her eyes a little more piercing than usual. "What do ya need?" She smiles towards you, her arm still on your shoulders.

"I wanted to see if you could come and do a bit of a house party for Astarion. He's been feeling quite depressed since we went to the Underdark, and I think it would cheer him up." You try to sound enthusiastic, but it comes out a bit more pleading than you want.

"Always aiding him when you should be here with us," Lae'zal says through gritted teeth. This statement grants her another intense stare from Karlach, to which she just bears her teeth at her.

Karlach looks back towards you and grins, "We will be there after we finish training. I'm sure they won't mind a night's rest from this one." She points over at Lae'zal, who just rolls her eyes at the gesture. You smile and give Karlach a big hug, which no longer burns since fixing her engine. You glance at Lae'zal, who finally uncrosses her arms and relaxes as much as she can.

"I will be there by no choice of my own." Lae'zal scoffs, a sign that she isn't as upset as she gives off.

"Alright, where's Wyll? He's next on my list." You say, looking around and expecting him to be there. Usually, he is around to help the Blades of Avernus grow and learn how to protect the city.

"Oh, he's downstairs. That's where the Blades practice after he rebuilt the old prison as a training ground." Karlach says before turning back to the trainees. "Break over! Let's get back to it."

As they line up, you head down to what used to be Wyrm's Rock prison. Once you get down the stairs, you take in the new training area. It's fitted with all the best weapons, shields, and armor that Baldur's Gate has to offer. As you look around in awe, you hear Wyll helping the Blades of Avernus gain in ranks.

"Blades, we have a special guest; please give them your respect," Wyll states before you can even process it. All the Blades stand up and give you a sign of respect. You nod towards the soldiers, and Wyll says, "At ease, back to your training."

He turns to you and smiles, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You smile back at him with the same twinge in your stomach that you had when talking to Karlach and Lae'zal. "I'm getting everyone together for a get-together at my home. I was hoping you might be able to come. Astarion is having a hard time, and I think it could cheer him up." You look up at him softly with the same break in your voice.

"You can count on me." He says, saluting you with a grin. "I should be done shortly; I'll head there as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Wyll. I'll see you tonight!" You bounce off, successfully recruiting all your friends for a fun night.

____________________________________________________________

Before heading home, you head to Behive General Goods to gather some goods for tonight. You realize that it's going to be hard to surprise Astarion with all of these people and groceries. It's time for you to add a step to your plan.

You head back to the Underdark, hiding your groceries somewhere Astarion couldn't see them. You then head to Dalyria's home, heading to ask her for help with distracting her 'brother.' You knock on the door, waiting for a response before walking in.

Dalyria opens the door and smiles once she sees your face. "Y/N! Come on in." You walk through the door, returning her smile.

"Hi, Dalyria, I have a favor to ask. Could you possibly distract Astarion for an hour or two? I have a surprise for him." You smile brightly towards her.

"Easily. I'll go over there now! Do you need him to leave the house?" She says kindly, happy to assist obliviously.

"Yes, please! There will be quite a few people. Can you also ask your other siblings to come over a little earlier? You and Petra can come with him when the time comes."

"Yes, I absolutely can do that. Oh, I am so excited. It's been a while since I've had to keep a secret." You instantly know what she means, but try not to let the thought hold you too long.

_____________________________________________________________

Once you see Astarion leave with Dalyria, you grab your hidden groceries and get the party set up. While you don't have to make food for him, you start cooking for your food-eating friends. Along with that, you set up some carafes of wine out on the table. Once you have things finished, you hear familiar voices outside your home. You run up to the door and open it to a crowd of faces that light up your heart. They start pouring in, each with something in their hand. This went from a small party to a much larger gathering than you expected. Thankfully, they brought enough to cover everyone.

You look around as your longest friends mingle with each other, laughing and filling your home with warmth and joy. You can't wait to see how Astarion reacts when he shows up with Dalyria. The vampires come in shortly after everyone arrives and begin mingling with the crowd. Your plan has finally come together and ended up even better than you imagined.

______________________________________________________________

When you see Astarion approaching the house, you shush everyone for his entrance. As he opens the front door, everyone simultaneously shouts, "SURPRISE!" Astarion looks around in absolute shock, taken back by all the kind and familiar faces. He lets out a loud laugh as everyone joins in, surrounding him to say hello. You allow him to mingle around with his long-missed friends to allow him to glow up.

You watch him at a distance, smiling as you see him joking and laughing with everyone. Seeing him return to himself brings you a joy unmatched by anything you've felt since you first met. He looks around, locks eyes with you, mouthing 'I love you' and grinning. You mouth 'I love you more' back to him, winking as you move to mingle with the others. You walk over to the group to listen to the conversations being had.

You listen to adventures retold, new experiences from the point you all split ways, and everything in between. From Gale's tales with Tressym and Rolan to Wyll's expertise with the Blades of Avernus, everything seems to feel back to normal with everyone except Lae'zal. She is recluse, not talking with everyone and keeping to herself. You decide to speak to her privately to see what you can get out of her.

_____________________________________________________________

"Lae'zal, can we speak, please?" You say softly so the others don't hear.

"Tsk'va, why would I want to talk to you? I am only here because of Karlach." She scoffs, crossing her arms like she did at Wyrm's Rock. You sigh softly at her, grabbing her arm to drag her outside. She yelps, but you get her outside before she can throw a fit.

"Let me go, istik." She hisses, yanking her arm away from you. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I'm here to ask you what is going on. Why are you so angry at me?" You say, crossing your arms to meet her energy.

She rolls her eyes, annoyed at you. "Is it not obvious? You left us for SO long, not even a word or a letter. You could've been dead for all we knew. Then, you come back and ask us to do you this favor when we know you'll just leave again. This will be the last time you see me." She glares at you, keeping the energy she's had the whole time.

You sigh, understanding her frustration and taking it in. She's completely valid in her concerns, but you aren't sure what to say to make her feel better. "You are completely valid in your feelings. I got so encompassed down here that I didn't think about the effects it would have on everyone else. I'm sorry; I truly am. I promise going forward that, I will come up with more. We can plan night events as well to bring Astarion around. I should've done this from the beginning, but I will correct my actions going forth."

Lae'zal takes a deep breath and relaxes her stance more. "If you break this promise, I will never forgive you. I will leave you behind like I have done to many before you. I will accept it...for now." She glances at you and then back inside. You take the hint and follow her back into the party.

______________________________________________________________

When you return, it seems that no one noticed your little skiff outside, and they're still mingling together. You go and grab yourself a drink from the table when a hand all too familiar to yourself rests on your shoulder.

"Thank you, darling," Astarion whispers, kissing you on the cheek gently. You smile at the kiss and turn to him to see his soft smile. "This means so much to me; how did you know I needed it?"

"I know you better than you know yourself. I needed it as well, ya know?" You smile as you rest your hand on his cheek. He rests his face against your hand, closing his eyes to your soft touch. This moment makes you both forget you're in a room full of people. You softly rub his cheek, but your moment is quickly dispelled by hooting and hollering by your friends in the room. Astarion whips back at them, and they immediately silence themselves, sipping their drinks. He bursts into laughter and heads back to the group, winking back at you. You join them, telling stories and gaggling about everything. The night flows into the morning, wrapped in love and friendship for the whole time.

______________________________________________________________

Everyone has left, most helping to clean up and leaving you and Astarion to relax after the long party. He sits on the couch, and you lay next to him, resting your head on his lap. He plays with your hair as you sit in silence, closing your eyes to his touch. You sit in silence for a while, the first in the last few hours. After a while, he breaks the silence in a hushed voice.

"This night is one I won't forget for a while. I didn't realize how long it had been since we had seen everyone. I missed the laughter, the stories, and their presence. Thank you, dear. I will never be able to stop thanking you." He smiles at your calm face, looking at every crevice that he adores.

You open your eyes and smile back at him, looking lovingly in his eyes. "I would do it again, a thousand times over, just to see that lovely smile of yours." You sit up, bringing him into a soft kiss, feeling him smile throughout. Your kiss deepens, filled with passion, love, and thrill. You pull back, resting your forehead against his, both grinning from ear to ear.

"It's nice to have you back."

"It's good to be back, my sweet."

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #hc #x reader #reader insert #astarion x tav

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andromebaa · 1 year ago

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The Big Just the Two of Us Post

In February this year, I started writing a little silly fic for funsies. Well actually, I literally posted a chapter I wrote a year ago on my brand-new AO3 account. I thought, hm, maybe someone might be interested in this? I'm gonna be real with you all - I had literally no plans. Like, none. It was just a one-off chapter. Just a silly concept - what if Kaito and Kokichi got stuck in a simulation? Wouldn't that be hilarious? What kinda silly shenanigans would these two guys get up to? They'd probably just keep killing each other lmao. Nine months and over 140,000 words later, I churned out the longest piece of writing I have ever created. Ever. I'm not even joking.

Did I ever know that my magnum opus was gonna be a horror/sci-fi Oumota fic? No. Am I glad it is? Surprisingly, yes. There is so much I want to say and I don't even know where to begin. Massive shout-out to everyone who has been reading since the beginning. I can't believe you still stuck around even when the fic took like several shocking swerves. All of those kudos and comments meant so much to me too. The actual joy I got every time my comment notification went up by one is a type of euphoria I'll never get over.

Also another shout-out to the people who unbookmarked en masse once it got real messed up I'm so sorry but yeah I totally get it. Trust me I was not expecting it to get so dark lmao. Thanks @theskix for putting up with me talking about this goddamn fic for nine months straight (cheese forgive me) and being a fantastic springboard for ideas (brain fuzzy but I'm pretty sure he's the guy who came up with Miu eating cereal while walking in on them say thank you) Shout out to the concept of Oumota and every single Oumota fan in existence cuz like holy crap apparently people who like scary stuff and suffering just gravitate to these two guys apparently. Like I don't think I can begin to stress that I was never an Oumota fan. This fic turned me into one. I literally cannot stop thinking about them my brain is full of worms (or leeches I'm funni). Now for the fun part - what's coming up next? Well I'm planning on taking a break from any massive projects for the next month and a bit so I can participate in NaNoWriMo. May as well keep riding the train while it's still running, right? Once we get to December, I'm hoping to start the next fic in what I want to call my Dangan Horror trilogy. I'm also wanting to start writing a fic set in the Just the Two of Us universe from Miu's perspective. I may do these both at the same time, but I'll see how I go. I may do some smaller fics from time to time, especially if any fun-looking writing/themed events pop up, but I'll get to those when they occur. As always, my ask box and messages are open so please feel free to ask me anything about Just the Two of Us. I'm happy to give more info on my writing process, inspiration, headcanons, or anything you're dying to know. Thank you so so much for your continued support! It seriously means the world to me and provides me the motivation to continue to write. Until next time! ~ Mosey/Andromebaa

#just the two of us #fic stuff #oumota

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palialaina · 1 year ago

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....it's so nice to know that I am not the only one who does a thing in panic mode.

Though I suppose, being fair, Reth brought this one on himself.

Berryyyyy......

I did... a thing. And now I don't know what to do with myself. You know Reth and I have been talking a lot lately, and the other day I told you I thought he was cute. But I'm really not the kinda person to do things on impulse. I'm the take my time and think about things sorta person. And he's only just started telling me what's really up with him, and more than anything I just wanted to be a friend that he can trust.

.....but as he was kinda joking around he told me I could flirt with him or give him a heartdrop lily if I wanted to. And so I said okay and then...did. It's not that I didn't mean it, because I did, but I think I was taken aback at myself just as much as he was, but he asked if I was really sure and then said he was gonna take the gift before I changed my mind. And then we both got awkward and said we had to get to work and ran off. I.... don't know what to do with myself now??

Anyway, if Reth comes looking, I'm not here. I'm hiding in a hole somewhere.

Help.

-Lark

I honestly can't say if this is better or worse than what happened with me and Jel. But it makes me feel a little better? (Though I suppose Reth being far more forward than Jel made it easier to shove something at him immediately.)

I tabled my dinner party idea (for the moment, we're gonna try and all four of us get together next week. Squee!), brought macarons and other new cooking recipes over for Lark, and we spent a few hours going back and forth about which one of us is more awkward. And we're kind of decided we're siblings, or maybe we were in the place we were before.

I like that. Having them as a sibling.

But that was definitely a fun letter to get. At least we can both agree that we have very terrible ways of starting relationships...

Less dramatic news, my entire house smells of fish, and I am entirely blaming that on the trout dinner. It's so hard! And catching rainbow trout takes forever... but it is kind of nice to just sit and catch fish. I think I understand a little more why Einar likes it. But I still think I prefer my garden.

Oooohhh.... I wonder if I can use all the fish I don't want as worm food?

I may have to try that. I was catching a lot of dace between my two rainbow trout.

Fortunately, I have mostly covered up the scent with blueberry pie. I used up all my blueberries, but you know what? Totally worth it. Mmmmm~ I absolutely remembered this recipe without any help at all. Maybe I was some sort of baker in the other life? Reth's soups and the other dishes confuse me, but sweet like the macarons or the blueberry pie aren't so bad!

I have one more room to add to my house after the living room's done, but making it is a little tricky. I don't need a full sized room for a second bathroom (I'm shy about people walking through my room! It's silly, but... that's more my space than the rest of the house, I guess...) so maybe just a hallway sized spot with no windows will be okay? Or maybe two, and it's just a really long bathroom?

I'll have to think on it. But I swear, every time I earn some money up, this house eats it. I will be glad when it's done, I have so many other things I want/need to buy.

....no, brain, we don't need to make a guest room for Lark to sleep over in. And no power in the world could convince Jel to stay the night, no matter how much I'd like that.

I had the whole table laid out earlier, before Lark's letter arrived. It's a shame it'll all have to wait, but oh well. I can make it again next week. If they show up.

I hope they do. I really want to have a tiny dinner party with the people I like best. Both romantically and not.

#palia #palia online #singularity 6 #berry plays palia #palia game #palia journaling #palia journey #palia mmo #palia roleplaying

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agnesandhilda · 5 months ago

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okay. full breakdown of these pairings and which one I think should win

rinsagi:

rin HATES isagi post u-20

rin makes the most straightforward death threats out of any character in this manga, and they're directed at isagi (not counting the cannibalism stuff because the distinction between bizarre inexplicably homoerotic claims of "devouring" the opponent and actual threats can be ambiguous)

on the other hand I just think they're kind of boring

rin hates isagi's guts and yeah it's passionate and obsessive but isagi doesn't return that level of focus or vitriol so I can't really get on board with it

rin's particular case of isagi brain worms is exceptionally funny though

nagireo/reonagi:

I had to include them because every other nagireo blogger makes jokes about them being toxic yaoi and I knew I'd get questions about it if they weren't in the poll

I don't think they should win though

like yeah their relationship is super messy but in a poll with guys who cannot stop talking about how badly they want to eat each other etc I think it'd be silly if the male u-haul lesbians won

do I want them to break up? yes

do I think they're the most toxic on this list? no lmao

rin/nanase:

very recent

but rin verbatim told nanase "you are my property" which counts for something I think

I'm basing their presence here off their one (1) major scene together but in my defense it was a really crazy scene

"I'll do anything you want!" "obey my instructions" "if surviving means sacrificing myself to you..." girl do you even hear yourself

kainess:

kaiser was looking for someone emotionally vulnerable to make into his satellite (he refers to this as being his "dog" in-canon, which sure is a choice) because he fundamentally doesn't know how to have a relationship with an equal, and he found that person in ness

kaiser is canonically depicted studying psychology to find the best way to make someone emotionally dependent on him, and targeted ness with this in mind

kaiser is regularly physically aggressive/demeaning to ness, pulling him around by the hair and splashing his drinks on him when he gets frustrated

ness, for his part... is fine with this and never complains

kaiser ignores ness to brood over isagi (more about this later) and talks about how he wants to destroy and dominate isagi (...in football. again more on this later) and ness' response is INTENSE jealousy that kaiser is paying more attention to someone else than to him. the fact that that attention is negative isn't relevant to him!

rin/shidou:

I added this one because I know it's floating around out there in the blogosphere but honestly I don't want it to win

are they toxic? yes. do they antagonize each other in an interesting way? yes. do they do any of this in a way that makes me think they're attracted to each other? no.

it's got to be yaoi to qualify as toxic yaoi idk what to tell you

they have to be intentionally separated because they'll physically fight if they're on the same field at the same time, which is hilarious, but there's no extra edge to it

where's the obsession. where's the bizarre homoerotic smack talk. what are we doing here. these guys just hate each other platonically

also shidou hits on rin's brother out loud (not subtext) which counts for something I think

barousagi:

the idea of "devouring" a rival was coined to describe their dynamic, and they talk about it all the time

like a lot. even when everyone else has let it go already. they talk about how they're totally gonna hunt down and eat each other (in soccer guys they're talking about soccer) from midway through the second arc and then it comes back when barou is introduced for the nel, when "devouring" has been out of fashion since the u-20 arc

drooling when you see another man? kinda gay

if barou had the same anime bishie design as the rest of the cast this would be way more popular than it is. prove me wrong

they're just really funny and I want to see them get their flowers for being blue lock's og toxic yaoi rivalry

you have to join me in voting for them we cannot let kainess win just because kaiser canonically called that german boy "puppy" a bunch of times or whatever (this is me propagandizing)

kaisagi:

this one's my actual favorite

they're remarkably similar to each other and they both fucking hate it. it's delicious

kaiser's on-page introduction is him telling isagi to kneel before him—in a language isagi doesn't even understand, so you know he was saying that just because

he then proceeds to grab isagi's chin bring their faces reeaaaaaal close and tell him that if he's come all the way here then isagi had better make it worth his while by being an obstacle in his life. and then when isagi does exactly that he gets pissed

they continue to have a very vitriolic physically-touchy rivalry thing going on until midway through the manshine game kaiser redirects a shot that was "meant" for isagi (debatable) and isagi gets so mad he says out loud in front of god and everybody on international tv that he's going to kill kaiser

kaiser responds to this by asking if that's how isagi says "I love you"

I hate them so much. what were they doing all of that for.

kaiser sits in their team's AV room with every screen set to a different video of isagi playing soccer and broods, surrounded by the image of his rival. he canonically does this on a semi-regular basis at least. for normal reasons

during one particular instance of this he goes on a villain monologue about how isagi is "finally big enough to eat." ostensibly it's meant in the same "domination in the sport" way the rest of the cannibalistic smack talk in this manga is but it's a real haymaker of a line even when read in context

AND isagi's obsessed with kaiser too! he's a lot less showy about it but it's still evident in his narration. he hates kaiser but still accepts him as his ideal for what a player should be like without question. which results in lots of fun mid-match monologues about how kaiser is "perfect" and how he's obviously got the goofy ass shounen sports manga power he made an executive decision exists. because how else could he play at that caliber?

isagi's coach asks him what his ultimate goal for the match is and to be "logical" about it and isagi's immediate response is that he wants to "destroy" kaiser

they hate each other yes but they hate each other obsessively and with roughly equal levels of intensity. they're both putting the same amount of effort into the relationship which is a good sign I think

additionally:

as soon as I published this poll I had a nagging feeling that I'd forgotten to add a ship that ought to be included under the "some other guys I forgot to mention" category, but I couldn't recall what it was so I figured it probably wasn't important. that ship was egonoa

#bolo liveblogs #blue lock #I wrote this off the top of my head so it's gonna be limited by what I remember best/am already biased towards etc etc #yeah I talked about kaisagi for forever here but I did vote barousagi. my personal preference does not blind me to the truth

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

Text

Emotion (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Kakashi again...can't get enough of this mans tbh. U r an empath due to your kekkei genkai and Kakashi has always been difficult to read. Friend to lovers. Sharing one bed folks, we got some steamyyy shit here. Angst warning as well.

Word count: 6000

He was always alone. Ever since his childhood, he walked the world completely alone with only a few people there to support him. No mother, no father, no mentor, no teammates. He was at the mercy of fate his entire life, things being stolen from him time and time again.

He just prayed that he could keep her. Y/N L/N, the only woman to have wormed her way into his heart and made a home there.

When they first met, Kakashi and Y/N, she cursed him for being such a weirdo. Apparently his mind was empty and his heart was seemingly full of sand. He was conditioned that way, and that is how he lived for the longest time. It wasn't a surprise for him to hear that.

But she thought it was stranger than anything she'd ever seen, and so she followed him. She would figure him out, bring him back down to Earth from his supposed high horse. That woman was determined, and frankly he didn't mind her being around. She was quiet enough that it didn't matter. Not to mention on the missions they had together, she was quite the partner.

Over time, she'd learned to read him like a book. It was part of her clan's kekkei genkai. The ultimate empath, I suppose. The ability to read a persons every single emotion and then turn that, if they so choose, into power.

She was never the greatest fighter, but her negotiation skills were the best they could possibly be. She would dive into the emotions of another and manipulate them backwards and forwards to get what she wanted.

It was overwhelming, walking into a room of people and immediately being bombarded with so many feelings coming at her all at once. Occasionally, if the situation was bad enough she'd have to take a seat and clear her mind, organizing each person in her mind like a filing cabinet of empathy.

But damn, did she try to weasel out every bit of feeling she could. It was just something that came so naturally, she couldn’t help but instigate whatever was brewing up inside him.

"Kakashi, if you're happy, you know you're allowed to express it. You don't have to hide it away," she told him, staring at the masked man sitting across from her at the table. He was watching as she sharpened her kunai, and she could feel the content running off his body in small bursts. He was feeling better. Better than he had in a little while. Of course she picked up on it.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. She was always reading him, he knew that. He just preferred when she refrained from mentioning it. It did, most times, feel like a bit of an invasion of privacy, how she could deep dive into the corners of his mind. There were things no one else could ever possibly know that she did. It was strange, but he was used to it.

"What? Want me to smile or something?"

"No, but you should let yourself go. Just drop the facade."

"Stop doing that. Getting into my head."

Quietly, she set down her blade and picked up the next one, taking a cloth and softly wiping away any dirt. Her eyes slide up to his for a moment, her all knowing gaze filling his vision. "It's basically impossible. Especially if you're the only one around. There's nothing else to focus on except you." He knew that. It wasn't like she had an on or off switch. That was the downside of this dojutsu. Unlike sharingan and byakugan users, hers was always pulling the strings of her brain.

"You've got that mission next week. With Naruto and a few of the other kids, right?"

"Yes."

"It's A rank, isn't it?"

She hummed in agreement. He had a habit of knowing about all her missions, more importantly being the dangerous ones. He wasn't necessarily scared for her, probably not. He was more cautious than anything. There was this nagging feeling in his head that he shouldn't let her go on these missions alone. That it was too dangerous for her to handle.

But he was wrong. She was stronger than he thought, and could hold her own in battle. He was just a worrier. He'd just lost too many, seen too many bodies in front of his eyes to trust. God, he wanted to trust her, but he couldn't. She was too vulnerable. His friend, one of the only ones who hadn't died yet. For all he knew, her days numbered, that's how paranoid he was about everything.

"You'll be careful?"

"That's a silly question." He gave her a look that said he was more serious than anything, and she sighed. "Of course I'll be careful. I have people that would miss me if I wasn't." He was one of them. She could sense his fear whenever she said goodbye and his relief when she returned. He really tried to remain objective, but his heart said otherwise.

And she would be a liar to say that she did not experience the same relief seeing him come home from missions, even if he was beaten and bruised to the bone, she was just happy he made it back. So many never got to come home. It was a sick world, they lived in, but she could relish in the little comforts.

"Don't worry about me. I'll always turn out fine. It's you and your dumb students we have to worry about."

"I hear you. Those kids are enough to drive a person mad." He rested his chin in his palm, the mere thought of those kids causing his blood pressure to rise.

"Thankfully my students never gave me any trouble. Sweet little things."

"Well, aren't you just lucky, Y/N?"

"What can I say? Kurenai and I got the luck of the draw with our students. You men had it rough, I have to admit," she laughed. It was funny that he was so unfortunate to have gotten assigned the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, two completely opposite but persistent forces. "Despite your perverted tendencies and your perpetual lateness, you still did a great job teaching them."

"Thanks. But do you really have to call me a pervert? I'm really not."

"Yeah? That explains why you read porn in public. Admit you're a pervert, you dumb old man."

"We're the same age-" he began to argue, but she just cut him off with her harsh words.

"Creep," she muttered, running the sharpening stone along her blade. He narrowed his eyes. She was being awfully annoying, and he knew she could sense his irritation building up. Yet she continued just to be a pain in the ass.

He warned, "Hey. Watch it, L/N."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop...Pervert." She ducked her head when his hand reached out to wring her around the neck for being so frustrating, and she continued to laugh. It was nice, having a friend she could joke with and be around without having to worry about what she said. He might pretend to be mad, but she could feel the happiness still rolling off his body thickly under all that fake neutrality.

He was happier than he'd been in a long while, and she found herself swelling with pride knowing that she might have helped make that happen. Her lips curled into the gentlest of smiles as she peered back up at him, and he found himself smiling back even if it was just through the mask.

He swore in that moment, he'd make sure Y/N didn't end up like all the others. She would live. He'd break this wretched curse just for her. He was sure of it.

______

"How could you be so reckless?! Do you want to die?" Kakashi shouted at his friend who could only stand there angrily, arms crossed over her chest and one foot in the other direction. She didn't need to be lectured by someone who took just as many risks every single mission as she did.

"Kakashi, I really don't want to hear it. You have no idea how it went."

"Yeah but Naruto does, and we were just talking."

She placed her free hand over her chest and exclaimed even angrier than before, "You're going to trust a kid over me? Naruto even?" It was just low to trust Naruto when she was right there to explain herself. Just let her speak for once, she wanted to say but he of course, had something else to say.

He waved his arm toward the ramen shop, eyes glaring. "Don’t be rude. He's right there. What is wrong with you?"

Indeed, Naruto was sitting inside Ichiraku with Jiraiya at his side, munching on pork ramen while the pair fought outside. Kakashi was eating with them, taking a break from his work to just relax with his master and student when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Y/N stumbling down the street on her crutch.

He heard when she got back home that she was in the infirmary for a couple days. He had no idea for what reason until Naruto explained to him what happened. She was being needlessly reckless on the battlefield, relying too much on her kekkei genkai and not enough on her brain. She threw herself right in the way of an enemy, for what reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that she could have died and she didn't seem to care one bit.

Rightfully so, he was mad. Normally he preferred not to make a scene in the open like this, but there wasn't anyone else around and he was red-hot.

She huffed. "He knows I don't mean anything bad by that. How could he not? I'm also his sensei, you know."

"Doesn't matter," Kakashi brushed off her words. "What you did was dangerous and you don't seem to care. Next time what are you gonna do? Run right into the arms of the enemy?"

"No, I would never. Kakashi, you're just being a jerk right now. I'm literally injured from the hip down and you have to yell at me? Jeez, just be grateful I'm alive, okay? Things happen," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't acknowledge it. He wasn't exactly feeling all that rational.

"Things don't just happen like that."

She groaned, "Well apparently they do, because it happened to me."

His eye narrowed and she noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times by his sides. Clearly he was just trying to channel his anger, but he really had no reason to be so upset. She hadn't done anything to him. He really needed to relax. "This is so like you L/N's. Always so emotional. Always thinking you're stronger than you actually are."

"Excuse you-"

"Get a grip, you aren't going to live forever."

"First off, don't interrupt me. Second, don't talk about my clan ever again, you hear me, Hatake? We don't live to please your dumbass," she cursed, how dare he say shit about her clan. That asshole. He was just being so...so unlike himself. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but she hated it and just wanted to continue on her way before he said something else stupid.

Normally, she didn't expect to be bombarded in the street nearly the second she leaves the hospital, but Kakashi never fails to surprise her.

"I've got to go. Don't bother following me." With that, she took off past him, rushing as fast as she could on her crutch, which was pathetically slow. Silently, she cringed at how ridiculous she must look waddling around like this in a fit of rage. Nevermind that. She had better things to do.

He huffed out the breath he had been holding to walk back into the ramen shop, taking his seat beside Naruto and slouching down into the stool. Immediately, Master Jiraiya met his eyes, wisdom about to drip from his tongue once again. "You need to go apologize."

"Why? She clearly doesn't want that right now."

"Well, to start, you insulted her clan which is a big no-no. Imagine saying that to an Uchiha. You're lucky she let you off so easily."

"Yeah, Kakashi. You kinda just attacked her out there in the street," Naruto added.

Jiraiya continued, "Mainly though, the longer you let her stay angry, the worse it'll be for you in the end. Trust me."

"She said don't follow her."

"And you're actually going to listen?" The older man laughed. "You and her fighting reminded me a lot of young Tsunade and I. And let me tell you, you don't just let a woman like that go. I sure did. It’s not a fun time."

"Yeah, Kakashi sensei, go find Y/N."

The jounin stood from his stool and slapped a ramen voucher onto the counter top to pay for his meal. This really didn't seem like a good idea, he had to admit. But he would trust the process. This was the author of his favorite romance series, after all. How could he get something like this wrong? To put blind faith into Jiraiya on realistic romantic matters was probably the not the wisest thing to do, but it was the only thing he had to go on. "I'll go, but this doesn't sound like good advice."

"If you let this go, she's might run into the arms of another man for comfort. Do you want that?"

Tch, there was no way she was gonna do that. She barely had any friends. If anything she would go see Kurenai. Still, he pulled back the cloth at the entrance and muttered, "I gotta catch up to her."

"'Atta boy," Jiraiya cheered, waving off the copy nin. "Another bowl, Naruto?"

"Yes, please!"

Kakashi walked down the streets, looking for the woman he was sent on a mission to find and apologize to. He searched through the shops and the stands for her, walked by her apartment no sign of her. It wasn't until he stumbled by the bookstore that he found her eyeing down the display out front, leaning comfortably on her crutch.

"Y/N," he called to her, and he watched as she tensed up without a second. He caught up to her, walking to stand beside her in front of the store windows. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" She questioned, peering over at him with a quirked brow. He seemed calmed down by now. Thankfully. "Also, didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"You did, but Jiraiya told me to apologize."

"So this isn't even on your own accord, you're doing it because Jiraiya told you so." He groaned. Of course she would twist his words and find some way to make things bad on his end. She was angry with him, what did he expect to happen? Her to accept him with open arms?

"Listen, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just overwhelmed."

"With what? I wasn't paying attention to anything but the anger." She picked at her finger nails in an attempt to remain casual, but really she was just itching to hear what he had to say. She was willing to give him a second chance, only because he was normally so sweet. This was just out of character for him.

He replied, "I was scared for you. Naruto told me about how you nearly died, and I was upset that you did that. I was upset because I could only think about what if you had been overpowered and the enemy killed you." His explanation was weak, but he hoped she would accept it as truth. He really wasn't lying. When he heard she was in the hospital indefinitely, he nearly had a heart attack himself. He worried for her every time she left on a mission without him. It just meant that if she failed, he wasn't there to protect her himself. He couldn't handle that thought.

"So you were worried?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's sweet of you, isn't it?"

"I'd miss you, you know. If you died."

She froze. That wasn't what she expected him to say. When she looked over at him, he was just staring into the storefront window, but she could feel the sadness in waves running off his body. She wobbled around on her crutch to face him, a hand getting coming up to rest on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"I don't want you going on missions without me because every time it scares the shit out of me thinking they'll bring you back dead. Every time. I don't know why."

"It's normal to worry for your teammates."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"Ah." And she felt it. Even if it was just a little hint of something, she felt his infatuation roll off his body and she took it in like a drink of cold water. So refreshing. Was he attracted to her? She had no idea before this that he cared so much but from the sound of it, he had some strong feelings attached. She wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him it was going to be okay, but that felt too personal. Instead, she leant back and muttered, "You know, Kakashi, I worry about you too."

"It's good we both have someone who cares, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I should be on my way, but, uh, if you need some help getting up to your apartment-"

"I should be fine."

"Okay, good."

"Yeah, so uh, see you," she turned on her heel and started heading in the other direction toward her home when suddenly, his hand reached out to stop her.

"Wait, Y/N. I think..."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I need you. Please be careful from now on."

She stopped, turning around just enough to get a good look at his face. He only watched her, a glimmer of something she didn't recognize in his eye.

"As long as you take care of yourself too, Mister."

"Y/N, I…"

All she could feel was a rough fabric rubbing against her face for a second before the full picture came into view.

Mask to lips. I repeat, mask to lips.

She stared at him, as he kissed her right there in front of their favorite bookstore. When he pulled away after a second, he seemed just as shocked as she was. She pressed a hand to her forehead and struggled to find the right words to say.

Kakashi Hatake just kissed her.

And she definitely liked it. More than any other kiss she’d ever had before. She loved it. Mask or not, that was one of the best surprises of her entire life, and she honestly had no idea how to react. She settled for the easiest possible thing, running in the opposite direction, give herself time to think over what that meant for the two of them if anything at all. Kakashi wasn’t the type to have a girlfriend, he was always single. There just wasn’t room in his life for her.

There was plenty room in her life to fit him in comfortably. And there was more than enough room in her bed as well.

Flustered, with heat coming to sit in her cheeks and run up her neck, she turned and motioned in the direction of her home. She just had too many thoughts to sit here and pretend she wasn’t dying inside from the tension.

"I've got to run home now," she managed to say. "Well, not run, with these crutches and all, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I should be going too. I'll see you around,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck.

"See you."

And into separate directions they went, just as confused as ever.

______

"Kakashi, I swear to God, if you don't stay on your side of the bed, I'm gonna-

"You'll what? Hit me? Go ahead. You're the one that keeps snoring."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, rolling over in the bed and planting her fist directly in the middle of his chest. He didn't even flinch, she hadn't meant to hurt him anyway. She was just so annoyed. You would think that the stoic Hatake would be easy to sleep beside but no, he was a pain in the ass. He was rude. He was way too hot under the sheets. He still smelled like dog even after taking a bath. Just overall a bad experience, definitely 0 out of 10.

"What? It's the truth."

She groaned, throwing one of her arms over her eyes, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. "Whatever. Don't ever mention my snoring again. It’s embarrassing me." She was self-conscious. She was usually so good at maintaining a cool and calm presence and now Kakashi was seeing that all crumble. Great.

"Fine."

"Can't you just stay on your side so we can both sleep comfortably?"

"Can't you just stop snoring so I can sleep comfortably?"

What a bastard. She could practically feel him snickering beneath his mask, and she felt frustration bubbling up in her chest. He was annoying. The audacity of this man, laughing and causing trouble in the night when they clearly had a mission to continue tomorrow. She could actually feel the delight radiating off his form.

She jumped up from her spot and threw herself onto the man beside her, attempting to make a vicious grab for the throat so she could maybe shut him up for just a few seconds. He dodged easily, taking her wrists in his calloused hand and lowering them to rest on his chest. Still, he continued to laugh at her. She felt like an utter joke sitting there on his stomach, looking at him through loose strands of her hair.

She grumbled under her breath, her cheeks puffing out full of embarrassment, "Stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Look at you."

She replied swiftly, "What about me? You're the one with that ugly grin on your face." Quickly, she snatched her hands out from under his to cross her arms over her chest. She rocked back a bit on her knees to get a better look at his indeed ugly face.

Except he definitely wasn't ugly, and that grin was more devilishly handsome than anything else. And honestly, she felt herself starting to get flustered in the position she'd put herself in. Of course she didn't hate Kakashi. He was one of her friends and coworkers. It was just that sometimes he could be casually attractive and she found herself falling under his spell.

He just looked so fucking good lying there, staring up at her with a glimmer in his dark eyes. She could see the smile outlined under his mask. His hands had felt warm and firm around her own fingers. She missed his touch, there she said it, any touch on her body from Kakashi Hatake felt like heaven. He was far too cute, and the soft contact between them drove her crazy.

She wanted to punch herself for thinking such silly things. This was Kakashi, one of her frenemies. Not boyfriend material. Stupid. Silly.

If only he didn't look so good, Jesus christ. Get your brain out of the gutter, Y/N.

Little did she know, his mind was already waist deep in those damn gutters and he was loving it.

"You really think that?"

"What? That you're ugly?" She asked, tilting her head to the side just a bit as if to think about it. Only a second later, another mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Of course."

He lifted his fingers to slid along her waist and down to her hips, fingers curling ever so slightly around her curves. She shuddered as his hands slid down to hold the sides of her bare thighs in his hands, his warm, strong hands with the softest fingertips. She wanted to die.

Had they kissed before? Yes. We're they somewhat romantically involved? Maybe. Did that give him any good reason to rest his rough hands on her thighs like that? Probably, and her thoughts were running a mile a minute at this point.

"Kakashi...stop that," she said softly, her voice lowering from how it was before. She suddenly felt a lot smaller, scared even. Hooking up with Kakashi wasn't something she planned on doing anytime in the near future, if at all. He was her friend, and she felt strange sitting in his lap with his hands all over her. It felt so right but wrong at the same time, like she was breaking the law. Well, laws of friendship that is.

She cared about Kakashi, more than she wanted to admit. He wasn't just a friend, he was something weirdly in between and she couldn't exactly put her finger on how she felt about him. All she knew was that if she was going to have sex with this man, it would be the right way. They would have to date first. She wasn't just gonna sleep around this time. He was different.

She wanted to impress him, to make him smile and laugh, to take him out to dinner and hold hands on their way home, to kiss at her doorstep. She wanted all of that before any of this.

His hands dropped from her sides and she crawled away from him, grabbing her blanket and cradling herself in it. "Listen, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I know, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

It was quiet. Just the sounds of both their breaths filling the air and the crickets chirping in the darkness outside. She shifted in her blanket to rest her head on the wall, leaning against it with her shoulder. He remained on his back, staring up at the empty ceiling tiles.

It was now so terribly awkward. Thanks, Y/N.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You, uh, don't snore all that much. I was just teasing you."

"Thanks," she exhaled. "You're not as ugly as I said."

"I know."

Wow, Kakashi. So modest.

Her words fell right into place as she spoke, emotions slipping out with each breath. She looked at his profile in the dark, the way his bedhead stood on end, his nose pointed upward and his lips sat calmly, the curve of his chin under the edge of his mask, the way his eyes just sat there unmoving and gentle, brows soft above the eye. She took in all of him as she confessed, "I just don't want it to be like this. I don't want to fall for you this way."

"I get it."

"I just think that you and I could be something different. You're not like the other guys to me, at least, I don't think of you that way," she took a deep breath. He still stared deep in the ceiling, and somehow it made her comfortable enough to confess everything she'd been feeling. It was as if he could just lay there and listen without words forever. "I don't want you to just fuck me before we really...well I don't know, we've never even been on a date. I...I think I'm ready to fall in love with you."

"Then let's do it."

She peered over at him, lips agape with surprise. She hadn't expected much at all, but certainly not that. "What?"

"When we get back to the village, I'll take you on a date, more if things go well. We can take it as slow as you want," he told her, turning to lay on his side, facing her. He watched as she cuddled further into the comforter, only a peek of her face in his view. She was actually kinda cute through all those worn and torn layers. "I don't think I can let you go this time."

"Really?"

"Anything for you."

She ducked her head down to stare at the hardwood beneath her feet. She was overwhelmed by how nice he was being. Normally, it didn't go like this. Things normally got sexual so quick there wasn't even a chance for these sorts of conversations. It was just different with Kakashi. She could say no to him and expect better, because she knew he could deliver. "No one has ever treated me like this before."

He smiled. "Well, it's about time someone did."

"Can you hold me?"

"Come on." He lifted his arm up with the covers attached so she could crawl over and burrow herself next him, tucked right against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his chest. Things were looking good for the both of them. Better than they had in a long time.

He wished this kind of thing could last forever. The beating of her heart, the laughter in her voice, the shine in her eyes. He just wished he could have bottled it all up and held it close to him for the rest of his life.

But he waited too long, and the opportunity slipped from his grasp.

______

The pair fought hard. Kakashi was better than her, everyone knew that. The enemy targeted her for that reason. It was clear as day that she was important to Kakashi, and the enemy quickly caught onto that. He was quick to bring the knife to her neck, pressing the woman’s back tightly to his chest. The blade stung her skin, already piercing the flesh from the bit of pressure he applied.

She cried out, feeling a trail of blood begin running down her neck. Her nails clawed at his arm, desperate to get him to release her from his clutches, but he persisted. One hand held onto her chin tightly, keeping her face from thrashing, and the other continued to apply more and more pressure into the blade.

For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling unrestricted fear. She was scared. Scared for her life. She’d never been in this situation before, feeling so completely and utterly helpless like a deer caught in the headlights. Kakashi was right there, she should have known everything was going to be okay. After all, she had the village’s strongest veteran on her side.

It wasn’t the pain that caused the tears to bubble up in the corners of her eyes, no, it was Kakashi. The way his eyes darted over to the them, and she could feel his heart beginning to race, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and the fear creeping up into his heart. He never wore his heart on his sleeve. He was so closed off, sometimes she could only get a wisp of emotion from him, especially the ones that showed such vulnerability.

Now it all seemed to come tumbling out like a landslide. She was drowning in fear, his and her own.

“Let her go,” he called out, practically pleading with the man across from him, but it was in vain.

“Like I’d listen to some filthy leaf shinobi,” the spy replied angrily. He felt so hot, burning up with so much anger she wanted to throw up. What had they done to upset him this badly? Her jaw was starting to ache from being held so tightly, and she swore she could taste blood running down her throat. This was bad. This was so terribly, miserably bad.

Kakashi stood there, his hands hovering at his sides, unknowing of what to do. She was already bleeding out all over the collar of her shirt. If he made a single move, the man could easily finish the job with one fatal swipe. The copy nin felt cornered. Hopeless. What was there left to do? He’d let the love of his life fall in the hands of some petty criminal.

Come on, think of something. Anything. Just think of something.

“What? You upset I’ve got your little girlfriend here?”

God, he was so desperate. The man taunting him didn’t help at all. He just felt himself spiralling deeper into hopelessness. He bargained, “Please, just let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It wouldn’t work though. This man was set in his ways, and there was no changing that. He came into this fight knowing exactly what he wanted to do. And he was going to finish the job.

“This is for what you shinobi have done to my people,” he sneered before she felt the knife dip further into her neck, sliding painfully across her throat. He dropped her head from his grasp, and as soon as he had, her body crumbled down to the ground. She collapsed in a bleeding heap on the dirt.

The criminal quickly ran into the forest behind them, getting lost among the trees and the bushes within seconds. None of that mattered though. Kakashi could only run over to her limp body lying there on the ground, sputtering and coughing on thick blood filling her throat and lungs. Her cheeks and lips painted red now from spitting so much up. He fell to his knees beside her body, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a tear drip down his face.

She cried, hot tears running down her cheeks into the dirt on either side of her head. She cried for her pathetic self, having been attacked and injured in this way. She cried for Kakashi, feeling the pain and sadness, the panic, radiating off his form. She took in every emotion he was feeling, wanting to savor being with him for as long as she had, to fully take him in one last time.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, his hands running over her hair and cheek, smearing blood on her skin and his fingers. “We’ll bring you back to the village. The Hokage can fix you.” His words were so soft into the air, like if he spoke any louder he would hurt her.

They both knew that none of what he was saying was true. She was as good as dead.

She lifted her hand weakly to sit on his other hand. “I…” The woman took a labored breath.. “Love you, Kashi.”

“No, no, no. Don’t say that,” he hushed her, feeling his heart grow heavier in his chest with every second that passed, every look at her bloody neck and face, her laboring chest as she took hopeless breaths. He was falling apart in this moment, desperate for fate to change, for her to magically be better. He choked, “You can’t die, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” Her words were slurred and hard to hear, liquid bubbling up in her throat to the point she was almost incomprehensible. “I love you,” she confessed once again. She wanted those to be her last ever words to him, the words he would remember for the rest of his life. To know someone out there loved him more than anything else.

He had to know that he was her everything. He was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she was going to miss him so terribly wherever her soul went after this. She just wished there was more time to tell him everything she felt. Yet, time was passing faster than she thought, and all those words felt impossible.

“I love you, too. You have to live for me. Just keep breathing, it's going to be okay.”

“It...hurts.”

More misery erupted his chest, and he found himself wanting to scream. Tears dripped steadily down both his cheeks now as he watched this woman die in front of him, one of the only people he truly needed in his life. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”

She nodded faintly, her eyes beginning to close. He was starting to panic. Was this his last moment to say goodbye? Their time together was so short, how was this fair? He’d already lost everyone he ever cared about, and now this? He felt like the gods were laughing down at him and his misfortune.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.”

She didn’t respond, but she was still breathing.

“Y/N, please.”

And he watched as her chest fell still and her labored breaths were silent on his ears. He found himself gathering her form up against his chest, her head cradled in the crook of his neck, just sobbing into her hair, weeping for a long lasting love gone in an instant.

He carried her body home that day himself. Something he never anticipated happening, but should have prepared for. He always thought he was going to watch as someone else carried her home to him, death long gone before he had the chance to see. He never thought it would be right in front of him. He thought he could protect her, save her from the clutches of fate. He was so wrong.

Kakashi was alone once again.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #x reader #naruto #kakashi imagine #kakashi fanfic #kakashi one shot #naruto imagine #naruto oneshot #naruto fanfic #oneshot #fanfic #imagine #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x you

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softluci · 3 years ago

Note

hello yes can i just say i l o v e d your gen z hcs and may i acquire more

for starters, i am not religious, but i am PRAYING you don’t think i was ignoring your ask. i’ve been thinking about it since i got it, it’s just that i’m a college student with worms for brains, so hopefully you understand. this is something that i’ve had on my mind for a long time [i’ve been at this on and off for months], and it most definitely can be associated with/attributed to gen z.

for a fleeting, wonderful period of time, there was a trend on tiktok that went, “buss it, buss it…” are you familiar?

that should be enough of a summary, right? ah—for future reference, “o7” is like a saluting emote, for anyone who might not know. reader is g/n as usual, enjoy!

[a/n: so because this is so long, this part is going to be, like, the lore, and then the actual headcanons will be right here]

trendy

the two things most corrosive to the human spirit are easily named—capitalism and boredom. while it would be easier and less taxing to explain the former, the latter was the problem at hand. it’s not that there was nothing to do in the devildom—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that you wanted some time to yourself every now and again. the trouble with trying to take time for yourself in a completely new location, the residents of which are always enamored with you in one way or another, is that there isn’t anything to do. the house was full of adventures for you to take—the trap door under the rug in the library, the other trap door under the dining room table, the small door behind the couch in the living room, and whatever other poorly hidden doors your seven roommates thought you didn’t know about.

trouble was, you didn’t want to leave your room. you, intelligent creature that you are, knew that the chances of you running into mammon or satan or beel or asmo were all too high, and even higher were the chances of you agreeing to spend time with them if they asked, and you knew they would. what were you to do?

you stared at your ceiling from your bed, d.d.d. resting on your stomach as you let your mind wander. your d.d.d. was full of things for you to do, the devildom’s ethernet at your fingertips, but you weren’t interested in finding new things right now. you wanted something familiar, like—like your phone.

what was the point of lucifer taking your phone, anyway? it’s not like you could use it—being here rendered it a useless brick of glass and metal, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if you still had it. it was funny, though, that you couldn’t use your actual phone when it was still possible to access the human internet from down here.

at least, you assumed so.

how else would levi be able to keep up with his human idols, get tickets for their shows—the works, you know? luckily, you were fully capable of asking.

d.d.d. now in your hand, you rolled onto your stomach and found your messages with levi, nails clacking against the glass as you tried to reach him.

hey, you texted, can you help me with something?

his reply came faster than you expected: ?? what do you need

how do i access human websites and apps, you asked, rolling onto your side. you know how to, right?

lololol, it’s not possible :p

a grunt, more aggravated than you’d care to admit, escaped from the back of your throat.

don’t lie.

a few minutes passed with no response, and you wondered if you were too harsh.

“he’s a sensitive guy,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply. “i probably came on too strong or something.”

just as you started typing out an apology and a, “forget i ever said anything,” you got a response.

a vpn and a proxy site.

a smile crept onto your face as air came out of your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you could muster.

can you set it up for me?

after another few minutes of no response, you sit up, wondering how you could’ve possibly fucked up a second time, your d.d.d. buzzed.

levi sent you a file and a link, with a host of instructions.

click on the file and it’ll take you to the vpn you need to download. don’t worry about bugs or anything, i made it myself.

you let out a low whistle, flopping onto your back once more.

“this guy gets up to more than i thought,” you said, eyebrows raised. “someone get this man some physical affection.”

you continued to read, growing more fond of him with each sentence.

once you install it, pick the country whose network you want access to. from there, you’ll have a list of that country’s most used applications available for you. again, don’t worry about bugs.

what’s the link for? you asked, excitement getting the better of you.

for when you download internet applications. it’s added security, paste the link in before you search anything or you’ll trigger the firewall alarm.

you blinked.

you’ll trigger the what?

i’ll trigger the fucking What?

levi’s response was the fastest one yet: the Fucking Firewall Alarm. barbatos’ design. he has no idea i know how to bypass it. just do what i said. don’t try to solve any potential issues on your own, come to me for everything.

roger that o7, you replied, thanks levi ^_^

yeah, yeah. come to my room for a hxh binge tomorrow night.

you snorted. what a fucking nerd—in the greatest way possible.

of course bestie :] ily

ily2 normie -_-

in his room, unbeknownst to you, levi felt like he made a mistake of some kind. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, it’s just that you had a tendency to end up in undesirable situations, even if it wasn’t always on purpose. he was probably just worried over nothing, or so he tried to tell himself, but whatever. this isn’t even about him.

you sat up once more, this time leaning against your pillows as you started setting everything up. everything went so quickly that you barely wondered if all of this—subverting hell’s firewall, personally designed by a man eerily similar to a 2D crush from when you were in middle school—was worth accessing a few silly apps from the human world.

a few minutes later, your d.d.d. now a much, much cooler copy of your phone, any and all thoughts of regret and hesitation were absent from your mind.

your first order of business on your upgraded d.d.d. was logging into your tiktok account, however surprising it was that you even remembered the password. you put your headphones in and adjusted your volume, going back into the dumpster fire that is your for-you page with open arms.

after around half an hour of stifled laughter and small, offended gasps from being targeted by the algorithm, you came across a rare dancing video. the person on your screen was in casual clothes, making minor, silly dance movements as the music dwindled, only for them to drop into a squat in time with the music, suddenly dolled up. you shot forward, taken aback by their transformation and by their dancing post beat drop. did you watch it on a loop for a few minutes? well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. you clicked on the sound in hopes of finding similar videos, and much to your relief, there were plenty. about ten videos in, a smile still on your face, you got an idea.

you slipped your headphones out, arbitrarily looking around your room, before whispering to yourself, “i could—i could do that. i could totally do that.”

and you were right. you had nice clothes and makeup from various shopping occasions with asmo. your room had led strips, courtesy of levi ordering the wrong ones and being so kind as to give them to you. you could do it.

levi was the only person you’d spoken to since you retreated to your room a few hours ago, and the lights have been off the entire time, which meant that if you worked quietly enough, everyone else had reason enough to assume you were asleep. good! how could you possibly explain what you were doing getting all dolled up at, like, 11:00 on a wednesday night? you couldn’t, even a little bit—not in a way that convinced anyone, anyway.

come midnight, you were sitting cross legged on your bed, watching your final product. not to be vain or anything, but you were looking very respectfully at yourself. since when could you move like that, anyway? the wonders of being alone, you supposed.

you didn’t post it publicly, electing to save it as a draft just so it would save to your d.d.d. maybe you’d post it once you were back in the human world, when your friends wouldn’t swarm your comments asking where the fuck you were.

yeah, lucifer told you, “everything was taken care of,” but regardless of whether or not you believed him, you knew it wasn’t a good idea to risk finding out if he missed something.

boredom creeping up on you again, you elected to go through the messages on your d.d.d. it would be better to make yourself laugh before you were fully bored again, right? you stood up and stretched, opening the group text with the adults. luke doesn’t know about it; he thinks the one with everyone is the main one, and everyone lets him think that so he feels included.

walking around your room in small circles, you scrolled up to the older conversations and read through them, rolling your eyes and chuckling to yourself. very rarely did they talk about anything of importance. it was mostly diavolo, barbatos, and simeon making quips and jokes at lucifer’s expense for everyone to see. it was gold in its purest form.

you contemplated sending one of the many cursed things sitting in your camera roll, just to keep them on their toes, but just after opening your gallery, you resigned not to, figuring it would be best to leave him alone.

you stretched again, the hold on your d.d.d. a bit looser this time. it nearly slipped out of your hands, but you caught it, tossing it onto your bed. as soon as you resigned to start getting ready for bed, you turned back around and picked it up.

there was no rhyme or reason to your actions; if someone in that moment were to ask you why you did it, you would’ve said, “just ‘cause.”

human intuition is a wonderful thing.

your d.d.d. was still on, still open to the group chat. you’d sent something, evidently a second ago, as indicated by the time stamp. the thumbnail was of you, in casual clothing—the casual clothing you were wearing before you got dolled up, actually. huh.

huh.

the weight of your mistake came crashing down on you in full force, a chill sinking into your skin and running up your spine.

you were suddenly acutely aware of the concept of time, how it was of the essence and you had absolutely none to waste.

what were you to do? it wouldn’t be long before your favorite person saw it. you had to do something.

you could say nothing. you could tell the truth and say it was an accident and that you were embarrassed, but that was even worse than saying nothing because it meant you were set to be the target of teasing you didn’t even wanna try to imagine. you could say it was an accident and be confident about it, telling them, “enjoy!” but that was a dangerous game to play, and you knew it.

well, i do admire you for taking time to think, but, unfortunately, there was a checkmark next to your message. oh, a number as well—eleven. you just can’t catch a break. what were they all doing up at this time, anyway? it was a school night🤨.

#FUCK #this took FOREVER im so glad im done #one day i'm gonna know how to write consistently i promise #i hope u enjoy!#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me!#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Let's Call It Funny

Prompt: Hi! If you know about those gen z peter parker posts, could your write something based on that? With Steve Getting It (tm) because fatalistic nihilism in humor tended to show up during the world wars and we’re seeing a reflection of that now? Sorry- I just think it’d make great options for steve and peter bonding, and dad!tony but actual emotions (gasp!) You can totally ignore this if you want!

Don't ever apologize for giving me such a great ask

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: uhhh gen z humor

Pairings: none! all found family in this bitch

Word Count: 2529

Here’s the thing about humor. It’s not necessarily that one generation is any funnier than another, it’s just that high school kids are perpetually the funniest people alive. Something about being in a pressure cooker of an environment with a bunch of other people whose bodies are changing in new unpredictable ways whilst having very little say in how their lives go creates humor. Gasp of shock, right?

So basically what Peter’s trying to say is that he’s fucking hilarious.

Come on, not only does he have the default high schooler stuff, he’s also gay, which gives him an instant bonus. He’s trans, which opens up a whole new subset of humor for him to explore. He’s neurodivergent as fuck, and we all know that makes people funny as hell. And if that weren’t enough, he’s severely traumatized and he’s Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is funny as hell.

What is truly devastating—and really, it’s their loss—is that so few people seem to appreciate it.

Ned gets it. Ned’s not someone Peter would expect to not get it, just because hey, it’s Ned. They’ve met each other in the hallways and been like ‘hey! You’re still alive! Congrats on having a body!’ Only for the other one to go ‘hey! You’re alive too! I wish I had an intangible form!’

Because bodies are stupid and evolution really fucked us over but at least we’re not horses.

A solid 50% of their interactions are just quoting John Mulaney and Bo Burnham bits back and forth at each other. Peter’s never gonna forget the day they both had detention and had to watch that stupid Cap PSA—it’s propaganda, you Nazi fuckwits—and something reminded them of the ‘horse loose in a hospital’ bit and they just did it. Full out. Stood up and did the actions and everything. The rest of the room was either trying to do it with them—and failing, because they didn’t have nearly enough practice—or looking so confused. The security guard—Paul, he’s great—just looked at them blearily after they finished and went:

“I mean, you kids are right, but you’re not supposed to talk in detention.”

Well, excuse them for trying to make it more entertaining for everyone.

MJ gets it. If Peter’s being honest, he learned most of his humor from her. She is the master and it is an honor to study in her wake. He’s definitely hijacked the asking whether or not anything’s actually meaningful existentialism jokes and they’ve wormed their way into his day-to-day repertoire.

“Why are you late, Mr. Parker?”

“Time is a social construct, Mrs. B, none of us are ever late or early except in the subjective spacetime paths. The limits of our sensory perception make it so we can’t tell if anything is real, let alone whether or not they conform to some arbitrary definition of ‘time.’”

“…just sit down, Peter.”

See? It works.

Aunt May gets…worried.

Sure, they’ve actually talked about when Peter needs help and wants to reach out and when he’s just making jokes off the cuff because hey, humor’s a great coping mechanism or it’s just a joke and not that serious. Peter loves his Aunt May, so so so much, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry her. And she’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when he’s just joking and when he’s spiraling.

Sometimes, though…

“Peter,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “did you remember to stop by the store on your way home?”

Peter freezes halfway through the door.

“Peter?”

He swallows. “…no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am too stressed and consumed by the swirling pit of blackness deep in my soul to remember my head is connected to my body, let alone remember to go to the store.”

Silence.

“…Aunt May?”

“Do you want to drop off your stuff and then go to the store?”

“…yeah, please.”

“Love you, Pete.”

“Love you!”

“Try to remember that you’ve got arms so you can pick stuff up.”

“Got it!”

See? It’s fine.

The Avengers don’t get it. Like, at all.

Natasha and Clint like, sorta get it? They make the same jokes all the time when they think Peter can’t hear them, which—come on, you guys are super spies, surely you know people are gonna hear you when they’re gonna hear you. Natasha will make a crack about something, Clint will laugh and shove her shoulder. It’s their dynamic, we get it. But when Peter does it…

“Hey, Baby Spider?”

Peter sticks his head up from the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Where’re you crawling off to?”

“I’m gonna go hide in the garage.”

Natasha blinks up at him. “Why?”

“Because if I get crushed by the airlock doors then I won’t have to do my paper tomorrow.”

Silence. Natasha’s mask is too good for Peter to actually see what’s going on with her, let alone from this angle, but silence isn’t good.

“Nat—oof!”

Something blurs out of the vent nearby and tackles him down onto the couch.

“Clint!”

“Nope,” Clint mutters, wrapping Peter up in a hug as Natasha comes to join them. “You’re staying with us now, Pete.”

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Peter,” Natasha says softly, “don’t joke about that, you’ll make us worry.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Peter mumbles, “but it’s fine.”

“Coping mechanism, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got too many brain cells to do that,” Clint says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Stark has a lot of brain cells, you see what good that does him?”

“Hmm. Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile, Pete.”

There are worse fates. Definitely.

Thor just kind of gets confused by it. He acts like Peter isn’t going to be absolutely fine because there’s no need to do anything like that. No, Peter, you don’t have to put the bleach in first into your cereal, there’s plenty of milk left over. No, Peter, you don’t have to throw yourself off the roof because your laptop is freezing, Stark has so many just lying around. No, Peter, you don’t have to pack a rucksack and run away to the Alps and live like a recluse, come here and get a hug.

Peter suspects Thor’s playing dumb on purpose. The man is smart as hell, there’s no way all of this is flying over his head. And honestly, it warms his heart a little bit when he sees Thor’s sincere, concerned look when he thinks Peter’s not looking.

Banner and Rhodey just kinda shake their heads and move on. They’re used to it. They live and work with some of the most dramatic fucking people in the goddamn universe, they’re used to a little bit of extra humor. Occasionally one of them will give him a look that says he’s pushing his luck, but that’s not often. Less often now ‘cause he knows what he can get away with. He’s also seen them hiding smiles behind their hands or poorly disguised coughs. They’re not as slick as they think they are.

Tony.

Tony is the fucking worst.

Peter can’t get away with so much as sighing too hard before Iron Dad™ is swooping in all soft words and concerned touches. Jesus. You’d think he’d get it, he uses humor as a coping mechanism too, goddamnit, why is he so worried about Peter?

Okay, fine, he knows why.

MJ’s over at the Tower, having another one of her ‘sketch people in crisis’ appointments with Natasha. Peter is coming off of a 32-hour caffeine rush and is violently wishing for death. Tony is in the kitchen doing…something.

“Hey, do you think bleach would make a good smoothie?”

Tony wheels around to see MJ pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

“Kid—“

“Sounds like a filling breakfast,” Peter groans, “can you make me one too?”

“…I’m legitimately concerned,” comes Tony’s mutter.

MJ ignores him. “Who’s the bitch on your forehead?”

Peter rubs absentmindedly at the massive knot on his head, courtesy of a wall that rudely decided to move at the last second while Peter was attempting to walk through a doorway. “He’s called DJ Braindeath and he’s my only friend in the world.”

“Peter—“

“Oh did you meet him at the furry convention?"

“Technically it’d be a buggie convention.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“The pantry doesn’t have good coffee, I’m going to Starbucks.” MJ grabs her bag. “You want anything?”

“A will to live?”

“Peter, what the fuck—“

“Oof, I’ve only got like…20 bucks.”

Peter lets his head drop back to the counter. “Then just leave me here to die.”

“Can I have champagne at your funeral?”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t fucking care.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Then MJ’s gone and Peter gets treated to a 20-minute conversation with a very concerned Tony Stark that he doesn’t remember most of because hey caffeine crashes aren’t fun.

He definitely does it on purpose sometimes just to wind Tony up. Like there’s this one incident with an interview he does as Spider-Man and he gets asked what he thinks about Tony Stark’s newest intern, Peter Parker.

“That boy’s an embarrassment, just…complete failure. Can’t speak without stuttering through every other word and self-esteem issues all over the place. Also looks like he got dressed in the dark.”

The reporter had awkwardly moved on to another question. The interview aired later that day while Peter was at the Tower. Tony sat next to him on the couch about halfway through.

“You look good, Pete.”

Peter had mumbled halfheartedly, only to hear the reporter ask the same question.

“See, that’s the problem with having a secret identity, you don’t…” Tony trailed off as he heard the answer.

Peter snorted as Spider-Man finished talking. “Say that to my face, you bitch, get a real job. At least I don’t look like someone vomited silly string all over my spandex.”

“Are you okay?”

See? Fun.

The only one he’s made a conscious effort to not be this funny around is Steve.

Because, okay, here’s the thing. Steve’s disappointed look has no effect on him anymore. He’s immune, motherfuckers, he’s had detention too many times for it to still work. Here’s the other thing: Steve doesn’t actually use that tone of voice that often. It’s this meticulously crafted image he plays up in interviews because it catches all the bad guys so off guard when Captain America is suddenly swearing a blue streak at them and telling them to go fuck themselves in, honestly, quite creative ways. The sincere Steve Rogers disappointment and concern still very much works. Also doesn’t help that Steve does caring so fucking well, like…who gave him the right to say a few things and hold Peter like he’s something precious and do the quick one-two punch of saying a super sincere compliment and following it up with ‘I love you.’ Who did that? It’s rude. Stop it.

And yeah, Steve’s the resident Mom at the Ready. It’s a risk to even sit on your bed looking sad ‘cause here he comes, wearing something snuggly and saying ‘hey’ in that stupid, stupid compassionate voice. So Peter knows he’s just gonna end up crying from too much soft if Steve actually gets concerned. Which won’t be fair because he’s gonna try and explain that he’s fine and it’s just his sense of humor while crying. Yeah, like that’s gonna be believable.

So he’s trying not to but damnit it’s hard.

Then he walks into the kitchen one day to see Steve struggling with the toaster.

It’s one of Tony’s new prototypes—which means that anyone struggling with it is so fair—and from the looks of it, it’s managed to not only burn the bread to a crisp, but also mangle the slices beyond recognizable shape.

Peter’s not paying that much attention. He’s on his phone, heading towards his spot in the corner with the beanbag chairs and definitely doesn’t recognize Steve as he goes.

He only plops down and hears someone declare, in a completely deadpan voice: “There is no point to existing at all.”

“Oh, mood.”

He doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t even know who said that, that’s how hyper-focused he is right now. He hears the others come in and feels Clint plonk down next to him.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Sah, dude.”

“Just vibing. Did I do it right?”

“Yeah, man you’re going great.”

“You teach Thor ‘yeet’ yet?”

“We’re getting there.”

“Steve,” he hears Tony call from the kitchen, “what the fuck did you do?”

“Language.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about language when you’re making toast that looks like a goddamn welder’s table, what is that?”

“Your prototype’s work, I imagine.”

“How did you even—“

Clint chuckles next to him as the two of them start fondly bickering. Peter’s too busy speedrunning the five stages of grief in his head.

Did…did Steve say the thing about there being no point to existence at all?

No…no way.

He must be imagining things.

Then, of course, there’s a chime on his phone.

Ned: Did u do the bio hw?

There was bio homework?

Ned: yeah, due at noon

“I now know why God abandoned this timeline and when will death come to take me?”

The room goes silent.

Shit.

“Peter,” Clint says, “it’s gonna be fine, you can do bio homework in your sleep—“

“Are you okay?” Ah, that’s Thor.

“Kid—“

And Nat, and Tony’s probably rushing over here as he speaks.

Then there’s another voice.

“We can only pray the reaper arrives early for his appointment with us, kid.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

Steve.

Steve fucking Rogers raises a coffee cup at him in salute and takes a sip. He makes a face.

“…that was definitely salt,” he mutters, before shrugging and downing the whole thing.

…what?

Peter’s still staring at him until he catches his gaze and winks.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony says, hands on his hips, “explain.”

Steve just gives him a look. “I grew up in the Great Depression, Tony, and I was in the army. You don’t think I have a fatalistic sense of humor?”

“Plus the fact that most of my generation is resorting to types of humor found when death and stress are so ever-present that you have to joke about it says something,” Peter adds, “doesn’t it?”

Steve raises his cup again. “See? He gets it.”

And just like that, the bond between Peter Parker and Steve Rogers was written, formed, and sealed in salt and existentialist depression.

“There’s two of you,” Tony mumbles, “oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Oh, you just wait ’til Buck and Sam get back.”

Peter can’t fucking wait.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #spider man #peter parker #fic #dragonbabbles

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self-preservation-fic · 4 years ago

Note

hello. i just miss these two. any ideas what they're up to? <3

I sure do! I’m pretty busy with the other fandom I’m in at the moment, but I keep going back and working on the second part of this fic because it’s been my baby for forever and I’m not about to let it go :’)

Where the sequel begins, the guys are on Christmas break, Marcus is with his parents + sister, Oliver is off with his own family. The second fic is going to have a darker tone with some family drama. (And some Oliver POV 👀) The main plot will centre around Marcus making his decision on what to do after her graduates and whether he wants to help the Order of the Phoenix out or not have any part in the conflict to come.

Here’s a snippet from the beginning of the fic, I’m rating it M for some not-explicit sexual content. Please forgive any grammar/spelling errors, it’s still rough!

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Marcus let his door swing open on silent hinges. His room was way cleaner than Marcus had ever kept it. All of his personal belongings tucked neatly away and the covers pulled taut across so taut across the bed he wondered if they were meant to pin him there. He felt like an adult stuck in a dollhouse and this room wasn’t his anymore. Everything of value he’d brought with him to Hogwarts, he didn’t trust it here alone.

Marcus was careful to hang up his suit before pulling on sweats and rifling through his drawers for a shirt. All of his pent up worrying from the train ride here had manifested itself in a nearly compulsive need to run. He had to dig into the bowels of his drawers to find an appropriately ratty t-shirt.

As he searched, he could pick out the careful tread of his mother’s footsteps down the hall. Drafty old houses with minimal insulation were perfect for eavesdropping and terrible for keeping secrets.

“Come in,” he called, snagging a t-shirt when he heard the wrap of her knuckles against the door. He made sure to raise his voice just loud enough for her to hear, not more.

The door creaked on its hinges. “I just want to know--” her voice was cut off by a sharp intake of breath. Marcus froze, shirt halfway on, he was about to hall it over his head when his mother’s voice stopped him.

“Marcus, honey, what happened?”

Shit, he knew what she saw and couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t pretty, the round pink scar on his right shoulder, the skin raised and puckered like a muggle bullet wound. Magic always leaves a mark, Marcus thought ruefully.

“What did you do?” she asked and Marcus could feel the prickle of heat creeping down his back.

“It’s nothing Mom, it was stupid.” He assured, tugging his shirt the rest of the way down and turning to meet her gaze.

Her eyes stuck to his shoulder as if she could see right through him. “That doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“I was protecting a friend,” he settled, knowing she wouldn’t drop it until he gave her something.

That pricked her interests. “Do I know this friend?”

“No--I don’t know--maybe.” He turned back around and busied himself with grabbing random items of clothing from his luggage for her to give the house elf to wash. No matter where you lived and who you descended from, everyone knew everyone else's business at Hogwarts. He wondered if he told her Oliver’s name if she’d remember going to school with his mother. He wondered how long she’d try to pretend it was okay that they talked.

“Okay,” she acquiesced, quietly, and he let out a nearly restrained sigh of quiet relief.

He handed her the messy bundle he’d collected, and when she took it from him her hands trapped his, holding him tight and forcing him to look her in the eyes for the first time since he’d arrived. Their warm hazel had turned watery. “You know you can always talk to me, I love you so much.” Her bottom lip wobbled slightly and Marcus sighed.

“Mom--” Detaching her hands gently from where they gripped him, he pulled her in over the laundry. She was a tall woman, but even with the bundle pressed between them she still felt small. “Of course I know,” he said, trying his best not to ruffle her perfectly waved hair.

“I just wish you’d write more,” She whispered and he swallowed, sometimes he forgot how long it must be for her in between visits. Time always flew by at Hogwarts and Marcus had always been shit at writing, like he was shit at reading, and it was just easier not to do it most of the time even if he did have something to say. He was blanking now. Lips glued shut.

“I know, I’m sorry.” was all that he could say. It felt lame out in the air between him. All that worry had transformed into leaden guilty in his stomach. There had hardly been any room left to breathe this year between school quidditch, his father--Oliver-- somehow between all of that part of him had forgotten about his mom. “Sorry,” he repeated, and it still doesn't feel like enough.

When she pulled away she waved her hand as if she could dispel her own emotion. Her voice was still thin when she spoke. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just being silly.”

He gripped her shoulders, giving them a squeeze as if he could instill in her the confidence he himself didn’t feel. “Mom, you're not being silly. I should have written, I’m sorry. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a nod and he let her shoulders go. The hand not clutching the bundle drifted up to brush his hair back and down the side of his face. “Oh, sweetheart wish you’d talk to me.”

Marcus clenched his eyes shut. He was really not prepared to do this now. “Mom--”

“Estelle!” Marcus felt her fingers reflexively tense against his cheek at his father’s voice calling from bellow-stairs. He opened his eyes, standing up straighter, not realizing that he’d sagged into her palm.

Stepping back her lip caught between her teeth and he gave her a smile, saying in the most reassuring voice he could muster. “It's alright, I’m okay.”

With a hesitant nod, she turned, stepping from the room and closing the door softly between them. He waited until he heard her heels clicking back down the hall.

Sagging against the door, Marcus let his head thump back against the door. Pinching his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his now, he suppressed the quelling frustration and anger under his skin, picturing instead a pair of deft arms holding him up. He let out a shuddering breath. He couldn’t leave, he couldn’t and it made him nauseous.

Fishing a flimsy chain out of the pocket of his sweats, Marcus inspected the transfigured metal chain with a small lion gangling from it once again as if he hadn't spent the entire train ride doing so when he thought nobody was watching. It had meant to be a joke, Oliver had produced it from seemingly nowhere and presented it to him with a wry smile. It was the sort of trinket you’d find in Hogsmead shops selling quidditch memorabilia.

“So you don’t forget me,” Oliver had said with an undercurrent of hopeful honesty. He was laid out on Marcus’ bed in his dormitory, looking very at home there, Marcus sat cross-legged on the mattress beside him.

“You shouldn't have,” Marcus had said drily, eyeing the lion as it gave a soundless roar. He put it on anyways, because it made Oliver smile. “And I didn’t get you anything?” Marcus had said, bending over to crowd him against the mattress to press a quick succession of messy kisses to Oliver's face as he had half-heartedly tried to escape.

Eventually, he had stopped the assault, keeping close so that he could more easily study Oliver’s face. It was only Christmas, but he didn’t want to forget a single thing about it. Slowly the smile Marcus had put there slipped from Olver’s face. A warm, square hand reached up to smooth the hair from his face. Marcus allowed himself to melt into the touch, knowing that soon it wouldn’t be there at all. “No, really, you shouldn’t have,” he had said, whispering even though no one was around. He wanted Oliver to know the words were only for him. “Could never forget you.”

The hand in his hair brought him down until his face was pressed to the hinge of Oliver’s jaw, breathing in the comforting scent of his body and trying to pretend he wasn’t about to fall apart.

Fingers carded through his hair as his breath caught and held in his throat. Wrapping one hand around Oliver’s waist the other wormed up under his sweater to feel the warm skin and smooth planes of muscle that hid there. He knew he wasn’t making any noises--he was barely breathing as it was--and yet Oliver was still murmuring shhh noises into his hair.

“Marc, hey, look at me.” Marcuse reluctantly pulled back, just enough to do so while still keeping Oliver close as they lay on their sides. Oliver worried at his lip, his fingers continuing their trail from his brow, down the uneven line of his nose, to the thin set of his lips and the dip in his chin before Marcus caught it and tangled it in his own.

“Hey,” Oliver repeated, looking hesitant and apprehension welled up in Marcus’ chest before he finally stopped worrying at his lip and squeezed Marcus’ hand hard enough to almost be painful. “I love you.”

The rushing sound in his head was so loud he barely heard the pained noise that ripped from his chest. Bending down to press his mouth firmly against Oliver’s own, his brain hazy with want, he repeated I love you, I love you, I love you--over and over in his head. Oliver opened for him willingly, making soft noises against his mouth, his fingers tightening and tugging lightly in Marcus’ hair. Tilted his head, he let himself sink into the soft warmth of his mouth, pushing his hands up further to feel Oliver’s ribs expand and contract tightly under his fingers.

Pulling back he gasped. “I--I--” the words getting trapped in his throat.

“Shhh,” Oliver said, sweeping his thumb over the swell of his bottom lip, then up over the arch of his cheeks. “It’s okay I know.”

Kissing wetly over his jaw and down his neck in apology. He has so many things to apologize for. Rucking his hands up to brush a thumb over his nipple, Oliver’s breath hitched and he full body tensed before relaxing boneless into the bed with a sigh. Pressing a line of kisses down his breast bone, Oliver arched into his touch as he reached the soft dip of his stomach nosing at the fine line of hair there.

Marcus wished it didn’t have to be like this, he wondered how long Oliver would put up with it, how far his patience would stretch. Tugging on his hair, Marcus looked up and this time Oliver’s eyes weren't hesitant, but fierce. “I love you,” Oliver said and Marcus felt it burn hot and quick in his chest. Overwhelmed, he gripped Oliver’s hand tighter before pulling it away to make quick work of his belt.

Mouthing a wet spot into the fabric of his boxers, Marcus lingered there before hooking his fingers in and tugging it down. He sucked a possessive bruise into the soft skin of Oliver’s abdomen as he panted wetly above him. Marcus comes with Oliver’s hands wound in his hair, his body curled taught over him and a hand down the front of his pants. He let Oliver come in his mouth, breathing “I love you’s” in a mantra around shaky moans. Marcus squeezed his eyes through the wetness prickling at the corners and moaned in turn.

Marcus blinked back to the present, thumbing the lion in consideration. Everything about it was just so achingly Oliver. Moving over to the mirror over his dresser, he fastened it around his neck. The chain was short but just long enough to tuck under the collar of his shit, hidden away and safe. The metal was cold against his skin, pressing his palm over it, he felt the indentation through the fabric as it slowly grew skin-warm, a heavy comfort against the hollow of his throat.

#flintwood #Fic #My fic

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herrandomnesss · 4 years ago

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There's a bipolar worm in my coffee and she has long suicidal shower thoughts

There's a bipolar worm in my coffee and she has long suicidal shower thoughts that make no sense, yet are the epitome of wisdom.

She quotes my son "Oh, my cunt! I have a great idea" and goes on a rollercoaster ride from the silliest of thoughts to the secret behind our existence. But every time she starts to burp out an idea, it slips, and she gets mad and begins the longest of rants; all in my head.

The other day, she threw it all in my face: It's not that you want to die that's making you suffer, quite the contrary; it's that you want to live. It hurt so much to hear the truth put out this bluntly that I almost slit my throat immediately. Next, I was giving this massive it's-not-freedom-from;-it's-freedom-to and we-shouldn't-be-victims-even-when-victimized trends a chance, reading one too long article about how we shouldn't care about what holds us captive and instead, focus on what we yearn to do.

I finish my white-man-status pursuit with an article about how we linger to the victim status, which holds us back from healing. The bitch worm then slapped me in the face, "Oh my fucking cunt, are you trying to be a Karen now, Sarah?! Go meet them deadlines so that you don't lose your living."

Why is the warm so mean? Why can't she let me buy white-man thoughts designed for my consumption?

“And what's with all that macho 'You're strong and brave' put out as feminist whatever? Why is your value judged by some misogynistic standard? And why do you keep on buying in?"

Silenced, I shake my head, hoping she'd leave. But the worm has super powers, she insists "You're no chicken for not wanting to tell your story." I let out a sigh of relief.

But this is one diabolical sly worm, she shits on my parade, "You're still a chicken though. You can't voice out your anger that all you want to do is say how what happened to you made you feel; how despite the fact that it doesn't define you, it made things different, thus making you different."

Ugh, I'm getting homicidal now.

She interrupts, "But it's OK to be a chicken anyways. Now go make me an omelette, you useless bitch."

I spill my coffee in the sink. The silly worm leaves my coffee as I do. And jumps into my brain. "Did you know that some woman made her husband a sandwich, served it to him, then killed him before he could eat it?"

I feel scared. This worm is insane. And I could really lose her help; I'm insane enough on my own. I reason with her. She says "Fine, you're stupid anyways. I'm going to sleep."

I count to 10, take a deep breath, fix my kid some food, then start to sob uncontrollably. I go to the bathroom to have some privacy. I watch some porn and detachedly cum. I'm not sure if that's because I'm on a full bipolar low or if the porn was a lot like all the awkwardly bad sex hetero humans have. And all the good sex hetero humans have doesn't seem to make up for the bad that sometimes, with triggers all around, I just don't want to be touched.

I feel queerer these days; contemplating on whether things would have been different for me if I had had the chance to better connect with my queer side earlier in my life.

"Hahaha, are you coming out now?" The evil bitch woke up and she's back to sodomise. Joke's on you, stupid worm. I came out a long time ago.

"You're quite funny. I'm glad you believe that. Tell me, Karen-wanna-be, wasn't this one good example of the freedom-from/the freedom-to fake dilemma?"

My heart is now burning with hatred for this worm.

My kid cries for help and saves me. It's something silly, but I comfort him anyways. He feels better. Then he starts fake crying. I ask him why he's being overdramatic in the most understanding tone I could summon. It's fun to be overdramatic, he says. The nasty worm interrupts again, "now we know who he takes after."

I jump to my defense. I'm grieving, you evil bitch. "What is it exactly that you're grieving?" She interrogates. The cynical tone could not be missed.

My mom, my dad, life as I know it, my ability to work, to have good sex, to be fun to be around. I'm not fun anymore, not even for me. And my hypomania, that too I grieve."

The worm tears my brain as she grows in size, but for some reason lowers her voice whispering "Take your meds."

I have nothing to say. I have nothing to think. My brain is now void. There's nothing there but a rusty shade of grey. "I guess you're searching for that old 'the meds will make you fat' excuse in your vacant head," she eyes me with a disgusted look that screams "How pathetic, really!"

I find myself defensive again. Do you know how people react to weight gain? My whole adult life can be summed up in two poles "Why did you let yourself gain so much weight? and "Why are you crazy? Take your meds, psycho."

And those are the kindly concerned friends.

I just need to fuck up, worm. Why can't I fuck up anymore? I'm dwelling under pressure. I'm buried under heaps of responsibilities and I can't catch a breath. Why can't you just give me a break? After all, you're only a fragment of my imagination. I made you. Please don't make me kill you. I have enough guilt. The cross on my back is already too heavy to bear.

She weeps. I feel awkward. Why do I always end up in the comforting shoes?

I'm not sure why you're crying now, worm, but it's ok not to be ok, I say, trying to end the situation as fast as I could.

She senses my discomfort. It pleases her. "It's because you already fucked up but you don't know yet that I'm crying," she murmurs with a half smile. "But it's ok not to be ok, Sarah. You lost a lot and are shackled by a lot. Fucking up is the human thing to do."

She grows big arms. She hugs me. She warns me what an evil place for me this country is. She finds it very distasteful how a purely pedophilic crime was turned into a conversation about sexual harassment between adults. "I can understand how this shit is scary. I'm just a worm and I don't even exist, but I find it horrifying, too."

I feel calmer that someone understands. But I'm now all jaded and weary. Then something unexpectedly sad occurs. The worm leaves with no goodbyes. My brain cells are back and fully functioning. I feel electric waves running all over the place. I need to shut it down again. Where did all the grey blank walls go?

I keep rushing around my brain, searching for the turn-off button, to no avail.

I finally find a goodbye note from my foe and friend saying "It's OK not to be OK."

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brasskier · 4 years ago

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@badthingshappenbingo trope #4!

Trope: Concussion

Summary: Jaskier feels like a detective, albeit a clumsy, scrambled-eggs-for-brains kinda detective. He has two mysteries on his plate at the moment - why is Geralt in a bad mood, and why won't his brain cooperate? (Hint: perhaps it has something to do with hitting his head that morning.)

Read on my ao3 or below the cut:

Jaskier probably should've told Geralt when he slipped and smashed his head into a rock on the riverbank coming back up from his morning bath, or should've at least known it was bad when bright worms of light started squiggling in his peripheral and words suddenly got a lot harder to string together. And maybe he would've, if he wasn't so intent on figuring out why Geralt was in such a piss-poor mood that morning. He felt like a detective - albeit a clumsy, scrambled-eggs-for-brains kinda detective - stringing together clues and occasionally nudging the witcher along with leading questions, at least when he could get his brain, lips, and tongue to all cooperate.

Unfortunately, Jaskier was doing about as well at solving the mystery of Geralt the extra-grumpy witcher as he was figuring out what was going on in his own skull. It'd happened once when he was a boy, falling out of a twisty, too-tall tree. His father, may he rest in peace, didn't notice until Jaskier, uncharacteristically silent, stared vacantly past him— until that point he'd been more preoccupied scolding him for ruining yet another fine pair of trousers. (His parents paid good money for those things, but he was pretty sure maybe they should've learned by that point and stopped dressing him up in finery before releasing him into the world.)

Speaking of, he could use a new pair of pants. Maybe once they made it to the next town he could find a seamstress, maybe even invest in a nice new doublet as well. Geralt always pretended he found such purchases frivolous and vain, all huffy and monosyllabic, but Jaskier knew full well it put him in a good mood to have something to tease Jaskier for.

Good mood. Right. He was supposed to be figuring out why he was in a decidedly not good mood. He was supposed to… well, he really didn't know past that. His thoughts flitted about his head like a chicken desperate to escape its coop, and this thought made him giggle to himself, picturing his squishy brain with a beak and feathers squawking about.

"Jaskier?" He glanced up at the witcher that had reclaimed his attention, finding it distinctly difficult to track his movements as he bobbed along on his horse. "Did you listen to a thing I said?" Well, that was a silly question, Jaskier thought, because in order for him to listen, Geralt would've had to have said something. His mind trapped like a stuck cog on how to put this minor incongruence into words, and the witcher glared at him in the space of his tenuous silence.

"How could I?" He asked finally, head tilted to parallel the uncertainty etched in his tone.

"With your ears," Geralt deadpanned, and Jaskier grimaced under the frustration of his misunderstanding.

"No, that's not— I meant— you didn't—" he attempted to elaborate, but once again found his brain, flighty as a hummingbird, refused to put thoughts to language. Geralt slowed Roach to a halt, and only then did Jaskier realize he'd at some point stopped walking. He wasn't too sure when that happened, but he was sure he had to start again, because Geralt was already in a bad mood and the uneasy threat of abandonment always loomed thick.

This, in hindsight, might've been a mistake. The trees spun, ground tilting ominously like a ship caught in a storm, and Jaskier staggered with the rhythm of it. This, finally, mercifully, seemed to tip off Geralt and his fancy-schmancy witcher senses that something wasn't right.

"Jaskier?" He called, and he still sounded decidedly disgruntled. This wasn't good; Jaskier was supposed to be getting him in a better mood, not making things worse. He'd even been quiet for a change (moreso due to his tongue's uncooperativeness than any conscious choice on his part, not that Geralt needed to know this detail).

The witcher swung a leg off the saddle, dismounted with the grace of a cat. (Which was funny; wasn't Geralt supposed to be a wolf? Didn't Geralt's brother know a cat witcher? Maybe cat witchers were even more graceful, like ballerinas; Geralt would never do ballet.) This thought would've also made Jaskier giggle, but he was hesitant to unclamp his jaw at the moment, fearful that more than words might spill past it.

"Jaskier?" It was more urgent this time, which Jaskier vaguely recognized was not good, but couldn't quite recall why. When he managed to force his eyes to focus for a split second, Geralt was in front of him, before the forest swelled again and swallowed him with it. He pressed a hand over his eyes, in the vain hope blindness might put an end to the spinning; he had no such luck, and found himself drifting even in the darkness.

"Mmm?" He hummed, which was usually Geralt's line, but he was determined to keep up the tight-lipped defiance of his own body. He felt a hand scrape his forehead, shifting his carefully mussed hair, and then move down to cup his chin between two fingers. It was a gruff, economic movement; Jaskier, in his self-imposed darkness, pretended it was tender.

"What's wrong with you?" Even Geralt's voice seemed to be swimming, tilting forward and back with each strangely distorted syllable. What isn't, Jaskier wanted to joke in return, snicker a little at Geralt's frustration. But he couldn't, at least not without giving into opening his mouth, and besides, Geralt was already in a bad mood. Instead, he shrugged, a turn of phrase about tables that turned flitting through his thoughts, and he surely felt like he was on a turning table, not that any tables Jaskier had ever seen were exactly known for turning.

"Is it your throat?" It was a reasonable line of thought for Geralt to stroll down, to be fair, considering the whole thing with the djinn. Gods, how he wished he had a djinn right now, less-than-stellar experience aside. If he had one, there'd be none of that bloody Valdo Marx bullshit; no, instead the forest wouldn't spin anymore, his brain and tongue would cooperate, and Geralt would be in a good mood.

Jaskier really was doing a shit job of uplifting Geralt's spirits, wasn't he? At the very least, he'd managed to tease out the source of his foul temper; at present, it was Jaskier himself. He risked a peek out into the world again, found concerned amber eyes tucked under a tight scowl tilting like a leaf in the wind, and promptly squeezed them shut again. Oh, yeah. Geralt had asked him a question— what was it? Ah, it was gone now, too late. He shook his head, hoping he was actually answering. This was a mistake, because it sent stars erupting in the darkness and an unbidden groan worming its way past his lips.

"What, Jaskier?" Geralt sounded even more exasperated, if such a thing were possible, and Jaskier flung a hand up to press over his mouth, as if that might help whatsoever; it didn't.

"No— fuck, I'm—" In one clumsy motion he managed to tear himself back and away from Geralt, jerk to the side, and stumble over his own two feet and onto his knees just in time to escape vomiting on Geralt's boots. That was good; vomit on his boots would've really pissed him off. The weathered hand that had earlier cupped his chin (Jaskier could still feel the ghost of it on his skin) came to sit heavy between his shoulder blades. This touch not even Jaskier could make feel gentle.

"Okay," Geralt hummed, somewhere to his side. "Alright, okay." Was this Geralt's attempt at being soothing? How Jaskier wished he could tell him he appreciated it; maybe later, when his stomach wasn't still bucking uncooperatively like a spooked horse. This was funny, too; Roach in his stomach, kicking and snorting, but Jaskier was beginning to get tired of silly tangents.

Come to think of it, Jaskier was just tired, his limbs suddenly heavy, pounding in his skull coming into sharp focus. The hand migrated up to his collar, no doubt to tug him back upright, but he wrenched free and let himself drop to the dirt before Geralt had the chance. A nap sounded absolutely divine at the moment, and he was beginning to think he couldn't care less whether the witcher stuck around to wait it out or not. (This last detail was, patently, an absolute lie, and Jaskier knew it full well even as the thought first pattered into his consciousnesses.)

Geralt rolled him over, flipped him on his side, and this was both a small mercy (he hadn't been abandoned) and a horrendous blight (the sun glaring directly into his eyes, even as he pressed a clumsy hand to cover them again.) Another callused hand swiped across his forehead, his cheek, made its way down his neck and pried back his doublet. Jaskier wasn't sure what Geralt was looking for, and he also didn't particularly think he'd find it, whatever it was.

"There's no fever," Geralt announced, as if this were some grand discovery, a breakthrough in medical sciences. "Something you ate?" Ah, so now Geralt was playing detective, and Jaskier had all but given up on his case; another reversal of roles. Well, maybe at the very least Jaskier could give him better clues, or at least try.

"Head," he groaned, rolling back onto his side, cool dirt not unpleasant against his skin. This time, no hands tugged at him, but instead Geralt gave a soft hum, barely distinguishable from the ringing in his ears. "Hurts," he tacked on because, while it might've been implied, with Geralt it never hurt to be explicit.

"Now we're getting somewhere." That thrice-damned hand returned again, worked its way through his hair, dragging along every bump and curve until he scuffed against a half-healed scab and a sharp pain ricocheted through Jaskier's skull. He recoiled, writhing for a moment before curling even tighter into himself. "When did you hit your head?" That was a good question, because Jaskier wasn't all too sure anymore if he even had.

"Dunno," he mumbled. Now if only Geralt could put a pause to the interrogation so he might be afforded the small mercy of dying in peace. “River?”

"Helpful." Footsteps, echoing through the dirt and drilling through his head with each heavy footfall, further and further and further away until he could only feel, not hear, them. This was fine. Not the end he felt truly befit a heroic bard of his renown, but humble enough to satisfy him nonetheless. Just him and the trees as he returned to the earth from whence he was borne.

Then those blasted footsteps returned, those hands hoisted him, and he was face-first on the scratchy wool of his bedroll. He nuzzled against it, like a cat (he really needed to ask Geralt for the name of that cat witcher his brother knew).

"You have a concussion." A light flickered to life somewhere in his brain at this revelation. One of his grand mysteries, finally come to its disappointingly anticlimactic conclusion. He still didn't know why Geralt had been in such a piss-poor mood, but he decided that was a puzzle for another time, letting his breath even out with impending sleep.

"Jaskier, I need to know you understand me, okay?" As soft as his words were, Jaskier couldn't help but find it incredibly rude of him to interrupt his much-needed and well-deserved rest. If he kept pushing it, Jaskier thought, perhaps Geralt would be having to solve the mystery of why he was grumpy.

"Mmm, okay." This earned him another pat on the shoulder, as gentle a touch as anything Jaskier could ever hope for.

"I'll need to wake you periodically to make sure you don't lose what little wit you have," Geralt informed him, "but you can rest now." He felt like a sinking ship, overcome with warmth. Loose-limbed and giddy, he jutted out a clumsy hand and flailed blindly until it flopped against Geralt's arm, and he latched on. "Just tell me next time you hit your head."

"Thank you," he managed to get out on the tail end of a breath, slurred with exhaustion, disappointed when the witcher carefully extracted his wrist from his grip. A blanket settled on top of him, and he fumbled to tug it closer.

"Just sleep." Needing no convincing, Jaskier did as he was told. And in his dreams, Geralt was in a good mood, and he could still feel the ghost of his hand on that patch of skin on his chin.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #bad things happen bingo #jaskier whump #concussion #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #brasskier does bthb

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kbandtrash · 3 years ago

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And All of these Little Moments (Jaehyun x Reader)

~Rachel~

Masterlist

Essentially a collection of moments I think would happen if Jaehyun were your boyfriend.

Content: fluff, extreme silliness, kissing

Word count: 1.3k

“Stupid.”

“I know, but hey!”

Everything he did made you smile. His active and physical sense of humor made sure that your cheeks always hurt at the end of the day because you couldn’t stop laughing. Your heart had never been lighter than the time that you had been with him.

“When are you going to learn that not every dare is worth your pride?”

Jaehyun sat back down on the couch next to you, putting his finger on his lips and looking up as if he were thinking hard. “Probably never,” he concluded, looking back at you. “When are you going to learn that some dares are?”

“Hmm,” you sighed, mimicking his actions. You looked at him, your eyes wide and innocent. “Probably never.”

His face split into a grin and he threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “Good. I need you to be my compass.”

You rolled your eyes, but you wrapped your arms around him anyway. “Why do I always have to be the brain between us?”

“I’m just better at being stupid, I think.” He laid his head on top of yours.

You suppressed a laugh as you snuggled into him. “That’s perfect for me.”

You were aware of the attention that the two of you were attracting as you walked along the street, but it made you want to act up further rather than stop.

What had started as an innocent act of swinging arms as the two of you held hands and walked down the street had turned into a game of who could look the most ridiculous between the two of you.

“I will fling you into the sun,” you threatened, swinging your arms almost in a full circle.

“My lunges will keep me grounded,” he fired back, his knees nearly touching the ground with every step.

“What on earth are young people doing these days?” a street food vendor complained, shooting the two of you a dirty look.

“So shameless,” one of her customers agreed.

“Not if I kick your knees out,” you countered, now swinging your legs like a wild ballerina.

“I’ll take your knees out from under you first.”

“Bet.”

“I’ve already swept you off your feet once,” he said. “I think I can do it again.”

You gasped. “Kim Jaehyun! You’re never this smooth.”

“I learned from the best,” he joked. Without warning, he scooped your knees out from under you, holding you like a baby as he spun around.

The street vendor and her customer continued looking at you somewhat disdainfully, but couldn’t help cracking at least a little bit of a smile.

“Crazy kids,” the customer chuckled.

“Youth,” the vendor agreed.

“Put me down,” you giggled after he stopped spinning.

“I will not. I’ve got the whole world in my arms, and I’m not going to let it go.”

“Jaehyun! We’re in public!”

“Why do you think I’m holding back?”

“Jaehyun!!”

—

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

He replied without missing a beat. “Like if you turned into a worm now or if you had always been a worm?”

“If I had always been a worm.”

He scrunched up his mouth, letting out an inquisitive “Mmm,” as he thought. “You know how I think cockroaches are cute?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I think it would be just like that.”

You fought back a laugh, trying to stay in the character of an upset girlfriend.

“So you’d just think I was cute? What about other worms? Should I be worried now?”

“No, I would love you just the same, even though all the other boys would call me crazy,” he said. He was playing his part of the well-meaning-but-ridiculous boyfriend all too well. “Dispatch would get ahold of the news that I was dating a worm and there would be a big scandal. All of N.Fia would abandon me, but I wouldn’t care.”

“Would you leave me for a worm?”

His face glowed with his amused grin as he chuckled. “I’m not attracted to worms, but I think you would be the exception.”

You exploded with laughter, unable to keep your character for any longer. He laughed with you, breaking his own character that he was holding.

“All the same, I’m glad you’re not a worm,” he admitted. “I prefer you human-sized and not slimy.”

“Prove it,” you challenged him, puckering your lips comically.

His grin was so wide that he nearly wasn’t able to oblige.

—

You waited outside his door for him to open it and let you inside. Back and forth you swayed, hiding the bouquet of flowers poorly behind your back. It was something you had always wanted to try, giving him flowers, but you had been saving the idea for his birthday.

It was April, nowhere near July, but you saw the flowers while you were shopping and the colors reminded you of him.

The locks on the door started to click as Jaehyun unlocked them. You sprang to attention, drawing yourself up to your full height and bringing your hands closer to your back so as to conceal the bouquet.

He opened the door and couldn’t help but smile when he saw you grinning on the other side. “Ah, how did I get so lucky?” he sighed, admiring you all dressed up, yet he was still unaware of the flowers. “Come on in for a second. I just have to get my shoes on and then we can go.”

Still holding the flowers behind your back, you bounced through the doorway. Even though he had held the door open for you, Jaehyun hadn’t noticed the flowers yet. He sat down on the step of his entryway and started putting his shoes on.

“Jaehyun,” you said, trying to catch his attention.

“Yeah?” he responded, tying his shoelaces.

You rolled your eyes and brought the flowers in front of you. “I brought you something.”

“Oh?” He looked up, at last, finding you crouching in front of him with the flowers held close in front of your face. “O-oh!”

You lowered the flowers and stole a quick kiss off his lips. “They reminded me of you.”

He looked up and down between you and the flowers several times, his mouth open in a small “o” shape. “They’re for me?”

Your smile grew bigger as you nodded.

His hands wrapped around yours on the stems of the bouquet. For once in his life, he was at a loss for words. He let out a laugh, his face breaking into a smile. His words were all caught in his throat, or at least that’s what he thought the lump forming there was made of. It wasn’t until he sniffed and raised one of his hands to his face to rub his eyes that you realized he was trying not to cry.

“Let’s get these in a vase,” you said gently, wondering if you were going to cry yourself. One at a time, you worked your hands out from under his so you could leave the flowers in his hands. You slipped your shoes off and headed towards the kitchen to find something to put them in.

As you looked around the kitchen, wondering where he might keep something large enough to support the bouquet, you heard frantic mismatched steps follow you into the kitchen.

His arms wrapped tightly around you from behind, the flowers narrowly missing your face. With his face buried in your shoulder, he whispered, “I love you.”

You set your hands atop his, stroking them lightly with your thumbs. “I love you, too.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, almost childlike in his tone.

Your smile grew wider. “I should hope you can.”

Immediately after you turned to face him, his arms, still wrapped around you, pulled you somehow even deeper into his embrace, and his lips met yours, impossibly softly and sweetly.

#n.flying #nflying #n flying #kim jaehyun x reader #Kim jaehyun #n.flying x reader #n.flying jaehyun #and all of these little moments #jaehyun n.flying

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justimagaine · 4 years ago

Text

Chris Evans

When it seemed like the world was slowly falling apart it was good to have a friend by your side. The only real friend you had was Scott. You two had known each other for only a year but that was all it took for you to become best friends. Scott knew everything about you and he knew how hard it would be on you if you had to be on lock-down alone. Scott knew you’d lose your mind and then it would be really hard for you to get back on track after it all ended. So he offered you to stay with him, but the thing was, Scott wasn’t staying at his place. For the time being he had moved in with his brother Chris. Knowing this you told Scott you didn’t want to inconvenience his brother. But after some convincing and hearing Chris himself tell you over the phone that he was perfectly fine with it, you said yes. Still being a little worried about being around Chis and how it would go you pack up some of your stuff and moved in with the Evans brothers. Deep down hoping it wouldn’t be for too long.

First few days you did your best to stay out of Chris way. He was a privet guy and you were a stranger to him, so you mostly stayed in the same rooms and didn’t walk around too much. You’d ether be in the room he had given you for the time you were there, or you were in the living room watching movies or cooking in the kitchen, but always with Scott by your side. You had made sure to never be alone in a room with just Chris. Fearing you’d make him uncomfortable in his own home. You also didn’t talk to him that much, just when it was necessary. The small talks you did end up having with Chris were great you even made him laugh and not just a chuckle, but an actual belly laugh. Even with that you gave him privacy as much as you possibly could.

Scoot wasn’t a fool, he knew you and knew that you were acting weird when ever Chris was around. Sometimes your true personality slipped out, that usually happened when you all were ether watching movies or playing games. You’d get so relaxed and comfortable you’d start making the same jokes as you would if it was just you and Scott. Chris seemed to enjoy you humor and would join in, but soon the realization of where you were and who you were around kicked in and you went back to the shy you. A lot of times you hated that you were like that, you hated being the other you. The weird, shy you wasn’t who you were at least not anymore. Scott had helped you become more comfortable with being yourself and not caring what other people thought. But when it came to Chris you were afraid, afraid he might think you were too weird, too talkative, too any bad thing he could possibly think about you.

As days went on you started to let go of your shyness and open up a bit, but still you made sure not to stay in a room alone with Chris for too long. Especially in mornings were your brain wasn’t fully awake yet. Just like this morning. You had woken up before everyone else and stood in the kitchen with your coffee, just breathing in the smell, trying to wake up as fast as possible. Few moments later you heard movement around the house. You closed your eyes and prayed it was Scott, but when a door opened and you heard Dodgers nails scratch against the floor you knew it was Chris. “shit” you said under your breath. You opened your eyes right was Chris walked in

“Morning” he said with a smile. Another thing about living in his house was that no matter what time of the day it was or what he was doing Chris always looked good, really good. Adding the raspy morning voice it just made a girls knees go weak.

“Morning” you pushed the words out of your throat. Dodger came up to you saying his good mornings and walked back to Chris who was now walking to the door that lead to the back yard. You took this opportunity and quickly got out of the kitchen and went to your room. Chris let out his dog and turned around, expecting to see you there and ask you how’d you sleep, but as always you were already gone. He let out a long sigh and went to make his own morning coffee. Small part of you wished you had stayed, but you weren’t too confident in your ability to speak to him this early in the morning. Before you could reach the room, Scotts door opened

“Good morning (Y/N)” he said brightly making you role your eyes. As always the happy, smiling Scott no matter the hour. He looked at your steaming cup of coffee and snickered “let me guess. You were in the kitchen enjoying your coffee when Chris walked in? So you made a run for it?” you wanted to deny it and tell him he didn’t know everything about you, but that would just be a waist of time. So you just nodded.

“I’m a wuss” the truest words you had spoken in weeks. Scott turned you around by your shoulders and led you back down the hall

“Yes, yes you are” he led you back into the kitchen where Chris was now enjoying his morning beverage . The brother greeted each other, you just stood there awkwardly. Chris gave you a quick look while drinking his coffee, what you didn’t see him smiling behind his coffee cup. What you also didn’t know what all he was thinking about was how cute you looked that morning.

“I’m gonna go keep Dodger company” not waiting for an answer you walked to the back yard,

“That’s a good idea” Chris said and walked after you “it’s a beautiful morning, we should enjoy it” you went out and sat in one of the patio chairs and Chris sat in the one right next to you. All you did was look at Dodger who was running around catching butterflies, but when he noticed Chris was there he ran to him. You couldn’t help but smile at the relationship those two had. It was so pure. Dodger trusted Chris and loved him a lot, you could see it in his eyes. Son Scott joined the three of you and you all sat there in silence for a bit, enjoying the sun.

“hmm, forgot to tell you. I’m gonna go visit Jeremy today, so I might not be back today” Scott said looking between you and Chris. This would be the first time you and Chris would be alone in the house, with Dodger of course but no Scott, the buffer. The safety zone and that scared you.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with everything that’s going on?” you asked giving Scott a look pf please-don’t-leave.

“Yes, both Jeremy and I have been staying in. No outside connections. And I’ll be going from here to the car to his house and the same way back. No stops, nothing. So don’t worry. I’ll be fine” Scott said with a smile “that is what you were worried about, my health right?” he was pushing your buttons and deep down you felt as if he was leaving just to force you to stop being weird around his brother. With a glare you replayed

“Yes, I’m worried about you and your health. Nothing else” Scott couldn’t stop smiling, he knew what this information was doing to you and he really enjoyed it.

“He’s gonna be fine (Y/N)” Chris said placing a hand on your knee and that woke up the butterflies in your stomach. There were other things being said around you, but you didn’t hear a thing. All you thought about was your knee, that was now worm from his touch and also that you and Chris were going to be alone in the house.

It was silly, it really was. But when Scott left you pretty much locked yourself in your room. All you did was watch videos on your phone, read and sleep. You didn’t even go out to eat lunch or dinner, mostly because you had sneaked snacks in your room. It was stupid to hide in your room. Some moments you thought about walking out and seeing what he was doing, but got scared. You were afraid to say something stupid and silly, and make him not like you or even hate you. You just didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself, so your best choice was to stay in those four walls and hope the day goes by fast and Scott is back.

Chris noticed that you hadn’t left your room since his brother left and he couldn’t help but feel a little upset and a bit hurt. He did think to go check on you and see if you were okay. Chris would go to your door and hear you watching videos, sometimes laugh, to him it was clear you didn’t want to be around him. So he spent his time working and going for a run, just trying to make himself not think about you being in your room and not talking to him. Chris just wanted to get to know you, but also didn’t want to step over some boundaries you had placed. He wasn’t dumb, he saw how you were when he was around and how different you were when it was just you and Scott. He’d sometimes hear your laugh from his room and couldn’t help but smile. Chris would quality walk out of his room, stand in the hall way and watch you. The way you’d laugh, make jokes. He had to keep himself from laughing out loud when you’d make a joke or a face at something Scott had said. Every time he wished you’d be the same way with him. Sometimes he found himself lucky and he’d be the recipient of your jokes, smiles and laughs. He’d be happy to be able to talk to you and joke around, but something would happen and you’d go back, you’d crawl back into your little shell. Chris just hoped that before the quarantine was over he’d get at least one day of your full attention, laughs all the great stuff Scott would get.

For you the day went by extremely slow even with all those naps. Soon darkness took ever the city bringing you some relief, knowing the day was over and soon Scott would be back. Looking at the time you also knew Chris was probably in bed ether already asleep or watching a movie. Ether way you could go out of your room. As quietly as possible, took a couple of seconds to listen to the surroundings, making sure the house was quite and it was. Usually other people at this time would be asleep or at least on their way to bed, but since you spent your day in bed you were wide awake. You managed to make yourself a big cup of tea without making too much noise, the only some what loud noise you couldn’t control was the kettle but that wasn’t too loud but you did take a few seconds to make sure you didn’t hear Chris coming or Dodger barking. When it was still quit in the house you quickly went out side and sat down at the bench by the fence. The further from the house the more noise you could make, but you weren’t doing anything that could make noise. You just sat there, with your tea in hands and looking at the stars. In the recent days you were able to really see the stars, so you liked to sit our side and look at them, hoping one day you’d see a falling star or something else interesting.

While you sat outside enjoying the weather, Chris laid awake in his room thinking if he should go outside and see you. Even though you had done a great job at not making that much noise Chris still heard you. Mostly because he wasn’t asleep, he couldn’t fall asleep. It didn’t take him long to push the covers of and jump out of his bed and walk out. He thought that this could be his only chance to talk to you, alone. At first he looked for you in the kitchen where he last heard you, not seeing you there he looked in the living room, thinking maybe you were watching tv but there was no sign of you. Chris thought that you probably went back to your room and he had missed his chance, as he was turning around to go back to his room, he saw the back yard door was slightly opened. For a fact, Chris knew he closed the door, so that only meant you were there, but yet again when he walked out he didn’t see you. For a brief moment he panicked, thinking you might have left all together, walked out into the dark night. As panic was starting to set in, from the corner of his eyes, he saw a figure sitting, your figure with a steaming cup in your hand. Relived he slowly made his way towards you.

You on the other hand were too busy looking at the stars you didn’t notice him closing in. Until he was close enough to cast a shadow, seeing the dark figure you freaked out and jumped a bit, spilling some tea right as you realized it was just Chris

“Shit” you said out loud “you scared the living daylights out of me” Chris let out a small chuckle

“Sorry,” he said as he sat down next to you “can’t sleep?” he asked leaning back in the bench and looking up at the stars just as you were doing before he scared you.

“Yeah, thought some fresh air and tea would help” you answered without stuttering, making yourself happy for not making a fool out of yourself, yet.

“Yeah, I guess staying in your room all day to avoid me does have some side effects” his sentence made you stop breathing for a moment, you looked at him and Chris was already looking at you with a small smirk, you wanted to tell him it wasn’t true or that you didn’t feel well, but Chris spoke before you could “and before you say that’s not true and come up with a lie, I know it’s true. I’m not dumb or blind. I see the difference between how you are with me and Scott” as he talked his smile went way and you could feel the hurt in his words. Right then you’d take anything even being a fool in front of him over being the one who hurt his feelings. So many excuses and lies went through your mind, but there was no point, Chris didn’t deserve to be lied to.

“I’m sorry” it was time to stop being a wuss and face he truth. Chris nodded at your apologize as if he was accepting it “I really am. I’ve just been afraid to be an inconvenience to you” Chris opened his mouth to probably tell you he already said that that wasn’t true and that he didn’t mind you being there, but didn’t let him speak “or to make a big fool of myself. You know say something stupid or do something stupid. Exhibit A I spilled tea on myself.” you said pointing at wet spot on your hoodie and laughed a bit at yourself. Chris chuckled

“Technically that was my fault, I spooked you. I probably should have come up to you like a creepy man” you looked at him and smiled, it had been a long time since you had looked at him for that long. “and it’s impossible for you to make a fool of yourself or be an inconvenience. I like it when you joke around. I like it when you are you. I haven’t had the actually honor to be around that much when you’re being yourself, but I’ve seen it from afar, when I’m looking at you from the hallway” Chris took a pause in his sentence jut looking at you “I know realize I’m a very creepy man. I should stop being creepy, that’s probably why you don’t want to be around me. I don’t blame you” you both laughed at his words. sitting there with him and laughing felt so right and you actually had missed him. Even if it had been just a day, you missed this man.

“No, I don’t think you’re creepy. I’m just unsure about myself and the personality I have” finally you were honest with Chris and he liked it. He liked that you were opening up to him, he especially loved that you were actually looking in his eyes.

“Don’t be” Chris turned himself so he was facing you more “I love your personality. You say what’s on your mind, you make jokes, sometimes silly jokes, but I like’em, you’re real. “ luckily it was dark out, because if it wasn’t Chris would be able to see your red cheeks.

“Thank you” for few seconds you two just looked at each other, smiled and enjoying just being there. “I’ll stop being weird and hiding in my room, i promise” Chris was happy to hear you say that. It really brought joy to his heart, just imagining how it was going to be from now on.

“Great, “ Chris said placing a hand on your knee and giving it a light squeeze “and I promise to stop being creepy at least I’ll try. I mean I didn’t even know I was doing it” he said throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head.

What ever Chris had imagined the future was going to be like after that evening, where you two spent the whole night talking and laughing, came true. From that night you and Chris became very close. Every morning you two would wake up at the same time and sit outside talking, making plans for the day. There were no more awkward moments, just pure joy. Chris and you were getting so close Scott started to get a bit jealous, since you were his friend first. He’d sometimes go into the living room and find you two on the couch watching a movie while holding each other. You’d ether be laying on his chest or Chris had his arms around you and your head on his shoulder.

Both you and Chris, also Scott who actually noticed before the two of you did, were developing feelings for each other. With every look, small touch to Chris just always finding a way to hold you. It was ether while watching movies, or while you were cooking or just standing and talking. His arms would find their way around your waist or shoulders. Soon he started to kiss your cheek more and more often. You loved all of those moments and your thoughts about this quarantine had changed. At first you wished it would be over fast, but now you wished it never ended. You didn’t want those touches and kisses to end and Chris felt the same. Every time he was going to sleep he’d hope to get another day. Another day of your laughs, hugs, the feeling he got when you’d look in his eyes or how great and just right it felt to have you in his arms.

Most of all Chris hoped to man up and just tell you how he felt, and he hoped you you would feel the same way about him. In a way he felt you did, he saw how you looked at him. The way you’d lean into his hugs or when he’d kiss your cheek, how you’d blush a bit. He just hoped he wasn’t wrong in the things he saw. Hope was all he had at that point.

#Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans One Shot #Chris Evans #Imagine #Chris Evans x Reader

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