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cuddlyeren · 3 months ago

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Sketching us back together

After an argument before a friend’s birthday party, Hamzah and Y/N spend the night being petty toward each other. Hamzah, still annoyed, decides to get a caricature drawing with Chase instead of Y/N, knowing she had been looking forward to it. As Hamzah gets his drawing done, guilt starts to eat at him.

(Long fic 3: )

—

The party was already in full swing by the time Y/N and Hamzah arrived, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. They had argued earlier over something small—something that, in hindsight, probably wasn’t worth the cold silence now settling between them. Y/N didn’t want to fight anymore, but Hamzah was still annoyed, his jaw clenched as he walked a step ahead of her into the party.

“Hamzah!” Chase called from across the room, waving him over. Hamzah didn’t hesitate, choosing to head straight toward him instead of lingering near Y/N. She sighed, crossing her arms as she glanced around for Mandy and Martin.

“You two still mad at each other?” Mandy asked as she and Martin approached.

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t even know anymore. He’s just being petty now.”

“Yeah, he is,” Martin agreed, watching as Hamzah and Chase laughed at something across the room.

As the party carried on, Y/N tried to enjoy herself, chatting with a few people and sipping on her drink, but she couldn’t ignore the way Hamzah barely acknowledged her. She could feel his eyes on her sometimes, but every time she looked his way, he was quick to turn back to Chase or someone else.

Then, she noticed the caricature artist set up in one corner, already sketching people. Excitement bubbled in her chest—she had always wanted to get one done with Hamzah. Maybe this could be their way of making up.

She turned to find Mandy and Martin, who had already clocked Hamzah’s behavior.

“Go tell him to come do it with you,” Martin suggested.

“Yeah, it’d be cute,” Mandy added.

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Hamzah, who still looked irritated despite laughing with Chase moments ago. She exhaled and made her way toward him.

“Hey,” she said, standing beside him. “Want to get a caricature together?”

Hamzah barely spared her a glance. “Nah, I’m good.”

Her stomach sank. “Really?”

Chase raised a brow but didn’t say anything.

Martin and Mandy, who had followed behind Y/N, stepped in. “Come on, dude, don’t be lame,” Martin said. “Go with her.”

Hamzah let out a small scoff, then turned to Chase. “Nah, I’ll do it with Chase instead.”

Y/N blinked, the words hitting her harder than she expected. Chase, caught in the middle, looked between them awkwardly. “Uh…, are you sure?”

Hamzah nodded, standing up. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Y/N forced herself to nod, swallowing the lump in her throat as she took a step back. “Got it,” she mumbled, turning away before anyone could see the disappointment on her face.

Mandy nudged Hamzah’s arm, giving him a really? look, but he just shrugged it off, still too caught up in his pettiness to realize what he had just done.

As Y/N walked away, Martin sighed, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re being an idiot.”

Hamzah rolled his eyes, but when he finally looked toward where Y/N had gone, a pang of guilt settled in his chest. Maybe he was being an idiot.

————

Y/N sat on the couch, her arms crossed as she fumed. At first, she had been sad—disappointed that Hamzah was still holding onto their dumb argument—but now? Now, she was pissed. If he wanted to be petty, then fine. Two could play that game.

Mandy sat beside her, sighing. “You good?”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “No, but whatever. If he wants to act like that, I’m not gonna sit around waiting for him to get over it.”

Mandy smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. Come on, let’s go hang with some of the other girls.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Together, they made their way to a group of girls who were chatting near the drinks. It didn’t take long before they were all laughing, sipping on their drinks, and enjoying the party. Y/N made sure to be extra engaged, laughing a little louder, smiling a little brighter—just enough so that if Hamzah was watching, he’d know she wasn’t sitting around sulking over him.

Meanwhile, across the room, Hamzah sat beside Chase as the artist worked on their caricature. At first, he had been smug about it, thinking he had won whatever silent battle he was having with Y/N. But as the minutes passed, that feeling faded.

He knew how much Y/N had wanted them to get their caricature done together. She had mentioned it more than once, even getting excited about it before they arrived at the party. And what had he done? Chosen to be petty instead of just letting it go.

Chase, who had been quiet for a bit, finally spoke up. “Hamzah… I feel like you should’ve done this with Y/N.”

Hamzah let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face. “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing toward where she stood with Mandy and the other girls.

He messed up. And now, he had to figure out how to fix it.

——

As soon as the artist handed Hamzah the finished caricature, he barely glanced at it before standing up. The guilt was eating at him, and he knew he had to fix this. He didn’t care how annoyed Y/N was—he wasn’t about to let this drag on any longer.

He scanned the party until his eyes landed on her. She was still with Mandy and the other girls, laughing and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. But Hamzah knew better. He knew her.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way over, his heart thudding in his chest. As he got closer, Mandy spotted him first. She raised an eyebrow, then subtly shook her head, giving him a clear don’t do it look.

Hamzah hesitated for a second, but he wasn’t about to back down. Ignoring Mandy’s silent warning, he walked right up to Y/N.

“Hey,” he said, standing beside her.

Y/N didn’t even acknowledge him. She kept talking to the girl in front of her as if he weren’t there.

Hamzah clenched his jaw. “Y/N,” he tried again, his voice softer.

Still nothing. She didn’t glance his way, didn’t pause in her conversation—nothing.

Mandy smirked, sipping her drink. “Told you not to come over here.”

Hamzah shot her a glare before turning his attention back to Y/N. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, I get it. You’re mad. But can you at least talk to me?”

Y/N finally turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze for a second before looking away again. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk earlier,” she said coolly.

Hamzah exhaled. Yeah, he deserved that.

Mandy leaned over to Y/N, fake whispering, “He had so much fun getting his drawing with Chase, though.”

Hamzah groaned. He knew Mandy was milking this just to mess with him.

Y/N crossed her arms. “You should go back to him. Maybe you guys can frame it and put it up in your apartment.”

Hamzah sighed, stepping closer. “Come on, don’t be like that—”

Y/N turned away from him again, fully ignoring him now.

Hamzah was getting desperate. He knew if he let this go on, it would only get worse. And he hated it—hated when she was upset with him, hated when she pulled away.

Hamzah wasn’t going to let Y/N keep ignoring him. So, before she could turn away again, he grabbed her wrist—gently but firmly—and pulled her toward a quieter corner of the party.

“Hamzah—what the hell?” Y/N hissed, yanking her arm away as soon as they were out of sight from the group. She crossed her arms, glaring at him.

From across the room, Mandy spotted them and shot Hamzah a you just made it worse look before turning back to the girls, smirking.

Hamzah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I messed up. I was being an ass, and I shouldn’t have done the caricature with Chase.”

Y/N didn’t say a word. She simply stared at him, unimpressed, before shifting her gaze to the party like she had somewhere better to be.

Hamzah clenched his jaw. “Y/N, I’m serious. I know you wanted to do it together, and I was being petty. I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Hamzah groaned, rubbing his face. “Damn, you’re really mad at me, huh?”

Still nothing.

He stared at her, frustration bubbling inside him. But beneath it, there was something else—something like panic. He hated this. Hated being on bad terms with her, hated the way she was shutting him out.

He exhaled, his voice softer now. “Y/N… please.”

She finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. Then, she shrugged. “I don’t know, Hamzah. Maybe you should go back to Chase.”

Hamzah shut his eyes for a second, knowing he deserved that. But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

Hamzah sighed, stepping closer. “Okay, I get it. But listen, we can still get our drawing done together.”

Y/N gave him a blank stare. “The line is longer now, Hamzah.”

“So? We can wait,” he said quickly. “Come on, you wanted this, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shifting on her feet. “I wanted to do it earlier, with you. But you already got yours with Chase, remember?”

Hamzah groaned. “I know, I know, but let’s just do it, okay? Please?”

Y/N pursed her lips, looking at him for a long moment. Hamzah could tell she was still pissed, but after a sigh, she finally muttered, “Fine.”

He let out a relieved breath and gently grabbed her hand, leading her toward the line. She followed, but her annoyance was clear in the way she barely spoke or reacted to anything he said.

They stood in line, and at first, Hamzah tried to make conversation, cracking jokes or nudging her playfully, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She gave short answers, if she answered at all.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Y/N tapped her foot impatiently, crossing her arms. “This is taking too long.”

Hamzah sighed, glancing ahead. There were still a few people before them, but they were getting closer. “Just a little longer, alright?”

Y/N let out a sharp exhale but didn’t move.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty-five.

Hamzah could feel her patience running thin, and he was getting nervous again. He had just convinced her to do this with him, and if she left now, he’d be screwed.

Thirty minutes.

That was it. Y/N let out an annoyed huff and turned to leave.

“Y/N—wait—” Hamzah reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

“No, Hamzah, I’m done.” Her voice was firm, and for the first time that night, he saw real frustration in her eyes. “I already wasted enough time waiting for you earlier. I’m not waiting anymore.”

And with that, she walked away.

Hamzah stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, realizing that somehow, he had made everything even worse.

——-

Y/N stood off to the side, away from the party, staring into the distance. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her mind replaying the night over and over again. She wasn’t just annoyed—she was disappointed.

She had wanted this to be something special, something fun. But instead, it turned into another reminder that Hamzah could be so stubborn and frustrating.

She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not Mandy, not Martin, and especially not him.

But, of course, he was the one who came looking for her.

Hamzah approached cautiously, his heart sinking at how closed off she looked. He didn’t say anything at first—he just stepped closer and, without warning, wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N tensed immediately. “Hamzah, no—” She tried to push him away, placing her hands against his chest, but he only hugged her tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, still trying to push him away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he buried his face in her neck, pressing gentle kisses along her skin. “I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have been petty, and I shouldn’t have ignored you. You deserved better.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, her resolve starting to crack. She was still annoyed, still frustrated—but she was also tired. Tired of being upset, tired of fighting.

Her arms, which had been pushing against him, slowly relaxed.

Hamzah felt it—the way she wasn’t resisting anymore. He took it as a sign and hugged her even tighter, pressing one last lingering kiss to her cheek. “Please don’t be mad anymore,” he whispered.

Y/N sighed, finally giving in. She rested her head against his chest, letting his warmth calm her. “I should still be mad at you.”

Hamzah smiled slightly, running his hand over her back. “I know.”

She stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling, “I really wanted that drawing.”

Hamzah squeezed her gently. “I know. We’ll still get one. I don’t care if I have to hunt down another artist tomorrow—I’ll make it up to you.”

Y/N let out a tired breath, finally wrapping her arms around him. “You better.”

Hamzah grinned, knowing he was finally out of the danger zone. “I will. Anything for you.”

And this time, he meant it.

Hamzah kept Y/N in his arms, rubbing slow circles on her back as she finally leaned into him. He felt relieved, but the guilt still lingered. He had ruined her night, and he needed to make it up to her.

Before he could say anything else, Mandy and Martin appeared, smirking as they spotted them in their embrace.

“Aww, look at him, all soft now,” Mandy teased, nudging Martin. “Wasn’t this the same guy who was too busy with Chase an hour ago?”

Hamzah groaned, rolling his eyes but keeping his arms wrapped around Y/N. “Not now, Mandy.”

Martin chuckled. “Nah, man, we gotta talk about this. You had her out here mad as hell, and now you’re acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Y/N smirked slightly but didn’t say anything, just letting Hamzah suffer through the teasing.

Hamzah sighed, finally pulling away just enough to look at Y/N. “Okay, I need to fix this.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he was already moving, scanning the party for the artist. He spotted the caricature station and saw that the line was still long. Damn.

But Hamzah was determined. Without hesitation, he walked up to the group in line.

“Yo, I need to go next,” he said, already pulling out his wallet.

A few people raised their eyebrows. “Uh, bro, we’ve been waiting—”

“I’ll pay for all your drawings.”

That got their attention. The group exchanged glances before someone shrugged. “Bet.”

Hamzah smirked. One by one, they all agreed, and soon enough, he was at the front.

Wasting no time, he turned on his heel and rushed back to find Y/N.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as he grabbed her hand, dragging her through the party. “Hamzah—what are you—”

“No time, let’s go,” he said, weaving through the crowd.

She barely had time to process before they were back at the caricature station. Hamzah sat down first and, without hesitation, pulled Y/N onto his lap.

Y/N gasped slightly, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders. “Hamzah—”

“We’re getting our drawing,” he said firmly, wrapping his arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape.

The artist raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Alright, now this is a pose.”

Mandy and Martin had followed them, and Mandy laughed. “This man just paid off an entire line to make this happen.”

Y/N blinked, looking at Hamzah. “Wait—you paid everyone?”

Hamzah smirked, holding her tighter. “You wanted this, right?”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before shaking her head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hamzah grinned. “Yeah, but you love me.”

She rolled her eyes, but when the artist started sketching, she relaxed in his arms, leaning into him. And just like that, the night finally felt right.

—————————

This fic has been done for like 2 months already but I’m so lazy to post lol. Anyways I’m for sure being active now

I need ideas for stories tho):

#hamzah #hamzah angst #hamzah fic #hamzah fluff #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahsmut #hamzahthefantastic #martin and hamzah #slushy noobz #slushy virus #mandysiphone

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endearng · 9 months ago

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Dearest Friend

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: Spencer feels overwhelmed after you confess something when you're tired. His solution is to, well, obviously, pretend it never happened and suffer in silence. That is, until the problem knocks on his door. Well, you, knock on his door. WC: 4.6k Warnings: Idiots in love, mentions of jemily (I love them), reader is bicurious, they don't know how to talk to each other, Spencer is obsessed with reader to the point of watching her (in a healthy way, I promise), he gets jealous, Garcia is a sweetheart but that's canon, I love the team, no use of 'y/n' A/N: I'm so frustrated! I was about to post this fic and then I lost the draft. Tumblr sometimes I hate you Masterlist

Spencer Reid often felt proud of being able to focus on his tasks. After all, that was also what had helped him through the years he spent dedicated to his education. He was quick on his feet to put his mind to whatever he had to do and today was not different; some reports needed to be done and he did it effortlessly. You, one of his coworkers, on the other hand, had a hard time focusing at some times. You felt like you always had to be moving, doing two or more things at a time. Sometimes, to him, even looking at you was overwhelming with the amount of things you tried to do at once — there was one time he saw you talking on the phone with your friend, while sketching something on your notebook and skimming through some details of the case you were working on then. Simultaneously.

One of your favorite objects to fidget with, though, was your necklace. It was a beautiful yet simple accessory: a silver necklace with a small pendant. Spencer noticed that you often had it between your fingers, rolling it, pulling a little to the side, simply holding it or adjusting to keep it out of the shirts you wore. You always had it on, no matter where you were, even if it didn't match your outfit — as he had heard you once tell Penelope. He figured that someone you love must have given it to you. And he felt so jealous.

He felt jealous because he could never give you such an amazing gift, because he felt like he could never be important enough for you to use something he had gifted you at all times. It ached. He was now being tortured for 7 months, 3 days and two hours with a small crush he had developed (or noticed he had) on his cute coworker and hadn't a single clue on how to act on it. Or how to get rid of it.

7 months, 3 days and two hours since you had given him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life. And the most sincere, romantic (but, sadly, fleeting) moment of his life:

The team had been working relentlessly on a case. You were nothing but a puddle of exhaustion, tiredness almost seeping out of you, having read and translated all the journals written by the unsub. Spencer was reading your translations at breakneck speed, as he always did, because at that point you didn't trust your tired mind to come up with any more interpretations. So, after helping the best you could, you busied yourself with staring at him. It was obvious that you'd get caught, of course, sooner or later, but you didn't have the courage nor the will to pull your gaze away from him. You also didn't feel like depriving yourself from the absolute view you had. The way his hair framed his face and the way his eyes (and his hands, oh, those hands were crafted by God himself, you were sure) ran through the pages was suffocating, to say the least. He also had his glasses on, so you'd hit the jackpot that day — had you weak in your knees and didn't even know it. Silly, ignorant, wonderful boy.

You only realized that you had gotten caught when you heard the soft thud of the book being closed. "Is everything okay?" He asked, a little nervous, eyes curiously meeting yours. "I'm halfway through, don't worry,” he said, noticing how tired you looked. “I can talk to Hotch and see if you can go home to get some rest.”

You shook your head, and, then, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth, you answered him in a heartbeat. "You're around." Then, you gave him the sincerest and sweetest smile of all times, which got his heartbeat going ballistic. He wasn't aware of what was going on within his ribcage, but decided it would be better to cover it by reading, even if he wasn't absorbing anything, really. Not the way he was paying attention to how he was feeling towards you at that moment, anyway.

He felt curious when you reached for his hand, but he didn't dare to look away from the notebooks. With your marker, you scribbled on his palm: You've become my dearest friend.

And that feeling never really got away in the first place, which made him feel uneasy around you. He got so lost whenever you were around that he never got so close to you again, scared that you might do something to him, scared that you might try to show him whatever that was again, that he failed to notice that he had grown a little distant from you. In the middle of his daydream, he didn't notice you approaching him. What he did notice, instead, was your face closer to his than it ever was. "Reid, um, Hotchner said he wanted to talk to you." You announced, voice almost a whisper. To make sure you would be heard by him, you leaned down after placing your hands on his desk. Strangely, he looked right at the pendant of your necklace.

You didn't mean to make him uncomfortable; you purely wanted to make sure he heard you, not disturbing anyone else in the process — there weren't many people in the bullpen, but it made sense in your head nevertheless. It wasn't in your nature to want people's attention solely on you, but something about his gaze made you think twice about it for a moment.

Not having other's attention, of course. Having his attention.

Sometimes, you would have long conversations with yourself to convince yourself to enjoy his company without letting your thoughts about him go a little further. Thoughts of being something else with him, to mean something else for him. You berated yourself over and over for the lack of self-control when you had that answer ready to roll out of your lips some time ago, but you were also blessed by his gentleness of not addressing the situation. Either that, or he was a really dense man whose self-esteem needed a little raising. You still tried to talk to him, of course, but he never seemed to let your conversations go far after that moment — you tried your best to ignore it, but sometimes it made you feel like your presence was unwanted by him.

"Okay. I, um... thank you for letting me know." He answered, glancing up at your pretty face. He almost felt embarrassed for being caught in the act of staring at your necklace (or bosom, if he overthinked it), but, mostly, people were too focused on their own tasks to notice your interaction. Despite trying with all his might not to care about what others thought, he strongly wanted, seeked, even, your opinions and approval. He didn't feel embarrassed because he knew you well enough to tell you wouldn't tease him like the others would.

"Anytime." You gave him a tight-lipped smile, going back to your desk, leaving him hopeful and flustered.

He desperately wished you wouldn't.

After an unusual quiet Friday mainly spent on boring reports, the BAU team decided to go out for drinks to let off some steam. You weren't the biggest enthusiast of drinking, but you enjoyed the company of your coworkers. Plus, it was fun to see them come out of their shell, you included. It was one of the few times you accepted the invitation, coming from Penelope. You had a sweet spot for her, because she was really kind to you and exceptionally welcoming towards having conversations with you. You appreciated her and made that clear whenever you could. And, deep down, you knew you had accepted the invitation because you had hopes of interacting with Spencer by having more time by his side.

Currently, what you didn't appreciate was your lack of filter. A couple drinks in, surrounded by your coworkers who thoroughly enjoyed that more honest version of you, and there goes your sense of embarrassment through the window. The current topic was... well...

"I mean, don't you ever think about it, Pen? Some women are just crazy attractive. Like, look at Emily." You gushed, looking at her. Right beside her, you saw Spencer, apparently gulping. "She is soooo hot. I'm gonna tell ya a secret,” you declared. “I spend some fair share of my time wondering if I want to be her or if I want to be under her." You revealed, sounding so candid that made everyone laugh. JJ glanced at Emily.

"Aw, thanks, baby. But I don't like them young." She chuckled, not meeting JJ's gaze. Huh.

"Your loss. We have very much to offer." You declared in a playful tone — it told everyone that it was all just friendly banter.

"We? You and boy-genius are the younglings of the team, princess." Derek took advantage of the topic to, of course, tease Spencer, who was now blushing. You looked at him, humored by Derek and waited to see his reaction.

Unlike most people, you didn't care about lack of experience in the dating field, let alone if it was Spencer. You thought it was almost sweet, how a grown-up man hadn't had the time to get used to all the sex talk between other grown-ups that happened casually. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was always far more concerned about his family and education and didn't have much time to go on many practices of said subject. You both were alike in that aspect, even if you've had your share of encounters.

Spencer didn't know how to react, so he chose to do what he does best: ramble. "Actually, younger individuals often report higher levels of sexual desire, influenced by higher testosterone levels and fewer health-related problems." He said, earning your attention. Looking at him, you giggled, because he was proving your point with scientifically accurate data. Adorable. "Older adults, though, may experience a decline in libido due to hormonal changes, medical conditions, or medication side effects. However, many older adults still have active and fulfilling sex lives, and some studies suggest that sexual satisfaction can remain stable or even improve with age, depending on emotional and relational factors. But, generally, sex drive can change with age due to various factors, including hormonal changes, health status, and psychological factors."

Even if his rambling often annoyed people, he was now glad for his ability to spill facts like an encyclopedia. If they knew about the thoughts running through his head after your playful banter with Emily, he would be dead. The thought of you having very much to offer was making him feel a little funny, to say the least.

"Thank you, Spencer," you breathed out, unable to speak anything, because your head was filled with thoughts of someone that wasn't Emily. Oh, definitely not Emily. Looking away from him, you gulped the rest of your drink, trying to disguise the obvious something by making another joke. "And, yeah, that's it. When you're done being prejudiced, Ems, you know where to find me," you gave her an exaggerated, ridiculous wink and she rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll be at the bar." And then, left, almost if someone was chasing you.

Maybe it was true.

"Wow. I didn't imagine princess over there to be so unrestrained," Derek said, laughing.

"She appeared to be shy when we first met." Spencer added, not wanting to be out of a conversation that involved you. "She still is, actually. Maybe it's the alcohol. It can make someone feel more relaxed and sociable due to its effects on the brain. It lowers inhibitions by impacting neurotransmitters, which promotes relaxation, and reduces the activity of the prefrontal cortex, the area responsible for self-control and decision-making." He said, unable to turn off his computer brain, still desperately trying to hide how he was actually feeling.

Garcia shook her head, laughing. "Yeah, boy-genius. She basically turns into someone else when she's a little tipsy."

"Okay, but we all know to whom she wants to offer something." JJ breathed out a laugh, looking right at Spencer. Derek promptly joined her banter, clinking their glasses in agreement.

Spencer quickly dismissed them, worried about you instead of being upset that he was, once again, the butt of the joke. Well, one of the parts. "Hey! You can't say things like that about her." He stuttered, tone a little high-pitched, but willing to get his point across. He could tolerate the jokes and the suggestive looks he got from his coworkers, but not disrespect, especially towards you.

"Come on, kid, take it easy. It's just a joke." Emily replied, looking at him once again.

"And, to be fair, it's pretty clear that she has another target." Emily said, grinning. She leaned towards JJ, who only watched the interaction and laughed every now and then.

Spencer tried not to let his thoughts wander too far. From where he was sitting, he could see you waiting for your drink, leaning a bit into the bar counter. Seemingly out of nowhere, a man approached you and you turned to him with a big and surprised smile, quickly engulfed by his arms. Oh. His mind started to go on a spiral of negative, self-conscious thoughts.

Did you know him? How? What if he was your boyfriend that no one knew about? Was he good to you? What did you see in him? If you were in a relationship, he now had a reason to avoid thinking of you altogether, because even if you were out of his league, it never stopped him from thinking about you in a different way, but if you actually had someone, it changed a lot. If it wasn't the case, he was still as hopeless as ever, a million scenarios playing in his head: you talking to that man, liking him enough to keep in touch, going on dates, eventually becoming something more. Not one of the scenarios involved him.

Well, if watching from the sidelines as you kept your life going as he longed for you involved him, then, yes, sure.

Deciding that torture was not getting him anywhere, he quickly drew his eyes away from that direction, not even realizing you had left the bar. When he came back to his senses, you were back. A gleeful glint in your eyes. "Who was that, sugar?" Penelope asked. Thank goodness for her. Or curse her. Spencer didn't know which one to think yet.

"Just a friend from college. We were both TAs during the same time, so, you know... Office hours were also bonding hours." You said, sitting back down, next to Spencer, fiddling with the straw on your drink.

"Just friends?" Emily teased you. Spencer was looking at his glass like it was something much more interesting than finding out about you.

It most certainly wasn't, but he was afraid of the way he would feel, or react, to the answers you'd provide.

Maybe that was the whole reason why he's been avoiding talking to you after his sudden realization. What if he actually let you in and this crush (that already felt a little too overwhelming at times) developed into something much more?

"Yes," you answered. She sent you a questioning look. You laughed. "Yeah, okay. I kinda... liked him," you chuckled. Spencer's stomach dropped and he looked right at you. You looked back at him, but quickly looked down, bashful. "But I had no idea of how to talk to him, so I mostly talked about school in general. We'd also walk home together when it got too late, sometimes. Oh, and he was also in a relationship with another girl, so there was that." You finished. You were trying to look at everyone while you spoke, but you found it incredibly hard from how intensely Spencer was looking at you. You had your fidget toy of a pendant in your hands. He sighed quietly.

"His loss, princess." Derek chimed in, looking at a girl that was checking him out earlier. You chuckled.

Spencer didn't mean to eavesdrop, but, oh, well. It happens to the best of us. "Yeah, he gave me his number. I'm really glad because I remember that I genuinely enjoyed spending time with him," you said, sounding sincere. He instantly thought of the guy from the bar.

"Ooh, that's nice, princess!" Penelope answered. "Are you planning on calling him?"

You looked down at your coffee, thinking. "I might, yes." And that was enough to fill his brain with images of you having a good time with someone that wasn't him. And he didn't like it one bit, but it wasn't a option to tell you how he felt. He felt delusional for reading so much into that single moment that you shared a few weeks ago.

He couldn't focus on anything else that day. Hotch had to check on him.

After working the courage needed to call your friend, you ended up being invited over to his apartment to catch up with him and what he was up to lately. You didn't have hard feelings (or any, by the way) over what had happened in the past, but you were scared that he might still see you as a lovesick college girl, so that's why you took a little longer than necessary to reach out for him. He didn't, though. And you were so grateful for that.

"Good morning, princess! You seem happy today," Garcia commented after seeing you enter the bullpen with a bright ‘good morning, guys’ rolling off your tongue. You smiled at her. She was leaning on Spencer's desk, right next to the genius, while they shared a conversation with Derek.

Spencer was getting ready to say something when you appeared, so he shut his mouth. You looked exceptionally good that morning. Shit. "Oh, yes! I had good company yesterday," you answered genuinely, but your face fell after their expressions changed, suggesting you were doing something else.

"Oh, did our lovergirl finally get some action?" Derek laughed as you finally reached them.

Your cheeks reddened, embarrassed. "No, Derek," you pushed him playfully with a shy chuckle, "I called my friend, the one from that night at that bar. I went to his apartment to catch up. I was really happy to see an old friend."

"I like seeing old friends," Spencer blurted out, catching everyone's attention, including yours. To be honest, he didn't even think through what he was going to say, but he couldn't deal with the nagging feeling of you talking about spending your night with somebody else. "I, uh, it's great to see old friends who truly know you, that must have made you feel really comfortable. It's nice to see them."

You gave him another sincere smile and his heart nearly stopped beating. He was so thrilled by your reaction that he didn't even have the time to feel embarrassed for butting in your conversation. "Yeah, it is, Spencer," you agreed. "To be honest, I mostly spoke about you guys, since we basically live together now," you chuckled, "and he said that he was happy to know that I found another family." You finished, rolling the pendant of your necklace between your fingers.

"Aw, you're a cutie." Garcia gushed.

"Don't go all soft on me, lovergirl." Derek teased.

"Well, it's true." You simply answered, now standing next to Garcia, basically sitting on Spencer's desk. He desperately wished you'd stay there all day long for him to watch you. In a totally healthy way, of course.

The next week came to an end sooner than you expected, plently of work to do and you were exhausted. You were tidying up your desk when you heard Morgan. "Hey, princess, you're leavin'?” He asked you. Sometimes he gave you a ride to your apartment, but you were going over to your friend's apartment again to watch some movies.

"Sorry, Derek, I already have plans." You declined, politely as ever.

"Alright. Have a fun time with your college boyfriend!" Before you could answer, he dashed out to the elevator, where Garcia was probably waiting for him. You rolled your eyes at his antics, but smiled to yourself either way.

What you failed to notice was that Spencer was there with you. "Oh, hi, Spencer. Didn't know you were still here," you gave him a small smile.

"Hi! I was just leaving," he answered, quietly.

Truth was, he felt undeniably defeated by the thoughts of you and said 'boyfriend' plaguing his head; Morgan's comment only rubbed salt in the wound. Sensing that something might be wrong judging by his tone, you stretched your hand out to him. "Come on. It was one of those weeks." He took your hand in his like it was second nature.

Neither of you seemed to remember — or care — about his germophobia. Holding his hand, you both walked to the elevator. His mind got a little quieter with your touch, like nothing else mattered. "So, um, how's your relationship going?" He asked, out of the blue. He instantly regretted it; knowing about it would make his skin crawl, but he asked in hopes that it wasn't like that and that you actually meant what you told them about the guy being just a friend.

You shoulders shook with laughter. His heart felt warm. "So you heard and believed in Morgan," you mocked him a little. "It's not a relationship. We're just friends finding comfort in each other because we knew ourselves in times when things were a lot simpler. It's kinda nostalgic." You stated. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were in a relationship.

Even if you felt like he was out of your league, you'd still leave all your doors open.

Spencer felt like he was taking a gulp of fresh air for the first time in forever. To hear you, the person who unknowingly (and probably unwillingly) held his heart in her hands, was not dedicating her own to someone else, was exhilarating. He tried to bite back a smile, ultimately failing. "Oh, I see." He answered, voice nearly cracking. "I'm glad you have that." He couldn't say anything else because the comfort he felt wasn't enough to pour his heart out to you.

As you entered the elevator, it felt like it was the first time your profiling skills worked on him, your judgment no longer clouded by your feelings for him. The moments you shared lately, the comfort of holding his hand (he had not let go of yours yet), the satisfied expression never leaving his face once you revealed the nature of your relationship with your friend... It all clicked. But you were terrified of rejection, so you swallowed down your feelings for him, like you've been doing for what it seemed like forever.

If only eyes could speak.

"Did you know that I had feelings for you back then?" You saw the color leave your friend's face, so you laughed a little. "No, I don't see you like that anymore! I just, well... Do you think you could help me? I'd, uh, I'd like some advice." You saw him relax and take a sip of his tea.

"About Spencer?"

"How did you know?"

"When you talk about him, you're always a little too passionate," he revealed.

"So...?"

"You didn't change much, you know? You're still the same nerd from all those years ago — not that is a bad thing, don't get me wrong," he grinned when you scoffed, "but you need to be a little more obvious. More explicit. To the point.”

"We're friends. I'd hate to lose him," you confessed. "But it all got so weird after I said something little, but stupid,” you sighed. A pause. A sip of wine. “It was the kind of thing that's meaningful if you dig into it, you know? He didn't talk about it, but it feels like he shut me out for a moment. I keep thinking about it and I miss him so much, even as a friend.”

"Have you actually talked about it with him? You know, to him?" He asked. You froze. “People can't read each other's minds. You are friends, of course, but the environment you usually share suggests otherwise,” he argued, “So, is it better to speak or to die?”

Then, it clicked. Again. The moments you two shared, despite not being blatantly explicit, told you that he had, that he must have, a spot on his heart for you. When you held his hand and he not only allowed you to, he didn't let go of you either. Those longing, stolen glances that you pretended not to notice when you were doing the most ordinary things. The willingness to listen to your rambles about mundane topics — you were sure the genius wasn't even interested in pop culture or whatever happened to a random celebrity that week.

"Sorry, I… I have somewhere to be."

Out of breath, disheveled form, messy hair and feeling like all the oxygen on Earth couldn't possibly be enough for you from running the five blocks to your friend's apartment, to Spencer's, you knocked on his door — soft thuds, a rhythm that you often performed as you tapped your fingers on your desk, for example. He knew immediately that it was you.

Spencer opened the door, surprised, confused and, most of all, happy to see you. “Hi. Are you okay?” He inquired.

That question was all it took to make the barrel holding your tongue go to hell. “I'm in love with you. Oh, God. I-I didn't mean to be so unrestrained and I know that I look insane right now, but... Um. You have no idea, Spence,” you breathed out. “You have no idea what it's like to wake up and immediately think of you. What it's like to leave work and be sad over it because it means that I no longer get to see you on that day. Do you know how insane it is to feel sad because you're leaving work?” You laughed, sounding like a maniac. “There's so much I want to say to you and I feel that I'm always running out of time when it comes to you, because you're always a step ahead of me, hell, you're always a step ahead of everyone,” you joked, trying to make the situation lighter. He looked dumbfounded, only looking at your face, incapable of saying anything else. You took it as your opportunity to get everything off your chest. “And it makes me crazy because I want to know all about you and what you're thinking about because that's how love works, I guess. At least I think it's like that because I think about you all the time and I worry about you and I want you to like me as much as I do you. You have no idea, Spencer.”

He stood there, speechless. The elevator door opened and a couple walked out of it. His apartment complex only had two apartments per floor, door to door. You totally forgot how to function after rambling about your love for the doctor (with, perhaps, an audience), but you had a mind of not occupying the space they needed to get to their door. So you scooted over to the nearest wall, adjacent to Spencer's door — it was so awkward. The couple greeted you both with small smiles and then entered their own apartment. Looking back at Spencer, he was glancing straight ahead, at the couples’ apartment door. You sighed, defeated, beggining to feel uncomfortable with his silence.

“I came here because I took some stupid advice on telling you how I feel,” you said, voice quiet as an effort to make yourself so small that you'd disappear and never remember this situation ever again. Holding tight to the pendant. “I wanted you to know because you deserve it, Spencer. To have someone... who does know you and loves you the same.” You added, softly, having enough courage to look him in the eye, now that you had his attention back. “I know you, right here and right now. And if there's more, that's even better.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Almost owlishly. You stood there, not knowing where this was going. You opened your mouth and looked away from him, ready to apologize, to tell him to forget all about it and dash from the building. When you did so, he pulled you in for a kiss: it was messy, teeth clashing, because you weren't expecting it and he almost missed your lips. When you realized what you were both doing, you placed your hands tentatively on the back of his head while he found his on your waist.

“I have so much to tell you.” He said. Relief flooding his body, love crashing into him like a tidal wave, warmth spreading on his chest. Pulling away from you just to look you in the eye with the most serene and loving and sincere expression. Holding your pendant between your fingers, he finished, "I'd like to start by telling you that you are and always have been my dearest friend. And that I have given you a free hand to my heart from the day we met. I was already doomed then.”

His eyes held truth enough for you to know that he also loved you.

Aaaand... that's it! I hope you enjoy it, my darlings! Let me know if there are any mistakes, please.

Feedbacks are highly appreciated <3

Part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #mgg #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #bau team

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cottonlemonade · 9 months ago

Text

Being MSBY’s Single Dad

word count: 1055 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: Meian x chubby!Reader (feat. Sakusa)

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

Sakusa had been in a foul mood for some time now but today it reached its pinnacle.

Two weeks ago he twisted his ankle during training and since he had quite the history of downplaying any injuries and then suffering their consequences, Meian decided to accompany him on his latest checkup, very much ignoring Sakusa’s protests. The captain leaned against a filing cabinet, arms crossed and a small smile on his face as he watched you bend and knead Sakusa‘s foot with gentle proficiency. The younger man grimaced barely noticeably when you pressed your palm flat against his sole, but upon his wince let up the pressure immediately.

“You‘ll sit this next one out.“, you said firmly, writing something in his chart.

“It‘s not that bad. I can play no problem. I just have to warm up.“

“Ah, you heard what she said. Doctor‘s orders.“

“She isn‘t even a doctor.“, Sakusa mumbled under his breath.

“Rude!“, Meian scolded.

“True though.“, both you and Sakusa replied in unison and the captain grinned when you added pointedly, “However, as your lowly physiotherapist I will give you some more stretches to do. It‘s better than last time but give yourself another week and you‘ll be as good as new.“

You took a seat at your desk, writing down a short list of daily exercises, adding quick sketches for demonstration. As you did, Meian detached himself from the cabinet and walked over to Sakusa to help him back into his shoe, which he reluctantly allowed.

“And while you‘re at it, be nicer to the others.“

“You still haven‘t made up?“, you turned around and looked at Sakusa incredulously.

“If it wasn‘t for these idiots this never would have happened.“, he noted sharply.

“True, but they did apologize.“, Meian reminded him, “Multiple times.“ You hid your chuckle at his tone, very reminiscent of a dad trying to explain to his son the concept of forgiveness.

“They deserve to stew.“

“Wait, you had such a colorful way to describe them when you came in last time.“, you tapped your chin with your pen in thought, trying to remember, “I believe you called them “a bunch of orange cats whose brains are powered by a singular, already dim lightbulb“, am I right?“

Meian covered his snort with the palm of his hand, then rolled his shoulders and tied the shoelace as he cleared his throat.

“Please don‘t say that in front of Bokuto. His hair hasn‘t been the same since the accident.“

Sakusa clicked his tongue in annoyance and let Meian help him off the exam table.

“Here.“, you stood up and handed him two notes, “This is for some new painkillers, take them when needed but no more than three a day and these are the new exercises. Do them every morning and every night before bed and if it‘s not better in 3 to 5 days come see me again. Aaaand-“ You opened a desk drawer and took out a bright yellow lollipop.

“What‘s that?“

“All the good kids get one.“, you shrugged and smiled.

Sakusa rolled his eyes, snatched the lollipop nonetheless, and limped over to the door.

“You coming?“, he asked, hand on the handle.

“Wait in the car. I wanna get my shoulder checked out.“

“I‘m not some kid. I‘ll get a taxi.“

“If you wait for me, we can get ice cream on the way back!“, Meian called after him.

“Whatever.“, Sakusa pulled the door closed behind him, leaving you and the captain alone to burst into laughter.

“How do you manage them?“, you sighed and shook your head, then looked at him expectantly, “So, what‘s up with your shoulder?“

“Dunno, can‘t quite get my movement radius like usual.“, he swung his arm back and forth until it wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, “Huh. Seems like I‘m healed.“

He held your chin between index finger and thumb and leaned down to meet your lips. You giggled into the kiss, placing one hand on his cheek while running your fingertips along the back of his neck with the other. He hummed happily and deepened the kiss, playfully tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“When can I tell them?“, he asked softly once you broke from each other, linking your fingers with his.

You nuzzled into his broad chest instead of an answer and he wrapped both arms around your soft round figure, slowly swaying on the spot. Back when you started working with the Jackals it had only taken a few months of stolen glances, not-so-accidental touches, and careful courting until Meian asked you to be his girlfriend right before an important match. You agreed immediately under one condition. And while he was never a fan of keeping your relationship secret, he understood that you were worried about what it could mean for either of you if it didn‘t last or if you were being accused of abusing your power. But at this point, it was well over a year and he would appreciate it immensely if Atsumu stopped trying to set him up on blind dates all the time.

“Nothing bad will happen, I promise. I read my contract over and over. I know that thing by heart. Nowhere does it say that we can‘t be together. Just…“, he pulled away a little to rest his forehead against yours, “let me show you off, hm? You know how Bokuto always sprints to his wife after a match to hug and kiss her?“

You nodded

“Well… I wanna do that, too.“

“Wife, huh?“, you teased.

“Princess, let us be public and I‘ll get you a ring so fast you won‘t know what hit ya. Cause I draw the line at secret wife.“

“Alright alright… next match. You can come and kiss me.“

“Yeah?“ His eyes practically glowed at your reply.

“Yes. But you better be faster than Bokuto.“

“Deal.“

Please imagine Meian overtaking Bokuto on the way to kiss his wife in the next match.

Imagine if these races became a thing after matches.

Imagine, when he does it for the first time, Sakusa is caught in the background of a picture of Meian kissing you with the most wtf face.

There would be fancams of their races after every match. People would keep score.

a/n: thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for the headcanon that Sakusa is photobombing the first fancam xD

#meian x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #meian x reader #meian shugo #msby sakusa #hq msby #haikyuu msby #msby black jackal #msby meian

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phantomwithbreakfast · 7 months ago

Text

~ Scarred For Half A Life ~

Lets pretend it’s the 3rd of April.

FINALLY I had the courage to post chapter 12, Happy Crown.

You can read/follow the story, whatever hah. Here.

———————

Genre: Angst / Hurt And Comfort (and a little Horror)

AU — OOC (sometimes)

Trigger Warning: Emotional Distress — Violence — Graphic Content

Rating: M (due graphic content)

———————

Summary:

Danny had been captured by the GiW once again, or so he thinks. Leaving him feeling utterly helpless—vulnerable. There was nothing he could do. What will happen to him? And why again?

(Summary might change as the story goes on)

———————

The scene of the picture:

“Wait! Don’t move. I want to take a picture!” Jazz exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

Danny groaned, rolling his eyes. “Seriously? A picture? What are you, our dad?”

Jazz ignored his protest, already angling the camera toward him. “Come on, Danny, it’s your birthday. Let me have this.”

He sighed, slouching slightly. “Fine, but make it quick. And don’t expect me to smile like an idiot.”

Jazz smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re already an idiot. The crown just completes the look.”

Danny couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips as she snapped the photo. He sat there, the gold paper crown slightly tilted on his head, the cupcake balanced carefully in both hands. His glowing green eyes betrayed a small mixture of amusement and irritation, the faintest hint of a reluctant chuckle escaping him.

“There,” Jazz said triumphantly, glancing at the picture on her phone. “Perfect. I’m definitely keeping this one.”

———————

Note to myself:

No, I didn’t draw two hands. I hate drawing hands. So I just drew one hand.

And it’s a colored sketch. I didn’t want to clean it up.

Another ‘problem’. I know what’s going to happen on this day—his birthday, in the next chapters. And now I feel guilty about what I wrote, after drawing this. Because Danny looks so innocent that I want to hug him. (He is innocent of course)

He deserves lots of love. And he doesn’t get it (from some people in my story).

I will try to post the next chapter as soon as I possibly can.

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kookiestiddies · 7 months ago

Text

2 | two for two

series m.list

what's the worst that could happen at a party?

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, kissing, drinking, attempted humour

A/N: thank you so much for reading! updates will come...when they come ;-; if you are curious to know, I listened to this song while writing this fic. This really helped me figure out jk and oc's dynamic sort of. Also, i do not own these photos, I got them off of pinterest lol👍🏼happy reading this silly chapter weeee

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

The Jeon twins made for an odd pair.

While they lived up to their title in terms of mannerisms and speech patterns, physically, they were as different as can be.

If it weren’t for the inky patterns that lined their arms and possibly other parts of their body, their matching set of doe eyes, and the sudden dips in each cheek that always appeared after the sight of a familiar face or a well-told joke, you could never have guessed that they were once womb-mates.

While Chaeyoung thrived in bright shades of pink and white, Jungkook opted for the brooding presence of blacks and anything else no brighter than navy blues. Where she was all softness and curves, he was a sketch-up of hard lines. On the days when Chaeyoung wore butterfly clips in her hair that complimented her flowy dress and Mary Jane heels, Jungkook styled his mullet, wore more silver jewellery than you could count, and stalked about in black stompers.

Just a few months into your new company of friends, you were quick to learn that the whole lot of them were party animals, almost always on the lookout for nights of alcohol-induced shenanigans, and shameless whoring, twerking, strutting and queefing around as Jimin had so eloquently put, while you were decidedly not.

“You’ll come won’t you,” Chae asked you as she grasped your upper arm and looked at you with puppy eyes.

“I won’t,” you answered with a sickeningly sweet smile.

It was on a Friday afternoon when you had been in the middle of your solo biweekly revision session that Chae’s familiar cotton candy head had popped over the sea of silence that engulfed the library. Students glanced at her with annoyance as she noisily clacked her heels over the floor to where you were seated in a single booth towards the back corner. You were also quick to notice the quiet thud of a pair of stompers that followed her suit.

“Told you she wouldn’t be into it,” Jungkook said dismissively with a blank expression and lazily leaned against the side of your booth. “Oh c’mon, you can’t abandon me like this!” Chae whined and tightened her grip on your arm. It was starting to hurt honestly.

The girl sitting in the booth across from you sent an angry “Shh!” in your trio’s direction.

You lowered your head in embarrassment and gestured to the twins to quiet down. “Babe, what do you mean, abandon you? I love you and everything and I truly appreciate our friendship and all, but we really haven’t known each other long enough for this to be that deep,” you said with a look on your face that said you were joking. Jungkook snorted loudly at that.

Another “SHH!” landed on you again. Bitch.

“Y/n! I can’t handle another night of taking care of Jimin and Nayeon’s horny asses. Do you have any idea what the bullshit those idiots put me through?!” Chae cried. Her grip on your arm tightened even more.

Jesus fuck, does she work out?!?

“C’mon Chae, I told you she wouldn’t be into it. You said you’d prove me wrong. You didn’t. You owe me ice cream now. Let’s go,” Jungkook said monotonously and stood up as you hopelessly pried Chae’s hands away from your arm.

“Chae, please let go, you’re killing me here,” you whisper-scream, admittedly scared of the chick in front of you.

Luckily, the shrill ringtone of Chae’s phone suddenly cuts through the air and leads her a short way away from your booth to answer the call, gorilla grip talons and all. Both Jungkook and you noticed the irritated look on the girl across and shared an awkward-embarrassed look with each other.

“What? Did you guys bet on me going to the party or something?” you redirected, looking between the twins. He shrugged. “Am I only worth some ice cream?” you joked mindlessly.

“If you must know, it’s really cheap, grocery store ice cream…” Jungkook said quietly, but not quiet enough to escape your earshot as you massaged your arm (which will probably bruise tomorrow).

Asshole.

“Oh? Is that so? Everyone knows that cheap, grocery store ice cream tastes miles better though, compared to whatever premium coco-mocha-pumpkin-spiced-latte-ariana-grande ice cream I’m sure the likes of you enjoy,” you banter.

At this, he stares at you, glides his eyes up and down your figure, and smirks.

“I mean… I didn’t even say that that’s my taste.”

“What is your taste then?”

“Cheap, grocery store ice cream,” he says with a shy smile.

Is he flirting with you?

Jesus christ, that was a weird exchange, why in the world would your heart be thumping over that? (Because it was.)

Yes, the textbook incident did leave you upset with him for a long while. But your parents taught you that bygones should be bygones.

After all, he did get down on his knees for you.

The memory of Jungkook crouching before you haunted you for an embarrassingly long time after, especially given that all your friends witnessed it and never failed to tease the two of you about it, except for Taehyung who still curses the heavens to this day for punishing him with boring TA sessions on that day when he could have been there in person to see it.

You had claimed to have forgiven him then and there itself, not because you actually meant it, because it would take much more than that to get over how trashy Jungkook’s 50 dollars had made you feel, but just to get over the attention he was bringing to the two of you in the crowded cafeteria.

No, Jungkook getting down on his knees wasn’t enough. But you didn’t have to say that for him to know, because he saw right through you.

After two weeks of being forced to hang out thanks to your shared friend group and an infinite amount of awkwardly skirting around each other, Jungkook one day approached you alone in the library lugging a bag in his hand. When you looked up at him, he shifted his eyes away to the muddy textbook that lay open on the table and cleared his throat.

“Here,” he’d said and thrust the bag that weighed a tonne towards you. You wordlessly took it and gave him a curious look. In that moment, he’d reminded you of a child in kindergarten being forced to apologise to the classmate he’s made fun of, looking sheepish and awkward.

In the bag were brand new textbooks. Hardcovers at that. Sitting on top of them was a large pack of your favourite corn chips that you always had on you to munch on. You were surprised to say the least. Not only did you not expect him to be thoughtful enough to replace your textbooks, but you didn’t pin him to be observant enough to know your favourite snack.

“Sorry again…about your books,” he mumbled out while rubbing the back of his neck. You were quiet for a moment, Jungkook’s actions once again leaving you too stunned to speak.

“Apology accepted,” you quietly replied. And with that, the textbook incident was a chapter closed.

Ever since then, Jungkook and you had to find your footing around each other in your friend group, now on more amicable terms. For Jungkook, it meant getting comfortable around you, which you learnt meant that he would find ways to tease you and somehow always managed to find a way to get under your skin and rattle you. For you, it meant constantly getting annoyed at him and letting him know of that.

It was deeply unsettling how he constantly one-upped you with his comments. You figured you’d rather not engage with him at all in any way or form.

You let out a huff at him and say, “Whatever. This is a really dumb conversation. Hope you enjoy your ice cream, whichever one it is that you end up getting,” before turning back to your work so that he can’t see your cheeks that were beginning to feel hot.

Jungkook was still looking at you, with what you suspected was hesitance.

You look back and raise a questioning brow at him.

Just as he opens his mouth, Chae saunters back over and unknowingly interrupts him. “Hobi’s here,” she announces while looking around the library. All the focus you had on Jungkook is abandoned immediately as you whip your head around to look for the sight of a familiar sunny grin.

It doesn’t take long for you to find it as its owner walks over to your group with a bickering Jimin and Taehyung in tow. Taehyung’s hands are flailing everywhere and he’s bouncing around with Jimin looking at him in ridicule while trying to get him to calm down.

“What are these idiots fighting about now,” Chae mutters under her breath.

“They're not just friends, okay? They’re soulmates. Hollywood soulmates. There’s a difference," you hear Taehyung say passionately as the trio came within earshot, making Jimin burst out a screech while Hoseok chuckled. You sneak a glance at the girl across and you’re pretty sure you catch her shaking in anger or something. "Soulmates? Come on. They’ve known each other since, what, middle school? That’s just a lifelong bromance," Jimin retorts.

“Hey guys,” Hoseok threw at the twins and you. You were the only one who bothered to reply with one yourself. Chae was too invested in Taehyung and Jimin’s conversation to respond while Jungkook seemed to be in a mood all of a sudden, his eyes fixated on the way Hoseok walked over and leaned against the table facing you.

“What are they arguing about?” you ask Hoseok. Before he could answer, Jimin voices it out himself exasperatedly.

"A bromance doesn’t survive Oscars, Batman vs. Bourne debates, and that time Ben got way too into Dunkin’ coffee. That’s a bond,"

“But what does that have to do with why JLo and he aren’t good together???”

“It has to do with everything!”

“EXCUSE ME, BUT CAN YOU PLEASE EITHER KEEP IT DOWN OR LEAVE THE LIBRARY?!” the girl from earlier finally explodes at your seemingly ever-growing gathering.

“Jesus fuck, yes, yes! We’re leaving,” you bellow out, annoyed and terrified, and start packing up your things.

“We’re leaving?” Chae asks, finally tuning in back to you.

“We are?” Taehyung asks.

“But we just got here,” Jimin adds pitifully.

It’s your turn to be exasperated as you say “Shut up, please, all of you. We’re getting out of here and going somewhere less quiet so that we don’t seem too much like animals.” You finish packing up and head towards the exit, throwing a measly ‘sorry’ to the girl ahead of you without waiting for a response. The rest of the group moves over similarly like a school of fish.

While Jimin and Taehyung carry on their argument, this time with Jungkook joining in (his contribution being the Dunkin’ lore), Hoseok catches up to you and Chae.

“Are you sure you’re not gonna change your mind about coming to the party?” Chae tries again.

Hoseok cuts in before you could answer, “What, you mean the one happening tomorrow night?” She nods in confirmation. “She doesn’t want to go but I want her to,” Chae whines.

“This is gonna hurt Chae, but frankly speaking, I don’t care what you want,” you say curtly, making her huff and setting Hoseok off with laughter.

“Shut the fuck up, that wasn’t even that funny!” Chae whines at Hoseok. “No, but it’s what your entitled ass deserves,” he throws at her, causing her to fume.

“Who are you calling entitled?!? Jungkook, did you hear what they’re saying about me?” she screeches at her brother. Said brother turns to her and says, “I did and I agree, you are entitled and I also don’t care about what you want.” Now the whole group is laughing along.

“That’s it, I’m calling Nayeon, you know… a real friend,” Chae huffs and gets distracted by her phone. Hoseok takes this as an opportunity to lean over and put his arm around you.

“I know we’re joking and all, but I’d really like it if you’d change your mind about the party,” he says softly.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not really my thing, ya’know? Besides, I have Mr Byrnes class to study for. He keeps talking about a test that isn’t even in the study plan and it’s making me paranoid that he’s going to surprise us with a pop quiz one of these days,” you ramble as he listens attentively.

“C’mon, it’s just one night. Just have some fun. And I promise that I’ll watch out for you, okay? Make sure things don’t get out of hand or let anyone force you to do anything crazy,” he says.

“What do you say?” he asks, eyes hopeful and smiling as wide and bright as ever.

Of course, you said yes.

How could you refuse when he had asked so nicely?

So here you were, walking up to a large house set in the corner of an upper-class residential area that had college students pouring in and out of every entrance possible with Chae, Nayeon and Jimin. You honestly had no idea whose house this was, or who even organised this party. An act of stupidity on your part you realised, because now you had no choice but to lean on your friends for safety.

Oh well, Hoseok did promise to watch out for you, you thought as you secretly smiled to yourself.

Not secretive enough it seems as Chae tells you, “With that look on your face, I hope you’re actually excited to go to this party for the sake of having fun.”

You reply with a simple “Sure,” as your group turns into the neat little pathway leading up to the front door.

“Whether Y/n’s excited or not, I sure as hell am. God, I can’t wait to get fucked up tonight. It’s been too long,” Nayeon chirps next to you, much to Chae's chagrin.

“I’m begging you two,” Chase addresses both Nayeon and Jimin as she says, “don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning. I’m sick of babysitting you two,” with a scoff. The perpetrators merely giggle at her as they spread out separately into the dancing crowd in the living room-turned-dancefloor.

“C’mon, let’s go out to the backyard. It’s way too early to be partying this hard,” Chase says and leads you by your hand.

As soon as you step foot out of the house, you’re relieved to be able to breathe without the entailing smell of sweat and alcohol in the air. Towards the corner of the porch, leaning against the railing with red solo cups at hand are Jungkook and Taehyung talking with two other guys you don’t recognise.

They’re both tall and attractive, you’re quick to notice. While one is more built all-around, the other has wide shoulders leading to a tapered waist.

“Hey guys!” Chase chirps at them. “Meet Y/n. Y/n, this is Namjoon and this is Jin,” she gestures to the built one and the one with wide shoulders in order. You greet them pleasantly before stepping aside to stand next to Taehyung while Chae rants to them about Nayeon and Jimin.

Suddenly, you feel a poke of a finger in your side. “Y/n….you’re at a college party without a drink. Tch, tch, tch,” Taehyung chastises you as he leans over. You can already smell the faint lingering of alcohol on his breath. “Sorry, I’m just really not looking to get shitfaced tonight,” you weakly say.

“Shut up, one drink never hurt anyone!” he retorts with a laugh. “I’ll be right back,” he says and before you could refuse, he’s already headed towards the kitchen indoors, presumably to get you a drink.

In his absence, you notice Jungkook quietly nursing his own drink next to you. You shift your attention away from him and start looking around the backyard.

Your eyes are searching, here, there and everywhere looking for a specific face. Where’s Hoseok? You want to text him, asking him if he’s here already, but you’ve never really texted him before. Would it be too obvious if you were to start now? In your train of overthinking, you fail to notice that the boy next to you has shifted to face you. He’s studying you, your actions, but you fail to notice.

“Missing your loverboy?” the voice from next to you breaks you out of your reverie.

You look at Jungkook and dumbly say, “Huh?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, and you curse the heavens for making him as handsome as he looks when he does so. “I asked if you’re looking for Hoseok hyung,” he says.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm, figured as much,” he shrugs. At this, you raise a curious brow at him.

“Uhm, duh, you look like you lost your puppy or something. Huhu, where’s my boyfie, huhu,” he mimics you in a high-pitched voice.

You look at him in disgust before saying, “Ugh, I have never and will never use the word boyfie.” It’s a weak attempt at a comeback, you already know. “Aha, but you don’t deny that you’re looking for Hoseok hyung!” he says with a grin.

You let out a scoff at that and say, “Okay, so what? What’s it to do with you? Ever heard of minding your own business?” Your tone is harsh, but you couldn’t help the shy smile that crawled on your face.

He looks like he has more to say, probably to tease you, but is cut off by Taehyung crying out “Children! Children! Please settle down, the party’s only just started. I can’t handle y'all bickering so soon.” You roll your eyes at Jungkook and turn away from him, making you miss out on the boyish grin he sends your way before he turns away himself to tune into Chae’s conversation with Namjoon and Jin.

Taehyung waltzes up to you and flourishes a red solo cup to you with a proud look on his face. “Ta-da! A drink for Her Highness,” he dramatically says with an even more dramatic bow.

You giggle as you accept the drink. “Thank you, good sir,” you play along. Taehyung lets out a pleasant sigh and leans forward against the railing. His sudden silence hints to you that he might have something on his mind.

You don’t bother asking yet though, comfortable with the lack of conversation between you, and instead listening to Namjoon and Jin telling Chae about their disastrous search for a roommate. Jungkook isn’t in sight anymore so you assume he’s gone back into the house.

“You guys don’t understand the number of crazy people we’ve met so far. We interviewed this one kid, a comp-sci student, who asked if we’d be okay if he were to use our storage room to keep all his blow-up “life-sized sleep dolls”. Like, what the fuck does that even mean?” Namjoon says exasperatedly. Jin shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink before saying, “I don’t think any of us here want to know what that means,” making the whole group laugh.

“Maybe you guys should consider having him around. I want to start a wager that he has a doll of Danny Devito,” you giggle. Jin nearly chokes on his drink at that.

Namjoon is thoroughly entertained and says “You’re right! And when Christmas rolls around, we won’t have to get a damn Christmas tree. We can just spice up Danny.”

“A Danny Devito Christmas Tree?” Chae asks with a grin.

“A Danny DeviTree.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jin says.

You all nod our heads in a silly agreement.

“TO DANNY DEVITREE!” we cheer together and take large gulps of our drinks.

“Hey, didn’t you say you wanted to find a different place to live? Somewhere closer to campus right?” Chae asks you with a nudge of her elbow.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that,” you reply. You turn to Namjoon and Jin to explain “The place I’m at now is too far away from campus, so I’m thinking about moving somewhere closer so that I don’t have to stress too much about the distance before leaving for classes.”

“Well hey, our place is less than a block from campus. If you’re interested, we can talk another day,” Jin says excitedly. “But the DeviTree arrangement will have to wait, it seems,” Namjoon adds with a grin. Your eyes widen with excitement and you agree to meet another day to discuss it.

While you’re busy exchanging numbers with Namjoon, Chae suddenly notices Taehyung’s silence and asks him “What’s got you thinking so deeply? Looking so serious doesn’t suit you” she says poking her tongue out teasingly at him.

This brings Taehyung to stand straight and point at your chest area. “It’s weird you know,” he says.

Your tit?

“My tit?” you ask aloud.

“Huh?” he asks back and realises what he’s pointing at. “What the - no! You idiot, not your tit. Your tit is fine. I meant you in general.”

You and the others can’t control your giggles as you prod him even more, “What’s so weird about me?”

“It’s weird how you can’t seem to get along with Jungkook. He’s literally the nicest out of all of us. And you’re nice too.”

This catches you off guard as the laughter suddenly lulls down.

“What’s that supposed to mean? He’s always getting on my nerves on purpose. He’s such an idiot,” you say along with a quick apology towards Chae. She smiles strangely at you while Namjoon and Jin watch the conversation play out in silence.

“See that’s the thing, he’s never trying to get on your nerves on purpose. You just seem to always get annoyed by him all on your own,” Taehyung refutes.

“He’s right. Not to sound like I’m trying to stand up for my brother too much, but it is weird how much you can’t stand him. He doesn’t hate you the way you hate him,” Chae says the last part with a strange tone in her voice. “But it’s like you don’t even want to give him a chance to be closer with you.”

You suddenly feel cornered by the duo. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we’re just wired into different frequencies or something. Somehow, everything he does annoys me so much. God help me if I knew why,” you try to brush it off and take a large gulp of your drink.

Are you getting a bit tipsy right now? Probably. Eh, whatever - you think as you chug the rest of the drink.

Of course in your heart, you feel struck by the accusation. Is it true? Have you been too harsh with Jungkook?

This time, you knew Chae and Taehyung weren’t referring to the textbook incident. Nope, they were talking about your overall behaviour after that. You were always harsh and short-tempered around him, sometimes, oftentimes even, mean.

You were never usually mean, so much so that you could recognise when you were being so, especially with Jungkook. But could you blame yourself? He was practically asking for it.

“Maybe, it’s because you like-like him,” Taehyung says, making you choke on your drink.

Namjoon and Jin are chuckling into their cups when he says that while he stands there calmly with Chae waiting for you to finish your coughing fit.

“What the FUCK! Like-like him??” you let out an emotionless laugh and say “what are we, five? Like-like him, pfft! As if.”

You’re desperate for this conversation to end now.

“Why? It’s not that ridiculous. It would be kind of nice if my baby brother and my best friend were to date,” Chae says with a smile and a shrug. “Besides, you know what they say - there’s a thin line between love and hate…”

Sometimes, the differences between the Jeon twins shone starkly like day and night. Jungkook who loved to spend his evenings cruising around town on his motorcycle; Chae who turned down getting her own car that their parents wanted to give her because of how traumatised she was from her experience at driver’s ed (nothing serious, it was just bad vibes with an instructor who fell asleep in the passenger seat while she was behind the wheel). Jungkook who always had a glint in his eye, craving for an adrenaline filled adventure like rock climbing or hiking. More extreme, skydiving and cliff jumping during summer breaks. And Chae, who enjoyed completely and entirely, simple hangouts with friends at a cafe or a club, and especially at home.

As different as they were, the Jeon twins were as inseparable as former womb mates ever could be.

Like that one time Chae and you had a sleepover at their place for a Barbie animated movie marathon before your group was set to go watch the new Barbie live-action movie in cinemas. Even though he had all the means to simply lock himself up in his room to save himself from the cheesy squeals and giggles he was promised to hear from the two of you for the rest of the night, Jungkook not only joined you two for the whole run, enthusiastically reacting along to the characters and funny lines, he even went out of the way to make the three of you hot cocoa drinks with marshmallows and volunteered to go out and buy more snacks once they had run out.

A memory that still makes you chuckle is how the entire group showed up to the movie dressed in theme to the nines (Jimin and Taehyung as the Diamond Castle dogs of course). And yes, Jungkook too. While Chae unsurprisingly dressed up as Bibble, Jungkook retired his punk jewellery to dress up as Aidan from The Magic of Pegasus.

Chae was none the wiser, fiercely caring for her brother. The memory of Jungkook and Taehyung once getting locked in a frat party closet once and noone being able to find them bcs their phones were with Nayeon, and the party was too loud to hear them shouting to be let out. Chae was worried sick around the 5 hour mark, contemplating calling the police and ranting and generally being out of sorts. Thank god Jimin needed to throw up and rushed to the nearest closet and forced it open. The gratification on the boys’ face at being freed didn’t last long before Jimin got puke all over them.

Nonetheless, Chae was utterly relieved to see her brother alive and well, rushing to hug him regardless of the gunk covering his shirt.

For as darling as you found Chae and as insufferable as you found Jungkook, you sure did hang out with the two a lot; the most out of everyone in the group. It didn’t go unnoticed how he was a whopping 5 '8 and was incredibly self-sufficient, perfectly able to say no to his sister's invitations if he wanted to.

The thing was, Chae brought him along everywhere, and he followed along anyway.

These are a few of the memories that you’ve collected since getting to know Chae, and by default Jungkook too. The Jeon twins truly made for an odd pair, but they were made for each other like peanut butter and jelly.

You’re reflecting on these memories in your tipsy haze as you’re almost touched for a moment that Chae just called you her best friend, given that you’ve only known each other for a little over half a year now.

Almost.

“Hah! No offence Chae, but there is no way I could ever like, or love, your brother.”

Of course, the universe is not on your side today (has it ever been?), because it’s at that exact moment that the man you’d been on the lookout for the whole night strides onto the patio towards you little group.

“Oh shit, Y/n loves Jungkook? Then, I’m out of here,” Hoseok says with a teasing lilt in his voice and the insinuation of what he says makes your hearts beat faster.

“NO! I said I don’t like him. Or love him. C’mon Hoseok, I want to dance. It’s getting stale out here,” you say as you giggle and drag him by his hand into the house through the swarm of bodies.

You’re well able to notice your friends’ teasing comments following you into the house, but not the pair of doe eyes that were fixated on you from the inner entrance to the porch area as you pass them.

Currently, you were bouncing along with Hoseok in the room full of bodies, barely able to decipher anything other than the music booming through the space. Oh, and his hands are on your hips.

Fuck, you think to yourself. That boy has got you wrapped around his pretty little finger, literally, and he doesn’t even know it.

Or maybe he does? You don’t know. You don’t know anything right now. You’re so out of it.

The full weight of the drink Taehyung had given earlier had finally hit you 20 minutes ago, and ever since then, you’ve been daringly thrusting your hips and grinding against Hoseok in tune to the beat of the songs playing. You’re not sure if he’s drunk himself since you didn’t see him ingest anything since you met up with him on the porch, but the way he’s grinding back onto you, gripping your hips possessively and whispering sweet nothings into your ear suggest that he might be.

“Y/n…” he breathes out. “You look so cute tonight. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I wanted to. I thought about it, but didn’t say it.”

You let out a giggle and say “That’s okay. Thanks. You look really good tonight too.”

A minute passes of you two continuing to dance when he suddenly stops and motions you to do the same. “Can I- Can I ask you something?” he starts. The suddenness of his actions sobers you a little and you merely nod at him. “What is it?”

He seems hesitant to continue and it looks like it’s really eating him up. “What is it? You can ask me anything,” you encourage him.

“Okay, uhm, well, is there- fuck, okay,” he says before clearing his throat and looking at you pointedly.

“Is there anything going on between you and Jungkook?” he asks.

“What the hell, no!” you’re quick to refute.

His eyes widened at your response. “No? Are you sure? Are you 100% positive on that?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at that.

This is so ridiculous.

“No, Hoseok, there’s nothing going on between me and that brat Jeon Jungkook. Okay? The others were just joking around. There’s nothing happening between us. Is that what you wanted to know?”

He visibly brightens up and says “Well yeah, because I wanted to know if what I’m about to do next would land me a punch on the face or not,” with a laugh. He comes closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist with a grin forming on his face.

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your breath getting shallower. Your heart is pounding so fast you hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says.

And when he leans down and brings his lips to yours in a searing kiss, you’re unable to think of anything else anymore. Fuck Jungkook. Fuck everything.

All you think about is him.

Hoseok.

He’s such a great kisser, lips so soft and careful yet bold. While your tongues are having a passionate battle for dominance, with you losing quickly, he brings his arms to wrap tightly around your body. “Y/n…” he moans in between and you swear you’ve never heard a sound more sweeter. You’re moaning too as you bring your hands up to run through his hair and down the back of his neck.

The pair of you part after what feels like both forever and finite. “Fuck, you’re something else,” he says breathlessly. You chuckle at that, out of breath yourself.

You take a moment to just stare at his face and your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. He’s taking the time to look back at you too. You see his eyes dart around your face - to your eyes, nose, hair tucked behind your ear, your lips.

His face is lit up by the glare of the colourful lights decorating the ceiling and something else that is purely him.

Hoseok.

Sober-you would never find the balls to admit your feelings to him, but drunk-you could.

“Hoseok…”

“Yes?”

“I-I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. How could I not?” he says with a chuckle before he closes the gaps between your lips again.

Just as you think you’re about to write a blurb on the bliss of Hoseok’s soft lips, a voice clears causing the two of you to break away. Jungkook appears by your side with a furrow on his face looking as uncomfortable as ever.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” you ask, flustered and unable to mask your disappointment over his interruption. He isn’t quick to reply, opting to glance at the close proximity between Hoseok and you first. “I need you to come with me,” he replies gruffly. When you don’t move an inch he adds, “Now,”.

“Uhm, well, I’m kinda occupied at the moment so unless it’s important - HEY!” you exclaim as he grabs ahold of your hand and tries to drag you away from Hoseok. Hoseok steps in and tries to reason with Jungkook. “Hey man, you heard her, she can’t go and it’s not cool of you to drag her”

“It IS important!” Jungkook says. He’s got a strong grip on you, and even though you’re not afraid of him at that moment, for you know he’s gentler than he seems, you are annoyed by him.

You smack on his hand that’s encasing your arm and start yelling “Jungkook, you big OAF, I’m not going anywhere with YOU!” He ignores you and continues dragging you away from Hoseok. “You’re not even telling me what’s so goddamned IMPORTANT!”

There truly are consequences to chugging down a drink that Taehyung, of all people made for you.

You are drunk. And what is it that drunk people infamously do? Stupid things.

You are drunk and irrational and Jungkook is still dragging you away. You do the only thing that your brain can comprehend doing in that moment.

You bring your stiletto boots covered leg up and bring it down hard on Jungkook’s heavy black stompers. You know, the ones that he stood in-line for 3 hours to buy on its release day that cost a whopping $800. The ones that he carefully polishes every week so that they look shiny and new always.

Well, from where you’re standing - yep, standing, not walking..because Jungkook has stopped walking - his shoes do look as good as new.

Except for the ugly 3 inch scratch that runs down the side of the right one where your stiletto just met it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’ve gone too far.

Is it possible to hear complete and utter silence in a room full of sweaty and drunk college kids with Gasolina blaring in the background? Because you’re experiencing it right this moment. Oh no wait, it just changed to You Broke Me First by Tate McCrae. Nice. In any other given scenario, you’d laugh at the irony of it.

But you’re not laughing now. Neither is Jungkook. You’re holding your breath and Jungkook's wide set shoulders slowly turn around to look at you.

He peers down at his now ruined shoe before slowly dragging his eyes over your figure and meeting your eyes. His mouth, usually positioned as a lopsided grin, was now set straight and silent, his eyes hard with an illegible emotion.

It takes a couple of moments for you to snap back to your senses and you’re about to open your mouth to throw out apologies, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“Chae’s sick in the toilet. Go check up on her and let her know I’m waiting for her outside,” he says lowly and releases his grip on your hand.

You’re wide-eyed as you open your mouth to respond, “Jungkook, I’m so-”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why is it so difficult for you to think about other people?” He cuts you off loudly. You’re rendered speechless, his words striking you unexpectedly. In all your encounters of Jungkook irritating you, leaving you to retort harshly, never once has he raised his voice or gotten angry with you. But now he was.

Totally and utterly angry.

You see it in the way he’s actively trying, but failing, to control his tone and breathing, and the step that he takes away from you. This is new ground for your dynamic, you have no idea what to say to him other than to apologise.

“You parade around feeling so entitled about everything, why don’t you make yourself useful for once and go help Chae?

“But Jungko-”

“Save it. We’ll call it even for your textbooks. Can you just go now?”

“Wait please, I’m sor-”

“JUST GO!”

He doesn’t wait for your next response and turns to head out the door, roughly pushing off the drunk and sweaty crowd that got in his way. All that’s left is for you to stare at his retreating back as you stomach the dread rising in you.

Congratulations, Miss Kim Y/n! You have officially pissed Jeon Jungkook off!

(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

#jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook college au #bts #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook soft hours

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lovers-rck · 1 year ago

Text

bubble gum

summary ellie hids something in her notebook

content friends to lovers, ellie williams x fem!reader

☆

"do you want to see that movie that i told you about?"

you make a face, looking at the weird pink thing on the ceiling "is that gum?"

ellie follow your gaze and cringe "i don't know what you are talking about"

"that, on your ceiling"

"there's nothing in the ceiling" she says, avoiding your gaze and playing with her pen.

"yeah there is!" you replie "look there"

"maybe you are high"

"what? that makes zero... whatever"

ellie's face displays a victorious smile as she keeps drawing in her sketchbook "so... you want to see that movie? jesse told me that was super scary"

you were laying down in ellie's bed, outside was raining. you kept looking at the gum in the ceiling as you scrunched your nose "i don't know. im not in the mood for a scary movie"

ellie rolled her eyes. she had already seen the movie, but maybe if she pretended not to have seen it before to watch it with you maybe, just maybe, you would snuggle up to her in the scary parts. or whatever.

"pussy" she murmurs. her pencil traces long sketches on the rough paper

"you are so annoying" you say as you sit in the bed, finger brushing your hair "what are you drawing?"

ellie shakes her head "nothing" she is sitting at the head of the bed, with her back against the wall. some thread of hair are resting in her face, tickling her skin, and you have the urge to put those annoying locks behind her ear.

but you don't.

"let me see" you say

you crawl between the sheets, sitting across from ellie, who is holding the sketchbook strangely tightly.

"it's just doodles"

"okay" you replie "i want to see them"

"is shit"

"all your work is shit to you" you rolled your eyes "i never get to see your drawings"

"you are so noisy, has anyone ever told you that?" ellie says

you stick out your tongue playfully and when ellie laughs you grab her sketchbook quickly. ellie is quick too and lunges at you, your body getting pinned between the mattress and ellie's body.

you two become a jumble of wrestling arms and hands "give it back" ellie yells, half laughing half angry "no!" you scream, holding the sketchbook above your head "bitch!" you yell when ellie bites your shoulder

you hear ellie's laugh and take that opportunity to open the sketchbook above her head, where she can't reach in that position.

you always wanted to see what ellie did in that notebook, always curled up in the pages sketching something. you noticed how she always carried a pen and that notebook everywhere she goes, drawing something time to time.

so your surprise is genuine when you go through the pages and find various drawings of you.

you laughing with jesse. you with some dogs. you and that stupid frog stuffed animal she gave you. you smiling. and the most recent sketch, half way finished; you laying down in her bed, just like you were a couple minutes ago.

the drawings are beautiful, quickly but really good studies of you. if you squint your eyes a bit, you can see where she erased some lines to redraw them more accurately.

you flinch when ellie's hand interrupt your surprise by grabbing and closing the notebook. she moves away from you and you sit down.

ellie is sitting a couple inches away from you, avoiding your gaze and hugging that sketchbook like a kid hugging her favorite toy.

your lack of words was not exactly due to the drawings. you knew that this was normal and that ellie used to draw people she knew, you were in moments where she decided to walk away and draw the moment, immortalizing it on paper.

your lack of words was due to what the scribbles and words around the drawings meant. little hearts, short confessions of love and silly doodles were the things your eyes could decipher in the short seconds you held the notebook in your hands.

"ellie"

"i told you that they were stupid drawings" she replied, her voice tinged with rage and shame.

she felt idiot. too idiot to fall in love with her friend . too dumb to draw her friend when she was distracted, trying to capture every tiny detail that make you special with a stupid pen in a stupid notebook. too idiot to think about you in that way.

"they are not" you murmur

"yes they are" she feels so ashamed "i should throw this thing to the trash can"

you feel how angry and ashamed she is and your mind just can think of the dumbest or smartest response that has ever you occurred.

so you kiss her.

you fingertips feel the soft skin of her cheeks as you press your lips against hers. you don't move, too afraid to do something, so for a couple of seconds your lips just stay there, warming eachothers flesh.

when you feel that you had made the stupidest decision ever you move away, panicking and mumbling sorry's. your hands leaves ellie's cheeks, to embarrassed to even look at her.

"im sorry" you murmur "im sorry ellie. i don't know who gave me the right to do that. im sorry" you look at the door of her room "maybe i should go. sorry"

but before you can go, ellie kisses you back. her grip is more stronger that yours, her hand resting in the back of your head, moving you against her.

she moves her lips this time. her mouth moves against yours, deepening the kiss quickly. hungry.

she pushes you closer to her, moving you in a way that you end up in her lap, with your hands in her neck, kissing her like your life depends on it.

you can feel the same response from her. her hands are everywhere, squeezing and touching and caressing every part of your body as fast as she can, too excited to keep her hands in one place.

a few moments later you move away from your mouth, searching for air. she looks at you.

everything is very awkward for a couple of seconds before you two start laughing.

ellie's chest moves as she laughs with embarrassment "god" she mouths

you laugh too "confessing your love for me trough drawings" you say "fucking drama queen"

ellie hide her face with her hands "shut up. im embarrassed"

"as you should"

"idiot" she murmurs, taking her hands off her face "can i kiss you again?"

you roll your eyes.

but you nod.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams lesbian #lesbians #friends to lovers #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie the last of us

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flonautilus · 1 year ago

Text

quick sketches of two drunken idiots

might take a long time to finish so ill put this out first

#radiostatic #staticradio #vox #alastor #hazbin hotel #my art

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revalinkweek · 8 months ago

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My dearest peoples, Revalink-intusiasts, -shipper, friend-shipper, non-shipper, and everyone else!

From the 1st of December 2024 to the 1st of January 2025, I encourage you to create once more!💚💙

All mediums are welcome! But please NO AI

All I give to you is:

Choose a theme around / about December and / or New Year.

May it be personal to you - or the classics. May it be Christmas - or loosely a winter theme. Or something you just connect to this time. It's up to you.

You decide how many entries you'd like to make and when you post it. Within the time frame, of course😁

There will be no other rules than that, and of course, our two idiots should be in it!

There is nothing you can't send in, BUT please tag it properly, should it be unsuitable for minors, triggering or be of a more spicy nature, hide it under the 'read more'- line and write a couple of words above it... Convince us to click! 😉

If you are not sure if you should hide it -do it just in case.

Thank you! 💙💚

Please use the # revalinkwinter2024 and or # revalink winter 2024

And like all the other times: We Do Not only expect masterpieces! <3

Just have fun! Send in raw sketches, 5 words with a quick idea, a full rendered art piece, or a 10.000 word epic story.

See you in December ❣️

Should you not know how to hide content:

When you write, there is a bar with smoll icons. At the right end, you see a maybe gray symbol that looks like a burger or a sandwich with 2 straight and 1 zigzag lines. Click it!

The line should appear now. Everything you do underneath is hidden until clicked on. Don't forget to give the most important information above the line!

#revalink week #revalinkweek #revali #link #revalink #revalink winter #revalink winter 2024 #revalinkwinter #revalinkwinter2024

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princeoferror · 11 months ago

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Kohga Slay

Would Kohga love or hate me for doing this-?

Progress pics below!

Sketch:

I've been using Pinterest for finding poses a lot at the moment so I wanted to use a very confident fashionable reference. I was only going to put him in the dress but since the lady in my reference image is wearing heels I gave Kohga some very stylish banana heels.

Line art:

I always struggle to say much for line art cuz it's the exact same process every time.

Flats:

I did yet again steal all these colours from concept art- I might need to start using my own colours but colour picking is so much easierrr- ok fine I promise in the next piece I do I'll get my own colours so I can grow as an artist or whatever-

Finished render:

Moving into the rendering I wanted two light sources to push the form, very similar to studio lighting as if he was doing a model shoot. So there's the bigger light off to the left then a small light on the right so I can do some rim lighting. Rim lighting can often be a quick and easy way to add more form into a piece if it's looking a little flat.

I'm so happy with how this piece turned out, my favorite thing is the raw attitude Kohga is giving, he is so confident and serving looks in this outfit. Of course he's still wearing his uniform underneath he's got a Repuation to uphold! Wouldn't want to look like an idiot now.

If you'd want a physical copy of this you can get one at my inprnt page!

After this I'm going to be working on different art to use for examples on my commission sheet. So the next post should be some headshots; I never realized how I tend to only draw full bodys.

And speaking of my commissions are open, all the info can be found through the link in my bio or just shoot me a message :3

Oki see u next week byeee

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mittenstroll · 2 months ago

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Quick sketch inspired by @phoenixfangirl recent chapter of these two idiots in love 💕

Hopefully I will finish eventually, but I'm healing from surgery atm and won't make any promises!

#wttsh #wttt #wttt north carolina #wttt tennessee

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biblicallyaccuratemeat · 22 days ago

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Necessary Evil

MDNI!!

1, 2

A/N: I swear to fuck, I plan to update this more than once a month, I gotta put on my big girl pants and lock tf in. Anyway, hi, here it is! Ummm I've said it once, I'll say it again: this fic is largely a hate letter to Steve for fucking off back to the past. Still pissed, let's work through it. This chapter is a fucking bummer, so apologies, next chap is flashback fluff to make up for it. Likes, reblogs, comments are greatly appreciated and make me smile like an idiot. ALSO!!! Yes, Stephen is now in this fic and YES, he is married to character named after me. This is my fic and I'm insane so I will do whatever I please. Bucky Barnes x fem reader, hospitals, generally sad fuckass vibes, depression, a littttle SamBucky bickering, past/referenced Stucky, bi Bucky, Alpine being a perfect marshmallow.

Word count: 3k

Chapter Three: The Way We Were

Bucky glares down at his Uno deck like it’s personally offended him, no blue’s or seven’s. He draws card after card from the deck, his irritation mounting with each flourishing reveal. Green, eight, red, two. Finally, finally he grabs a blue five.

“Ha!” He slaps it down on the table as if he doesn’t have an encyclopedia sized collection of cards in his left hand, “Your turn, sweetheart.”

He glances up at you, motionless in the hospital bed, that awful ventilator jammed down your esophagus. His lips press into a flat line, taking the pile of cards off your lap, fishing through them. He sets down a five and deflates.

This is pathetic.

He’s never felt lower in his life, not even when HYDRA was ripping him apart, nerve by nerve. This was his own personal hell, and you were dragged into the undertow, stuck in this seemingly endless limbo of IV lines and heart monitors.

Bucky was a glutton for punishment, when he wasn’t trying to play one sided board games with you, he was retracing the steps of the accident. He could have prevented this. He should have prevented this. He agonized over every minuscule detail, every variable, desperate to dissect and figure out just what could have saved you, could have spared this torture for the both of you.

There’s a vase of flowers on the side table— peonies this week. Bucky is sure to swap the former bouquet out with whatever’s fresh before they have a chance to die. Die. The word tastes cheap and metallic like sucking on a greasy coin, it feels like ash on his tongue, settling heavy. Die, die, die, die. He shakes his head vehemently as if his mind is an etch a sketch, a quick jostle or two will erase that ugly word. Die.

You can’t die. He won’t even entertain the possibility. But when you lie in that hospital gown, pallid with a dozen tubes snaking down your pretty throat, death seems like a very real, unavoidable concept. Realistically, Bucky knew he was a super soldier, he’d taken about fifty years to form any truly noticeable wrinkles. And you were just a civilian, fragile, with an expiration date far sooner than his own. He’d naively assumed, at the very least, you’d die grey and paper thin, surrounded by your children and grandchildren and so on. Not this, never this. He’d taken such care to bubble wrap you, to keep you far, far away from the sidelines of the chaos that inevitably follows him no matter how far he tries to run.

Death had a funny way of following Bucky around, looming in every little dark corner and crevice of his soul. The deaths he played a part in, the deaths that broke his heart and stole his joy, the deaths that he didn’t have a personal connection to but worked so damn hard to avenge, to fix. This train of thought had never done him any favors, he tried his best not to open this particular Pandora’s box. But the floodgates are open and it all trickles down to one person. Steve.

Was Steve dead? He’d have to be by now. Bucky hadn’t found the strength in himself to look up an obituary or to search for a gravestone. Everyone in his life knew better than to ask or intervene. Steve, who saved the other half of the universe and then left. He left. He left Bucky. After all that fight, all that heartache, going on the lam, trying desperately to reverse the damage HYDRA and then Thanos carelessly inflicted on the world. Steve fucking left him. He knew Peggy left a hole in Steve’s heart that even Bucky couldn’t properly patch up or fill. But he’d assumed, he’d hoped that he was enough to make him stay.

Sure, Natasha was gone, Tony was gone, there was a price for what they had to fix. But Bucky was still here, he was still breathing and kicking and fighting despite it all. He remembers how frantically Steve tried to track him down, to chip away the iron fortress of trauma and conditioning. HYDRA finally got their hooks out of Bucky, he was fully ready to return back to some kind of normal with Steve. To pick up where they left off before the Blip, before Red Skull, before the serum. Steve did want to pick up where he left off, just not with Bucky.

The sterile white door to your room creaks open, a familiar face appearing in the cracks, “Hey,” Sam whispers, as if him speaking any louder would rouse you from your coma, “How’s it going in here?”

Bucky tries to smile, the muscles in his cheeks feel wrong, frozen, it comes out as more of a grimace and Sam immediately recognizes what it means. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. He has some ridiculous daisy shaped balloon in one hand, he ties the string to the rail on the left side of the bed. Bucky can picture how you’d gasp in delight, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you accepted that stupid balloon. Sam pats your limp hand in greeting and leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He says nothing, opting to silently observe Bucky, waiting for his friend to make the first move into conversation.

“Doc says the longer she’s on the ventilator, the life support…less chance of her waking up,” Bucky mutters, chewing on a fingernail he ripped off a few moments earlier, the fingernails on his real hand are bitten down to the wick. A nervous habit from childhood that he never could break.

“It’s only been two weeks, they’re already getting all gloom and doom? Must not be a very good doctor,” Sam scoffs, expression pinching at the poor outlook on your recovery. He can see the weight of it, it’s a physical thing looming over Bucky, a proverbial storm cloud. “Have you tried calling Doctor Strange? He used to be a brain surgeon or whatever, right?” Sam suggests, his gaze flicking all over the room as if he’s not sure if it’s okay to look at you, at the tubes and wires and medical tape.

Bucky sighs through his nose, nodding once, “Briefly spoke with him. He’s on his honeymoon and was very adamant that I left him the fuck alone till he got back.”

Sam pulls a face, “Damn, that’s cold. He said it just like that?”

Bucky snorts, “Yeah, can’t blame him. I’m sure he’s in goo-goo land with Callie.”

“Ugh, that’s a mental image I don’t want,” Sam groans, screwing his eyes shut as if he can squint away whatever his imagination is conjuring, “Happy for them though,” He adds.

Bucky grunts in agreement, keeping his expression carefully neutral. He stubbornly keeps his gaze fixed on the thin knit of your hospital blanket like it holds the answers to the universe. Then, with deliberate slowness, he looks up to meet Sam’s eyes, “Yeah. Real happy.”

His voice cracks, so subtly that an untrained ear wouldn’t catch it. Sam did, Sam knew. Bucky scrubs a hand over his face. The silence that follows is suffocating, a tangible, thick thing. For a moment, Bucky just stares at Sam from across the room, your body a barrier between them both. Then, with a shuddering breath, Bucky lets his head drop down into his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp. Desperate to ground himself to the moment, desperate not to let his emotions fly away from him like this.

“I wish Steve was here,” His voice is raw, stripped down to something achingly vulnerable and small, “He’d know what to do. He’d know what to say. He’d…” Bucky exhales shakily, squeezing his eyes shut, staving off the tears that are burning, trying to find their way out, “He’d make me feel better.”

Sam wisely says nothing, watching Bucky move through the motions, the stages of grief. Denial, Bucky had withdrawn into himself the first day, silent and brooding, refusing to speak unless necessary, refusing to look at you. Anger, there was now a Vibranium fist shaped hole in the bedroom wall. Enough said. Bargaining, Bucky had chased down every neurosurgeon, every specialist in a fifty mile radius. Did he use his past skills to intimidate those doctors? Possibly , but his efforts bore no fruit. Depression, that’s where Bucky was operating in now, pulled deep into the undertow. He doubts, very much so, that he’ll ever reach the final point of acceptance.

He cannot, he will not just lie down and accept that this happened to you. He let Steve go, didn’t try to fight for whatever it is they had, he wished him luck and saw him off. That’s one of Bucky’s greatest regrets, that he didn’t fight as hard for Steve as Steve did for him. But he’ll fight for you, you’re still here, you’re still breathing.

“You and Steve were…” Sam seemingly reads Bucky’s mind, trailing off, leaving plenty room for implication and speculation.

“I don’t see what this has to do with her.” Bucky snaps, crossing his arms defensively. He’s not going down this path, he simply refuses, it’s none of Sam’s business. And Sam usually had an infuriating knack for butting into Bucky’s business.

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, his back to wall, simply sliding down, crouching on the filthy linoleum floor, “You don’t have to do this. Isn’t it exhausting?”

“Is what exhausting?” Bucky hisses, jamming the Uno cards back into their sleeve, bending a few corners in his haste to find something to do with his hands.

“Being so damn prickly,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head in exasperation, “Come on, man. It’s me. We saved the universe together. We’ve dealt with all kinds of shit. We can have an honest conversation.”

“Steve’s gone!” Bucky slams the uno deck down on the tray table, rattling the cheap plastic. His expression softens momentarily as his gaze flicks to you, seeming to remember himself, remember where he is, “Steve is gone. He chose to go back. He chose to leave. You couldn’t make him stay. I couldn’t make him stay. So drop it.” Bucky repeats quietly, running a hand over his face tiredly, “What’s done is done.”

Sam can see it in Bucky’s eyes, the rabid defensiveness and the century old weariness, always at war with each other. After fighting alongside Bucky for as long as he has, Sam knows when to back off and now is one of those times. So, “Alright, he’s gone.” Sam relents, holding his hands up in surrender.

A tense silence falls over the room save for the rhythmic beeps of monitors and whirring of the ventilator. The guilt settles over Bucky like he’s thrown a thick blanket over his head and all of the sudden it feels too warm, too suffocating.

“Do you…” Bucky purses his lips, hating the neediness in his tone, the desperate craving for reassurance, “Would Steve have liked her?” He nods towards your form, his expression halfway between devastated and earnest longing.

“She puts up with your shit, so yeah, I’d like to think so,” Sam huffs dryly, scrubbing at his jaw, pushing back up to stand, “Sometimes she reminds me of him a little. The way she can read you, the way she thinks you’re worth a damn.”

Bucky hums flatly, “Misplaced. Gravely misplaced.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Sam chuckles, meeting Bucky’s gaze. That earns a rough chuckle from the former sleeper agent and a good natured eye roll. There’s a lull in the conversation, but it’s not uncomfortable for once. Bucky allows himself to sit in it, the need to fill silence is blissfully absent.

“I should probably head out,” Sam muses after a moment, brushing imaginary dirt off his jeans, “Got some stuff to take care of, Redwing needs some patching up.”

Bucky nods, “Thanks for coming by…she, uh, would have appreciated it. She’d like the balloon.”

A small, knowing smile spreads across Sam’s lips, “Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything. Any day, any time, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, offering a weak smile in return.

The hardest part of Bucky’s day is leaving the hospital. He has to drag himself out of the rickety plastic chair, pack up his stuff in one of your dumb little tote bags that pile up incessantly around the apartment. He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he also knows you’d be immensely disappointed if he stopped taking care of himself. So, he drags his feet to his bike, head hanging low like a man walking to the gallows. He stops by some soulless fast food chain by the apartment. It’s been ages since he last ate out, you always insisted on cooking for him. It was one of your many love languages.

The burger tastes like cardboard in his mouth, Bucky has to force himself to chew, chew, chew, and swallow. The clump drags down his throat, getting stuck on the overwhelming sadness that’s permanently made a home there. He has to eat. He has to sleep. It’s what you would want, though he’s sure the way he’s going about it, you wouldn’t be particularly thrilled. You’d want him to try to cook, you’d want him to sleep in an actual bed. You can tell him off about it once you’re home, the image sends a little flicker of hope in his chest. God, what he wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of one of your lectures right now.

Alpine trails after him, mewling until he fills her food bowl with her dinner, ruffling her soft snowy fur. He sits on the floor next to her, a shoe box in his lap that he dragged off the top shelf of the closet it had been safely tucked in. Your shared bed remains untouched, still made by you the morning of the accident. Bucky hasn’t slept in it since then, returning to sleep on the floor with a meager blanket. You’d throttle him if you were here to see it. He remembers the first time you realized he slept on the hardwood floor of his old apartment. You just huffed and said “I’m not sure if I should smack you or force you to sleep in my bed for the rest of our lives.”

Bucky tosses the lid of the shoebox and digs through its contents. Thick aged paper, a red wax seal, addressed to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 107th Infantry Regiment. Bucky carefully unfolds the ancient, yellowing paper, already well worn from almost a century’s worth of rereading.

Steve’s wobbly chicken scratch— pre-serum Steve’s handwriting to be specific greets his eyes. Bucky snorts, smiling sadly, Steve had the shakiest damn hands he’d ever seen. The Army was well within their rights being reluctant to place a pistol in those hands. There’s also movie ticket stubs, dried pressed daisies, a green murky marble, a photo of his mother, the edges worn and peeling. There’s one singular newspaper clipping, the headline reading ‘FOUNDER OF STARK INDUSTRIES, HOWARD STARK AND WIFE FOUND DEAD’

Bucky tucks the clipping under an old napkin with your number hastily scrawled across it. Buck skims the contents of the old letter, though he already knows the entirety of it by heart, They rejected me again, visited Ma’s grave, I miss you. How’s Europe? Fight any Krauts yet? Haven’t done anything stupid yet, waiting for you to get back.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

Bucky’s eyes burn, he wipes roughly at them with the back of his hand. His head thunks back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, praying to a God he stopped believing in the moment he shipped out. He wonders how his life turned out his way. Traces the path, trying to decipher where it all went wrong. He can’t be mad at Steve, not really. Steve was tired, Bucky could see that. They both were exhausted. They were on a train that never stops, never lets you get off. Endlessly fighting off evil, endlessly defending humanity. A job with no vacations, little to no pay, slowly siphoning the light out of your soul.

Everyone in the world except for Bucky seemed to believe Steve Rogers had an endless reserve of goodness, of selflessness. And sure, Bucky could see why, the image Steve had maintained over the years was flawless to the public. The Blip had taken a toll, seeing Bucky disintegrate into dust had taken a toll. Steve paid his dues, he earned a peaceful ending to his life. Buck wishes the notion didn’t feel like ash settling on his tongue, sour and unpleasant.

The rest of the night is spent in silence save for Alpine’s occasional commentary. Mewling and trailing after Bucky, as if she could tell he had the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He tries to go about the rest of his routine, brushing his teeth and changing into pajama bottoms. The hardwood floor is solid and cool underneath his skin. It’s a comfort to him, it’s familiar and it soothes him in a way no one else would understand.

The ratty old powder blue blanket settles over Bucky like a death shroud, he pillows his head under his bicep. The events of the day replay like a film reel in the back of his mind. Even once you’re well again, the image of you, so small and weak in that hospital bed will never stop haunting him. His girl, his wife, reduced to nothing but a fragile husk. It guts him.

In the silence and sanctity of your apartment, Bucky allows himself to cry. Just once. The tears come hot, rolling down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. His body shakes with the force of his quiet sobs, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to remember what it felt like to be held by you. Alpine curls up next to his ankles, purring sorrowfully, he knows she misses you too. You spoiled her with treats, always trying to force her to wear ridiculous hats and outfits you saw online. Bucky cries until he’s dried up and weary, falling into a dreamless slumber. And when the sun rises tomorrow, he’ll go through the process of watching you slowly wither away all over again and wonder how he can fix this.

#fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x you #necessary evil fic #the falcon and the winter soldier #thunderbolts*

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gypsypendragon · 1 year ago

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Well Hello there, have a Law.

So I've had a bit of time to really zero in and focus on getting comfortable in MY own personal style without trying to copy or mimic "correct" styles of characters and anime and comics etc. I've arrived at a place I am actually really happy with. That being said, I've definitely got to do a lot of sketching and practice with it in order to cement it and not revert back to trying to mimic things that are "correct" style for whatever I'm working on. What does that mean you wonder? well:

I'm going to be posting a lot of these head shots of characters both oc and fanart wise. They are quick and easy for me to do and helps me really practice features and details on character's hair and face etc.

I'm going to be posting a lot more OC stuff. I have a ton of different concepts that I really like working in that are my own design, but there are two or three of them that I would actually like to be able to do things with in the future. I hope yall stick around and enjoy them even if its just a character or a drawing from the concepts.

There's going to be an influx of random stuff. I know this was mostly Arcana and Heart Pirates, but that's because I get stuck in a "i have to be a dedicated to this one thing blog" in order to get any traction. Not true. And I know this, but I'm an idiot so. Pokemon, Marvel comics/heroes, AUs, games... there's going to be a bunch of random coming in so buckle up

Regardless of where this goes I hope yall stick around and I'm just happy to be able to share stuff with such awesome people.

#heart pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fanart #one piece #heart pirates law #artists on tumblr

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collinrobinsonsglasses · 1 year ago

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Hello there!!

Really adore your "Too Soft to be a Pirate" work!! It's beyond incredible! I can't thank you for such a lovely piece!

Saw your requests are open, so here's my silly little thought:

Izzy Hands x Reader. Mutual pining. Fluff.

Besides being a certified badass, Reader is also a skilled artist. Stede, ever the enjoyer of art, buys the necessary supplies. Here come the portraits, landscapes and so on.

During some moment of quiet on the ship, Izzy is looking for the Reader and finds them in one of the somewhat secluded rooms of the Revenge, making a portrait of Mr. Hands himself.

They talk their pining through as a crew. Maybe even kiss about it lol.

Thank you for you works once again <3

Thank you for all the kind words @imchloefuckingprice-blog <3 I wrote the first part of this in Lucius's point of view, because he's the best when two people don't know how to express their feelings. I hope this was what you were looking for.

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Masterlist

A Brush of Fate

Lucius prided himself on his keen observational skills. After all, he had recognized Stede and Ed’s feelings for each other long before they did. Now, his perceptive gaze focused on the unmistakable connection between you and Izzy. One night, while Lucius sketched and you painted, you opened up to him about your feelings for Izzy. Despite Lucius reassurances, you remained unsure about Izzy reciprocating your emotions. You insisted to Lucius that Izzy was still caught up in his feelings for Blackbeard. However, Lucius saw Izzy’s lingering gaze directed toward you from across the deck, noting his subtle attentiveness as he went out of his way to help you with tasks around the ship.

The more Lucius thought about the relationship between you and Izzy, the more it seemed to fall into place. Your undeniable skill with a sword and adept sailing skills meant you never pissed Izzy off like the other members of Bonnet’s crew. You were a certified badass and your artistic talents formed a quick bond between you and Lucius. You were Lucius’s favorite person on board, second only to Black Pete. Lucius believed Izzy would have to be an idiot not to have feelings for you. However, in Lucius’s opinion, Izzy frequently displayed behaviors that bordered on idiocy.

“What are you working on today, babes?” Lucius inquired with a smirk as he entered the former ballroom, closing the door behind him. Lucius already knew the answer, observing a subtle shade of red flash across your face.

In response, you turned the easel to face him and the doorway. Lucius gazed upon the beautiful portrait of Izzy hands before him, experiencing a pang of pity for its painter.

As a thought crossed Lucius’s mind, he burst into laughter. “I can’t imagine what Stede would say if he knew you were using the paint supplies he bought you to create that. I feel like he would have a conniption.”

After laying eyes on one of your small paintings, Stede had purchased supplies for you, hoping you would help replace the artworks lost on The Revenge during the era of the kraken. He confided in both you and Lucius, expressing his desire to make the ship feel like home once again. He wanted things to get back to normal and to help Edward feel comfortable.

“I made those for Stede,” you remarked, and Lucius followed your finger to two paintings leaning against the ship wall to dry. One depicted The Revenge, and Lucius couldn’t help but marvel at the delicate details of the ship, rolling his eyes at your undeniable talent. The other showcased Ed, dressing in his exquisite purple attire from the night of the fancy party. You even included the tiny purple bows adorning his beard.

“He’ll actually love those,” Lucius huffed, surprised to find no sarcastic comment to direct at the paintings. Playfully, he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind as you both admired the portrait of Izzy. “Now, who will this portrait go to?” Lucius teased.

“No one. I’ll probably paint over it once I’m done.”

“Why are you painting it then?” Lucius asked, disappointment evident in his tone. The portrait was beautiful, and he hoped you would give it to Izzy, finally admitting your true feelings.

“I thought that if I painted Izzy, his face would get out of my head,” you replied quietly, and Lucius couldn’t help but hear the vulnerability in your voice.

Lucius empathized with that line of thinking, but in a slightly different way. He recalled how he had sketched Blackbeard’s face for weeks, only to be snapped out of it by Black Pete. “I get that,” Lucius replied, pursing his lips and scrunching his face, before lifting his sketchbook to reveal one of the many drawings of Blackbeard.

He observed the relief that washed over your face at being understood, forming a smile at the drawings. “Flower Blackbeard was my favorite,” you chuckled.

“Maybe…” Lucius lingered, playfully bumping his hip into yours. “You should give Izzy the painting, and that’ll get him out of your head” he suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You responded with a sarcastic laugh, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. Lucius dropped his playful expression, reciprocating with a roll of his eyes. Deep down, he just wanted you to be happy. Over the past few weeks, Izzy had grown on him, and while he may not have thought Izzy deserved you, it was clear that he was always occupying your thoughts.

“I’ll leave you to moping and painting then,” Lucius said, patting your shoulder before heading out of the ballroom with a clear objective in mind.

He found Izzy in the hallway leading to the captain’s quarters, gazing at one of your new paintings Stede had just hung up. This sight caused Lucius to smirk; he knew he was right about how Izzy felt about you. Determined to push you two together, he decided he would do everything he could to make it happen. Lucius was tired of seeing you unhappy when all that seemed necessary was to talk it through.

“Pretty good, right?” Lucius slid into the spot next to Izzy, crossing his arms and directing his gaze at the painting. The painting depicted a simple sunset over the water, yet it radiated a quiet beauty.

Izzy only replied with a grunt, clearly annoyed that Lucius had caught him staring at your painting.

“I didn’t know you were such a lover of art, Iggy,” Lucius continued, attempting to poke at him further. “You and Stede must have so much to discuss.”

“What the fuck do you want, twatty?” Izzy snapped in response.

“There’s a leak in the ballroom,” Despite his usual quick-witted nature, he knew this lie lacked conviction.

“Why the fuck is that my problem?” Izzy grumbled.

“Blackbeard told me to tell you, so you could fix it.” Lucius’s arms involuntarily squeezed more tightly across his chest as he lied, but he tried to relax once he noticed.

“Well… you told me, so fuck off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Lucius quickly retreated from the conversation, hoping his lie was convincing enough to get Izzy to go where he needed him. Lucius perched himself on one of the mast tops, carefully watching the direction Izzy departed. When he noticed Izzy heading toward the ballroom, Lucius bit his lip with anticipation.

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Izzy slowly wandered down the hallway, heading towards the ballroom, frustrated at being the one who always had to fix the ship’s problems. He was even more annoyed by Lucius teasing him about you. He couldn’t help but stare at your painting. It was beautiful, just like you. If it was so obvious to Lucius how Izzy felt about you, then you must be aware of it too. Perhaps it was some inside joke between the two of you. Izzy had held feelings for you for quite some time now, witnessing how you found beauty in the small details that most people would overlook. Your ability to turn the mundane into lovely paintings had captivated him, and with each stroke of your brush, his admiration for you grew.

Feeling discouraged, Izzy had almost decided to give up on his feelings for you when he opened the door to the ballroom and found you immersed in painting. He was taken aback for a moment, not realizing that this was where you created your art, and then confused about why Lucius had sent him here. There were no visible leaks in sight. That’s when he saw a portrait of himself staring back at him. His jaw dropped as he tried to understand the meaning behind the painting.

“Fuck off, Lucius,” he heard you say as you continued to paint, not turning towards the sound of the door opening. Izzy contemplated whether he should leave, feeling like he had interrupted a private moment. However, in his moment of indecision, you turned around to face him. Izzy observed your eyes widen in surprise, followed by your cheeks blushing a deep shade of scarlet. “You’re not Lucius,” you whispered quietly, regaining your composure.

Izzy tried to rack his brain, attempting to find a reason why you would be painting him, but he couldn’t come up with a single explanation. A moment of silence stretched between you both as you stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak. Izzy glanced over at the two other paintings in the room. “Are these for Bonnet?” he questioned, gesturing towards all the paintings.

“Those two are. This one is just something I’m doing for fun,” you replied, and Izzy sensed the nervousness in your demeanor as you spoke.

“Why?” Izzy inquired.

“I feel like you have a face that’s worth being painted,” you whispered.

Izzy didn’t know how to respond to your words; they seemed sincere, but this whole scenario didn’t make sense to him. Why did Lucius send him here? Taking a moment to examine you, he noticed you were in an old, oversized shirt covered in paint. As he gazed at your face, he observed a bit of paint smeared across your nose. He wasn’t sure what information he was trying to glean, but he also enjoyed just looking at you.

Realizing he had been staring at you for too long without a response, Izzy quickly found his words. “Lucius told me there was a leak in this room.”

Izzy watched your face contort from one of nervousness to annoyance.

“Of course he did,” you snapped. Izzy observed as you dropped the paintbrush onto a nearby stoll where your paint sat, glancing towards the door as if you were going to find Lucius yourself to teach him a lesson. “There’s no leak, Izzy.”

Finally, the pieces snapped together in Izzy’s mind. Lucius’s teasing remark and him sending Izzy to find you painting a picture of him–it was all part of a big joke, and he realized he was the butt of it. Izzy felt anger rising within him. He never expected you to treat him like this, and the revelation left him feeling both hurt and surprised.

“Oh, I see. You and Mr. Spriggs are joking around and wasting my time,” Izzy spat as he began to turn towards the door to leave.

“Wait, Iz.” Izzy felt your light grip on his arm, pausing at your touch. “Lucius knows how I feel about you, so I think this was his way of forcing me to tell you. I’m not trying to waste your time or play a joke on you.”

“How do you feel about me?” Izzy whispered quickly. He felt his demeanor instantly soften and turned back towards you.

“I like you, Israel Hands,” you said steadily, your big eyes gazing into his, seeming to search for any sort of reaction.

When he gave none, you grabbed Izzy’s hand, leading him towards the painting, gesturing to your work as you spoke. “On the outside, ruggedly handsome, worn by the sea, tough but your eyes… There’s a gentleness you can see in your eyes. The way they soften when you talk about something you love, the subtle warmth they hold when you smile. I like you because I see a complexity in you, Izzy– a blend of strength and tenderness that intrigues me.”

Izzy turned towards you, prompting you to face him. His fingers reached up to gently trace the paint on your nose. You closed your eyes at his touch, opening them to meet his gaze once his hand fell from your face. “Paint?” you asked in a soft whisper.

“I like how you look… even with paint on your face. Especially with paint on your face.” Izzy confessed, his tone tender. “I like you.”

Izzy gazed down, captivated, as a sweet smile stretched across your face. His eyes lingered on your lips, attempting to memorize their shape and color. A silent anticipation filled the space between you, Izzy pondering the sensation of your lips against his, the curiosity and desire swirling within him. You closed the gap between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. The connection was soft and sweet. Time seemed to stand still as your lips gently explored the contours of Izzy’s.

“I fucking knew it,” Lucius’s voice rang out from the hallway in delight.

Izzy immediately let go of you, worried about your reaction to Lucius seeing you with him. You only replied with a giggle, shutting the door quickly. “Fuck off, Lucius,” you sang playfully.

As your arms warped around Izzy, pulling him in for another kiss, he heard Lucius’s annoyed voice through the door. “I feel like I deserve a thank you, at least.”

For the first time, Izzy was thankful to Mr. Spriggs for sticking his nose into everyone’s business. Thanks to him, he was getting to hold you in his arms, instead of just having to admire you from afar. You had told Izzy he had a face worth painting, but in Izzy’s mind, you yourself were a work of art.

#izzy hands x reader #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd x reader #izzy hands #ofmd fanfic #Israel hands x reader

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