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aetheternity · 4 years ago

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Hard pass 2 (Levi x Reader)

I'm a little concerned about how little time I took on the ending for the last part so I'm gonna put a little more time into this one. Hope you guys enjoy. :)

Synopsis: Levi is forced out of his comfy dorm room and in a strange twist of events right into your arms at a college party.

Levi was transfixed to say the least. He'd spent the past hour that he'd been back in his dorm room staring into a freshly made cup of black tea. The small jingling of keys in the door shaking him from his daze.

"Hello, Hello Leviathan." Mike greeted, tossing his bag to the side haphazardly.

Any other time Levi would've rolled his eyes but he just let out an agitated huff.

"Uh oh.. I know that look." Mike announced plopping down onto his unmade bed. "Who's the lucky girl?" He asked his smirk bright.

Levi's hair whipped against his cheek as he turned to Mike. "What are you on about? Who told you?" Probably Hange. Damn four eyes could never keep her mouth shut.

"No one had to." Mike laughed "You've just told me basically everything I need to know. Your distracted gaze when I came in the room, having very little reaction to me calling you Leviathan, your tea cup is still full and my side of the room is still messy." He seemed a little too pleased about that last bit.

"I know you went out tonight." He continued

"And what about it?"

"Who is she?!" Mike stood coming closer to sit on the edge of Levi's desk.

Levi rolled his eyes setting his cup down.

"Come on, I'm curious about some mysterious girl that has Levi Ackerman wrapped around her finger."

"Just shut up already." Levi replied turning his gaze to the window with a small pout.

"Fine, fine I'll shut up." Mike stood heading back towards his side of the room. An idea suddenly popped into his mind and he turned on his heel. "But.. I think I'll give Hange a call. You know.. cause I haven't talked to her in a bit-"

"When did you become so annoying?" Levi grumbled

"You're more aggressive tonight I like it. Is it because of her?"

As much as Levi wanted to fight it, Mike was one of those people that always got information about literally anything if he genuinely wanted it. Even if he didn't find out from Hange or Levi he was definitely going to find out from even the weirdest sources.

"Hange's friend.. she's not ugly I guess.." Levi could feel his face growing warm and he pulled his feet up onto his desk chair to hide it.

Mike laughed obnoxiously, "It's like watching a little kid finding out what a crush is." He chuckled "Super cute. So when are you going to ask her out?"

"Never."

Mike crossed the room again, seating himself on his bed. "You can't be serious! This is the first time I've ever seen you interested in girls and you're just gonna let her get away?"

"Stay out of my business, Michelangelo."

Mike just huffed reaching into his pocket to pry his phone out of his pocket. The room quickly grew quiet as Levi turned to his laptop though he was quickly distracted again by Mike's little chuckles. He turned his head in Mike's direction quickly catching the other male's gaze.

"By the way, Hange agrees with me." He said pointing to his phone.

Levi groaned, tugging at his hair. "Eat shit."

~ ~ ~ ~

Levi stared down at his watch with a soft tch.

It was 4pm and Hange was late again. He turned to Erwin who's face was currently pressed into a book. Thumb sliding along the sentences as he read.

"Where the hell is she?" He grumbled, shaking his mouse back and forth as the screen began to dim.

"She said she had to do something after class so she'd be a little late." Erwin replied, without looking up from his book.

"That's her excuse every time." Levi replied with a roll of his eyes.

Erwin just shrugged. Hange was always late. Sometimes she just showed up 30 minutes late with no real explanation and sometimes she showed up an hour late saying she had, had something to do after class. But every time the three of them got together to study she was late.

"Yo! Levi!" Hange greeted as she walked into the library ignoring the chorus of shushing that followed her.

Levi's scowl deepened, "Were you stuck on the toilet waiting for someone to fuck off?" He asked

"I have a great surprise follow me." She clapped in delight.

Erwin looked to Levi and then in the direction Hange had left in. He slowly pushed his chair out looking at Levi's irritated scowl.

"Are you coming."

"Whatever it is, is definitely stupid knowing Hange." Levi retorted, packing his belongings up in an orderly fashion.

The two of them quickly left before Hange could come back to ruin the peace again. They pushed through the library doors and standing against the wall with a somewhat bashful expression was Y/N with Hange who smiled brightly as if she wasn't currently disturbing Levi's peace.

"Oh hello Y/N." Erwin greeted, he looked over at Levi before asking. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh well Hange invited-"

"Ah ha ha! Y/N has homework to do so I figured she could come study with us. Though today me and Erwin have a thing." She quickly grabbed Erwin's arm yanking him over to her.

"But I was-" Erwin tried but was instantly silenced by Hange's hand over his mouth.

"You and Levi can study. Levi's great with everything! Right Levi? Ok me and Erwin will go now, by you two!"

"Hange!" Levi tried, his face already flushed with heat over the whole situation. Hange was surprisingly fast though, managing to drag Erwin away so quick they were a couple of dots within seconds.

Levi and Y/N stood in silence for a couple seconds before Y/N let out a deep exhale. "I feel as though we've been set up." She says, toying with the zippers on her back.

Levi can only manage a grunt in reply. Not daring to look into her eyes. "Well I mean.." she starts turning to Levi. "I actually do.. have to study so.. I wouldn't mind if you don't." She shrugged

"Mm.." Levi pulled open the library door for Y/N and lead her over the seats that him and Erwin had been sitting in only moments before.

He made a mental note as he opened his laptop again to keep the door locked next time Hange said she was coming over. Around 10 minutes went by of complete silence and Levi was incredibly happy for it.

Not because he was focusing, no his attention had been completely taken away from any possible work he could've gotten done here. There was no way he was actually going to be able to do anything when your scent was trapped in his nose and his eyes kept staring over his screen at your fingers.

Knuckles that Levi honestly wanted to kiss and fingernails completely devoid of dirt which Levi was instantly captivated by.

"Hey-"

He sat up straight, his own hands slightly curling around the aged wood of the table. Your book came sliding toward him and he looked down at it before looking back at you.

"I don't really get this? Could you help me a bit?"

Levi nodded before his brain could properly process what you'd asked. He almost thought he imagined the way your lip tucked itself under your teeth. And he felt dazed as your scent washed over him all at once as you slid into the seat next to him.

You pointed to your book and Levi tried to pay attention to your question but your notes threw him a bit. All the words were written in different colors and there were squiggly lines around definitions and texts. Small doodles between paragraphs as a way to properly space them and stars next to the most important words.

You scratched at your scalp and he took notice. "I paid attention when my professor was going over this I swear. But I don't really get it?? It can't be as difficult as I'm making it in my head." Your giggle of nervousness took Levi back a little.

The warm pit in his chest deepened and he sighed, trying to accurately assess the situation.

"Y-you made a small.. mathematical error." He explained, his fingers pointed to the equation as he tried to push away the ball in his throat. "You don't need these numbers."

Her smile hit Levi like a truck as it was instantly directed towards him. "Ah, you're so smart." Y/N said "What about this? I checked with the calculator but my answer was way off."

It was hard for Levi to ignore the way your shoulder rubbed up against his sending sparks all through his body like a tidal wave. It was honestly a little overwhelming.

"Oh sorry, am I too close?" You moved away and Levi gulped. He stared at your fingers, he didn't want you to move away.

He was surprised when he looked up and instantly made eye contact with you. "Stay." It probably didn't come out the way he'd wanted but he'd managed it and on some level he was proud of himself.

You smiled, "Sure."

After a while Levi felt himself loosen up a bit but the knot in his stomach was still very much there and alive. He found himself chuckling at your little jokes and he was mostly able to look you in the eyes. (As long as you didn't smile directly at him).

The first hour had been studying with small quips from your end that Levi found he enjoyed. Though around the third hour it turned into horror stories about present and past roommates.

Your laugh was so bright as you tapped your pen cap against the table. "And then Sasha just cracks the window open though it's definitely too late cause Connie had already created a war zone in our room." You were shaking so much from laughter that Levi was honestly a little worried you'd fall out of your chair.

He shook his head where he was resting it in his palm. "I still think Mike forgetting the do not disturb sign was worse." He shrugged

"Mm well maybe someday I'll have a story that bad. Considering Connie and Sasha have been playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse for two years now."

Levi shook his head. "You don't want to walk in on your roommate having sex. No one does.."

He felt his cheeks flush over again. Whether it was from the story or the way you'd playfully pushed his shoulder though he couldn't tell. He watched as you positioned yourself back in the seat next to him.

"Ok, ok. You told me about your roommates relationships. Now tell me about yours."

"What?"

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "You know the in and out of Levi. I'm curious."

Levi's gaze fell to the table. "There's nothing to tell."

Y/N's voice immediately softened. "Sorry, didn't mean to try and pull it out of you."

Levi picked up his head closing his laptop. "I-I just.. never felt that way.." he tried

"Not everyone goes to college and high school and stuff for the parties, drugs and sex." You said, laying your elbows against the desk. "I commend you for having a goal and sticking with it."

Levi's heart stuttered at your words. "Did you come.. or well.. umm? What did you-"

He was interrupted by your hand on his shoulder again. "To answer your question." You leaned in closer your breath tickling Levi's earlobe. "Yes I did come specifically for the drugs."

Levi's eyes practically bulged out of his head. This time when you laughed you were met with shushing and stares. "Sorry." You whispered, popping a hand over your mouth. "I'm completely joking." You then said to Levi who's shoulders relaxed with the information.

Levi's signature deadpanned expression was starting to make an appearance now. "That's not funny."

"Hmm.. well I'm laughing so." Y/N laid her head on the table.

"Your humor is shit." He said

"Funny you say that." She laughed back a smirk was playing at Levi's lips. "Hey." Y/N broke the lingering silence.

"What?"

"Give me your number."

"Tch, nice way to ask."

Y/N pretended to be shocked. "Oh, would you prefer I beg?"

Levi already knew how red his entire face had become. No need to check a mirror. "H-hand me your p-phone."

Unsurprisingly even her phone wa as cute. And Levi honestly wanted to admire the case and how warm it felt after being in your pockets. Oh.. you'd touched it with your warm hands. Levi couldn't help but think about how warm your hands must feel. How the spaces between your fingers looked so perfect. Like they-

"Hey." A voice shook Y/N and Levi.

"Jean, what're you doing here?" Y/N asked as she stood moving closer to him.

"You've been gone all day. I had to ask Sasha where you were."

"No, you didn't because you didn't need to come here." Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie. Her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Who's this?" Jean asked gesturing to Levi with his head. Levi felt his chest flare a little.

"Ugh, it doesn't matter because it has nothing to do with you!" She quickly grabbed her bag stuffing her notebook inside. "I'll talk to you later Levi." She explained her face still completely unamused. And with that she was pushing Jean out the door following him right out.

Levi's fingers dug into his palm. Who was that? It couldn't have been her boyfriend right? No, no that didn't make sense.

He started to pack up himself when he noticed your pretty phone sat next to his ordinary black one.

~ ~ ~ ~

Levi practically slammed into his dorm room scaring Mike who had his music blasting. Levi set his bag down on his chair, placing his phone on the desk.

"Hey man." Mike greeted as Levi quickly unpacked his other stuff. "I heard Hange forced you to go on a study date."

"I'm going to murder her." Levi turned, practically slamming his notebook into the desk. So hard that he could've sworn Mike jumped.

"Yeah what else is new?" He laughed trying to clear the air. "But did you at least get in close?"

Levi rolled his eyes. "She's.. there's this guy.."

Mike grew quiet for a few seconds. "You think she's with him?"

Levi normally wouldn't indulge Mike like this but his chest felt so tight that he was pretty sure he was going to burst. "She didn't seem happy to see him. She was like rolling her eyes when he came."

"Maybe he's just some guy then?"

"What if he isn't?"

"By the way you're describing it they'll break up soon anyway." Mike said "But that's great my plan worked."

Levi narrowed his eyes, "The library thing was you?"

Mike shrugged, "Hey, It could've been worse! Hange wanted to lock you guys in a supply closet for the night."

"Sleep with one eye open." Levi huffed, placing your phone down on his desk.

Mike immediately noticed, sitting up and placing his own phone to the side. "Don't tell me you murdered her and stole her phone for having a boyfriend that wasn't you." He chuckled

"Tch, she accidentally left it."

"How are you gonna return it?"

"I'll ask Hange for her dorm number tomorrow and I'll hand it over then."

"Ooo, well I would tell you not to go looking through her phone while you have it. But you're not like me so.." Mike shrugged, laying down with both hands holding his phone above his head.

Levi looked at Mike and then at your phone sitting on his desk. He silently looked away, putting away the rest of his stuff with a huff.

#shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi aot #levi x y/n #levi x you #aot x reader #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #attack on titan imagine

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years ago

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Mandoctober - October 5: Target Practice

summary: After you sustain an injury during a fight, Mando cares for you and ends up revealing more about himself and his past than you’d expected him to—including a little bit about an old tattoo. (an excerpt from the one-shot Riduurok)

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: canonical-type violence, injuries, hurt/comfort

rating: T

word count: 1.492k

mandoctober masterlist

october 5: target practice

“I’m meeting the client at the cantina just down this way,” Mando tells you as you walk into the marketplace on Yedhi. He hands you a comlink. “If it ends up being a setup, I’ll call for help. You do the same if you need it.”

You nod, accepting the device in your hand and securing it on your belt. “You got it, Mando.” After placing a firm hand on your shoulder, Mando heads off towards the cantina, leaving you with the child in his pram as you walk around the marketplace. You have nearly all of the necessary supplies purchased and secured in the cloth sack that’s hanging over your shoulder when you hear a distant sound that makes your blood run cold: a tracking fob.

Turning your head casually, as if to pretend you’re looking at something beside you, your eye catches a Trandoshan following you closely. There’s a red blinking light on his belt, and you curse under your breath as you try to walk a little faster. When he matches your speed, you get your confirmation of what’s happening, and you reach for your comlink as you weave through the crowds of people and try to hide in a nearby alleyway.

“Mando, come in,” you hiss into the comlink. “We’re by the Jogan fruit stand in the marketplace. We’ve been tracked—.”

You’re cut off by an ambush of two other Trandoshans jumping down from a nearby rooftop, knocking the comlink from your hands and forcing you back against the wall. You drop your cloth sack onto the ground and close the child’s pram, freeing the Amban rifle from your back and beginning to engage. You get a few hits at the two Trandoshans who first pounced, forcing them further back. When one stumbles enough, you lunge towards him and get him with the metal prongs, tasering him until he collapses to the ground in a heap. You can see the other one approaching, and so you take a step back and spin around to hit him with the end of the rifle. He instead catches it in his hand and gives it a firm tug, causing you to fall forward a few steps. You manage to dodge a blaster bolt just in time, pulling your own blaster and getting a clear shot at his chest.

Your victory is short-lived, though, as the third Trandoshan who’d been tracking you suddenly makes his appearance. With a sharp fighting stick of his own, he catches your arm with a blade, making you gasp as he creates a gash in your bicep that causes you to drop your blaster. With a quick flip of his stick, he lunges forward to hit your stomach and knock you to the ground—hard. You completely lose your breath as he hovers above you, ready to make the final blow at your head with the blade.

He doesn’t get the chance to, thanks to a blaster bolt hitting him square in the back and causing him to fall over into a limp heap at your side. You try to sit up but still find yourself without air, mouth open and eyes wide as your lungs burn for oxygen. A shadow crosses over you and you soon recognize it as Mando, one of his gloved hands assessing your gash as the other taps against your cheek.

“C’mon, stay with me,” his modulated voice demands, though you can hear his distress clearly. There’s a wavering in his tone that shows you his full desperation. “Stay with me. You’re okay, cyar’ika. You’re all right.”

“I’m—all right,” you gasp out, letting him help you to sit up as you finally get your breath back. Mando keeps one arm on your back and the other around your hands, his helmet assessing you for any injuries other than your arm. “I’m fine, Mando, I swear. Just this.” You gesture to your arm, wincing a bit as the movement causes a sting to prick through it. “Got the wind knocked out of me.”

“You had me scared for a second there.” Mando’s tone is full of relief and a little bit of playfulness—whatever he can afford in the aftermath of what he just witnessed. He helps you to stand up, grabbing your blaster for you and helping you get it into your holster. “Thought I was losing you.”

“To a couple of Trandoshans?” You scoff, nudging Mando’s shoulder with your good arm. “I hoped you’d think more highly of me.”

Mando releases a chuckle that warms your chest, making you smile as you swing the pulse rifle back over your shoulder and pick the cloth sack up. Mando reconnects the child’s pram to his vambrace and keeps one gloved hand on the small of your back. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

You look over at him with a raised brow. “What about your job?”

Mando shrugs. “Not important right now. We still have enough credits to get by.” He continues to lead you back to the ship, causing your cheeks to heat up as his hand never leaves your back.

Once you’re on the Crest, Mando frees the child from his pram while you discard your belongings. He makes you sit where you are in the hull as he fetches the medpac, coming back and kneeling beside you. Mando removes his gloves and starts to get to work on your arm, cleaning the wound first. You try to hold back your hisses at the stinging it brings.

“Sorry. I know it’s uncomfortable.” Mando’s words are soft, barely passing through his modulator.

“It’s all right.” You grit your teeth with his final swipe of a cloth over the wound, continuing to watch as he reaches for a bacta patch next. While he applies it, you catch something on his left hand, and you raise an eyebrow as you observe it. On the skin between his forefinger and thumb, there’s a dark-colored ink design of a bullseye. Your curiosity piques and you can’t help questioning him about it. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

Mando looks up at you for a moment and then down to his hand, giving a light chuckle as he finishes the bacta patch and reaches for some gauze. “Yeah. Got it when I was just starting to run out with a group of mercenaries.” He pauses, focusing for a moment as he secures one end of the gauze over the bacta patch. Then, he begins to wrap it around your arm gingerly, and you try to ignore the way the brushing of his fingertips sets your skin on fire. “I used to joke about it being ‘target practice.’ After a celebratory night at a cantina… I got this.”

You smile at the thought of a young, hotshot Mando having a little too much to drink at a cantina and deciding to get some ink—a much more reckless image of the careful and calculated man you’ve come to know. “I like it.”

You hear Mando’s breath hitch slightly in his throat, causing you to bite back another smile at his sudden shyness. “Thank you. Sometimes I forget it’s there, with my gloves and all.”

“Understandable.” You remain silent as Mando finishes his work, ripping off the gauze and securing it to your arm. You flex your hand and fingers out a few times before bending your elbow, satisfied with the reduced amount of pain you feel now. “Thanks so much for taking care of this, Mando.”

Mando stays silent for a beat. Then, he speaks, his voice a bit quieter than before. “Din.”

Your gaze snaps up at him, your mouth falling open as your brow knits together. “What?”

“Din. Din Djarin. That’s my real name.”

Your heart flutters upon hearing Mando’s true name and knowing you’ve gained his full trust to learn it. He’s told you before about how Mandalorians had to strip themselves of their identities to stay safe—and now he’s laid this information in your very hands. You give him a smile as you repeat the name in your head over and over. Your gaze falls to your left hand as it makes its way to his, your thumb brushing over the skin where the bullseye tattoo is. “I like your name, Din.”

Din’s breath hitches in his throat again, but you can’t tell if it’s because of your intimate contact or because of your voice saying his real name. Either way, it makes your heart beat even faster, and you can feel his own pulse starting to race underneath your thumb.

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mandalorian tag list: @lola-wolf @professionalfangirl55 @hoodedbirdie @chibi-liz05 @nerd-without-a-cause @hdlynn @thepjofanqueen @bwemph @starwarsslytherin @iellarenuodolorian @littlevodika @jjemcarstairs @promiscuoussatan @fahrenheit-not @vernon-dursley

#what a classic #let din djarin have the bullseye tattoo #PERIOD #IT MAKES SENSE BC TARGET PRACTICE #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandoctober #dindjarindiaries #drabbles

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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skin starving

tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.

recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.

It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.

The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.

With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.

Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.

Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.

On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.

Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.

Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.

“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”

“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”

“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”

“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”

The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.

“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.

“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.

“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.

Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?

It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.

So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.

Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.

Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.

“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”

No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.

He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.

Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.

“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.

“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.

“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”

“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”

The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.

Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.

He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.

The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.

Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.

“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.

For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.

Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.

“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.

Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.

They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.

Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.

In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.

Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.

He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.

The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.

She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.

Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.

Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.

They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.

His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?

He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fluff #tony stark feels #bun writes #bun writes: drabbles

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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By Any Other Name (3)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: flirty heart eyes, excessive emphasis on fluff, love is in the AIR, the knowledge that these happy times won’t last forever....... 👀 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“You did what now?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, explicitly ignoring Sam’s full-bellied laugh as he struggled not to spill the open lidded coffee cup on the impossibly small table between them. There were near tears in his eyes and patrons of the Brooklyn based café were all staring in their direction. Bucky tugged the bridge of his baseball cap lower over his eyes.

“Leave him alone, Sam. It was a good idea,” Steve warned, voice low, as he turned to Bucky to clap a hand on his shoulder. He gripped at the muscle, massaging the tender scar tissue, before dropping his grip. “It gave him an in with Y/n. He needs to work on building that foundation of trust before he can start figuring out what she knows about Hydra. Ain’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky nodded, his lips pressing to a thin line, though it felt forced, jarring against his features.

“Yeah.”

He could still picture the shock in your eyes; the surprise and the realization as he placed the book in your hands. He had thought for a minute that you were going to laugh at him and discard the old, worn down copy he’d stolen from his high school library as a sophomore because it in no way compared to the first edition novels worth thousands of dollars sitting upon your shelves, but the smile that lifted your lips had made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Sure, maybe there was a part of him that knew that your library and your clear love of fiction would be an easy target to begin building a connection, a layer of trust, before he could start getting the information from you he needed, but it wasn’t why he’d spent two hours tearing apart his childhood bedroom in search of the book.

He wanted to see you smile again.

He wanted to see your eyes light up and the way you bite on the corner of your lip. There was just something about it that made his stomach twist in knots, that made his own mouth start to curve at the edges, and his heart beat just a little quicker. It was so rare to see it from you, especially in the days your husband lingered around, but suddenly, it was all he could think about.

He could have asked for the funds from the Bureau to buy you the first edition, writing it off as a necessary expense for his cover, but somehow, he knew you’d appreciate the hand-me-down copy more. It had character and a history. It was messy, and a little broken; a glimpse into his life, his real life, something he was never supposed to cross the boundaries of, but it served its purpose.

He’d seen you around the house carrying it under your arm for nearly four days after he’d given it to you. Sometimes he’d spot you sitting in the living room, nose deep in the pages as he walked in the front door behind Rumlow before you’d get up and quickly escape to your library without a word to your husband, though you stopped and caught his eye before you left, holding up the book so he knew you were reading it and giving him that short, stolen smile before you disappeared.

You had run into him on the fifth day and swatted him with the book in a rare moment when he was standing by himself in the kitchen, Rumlow having gone up to the office to gather some paperwork before they were meant to head to the Lernaean.

“What did this poor book ever do to you?” you had teased him, flipping open the pages of his copy of A Farewell to Arms to find stains of Dorito dust in the folds on page 76, mindless doodles done in blue ink pen on the top corner of page 117, and a sticky note taped to the inside back cover of a crude drawing of a lanky, high school version of Steve with big angry eyebrows and a boxing gloves held up by his face.

“Sorry, I guess I should have looked it over before I lent it to you.” Bucky laughed, swiping the book back from your hands and earning a pout in return. “I mean if you don’t want to finish it, I’ll just take it b--”

“I never said I was done with it, you vandal!”

Your laugh was like music to his ears, melodic and captivating, and he hated the moments you cut it off short and closed it away to the darkest parts of yourself; moments like when your husband walked back into the room.

Rumlow had eyed you with a kind of look you must have been familiar with because your smile fell away instantly and Bucky released the book to your grasp. You held it down by your hips, eyes glued to the floor. He had watched as you left the room without another word, book gripped so tightly in your hands, the pages started to crinkle.

He knew what he was feeling was dangerous. It went against every code he swore an oath to. He’d be pulled from the case the second Director Fury got wind of his personal attachment to you – if that’s what he was going to call it. There wasn’t really a way to describe what he was feeling.

Infatuation. Admiration. Longing. Ease. Attraction.

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that he wanted to see you smile more, wanted to knock Rumlow’s teeth in for more reasons than why he was stationed undercover within Hydra in the first place. He wanted to know why you were involved in this world to begin with and how you ended up trapped in a marriage you clearly wanted nothing to do with.

He wanted to protect you from all this; from Hydra, from his investigation.

A few conversations, a couple smiles from across the rooms, and it changed everything.

“Buck? You awake in there?” Sam chuckled, tapping a finger on Bucky’s forehead until he swatted his hand away with a grunt.

“Knock it off, Wilson,” Bucky grumbled, bending down to take a sip of the burning hot coffee resting in his grasp. It stung on his lips but he swallowed it back anyway, the heat of it warming down through his chest.

“It’s been almost two months,” Steve said casually, “how have you been holding up?”

Bucky glanced around at the busy café. It wasn’t unusual for them to meet in public places and talk about the case, as long as they kept details vague and didn’t draw any attention. Hell, Bucky just needed an outlet sometimes outside of the conference rooms and safe houses he usually met the team in. He was thankful Nat typically elected out of their Sunday coffee runs because she was always able to read him like a hawk, and he was certain she’d be able to pick up on his affection towards you in an instant.

“It’s fine,” Bucky shrugged. “Boss is still a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, well, we already knew that,” Sam agreed, pursing his lips with a shake of his head.

“You said there were some guys there who seemed to be blackmailed into their work?” Steve asked, voice a little quieter now.

Bucky nodded. “Seems that way. Not everyone is there by choice. Still working out the details of who but I’ve got a list going for Nat when we meet up next week. I’m supposed to be stationed out on the docks this week so I’ll talk to the guys then.”

“Good, good,” Steve said. He paused for a moment, staring down into his coffee, studying the swirl of the soft chestnut coloring. “You being careful?”

Bucky smiled at that. For a kid who spent his youth getting himself into trouble and leaving Bucky to watch over his back, he sure as hell got protective himself once his body grew into his rebellious and reckless attitude.

“Yeah, pal, you know I always am.”

“Something just feels different about this one,” Steve said, leaning back into his chair. A woman behind the counter was staring at him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly upon noticing her eyes, shrugging the collar of his jacket up to cover the pink blush in his cheeks.

“Well this is the biggest profile case we’ve tackled,” Sam offered casually as he took a sip of his coffee, grinning at the way the girl at the counter shamelessly ogled at Steve.

“I don’t like that he’s in there so deep with no one to watch his six,” Steve shook his head, teeth gritted.

“I’m not alone and you know it,” Bucky responded, reaching across the table to grab a firm hold of Steve’s forearm, squeezing just enough to get him to meet his eye. There was hesitancy there and Steve wasn’t usually one to worry. “I’ve got you guys, remember?”

“You just need to watch yourself, alright?” Steve exhaled, patting at Bucky’s hand until he released his arm. “This is the first time you’ve been put in so close to the target. You spent most of your time in his house, Buck, and with Fury tellin’ you to get close to the wife, I just... I worry there’s too much on your shoulders and somethings going to fall through the cracks.”

Bucky sighed, exchanging a quick look with Sam who’s teasing smile had faded away upon noticing the genuine concern and anxiety in their friend.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to him, Steve,” Sam said, sending a wink at Bucky before he added, “you know he’d never let us hear the end of it.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Damn straight.”

Sam punched at Steve’s shoulder, grinning again, and didn’t let up until Steve finally relaxed and sat up further in his chair, the tension clearly washing from his muscles.

“Now that that’s all settled,” Sam teased, clapping Steve on the shoulder, “how about we focus on getting you the pretty barista’s number?”

***

Sundays used to be your only good days.

You used to find solace in warm teas and coffees from Café Ramos and freshly baked bagels from the Marselli’s; freedom in the wind gusting through the open back streets of Queens. Far away from tourists and amongst the bodegas and apartment buildings, you walked dozens of blocks from where your driver dropped you off; an added precaution to keep Brock from tracking down where you spent your time, and who you met up with.

Peter was sitting on the stoop of the brownstone, cheek resting on his hand and slouching up his face as he stared down at his phone. There was a lovesick look in his eye and you wondered if he ever got around to asking that girl out from school he’d been crushing on.

He was a sweet kid. Kind. Compassionate. Intelligent beyond belief. But his optimism and habit of overlooking flaws to see the best in someone, while admirable, was dangerous. It was why you worked so hard to keep him away from Brock. Your husband had a talent of convincing kids like that with an eagerness to please and a family tight on cash to join his ranks.

Peter was like a brother to you, having grown up with him running around your father’s house at all hours of the day when Aunt May was working, but lately, you kept him at an arm's length. You never let him over at the house, kept details vague about Brock’s employment, and insisted on walking the fourteen blocks to his apartment to pick him up, even when he offered to meet you at the subway stop near where your driver dropped you off.

He was a sweet kid, but he was naïve. Young. He had some learning to do. It was what you liked so much about him. You could use a little unending joy and positivity in your life.

“Hey Aunt May!” you called, waving at her as she walked by the front window folding a shirt from the dryer. She paused, turning towards you with a big smile and made her way to the door.

Peter had nearly fallen over on himself, clutching at his chest, his phone on the ground where it flung from his hands upon your sudden arrival.

“You okay there, kid?” you laughed, bending down to pick up his phone. No cracks. You handed it back to him with a wink.

He chuckled nervously, brushing off the screen with the edge of his shirt. “You scared me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so nose deep in your phone, Z.”

“Yeah, okay, Mil.”

“Z? Mil? You two develop another coded language or am I losing it?” Aunt May folded her arms over her chest as she leaned against the frame of the door.

“Gen Z,” Peter explained, pointing to himself, and then to you, “Millennial.”

You and Peter had some years between one another and, sure, you didn’t always understand the other’s lingo or quirks in their behavior, but it didn’t make much difference to either of you. It was another reason to poke fun at each other. Siblings were like that.

“I still think it’s funny you spend as much time together as you do,” Aunt May smiled.

“Hey, I keep him out of trouble!”

“-- and I keep her young.”

“Okay, watch yourself, kid,” you warned, laughing as you poked him hard in the side, causing him to jump away a few feet to escape another attack.

Aunt May always did like you being around so much after Uncle Ben died. Peter didn’t take it so well, not after losing his parents too, so he spent hours every day at your house when Aunt May was on shift at the hospital. You’d occupy his time and keep his mind from wondering back to finding his uncle in the streets, alone and bleeding. He was so young when it happened, you were surprised that when your father died just a few years later, he had insisted on doing the same for you.

The years between you didn’t matter. Not when it came to a bond like that.

“Will you come say hi already?” Aunt May teased, stomping her foot playfully as she opened her arms to you and you rushed up the stoop to fall into her embrace. She smelled of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and you peaked around the corner to find trays lined up on the kitchen table. Your stomach growled.

“Do I smell--”

“You want some before we go?” Peter asked before shoving his way inside, not quite bothering to wait for an answer as he started grabbing a few cookies from the table, bouncing a particularly hot one between his hands before he shoved it in his mouth.

He grabbed two for you, slipping them into your outstretched hand as you stepped out of Aunt May’s hold. She smiled at you, brushing your hair from your eyes in that motherly way you’d missed since you were a kid. You supposed it was another thing that drew you and Peter together.

“Don’t think I forgot about that science project you have due this week!” Aunt May called as you and Peter started to walk to the sidewalk. He visibly winced. “I want you home before dinner, Peter.”

“Okay, okay!” he groaned, shooing her off with a wave of his hand and sent you a glare as you struggled to contain your laughter.

“Oh, man. I do not miss high school,” you grinned, taking a bite of the cookie and nearly choking on a moan that slipped out. Buttery soft and warm gooiness melting on your tongue. Heaven.

Peter rolled his eyes, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “Don’t rub it in.”

***

Your Sundays were never exceeding exciting. Most of your time spent with Peter was just running errands, taking deposits to the bank for Aunt May, picking up lunch at one of the sandwich shops, getting him a new pair of sneakers he so desperately needed even though he fought you on paying for them for about an hour before he gave in.

They were often mundane and filled with idle chatter, sitting on park benches and watching the people walk by and the tourists taking photos in front of brick walls. He’d sit there and talk for hours because that’s amongst the things Peter did best. He'd tell you everything from his latest science fair project, the progress on his Lego set with Ned, the kid named ‘Flash’ who pranked him again and filled his locker with whipped cream.

It was simple. It was easy and comforting.

It was an escape.

Peter had nearly forgotten he was supposed to pick up a few things from the corner store for Aunt May, so you were on your way to the shop with the black cat who liked to sit perched in the window just to get a good look at her again while he tracked down the milk and bread.

The wind was picking up and you tugged your jacket tighter around your chest. You glanced over at Peter who had his hands shoved into the thin layer of his jacket, cheeks a little pink from the wind and he shivered.

Your heart ached a little and you decided you’d talk him into a new coat on your next Sunday together. He’d never make it through New York winter with holes in his pockets and no protection from the blistering wind.

While Brock didn’t give you access to enough of your father’s money to make it on your own, you had enough to buy things for Peter, to collect your first editions, and to remain moderately comfortable.

It was a ploy to keep you content, a carrot to dangle for the arguments when you’d threaten to storm out of the house you shared and he’d remind you, you had nothing without him, that he could implicate you in each and every one of his crimes, and you’d stay. Every time. You’d stay.

You had no choice.

And for years, you’d grown accustomed to the prison your home had turned into. Until you met James Karpov.

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel the twist of nerves in your stomach, to seek someone out amongst a crowd and to feel the relief deep in your bones upon finding them, upon finding blue eyes and dark brown hair, warm smile and that slight nod. So impossibly subtle and somehow it became the best part of your day.

Maybe you were naïve, and maybe it had simply been too long since anyone within that home had treated you with even an ounce of kindness or respect that you clung onto the first man who so much as smiled in your direction and asked about one of your overpriced books, but it gave you back a sense of yourself you’d been missing.

You started smiling again, starting looking forward to the days Brock held his meetings within the house in hopes that James would be there and you could ask him how far along he’d gotten in Fahrenheit 451. You were careful about your interactions with him, knowing that Brock was an exceptionally jealous man, even if your conversations with James were innocent.

And they were.

They had no greater meaning or underlying feelings.

So you told yourself, anyway.

The wind was picking up again and Peter was finishing up a very long and overly detailed recount of he and Ned’s favorite comic book series, when you realized you’d walked nearly five blocks without realizing it.

“Did you give Michele the necklace yet?” you asked him as you crossed the border into Brooklyn. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, um, not yet! But I’m working on it,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve got a plan.”

Peter was starting to tell you all of the intricate and perfectly timed details of this ‘plan’ when you spotted someone across the street that caught your eye.

Tall, with long brown hair swept behind his ears and hiding under a baseball cap, hands tucked into the pockets of a familiar bomber, he swatted the arm of a friend on his left while the other scolded him.

You narrowed your eyes, not even realizing you’d pulled to a stop until Peter came rushing back a few paces, complaining he’d kept on walking without you. You apologized quickly, a little out of focus, and asked him for a minute. He nodded with a shrug and pulled out his phone, sinking down to the sidewalk and waited patiently.

“James?” you called over the rush of traffic. He didn’t seem to hear you.

You’d never seen him outside of your husband’s home and it was strange running into him in such a personal environment. He was with friends, off the job, his guard was down. A bright smile, brighter than you’d ever seen it on his face as he laughed loud enough for the sound to carry across the street. It made something in your chest clench.

You called his name again, a little louder this time, but the blare of a horn drowned you out.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you held up a hand to warn oncoming cars that you were crossing the street and quickly wove your way in and out of lanes until you made it to the other side of the road. You glanced in his direction, brushing out the dirt on the thighs of your jeans before you approached him again.

“James!”

You were only standing a few feet from him and he still didn’t respond. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth and feeling a rush of embarrassment.

This was his day off; he didn’t need to be dealing with his boss’s wife.

All this time, while you were caught up in your own head with fantasies of ‘what if’s’ and finding solace in his short, kind smiles, he was probably just appeasing the wife of his boss. He must have known how lonely you were, could sense it a mile away, and he was simply being polite. You just misinterpreted it for interest or kindness or something, but it was clear your stolen moments over classic fiction and subtle glances across the room were exclusive to the walls of your home.

You turned to leave, clenching your hands into fists and puncturing the skin, when you heard your name called from behind you.

“Y/n?”

You spun around to find James staring at you with wide blue eyes. He was clearly surprised, caught off guard in a way few men of his rank within Hydra ever were, and he glanced back at his friends hesitantly before they quickly departed, retreating to a table on the edge of the café they had left from. He walked closer to you, enough so neither of you would have to shout over the rush of traffic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you,” James said, that smile tugging on the corner of his lips as he everted his eyes. He was nervous, swaying in his stance and running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s okay!” you replied quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything with your friends.”

He clenched his jaw at that, the smile fading from his face. “Friends? What friends?”

You peered around his towering shoulders to find the two men he was just standing with sitting over at a table at the café, talking to one another and stealing glances in your direction over the tops of newspapers they had just nabbed from the adjacent table. It was endearing, if anything.

“So, the guys siting over at that table pretending not to watch our every move aren’t your friends?” you asked, a slight laugh in your voice as James shook his head.

“No,” he responded shortly, though when you narrowed your eyes on him, grinning, he sighed, “yeah, ok. I know ‘em.”

You pursed your lips, glancing between James and two men sitting over at the table; the dark-skinned man with the toothy grin seemed to be thrilled to watch James fumble his way through half of a conversation, while the tall blonde one punched at his friend’s shoulder, seemingly warning him quietly to knock it off.

You sighed, noticing the way he kept glancing back at his friends, shuffling his feet like he wanted to be just about anywhere else than this conversation. You tried to ignore the free-falling feeling in your stomach.

“Look,” you started, feeling a little uneasy in your stance now, “it’s totally okay you don’t want me to know about them. I get it. You want to keep your personal life separate from work. It makes a lot of sense, especially with, um, with what you do and, um, I’m part of work, right? Different worlds. Don’t need to be bothering yourself with the boss’s wife in your free time...”

His whole body seemed to freeze and his eyes went wide.

“What? No, that’s not it at all!” he quickly explained, but he seemed to relax for a moment, glancing back towards his friends. “They don’t know what I do outside of the cover at the club. I just don’t want them catching wind.”

You nodded, knowing full well how that felt. A wave of relief swept through you; like a rush of water pushing away the aches and twists and breaks in your chest, leaving behind only that pleasant little tug you felt every time he walked in the room.

“You must be the new guy!” a voice chimed from behind you and you nearly flinched from the shock of it.

Speak of the damn devil.

Peter was suddenly at your side, a little out of breath as he looked James over, wide eyed and grinning. “Holy cow. He really is all muscle, huh?”

You shoved Peter hard in the side, cheeks flushing with heat as James laughed a little under his breath.

“I thought you were gonna stay on the other side of the street until I was done?”

“Got bored,” he shrugged, pushing you aside and turning to James. “So! What’s the likelihood you’ll let me sneak into the Lernaean? I’ve got an in with the owner and Y/n never lets me get anywhere near that place. Tell me you’re cooler than my cousin, man, I’m beggin’ you.”

You must have stopped breathing because your lungs felt like they were on fire. Peter had never been so brazen as to bypass your carefully constructed boundaries like that, but then again, he’d never met anyone from Hydra before. It was your mistake to confide in him about the strange new ‘bouncer’ with the blue eyes and the unexpected appreciation of fiction. Peter was curious by nature and he just liked seeing you happy.

James must have sensed your distress because he raised a brow at you, but your jaw was wired shut. Peter couldn’t know about this world. You had to keep him out of it. You tried to convey that to James with a simple glance, but he didn’t owe you anything. What would he care if this lanky kid knew about Hydra and the world you lived in? He was still Hydra himself and you had to constantly remind yourself of that.

“Please, man,” Peter begged. “It’ll make Flash so jealous and I need a win over that jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, kid,” James replied. Peter let out a very dramatic groan and it got James laughing. “It’s not a good place for a minor to be hanging out, anyway. Listen to your cousin.”

The fear didn’t escape you, even as Peter seemed to let the topic go. You liked James, that much you were able to admit to yourself, but did you trust him enough to protect Peter from Brock’s world... you weren’t sure.

Trust wasn’t so much a step as it was a cascading waterfall into an abyss. It didn’t come easy to you.

“Fine. But I’m not giving up that easily,” Peter huffed, folding his arms over his chest. He caught sight of the watch on his wrist and pouted. He turned to you. “I should head home anyway.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll walk yo--”

“No, you won’t,” Peter argued with a massive smile. “I know you still have stuff to do before you head home. I’m fine on my own, you know that.”

You did. Didn’t mean you liked it.

“Besides,” Peter continued, that cheeky grin tugging on his face, “I’m sure Mr. Karpov here wouldn’t mind escorting you the rest of the way.”

Your throat ran dry. “T-That’s entirely unnecessary... Peter.”

You sent him a glare but it only made him laugh harder as he started to back away down the sidewalk. He winked and quickly turned his shoulder and jogged down the remainder of the block just to deprive you of the chance to argue back. The little shit.

Spinning back around to James with an anxious grimace on your face, you quickly held your hands up to apologize but he was laughing to himself, causing you to lose your train of thought.

“I really don’t mind, you know,” he said, and of course he didn’t, because he simply couldn’t make it easy to disregard that nervous feeling in your stomach when he looked at you.

“It’s super boring,” you warned and he shook his head with a smile, some stray pieces of hair falling into his face. Damn that smile of his.

“What are we doing?” he asked, like it wasn’t even a second thought.

“There’s a café a few blocks from here,” you started, carefully watching his face for signs that he was surely making fun of you or appeasing you to be polite, but came up empty. “They sell paintings by local artists and I’ve been wanting to replace this godawful modern abstract Brock’s interior designer hung in one of the spare rooms. He wouldn’t notice anyway, don’t you think?”

James shrugged, a nodding slightly as he chuckled. “I don’t suppose he would.”

You chewed on the edge of your lip, gesturing for him to follow you down the street and he did so without hesitation.

There were only a few minutes of silence, of walking side by side with hands tucked carefully into jacket pockets and side stepping pedestrians with their noses stuck in their phones, before you worked up the courage to say something.

“Peter doesn’t know about our world,” you said suddenly, keeping your eyes trained ahead of you, scared that if you even looked at him, you’d lose your nerve. “I work really hard to keep it that way, so if you could-- if you could avoid mentioning to Brock that I was with him today, I would – I would really appreciate that. You know how Brock can be; always trying to recruit kids on the street to push his product and I don’t-- I don’t want Peter anywhere near--”

“You have my word,” James said simply, genuinely, and you let out a heavy exhale that released like flood gates. “No reason to tell the boss what I do on my days off and who I run into, right?”

You nodded, a little lost for words. “Right.”

You paused at a stop light, stealing glances at him as he mumbled a soft apology to the elderly woman who was attempting to push past him to get to the front of the sidewalk. She was uneasy on her feet and using her walking cane as weapon as she clicked it against his ankles and he quickly stepped out of her way. He winced, rubbing at his right ankle with the back of his left shoe.

As the light turned green and the old lady pushed past, shoving a few other pedestrians out of her way, you turned back to James, grinning so wide it hurt in your cheeks. He was chewing on his lip.

“This could really damage my rep, huh?”

“Just a little,” you laughed and you were certain if your hands weren’t shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket to hide from the cold, you may have offered your hand to him. Just instinctively. His hands were so big, they seemed warm, safe.

“I finished 451, by the way,” he said as the two of you rushed to cross the street before the light turned again.

“What’d you think?”

“Never as good as the first time,” he shrugged but there was still a semblance of that smile on his lips. “Still pretty great though. Didn’t even spill coffee on it or anything.”

“I suppose I should be impressed, considering the way you treated Hemingway,” you laughed, shoving at his arm with your elbow, and though a hit like that would have had Peter stumbling a few paces, James barely even flinched, but he did start to laugh.

“Come on now, you know I was in high school when I last touched that thing and you can’t trust a teenage boy with shit,” he teased and you found yourself grabbing onto his arm for support from that laughs making your unsteady on your feet. He didn’t seem to mind at all, not even as you suddenly realized what you were doing and quickly released him with a quick nervous brush of your hair from your eyes.

You cleared your throat, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. “I finished it last week, actually. I can return it to you tomorrow if you--”

“It was a gift,” James said simply. “Keep it. If you want, I mean. I know it doesn’t exactly fit in amongst all the first editions and fancy copies so you can get rid of it if you--”

“No! It’s, uh, it’s perfect. Thank you,” you said and he pressed his lips together to keep himself from rambling.

He was right. It certainly did stand out amongst the novels on your shelves with the cracked and broken binding, the doodles in the pages, and the stains on the cover, but it was so entirely human. It was a relief to have something of imperfection amongst masterpieces.

***

Bucky wasn’t quite sure what to make of you.

It was the most relaxed he’d ever felt on an assignment as he walked alongside you down the busy streets of Brooklyn. You tried to lead him down less crowded alleys and avoid the cross-section of tourists taking photos in the street because you noticed the way he tugged at the bridge of his cap to pull over his eyes but it was near impossible. You must have mistaken his attempts at concealing his identity in a part of the city that knew him well for anxiety around the bustle of people.

It was sweet, he thought, that you were observant enough for things like that and tried to make it easier on him without saying a word. You’d give him silly excuses to travel down abandoned streets and act like it was you that wanted the space away from the crowd, but he knew you were doing it for him.

You told him about the café you liked to visit with the family you’d grown to know well over the years and the bagel joint a few blocks away that Bucky spent many years grabbing breakfast at as a teenager. You talked like you knew the owners, spent time with them and caught up on their weeks when you waited for your orders, and somehow that didn’t surprise Bucky at all.

He felt an ease by your side he’d never felt in all his years in undercover work. He was used to be on edge, to watching his every move and purposefully concealing parts of himself to create firm boundaries between his cover and himself.

But not with you.

The rare moments he spent alone with you were the only times he felt like Bucky Barnes, even under the guise of James Karpov.

But he still had a job to do.

You were smiling, telling him about a pain-in-your-ass student from your time teaching at Columbia and he could tell how much you missed it. There was a brightness in your eye, a flicker of nostalgia, of loss, and he hunched his shoulders against the cold with a steady breath.

“Why’d you quit?” he asked when you’d finished your story. Your smile fell away quickly and he nearly regretted asking. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean, it sounds like you really loved what you did. With all the books you collect and all, figured you’d quite enjoy an outlet with people who are as obsessed with fiction as you are.”

That got a slight laugh out of you, but it was tense. Your eyes were on the sidewalk, jaw clenched.

“Oh, I… um…” you were struggling to come up with an answer, one to bullshit to him. You weren’t ready to trust him and he should have known better than to ask so soon. “I stepped down when I got married. Brock has more than enough money. I don’t need to work anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to,” Bucky offered because part of him simply just wanted you to know that not every man would isolate you from the things you loved and demand you give your entire life to him. The other part, the one screaming in the back of his head, knew that validating you like this, giving you the support you so clearly craved, would only build on that trust; trust he would need to use you as an accessory to bring Hydra to ash.

He hated that part of him. He never used to.

You nodded, chewing on your lip. “Doesn’t mean I can.”

He changed the subject quickly after that.

He knew well enough that it wasn’t a good sign that he was putting your feelings over his commitment to the job. On any other assignment with any other target, he would have pressed harder, would have asked how you met Rumlow and why you married him at all if this was the life you’d end up in, but he bit his tongue.

You were talking about a local kid’s high school musical you wanted to attend and suddenly you were smiling again. The tension left Bucky’s chest and he felt at ease, pushing aside the nagging voicing in the back of his head, reminding him why he was stationed next to you in the first place.

It seemed to quiet down the longer he walked with you, the more he stole glances at your smile, the more his stomach seemed to twist to pleasant knots whenever you look at him.

***

“What do you think of this one?” you asked, pulling his attention back to the painting hanging above two teenage girls huddled around a single laptop, sharing a pair of headphones as they struggled to contain their laughter.

The painting you were looking at was filled with reds and oranges, yellows and dark blue, soft brush strokes in gentle waves across the frame; it looked like a sunset, warm and comforting. It was in stark contrast to the cold and isolating nature of the house and he supposed it was why you liked it.

“It’s nice,” he said. He wasn’t as attuned to the arts as you were, but he knew it was nicer than the one you were trying to replace. It was one that made you smile. That was enough, he thought.

“Think Brock will be mad if he finds out I’m replacing a $50,000 painting with one done by...” you squinted your eyes, leaning in closer to read the tag, “a lovely young art major named Wanda at NYU?”

“Not if he never notices it.” He winked, nudging your arm.

You smiled, the lines of it wrinkling up by your eyes and Bucky had a hard time tearing his gaze away from you as you politely waved over the owner and pointed to the painting on the wall.

Bucky leaned against the counter, watching from a distance as you conversed with the owner for a few minutes, and after a while, he gasped, staring at you with wide eyes. You must have told him how much you were willing to pay for the piece.

Steve and Sam were going to rip him a new one at the next meet up, he was sure of it. There was no way they didn’t catch on to how easily he retreated back to Bucky Barnes, highly capable FBI special agent and nervous wreck amongst pretty women, from James Karpov, enforcer to the world’s deadliest mafia.

You turned back to him, raising a thumbs up with the biggest smile on your face he’d ever seen as the owner moved to take down the painting. You were practically giddy with joy and he found himself smiling until his cheeks hurt, even long after you turned away to start writing the check.

He was such a goner.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot

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ready-to-obeyme · 4 years ago

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[OM!] Demon Brothers + Hobbies 🏊

Lucifer

what free time

when he does somehow peel himself off of work, he enjoys ballroom dancing

i can just imagine him putting on a vinyl song, holding up his arms and doing the steps to the dance (1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3) and god forbid someone tries to come in during this time because he’d be too embarrassed to be lenient on their punishment

i imagine he’s super into learning other couple dances too like tango and salsa, so when you get together with him count on being his partner!

i bet he also loves teaching other people things-- like genuinely, considering he is the oldest of the seven (his brothers just test him LOL)

incredibly patient when showing you the steps, taking pride in your improvement and growing warm at the thought of you being able to dance with him at the next chance you get

and his weakness???? online shopping on akuzon

which, when you find out, makes him extremely embarrassed and depending on whether you have the same past time-- you may or may not buy everything on akuzon

on his home screen interaction dialogue, he says something along the lines of “Akuzon is too convenient... it’s easy to buy a lot of things” while blushing

so I’m thinking sometimes when he does take a breather from his workload, he scrolls on akuzon just browsing for things because it’s quick

and ends up putting like 5 things into the cart that he doesn’t really need

doesn’t always follow through and buy everything, but he definitely has moments where he impulse buys and it’s gone to bite him in the butt when packages arrive in droves and his brothers are like ??? why are there so many things

Mammon

loves music-- both listening and making it!

likes making his own mixtapes and playlists

and when he gets to share it with you, he’s so nervous; but the giddy happiness he feels when you tell him that it’s good is SO worth the wait and time he puts into his music

he’d be happy just having his mixtapes and music to himself but being able to share it with someone makes it a lot sweeter

definitely makes playlists for and about you because sometimes the feelings he can’t put into words he can tell you through music

idk if he has a recording studio in his room, but i think it’d be pretty fitting if there was

probably gets into composing his music, rapping mayhaps??

at some point likes to DJ as well, though he’s not too good as it rn, but he definitely loooooves playing with the sound effects and tracks

all of these things are him being able to express himself-- put a twist on something that already exists or creating something on his own

it gives him a sense of freedom: to express himself and to do whatever he wants as he pleases

pretty well-rounded when it comes to playing instruments

when he puts his mind to it, he can probably learn anything

most likely already knows how to play the guitar and the drums

has a pretty good voice too tbh

Leviathan

swimming!!

he may be a shut-in, but ya boy has ocean decor, can control sea creatures, so it’s only natural he can swim and swim well

doesn’t do it as often since he prefers watching anime/playing games loads more, but he it’s definitely something he enjoys since it feels like his natural place to be

considering his dream is to be a professional gamer, it’s not far off to say that he finds it his hobby to start off small and be a youtuber, probably posting reviews of games he’s played or even writing out walk-throughs online

actually loves going to concerts and cons

if he was a fan of hatsune miku you BET he’d want to go to her first live concert with her life-sized hologram, waving the glowsticks in unison with the crowd

would definitely go all four days of Anime Expo where he would be SO happy surrounded by people who can love the same things he does with the same passion

loves creating cosplay to go to these cons by hand; impeccable detail and intense dedication into the craft that shows his love for whatever he’s making

kinda shy about wearing it, but if you’re down to wear any of his costumes, he’d absolutely die happy

it’s just too much love for him to handle in one sitting

and ofc, hobbies include board games, games, DND, all those!!

Satan

asides from reading, loves traveling when he can whenever he can

he invites you out to places because he enjoys discovering new things and experiencing new things and traveling is the perfect way to do all of that all the time

he’d enjoy hiking too-- on trails, through the wilderness, among the wild; just give him a backpack, an explorers hat, maybe a walking stick (just like the ones in the movies) and he’s on his way!

loves going hiking with you because he likes the way your face lights up at new scenery or the wonders of the world

likes that he can share this enjoyment and excitement of discovery with you because it feels like he’s sharing a little bit of himself too

indoor activity is snuggling in the covers and having movie marathons! and now that he has you and all your movies on DVD (lol) he can now enjoy so much more things

and when he finds out about Netflix, he is NOT sleeping for DAYS

“Satan... did you sleep last night?”

“couldn’t. the new season of How to Get Away with Murder came out.”

SLAM POETRY

doesn’t think he’s very good, but definitely likes writing down in his journal and even some scattered words that form a bit of poetry sometimes

really really shy about sharing it, but if you coax him a little, he’d be willing to show you (though you’ll have a hard time convincing him to show you poetry he wrote about you)

people have said, and I agree, cat cafe is definitely something he’d seek out and enjoy; literal dream come true

a house of cats that lucifer can’t ban him from LMAO

Asmodeus

has a very creative mind and deft hands meant for craft (among other things ahem)

as a fashionable person and a trendsetter, he’d love making his own jewelry and clothes, picking out the beads and metalware for the earrings or bracelets and feeling out the cloth and stitches for his outfits

if levi IS into making cosplay, it’d be such a nice way for them to bond together since Levi is pretty good with picking out material too

i like to imagine he enjoys making jewelry for his brothers too:

a stud earring for mammon, maybe convincing him to explore other options and wear other jewelry too

giving his brothers the options of clip on earrings if they wanted to try something temporary, gives satan a golden bracelet, lucifer a silver ring etc

suuuuuper supportive of you if you wanted any type of piercings and would absolutely love it if you wore his jewelry

god he would bedazzle you in all his jewelry and clothes if he could

another hobby is doing yoga!!

good for the body and soul uwu

definitely gives a good reason for any of his flexibility, or maybe it’s because he’s naturally flexible that yoga is calming for him

also loves to invite you to do yoga with him

you’d definitely get a bit steamy doing certain positions with him, but MOST of the time, he does encourage you to stretch, relax, and strengthen your body

Beelzebub

so athletic he could probably play every sport

i agree with the masses: he’d DEFINITELY be good at hockey

basketball too (just imagine Kagami from Kuroko no Basuke)

you know what they say about big hands

big, strong hands, good for crafting that involves a little more strength, but considering he’s a pretty tender and patient guy, is great at sculpting with clay, which extends to pottery as well

just imagine him sitting near a kiln, spinning the clay and using his hands to shape the curve and notches of a pot

considering how many plates and bowls he’s probably eaten, it makes for a good way to replace them HAHA

good at crafting with glass too considering it requires steady hands and strength to spin glass evenly

enjoys a lot of arts and crafts and loves giving them as gifts, especially if they’re made from his own hands

one of the main reasons why he started and likes doing these as a hobby actually

adores the look on you face when you created a glass terrarium for your plants or created glass ornaments dyed with your favorite colors

would definitely be the type of person to put his hands on yours as he teaches you how to shape the clay and have plenty of fun with you watching you try to make glass ornaments with or without success

Belphegor

during his waking hours, he loves to study the stars

loved to watch them in the human world, but without a night sky, he’s content with looking up for constellations in books from the library

if you buy him the cute lamp that lights stars onto the ceiling, he’ll find you so endearing because he’d enjoy lying in bed with you and just looking up at the lights and being in each other’s arms-- imagining the day he gets to do this with you for real, on a picnic blanket, looking up at the moon and stars

i imagine he’d like to doodle too

i say MAINLY doodles because they’re easier like drawing chibis or whatever thinks is amusing and lowkey keeps him awake (though Lucifer doesn’t like it when he draws on the desks)

does sometimes go all out and draw amazingly well, whenever the mood strikes him

when you ask him, he jokingly says you’re his muse; but honestly wouldn’t put it past him to have drawn a portrait of you, awake or asleep, at some point

surprisingly good at sewing-- or at the very least mending rips and tears

i feel like beel has a lot of ripped shirts (...from being, yknow, ripped) so he’s gotten pretty good at simple stitches, which eventually evolved into something more

didn’t start off as a hobby but he did eventually find it soothing to sew and embroider

levi and asmodeus adore his skills and he grumbles, but doesn’t ever say ‘no’ to them when they ask for his help

#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #shall we date? obey me!

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia CH.6

You wake up sometime around one. Not too late in the day given your morning. With a decent amount of sleep under your belt you roll over and start striping your bed of its sheets. Then you make your way across your room, picking up stray clothes as you go to your hamper and dump your collection of dirty linens and clothes into it. You carry the hamper to the bathroom where you load half into the washer. There's no real point in separating the clothes from colored items and pastels or whites. You're only twenty-four and don't have your life totally figured out yet. You can be a little lazy with laundry.

Once your first load of laundry is being washed you go to do your weekly tidy of your home. The one good thing that came from the paranoia of your car's break in was you rearranged all the furniture of the home, thus cleaning as you went. So that means it's more of a quick wipe down of counters and sweeping today. Maybe you'd organize your art supplies while doing your laundry. It's an activity that wouldn't distract you too much and make you forget you had laundry in the wash.

You finish washing the dishes from this morning you begin wiping the counters and tabletop when you notice your fidget cube is still on the table where Toby left it earlier.

'Don't want to lose this. Back to the bookshelf where you belong.' When you get to the living room's bookshelf you notice one of your book's is missing. Ironically it's The Book Thief.

'Tobias probably picked it up and put it down somewhere.' you'd keep your eyes peeled for the book while you cleaned.

After wiping down bookshelves, tables, counters, even the mantel over the fire place you still hadn't found your missing book. You probably picked it right up and placed it right back down without even realizing. You'll just keep an eye out until you find it. You don't even reread books, you really just kept a copy to lend out to people when they ask what your favorite books are. It isn't a real big deal if you can't find it, plus there's bound to be a copy floating somewhere in a thrift shop or yard sale.

The washer chimes right as you grab the broom to sweep. Pausing this task to go retrieve your laundry and do the rest. You empty the dirty clothes left in the basket onto the floor and place the clean wet ones inside the basket. After starting the final load you carry the basket out back. As nice as this home is its still small and doesn't have a dryer, which early summer is fine but come fall and winter might be more cumbersome. Seeing as you have to hang the laundry out to dry outside. Maybe when it gets cold you'll just do smaller loads and hang them up in the bathroom or over the fire place. But that's a thought for future you. Right now current you is struggling yet again to get a fitted sheet to sit on the line. Fitted sheets are probably Satan himself in disguise.

When you finish stringing all the laundry up you take a moment to just enjoy the quiet and the peace that comes with the outside. It's nice out here, maybe after you finish the last few chores today you can come out and just draw, it'd be a good way to also keep an eye on this weather in case it turns. While it hasn't happened yet you're very aware of the risks you take by ignoring the existence of meteorologists. And by that you mean just not bothering to look up the weather for the day.

Heading back inside you restart your task of sweeping. Like you thought you've finished before the washer has even completed it's first cycle. The house isn't too big so it's easy to clean it from top to bottom within a day normally, but today you had even less to do thanks to this week's rearranging. So you move on to organizing your art supplies and separating all materials by medium.

Of course arranging materials is never easy, after all you end up staring at all your horded empty sketch books and note how your thumbnail notebooks are just covered in doodles and random scribbles but no real art or ideas. Maybe it's time to start kicking yourself into gear. You ran into a major period of burnout before moving and now with this fresh start you might be able to focus on progressing with art, even if you don't pursue it as a career. You've always loved the ability to draw and create images that make others happy. But right in this moment you just want to make yourself happy. Maybe you could start small just a few still lifes and see how you feel after that.

Hearing the chime of the washer you hurry to finish putting away the supplies in their newly assigned places. Just as before you transfer the wet and clean clothes into the awaiting basket and take them out to be hung to dry. You don't have another fitted sheet this go round so it goes by much faster than it previously had. Now with all of your washing for today hung you head back inside to grab a fresh sketchbook.

Having never been one for scenery, more of a portrait artist, you start off with small things. A few stills of a flower under the window, the old tire swing on the tree, and even the blue jay that dove for dinner right in front of you. Of course all of these were warm ups done in a few minutes, though you really wish you had more time on the blue jay one. You really need practice with things that aren't people.

The warm ups of course don't look very good, but you can still see what you'd been going for. The hatching and smudging you'd done, to increase depth and give the quick drawing more life, did help a little but it was clear this was an area where you weren't skilled. But that didn't deter you, after all you needed more practice and wouldn't be getting better without it.

Deciding to draw the scene before you, a small open meadow surrounded by trees, in other words your backyard with your drying laundry. You start off slow and make sure to actually look and take in the yard in front of you, doing your best to not just make up the trees and their shapes as you go. Soon you are lost in the meditative muscle memory of drawing. The scratching of pencil scrapping across paper further lulling you into a trance like state as you etch out the scenery.

A harsh breeze blows through and the loud flapping of sheet hitting sheet knocks you loose from your trance. Checking to make sure none of your laundry was flying off, it hadn't the laundry was still secured to the line. Smiling you glance down to actually see what you've sketched out so far. It isn't too bad, though you aren't sure how long you've been working on it, the trees all have a distinct shape rather than your typical cartoon one size fits all attempts. Scanning the page your eyes catch onto something off, out in the tree line it looks like you'd drawn a figure hiding behind a tree.

Hearing the beating of your heart that's currently hammering against your chest you look around. Did your mind do that as a joke or had someone genuinely been watching you draw? Your mouth is dry as your eyes scan the tree line for any sign of what could've been mistaken for a person, but you saw nothing. No one was there. Had anyone ever really been there? Why would you draw that? Why wouldn't you remember doing it? You don't feel safe out here anymore. There are eyes watching you you can feel it. They may not physically be there but the phantom eyes that surround you and cause your skin to crawl make sure you know of their presence. You take that as a sign to head inside for the evening, one that doesn't need to be repeated.

You lock the door immediately behind you and check your phone. It's seven, and you have an email notification. Thanking whatever power for the distraction you slide down your back door and open the notification. It's from Hollis!

YN r u coming to SND? It's that teen beach zombie movie u love. Y;know the awful D list one Blk and wht with the 50yos playing teenagers

Lemme know I'll save your seat.

Sent 6:47 P.M.

They're so sweet to remember you loved this awful D list zombie movie. Horrible subplots and main plot and all. But you're a little spooked right now and watching even that joke of a horror movie is probably too much for you. You doubt you'd feel better by the time ten rolls around to watch it. Not to mention your battery's still drained from Toby this morning. And knowing for a fact you'd probably stay late to talk till morning with Hollis, Jake, and Kirby you decide it's best to skip this week. Just not having the energy to handle Saturday Night Dead.

Nah, sorry man. Battery's dead from being social earlier. Thanks tho, I do appreciate you! ….....,.... lemme know what next week's movie is!

Sent 7:10 P.M.

It'd probably be a good time to make something for dinner, there's a box of mac n cheese in the pantry. Simple but always beloved. As you wait for Hollis to respond you start on boiling water. But you didn't have to wait too long since they'd answered near instantly.

Chill, don worry we'll catch ya next week

…..oooop

ot not...Kirb's said it's the start of watching the entire warren file collection

starting from the beginning

...well the first movie released, Insidious. LOL we probs won't ever see you again.

Sent 7:12 P.M.

How dare Kirby betray you like this. First off those movies are awful, and like not cheesy awful just awful awful. Not to mention he knows how you feel about the Warrens and their cases. You have a power point presentation ready for that dick the next time you see him. ...well not literally but you'd make one to prove a point!

Where's Kirby now? I just wanna talk, I just wanna talk is all.

Sent 7:18 P.M.

Already ran off toy vermont probably

will we get blessed with a ted talk nxt week?

Sent 7:20 P.M.

I can't tell if you're joking or not. If you aren't then yea I can make a power point and we'll play that instead of the movies. Every week until this town understands the severity of this.

Sent 7:21 P.M.

Ya just jkin.

Your passionate hate is funny tho, so could be good to do something mid warren marathon.

Sent 7:23 P.M.

Guess the dissertation on how horrendous the “exorcisms” were will have to wait. They'd just been joking. This is probably a good ending of the conversation anyway, it's hard to tell sometimes but you feel you'll just run in circles with the current topic or worse fall into a rant that they won't read all the way through because they'll have left with the rest of the stunt gang to get dinner before heading over to the Cryptonomica for Saturday Night Dead. Hollis is typically a real good sport about this kinda thing but you'd rather not bog down their night with your hate boner for the Warrens.

'I'll let them know later that I'll still come to Saturday Night Dead next week.' you think as you dump the pasta into the water that finally came to a boil. It's quiet as you cook your macaroni dinner. You'd normally not notice the lack of sound or life in your home before, but maybe having Connor and Toby over put things into perspective. Guests aren't really a thing you've ever had, you always feel rude if your social battery runs out before someone's stay is over. But maybe you're lonely, and it's put you on edge.

Though this week would've put anyone on edge, you have still been alone in this house for two months. That can't be healthy for your mental well being, humans are social creatures by nature after all. Maybe you could get a pet, something that'd make it's fair share of noise and give the home a bit more life than your normally hollow shell wondering the halls. Are you even sure you want a pet? Do you have time for one? You have the standard nine to five, but what about when you're off on a nightly trip because of your sleeplessness? What if you forgot about them? Hell your brain's been so foggy these last few months, it wouldn't be surprising.

Like a sign from the divine themselves, the pot of water boils over. Steam is rising as the sizzling is heard. Your head snaps twice to the right as you scramble to lower the heat and raise the pot off the eye. Putting it down on an unused eye you give it a quick stir and thankfully no pasta got burned to the bottom of the pan....this time. The pasta seems a little crunchy but a texture you'll eat so you kill the hot eye and start on the cheese portion of your mac n cheese.

As you eat you continue your original debate about getting a pet. Ultimately deciding that you just aren't ready for that kind of responsibility right now. Sure you'd had tons of pets in your parents' home but that was with a financial safety net and back when your mental health wasn't all over the place. Not to mention the pets were family pets and responsibility was split three ways.

There isn't much room in your home for you to have a roommate, and that presents a whole nother set of challenges. You could try to make friends through online forums again! It's hard to talk to people in general but you always get scared off before replying to a comment or post. Or overshare to the point people infantize you. Even better trying therapy out could help with your loneliness. Hah ok good one, even if you had money for it consistently you don't think you could trust someone knowing all your secrets but not knowing any of theirs. And while that in and of it self is an example of why you need it, you're rational enough to realize you aren't ready for that either.

After finishing your meal you put away the left overs and clean the dishes. You'll be happier tomorrow knowing they aren't your problem to deal with. You start to make your way to your bedroom but freeze just before the hall.

'You shouldn't stay here...you need to leave.'

A glance at the time tells you it's eight thirty-nine, if you left right now you could make it to Saturday Night Dead with time to spare. You don't need to fill the loneliness with new friends, just spend time with the ones you already have. Duh. Turning you grab your keys off the bookshelf and take one of the masks hanging from a hook by the door.

Checking your door was locked and locking your car once you were in, you're ready to drive. Knowing you're still overstimulated you forgo the music on this drive, hoping it will calm you down enough to enjoy the movie and some down time with friends. And that would help put a pin in your self isolating habits. It'd really be nice if you brought movie snacks over to surprise the gang. You're pretty sure the mini mart carries everything you need. Jake likes swedish fish, Hollis is addicted to those extreme sour airhead ropes, and Kirby's a weirdo with his love of red vines and surge. Hahaha that man will die before he's thirty-eight.

Still having the extra time you deiced to stop by the mini mart and grab the candy. What's the worse that can happen you have another panic attack in front of strangers. Plus you hadn't seen Magnolia the last few times and you'd hate for her to think you'd been ignoring her. Pulling into the empty mini mart parking lot you take a breath to steel your resolve before leaving your car.

Tim looks at the door when he hears the chime and stiffens when he sees you. Fuck you did have a panic attack in front of this guy last night, plus you really haven't formally met. But didn't Toby say his roommate was named Tim? And he and Brian were both here talking with Tim last night before you came in. That can't be coincidence.

“uh...hi?” you say awkwardly standing in the doorway, door closed behind you.

“um, hi?” perfect he's just as awkward in this situation as you are. You can work with this.

Moving through the first two isles you keep your eyes peeled for Magnolia, even though you can make this an in and out trip for candy, you do miss the little bodega cat.

“Wh- hey are you, are you even ok to be here?” Tim calls as he rounds the counter and makes his way to you.

“Huh? Oh...oh yea. I'm chill now.” you hear the bell before you see her. The little ting tin ting of her bell that comes with the grace only fluffy cats have.

“You literally collapsed on the floor last night after blacking out while driving.” his tone is very stern. He and Nate would probably get on like a house on fire. The grumpy old men who secretly care a lot duo.

“I don't remember collapsing...but I know I didn't drive.” well you don't know that but you do firmly believe that.

The man is just turning into the isle when you spot the floof sauntering just behind him. Magnolia didn't spare either of you a glance as she made her way to the counter. Probably going to her bed, an old shipping box for apples, you'd just meet her over there then. With no warning to the man you squeeze past him and and follow the cat. Agitated footsteps following after you in your quest to pet the cat.

Magnolia perks up upon seeing you, the flicking of her tail letting you know she's anticipating her pets. The huffing Tim hovering behind you isn't as pleased with your actions as the cat is. The man is radiating negativity, annoyance maybe or is it concern that breeds frustrated anger? The second he starts to clear his throat, as if to remind you of his hovering, you roll your eyes.

Looking back at him over your shoulder you see him in all his grumpy man glory. His brow was furrowed so hard his thick eyebrows nearly covered his eyes. But with the way his lips emoted the man before you looked more like a pouting muppet. It would be funny if it weren't for the foreboding feeling of the moments before being reprimanded by a teacher.

When you straighten up you take note that your eyes meet perfectly. He's the same height as you that's surprising, you thought he'd be taller than 5'7. His eyes widen slightly at seeing your full height, it must've thrown him off since the first time he saw you, you'd actively been trying, and had succeeded at looking smaller.

“What are you doing here?” well he doesn't get thrown off for long.

Running a hand through Magnolia's fur a few more times as you respond, “Petting Magnolia.” you really are a little shit sometimes.

“No...no, why are you out? Toby had to take you home last night, you shouldn't just be waltzing around town after that.” maybe it was frustrated concern.

“Oh I'm fine now.”

Magnolia at this point has jumped up on the counter and is headbutting you for more attention. Chuckling you turn your attention back to her. Meanwhile Tim behind you is at a loss for words.

“Fine?? You don't just...bounce back from a panic attack.”there's personal experience behind those words.

“I just rationalize things fast.” Hearing the trill of the clock on the wall reminds you that you need to grab those snacks and head over to the Cryptonomica for movie night.

Going to the candy isle you grab one of each of the gang's favorites, you snag a bag of white cheddar popcorn on the way to the counter and place your items there. Tim doesn't get a word out before you rush off to the cooler near the back that is in all honesty pretty sketch. Like who even makes Fruitopia anymore? That stuff got discontinued in the early 2000s. The cooler even has Hi-C Ecto Coolers...you might actually check if they're in date and grab a few.

Rummaging around the cooler you finally spot the weird tech green and black splattered can proudly stating SURGE. It has no date...questionable at best. But hey it's only Kirby drinking it, and it's been well established that man will die well before middle age. Grabbing a can to check the Ecto Coolers, luck is on your side! These cans are from the re-release that happened as a promotion for the Ghostbusters revival a few years back, they'll be good for another two years! For now you'll just take one so you won't have to worry about lugging cans around for the movie.

Once your new items are placed on the counter the expression on Tim's face cannot even be described. The questions of the surge are probably the ones easiest to read...or they're just the most predictable.

“Kirby likes red vines and surge, sickening right?” Maybe a little joke will break the ice.

“...Like that little round pink...thing?” What?

The laughter is coming out before you can stop it, the image of said pink Kirby consuming red vines and surge only to accessorize as your friend comes to mind. It's adorable and cursed at the same time. Adorably cursed. You'll have to draw that and print a few copies to hang around the Cryptonomica.

“No,” you're choking on giggles at this point, “Kirby, the owner of the Cryptonomica.” catching your breath and regaining your composure, “It's that tourist trap just across from the RV park.”

“Oh.” normally such a short cold reply would make you shut down the conversation. But This is Toby's roommate, and if you want to be friends with Toby, you'll probably run into him a lot more. Plus if he's a new night shift cashier it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with him for when you're out on adventures.

“Yea, hey Toby mentioned you three just came to town, so you might not have known but the Cryptonomica does a weekly movie night on Saturdays. Saturday Night Dead. Normally it's awful old horror movies but next week they're starting a Warren Case files “arch”.” Tim doesn't take the conversation bait at the pause.

“It's a great way to meet other locals, you guys should check it out if you get the chance. It starts at ten and runs till one or so on most weeks.” Olive branch has been extended.

Tim relaxes for the first time since you got here tonight. The sheepish look on his face and twitchy pupils give the impression he's thinking it over. He sighs and nods before saying, “Yea, that sounds...nice.”

Olive branch skeptically taken! You'll count this one as a win in your book. With the mood lightened Tim breaks the ice a bit further.

“Surge and red vines can not be good for you.”

“Right! If living off mountain dew and pizza rolls doesn't kill him, this for sure will.” you both have a small laugh at that. It's nice to finally have cleared up the mix up from the beginning of the week. Which reminds you.

“Oh...um...I'm YN by the way. It's nice to meet you...sorry for the two,” your neck tics to the side, “previous nights.” you finish.

“Tim...and it,uh happens sometimes...'s fine.” Score awkward acknowledgment of previous meetings and you can now erase those from your nightly anxieties.

Tim finishes ringing and bagging your items and you pay. Giving another pet to the curled up kitty on the counter you nod farewell to Tim.

A trill rings out from the clock on the wall. It's ten.

Two heads snap to look at the wall. You take a second glance at your phone while Tim checks his watch. Both say the clock on the wall is correct. But it just turned nine not even ten minutes ago. Right? You can brush off yourself loosing track of time but when you involve another person that just doesn't make sense. Tim looks just as concerned as you. Only Magnolia lays unaffected by the lost fifty minutes.

“I should go.” Tim nods numbly to you as you exit the store.

You won't be able to make it to the movie, well you could but you'd disturb someone if you walked in mid movie. Choosing to go home instead you drive, once again without music. Entering your home you hang your mask back on the hook. Putting away the drinks and snacks for next weekend, you make your way to your bedroom. Once again freezing just before the hallway. Turning to your living room you can see a book in the middle of your coffee table. You definitely don't remember the book being there, and doubt you'd miss it out in the open. But as you got closer you could confirm, even in the dark, that it was The Book Thief.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #reader insert #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #creepypasta fanfic #A cure for insomnia

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kookoosbunnynose · 5 years ago

Text

Ch.1 || Ch.2

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

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“I was talking to y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship.

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.”

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles.

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table.

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?”

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!”

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple?

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go.

---

“I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class.

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class.

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use.

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home.

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name.

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic.

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.”

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out.

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels.

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.”

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries.

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.”

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?”

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?”

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought.

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.”

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect.

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up.

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends.

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall.

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead.

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.”

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch.

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye.

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.”

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.”

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send.

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (:

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great.

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will.

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall.

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob.

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen.

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so.

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little.

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne.

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute.

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair.

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows.

“Point taken.”

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis.

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?”

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.”

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant.

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’

But much to your surprise.

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.”

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable.

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you.

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself.

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him.

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey.

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp.

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer.

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot.

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice.

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started.

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky.

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him.

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust.

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket.

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness.

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow.

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced.

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.”

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil.

“Can I steal a soda?”

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you.

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink.

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot.

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!”

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best.

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone.

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you.

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?”

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas.

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute.

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art.

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you.

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you.

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile.

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch.

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body.

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth.

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature.

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made.

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs.

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him.

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed.

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question.

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock.

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between.

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away.

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely.

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again.

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock.

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land.

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement.

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin.

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay.

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again.

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you.

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about.

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence.

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him.

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants.

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you.

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint.

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed.

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part.

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle.

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water.

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him.

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him.

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does.

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you.

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first.

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck.

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis.

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst.

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax.

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin.

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture.

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time.

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes.

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile.

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that.

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?”

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it.

You pull your shirt over your head.

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks.

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

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

Taglist: @taezeus @spoopysoph @gucci-prince-tae @jiminiesthiccthighs @veryuniquenamegoeshere @hermiones-enchantment @irissilujm @flo-music @scalbra @sugarrimajins @embrace-themagic @megsmiiiii @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @livorna

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aquagirl1978 · 4 years ago

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Today @violettduchess gave me the most wonderful gift - she wrote me Sevastian fic (with a bit of Geralt tossed in there for good humor). I was in tears - it was so sweet and funny and just a really great story. I loved it so much she gave me permission to share this here.

EDIT - I loved it so much I made this quick doodle to go along with this special story (scroll to the end of the story to see the image)

Inside the snow-kissed cabin, Sevastian leaned back, savoring the feel of the soft linen bedsheets against his skin. He was nude, of course, and he wore his nudity the same way he wore the silken garments of the Prince Consort: easily, effortlessly.

Outside the snow lazily made its way down, circling this way and that, dusting the tree branches and foliage with frosty kisses before eventually finding a final resting place to settle, adding to the blanket of white that was steadily growing thicker.

His pale eyes were trained on his wife as she knelt by the stove, poking at the fire. He admired the way her loose mane of auburn hair drank in the light, as if it too wanted to be as close to her as possible. With a practiced hand, she shoved the iron poker into the softly glowing pieces of wood, the remnants of the logs he had carried in earlier that evening.

“You’re staring“, she said, without turning around, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

“Can you blame me?“, he answered, his lips tilting up in a grin. “Not many in the Kingdom are treated to a glimpse of their Queen like this.“

She leaned back, satisfied with her work before closing the oven door and setting the poker back into its iron-wrought holder. Turning, he was met with the familiar smile he cherished above all other things.

“Their Queen stoking a fire?“ She made her way back toward the bed, matching the grin on his face with one of her own. She perched on its edge, her gaze warming him more than the glowing embers as it ran over the length of him.

“Their Queen”, he said as he pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching out to touch the soft ends of her hair, “disheveled”, his hand skimmed its way up her arm to her shoulder, “and love-bruised from her husband’s adorations.” His fingers, cool and gentle, traced over the love-bites above her collarbone. She laughed, his favorite sound, catching his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers as they curled around hers.

“You have been a most attentive subject”, she said, her voice laced through with affection. “This respite from royal duty was certainly one of your better ideas.”

He smiled, soft and certain as he reached for her, tugging her toward him as he fell back. “Then come here and continue to thank me for my cleverness”. His hands were already pushing the soft, sage green dressing gown off of her shoulders as she braced herself above him, her red hair falling over them, curtaining their faces as she kissed him. He was struck by the feeling of

how familiar her kiss was and yet how a kiss from her always felt like the gateway to something new, how it never failed to breathe life to the spark inside him that burned only for her.

“My Queen is stoking something else”, he breathed, his whole body alight as she pressed kisses to the pale skin of his neck, his own hands moving over her as if they had a life of their own, desperately trying to touch her anywhere and everywhere at once.

He nearly had her out of that blasted, heavy robe when a loud knocking cut through the sounds of their whispered sighs. Their eyes met. Only a select few knew they were here and they had been told only to disturb them if things were truly dire.

She pushed away from him, off the bed and the cold in her wake felt like it was seeping into his very bones. With a soft curse on his lips, he swung his long legs over the side and made quick work of pulling on his leather pants and white tunic. His wife was belting her robe tightly about her waist. She started for the door but he moved faster, stepping in front of her.

“Allow me”, he said softly. Her eyes dropped to his hand where he was already grasping the hilt of one of his silver daggers. Only the thin press of her lips together showed her annoyance at not being allowed to answer but she was a Queen, she belonged to the realm as well as him. However the loss of certain

freedoms still vexed her.

Sevastian opened the door and his silver eyes traveled up until they met gold. Specifically a tall, broad-shouldered man with eyes the color of the gilding on the throne. His white hair camouflaged the snow, but more of it had settled on his black cloak. The wind whipped around him as he took a moment to size the prince up. His gaze lingered a moment on the dagger held so casually in Sevastian’s hand.

“Good evening. I’m sorry to bother you but the lights from your cabin were visible through the trees. I was hoping you might have a place for a traveler where I could wait out the worst of this snowfall.”

Sevastian kept his expression schooled as he looked over the stranger. He was a fighter, that much was clear. Even the dim light from inside the cabin, struggling to illuminate the stranger in the grey, snow-filled gloom, couldn’t hide the way he held himself, the square of his shoulders, the cautious way his golden eyes were taking in what he could see of the cabin’s interior,

assessing.

“Ah fuck”, the man muttered. “You’re here with your partner. I’m sorry. I’ll go and—”

“Nonsense”.

Sevastian fought back the cringe that threatened to break his cool expression as his wife walked over, pulling the door open wider and motioning for the man to come in. “It’s cold out there and you need shelter. We’re happy to accommodate you.”

The big man glanced at Sevastian who merely stepped aside, though his hand was still gripping his dagger, tension running through him like currents of water.

She was already pulling out a chair at their small dining table, setting down a wooden bowl and spoon.

There goes the remainder of their rabbit stew, he thought with irritation. The man had removed his cloak, revealing two swords strapped to his broad back. As if sensing Sevastian’s gaze, he reached back, removing them as well and leaned them against the wooden wall.

“Thank you”, he said, his voice deep and, admittedly pleasant to listen to. He wondered if the man would recognize the Queen or even himself, but his face remained unaware, relaxed even as she spooned some of the warm stew into the bowl.

“Thank you?”, he turned, looking from her to him, searching for ways to address them.

“Sev. And this is my wife. Bunny.” No need to give her real name. No one should know the ruler of the kingdom was esconded away in a secluded cabin in the wilds.

She shot him a Look, her eyes widening ever so slightly, enough for him, who knew her face as well as any astronomer knows the stars, to see her surprise. The corner of his mouth tilted ever so slightly up.

“I am”, the man spoke in-between hearty spoonfuls of stew, “Geralt. Of Rivia.” He paused. “I’m….uh….a bard.”

Her eyebrows shot up and he knew his own face matched hers. The name of the land was unfamiliar to them both. And no bard he knew travelled so well armed. Sevastian slowly moved away from the wall, setting his dagger down on the table where it could be seen. A silent reminder. A warning.

“I have not heard of Rivia.”

Geralt swallowed, the muscles of his neck looking to be as strong as the corded forearms that were resting on the table.

“I….do not doubt it. Let’s just put it this way. Don’t piss off a sorceress.”

His wife settled herself into the chair beside him, amused. Sevastian could see she was burning to ask the stranger more but the tone of his voice was a portcullis, clearly not welcoming any inquistions. He lowered himself into a chair next to hers.

Once his bowl was empty, the tension in Geralt’s body began to slowly unspool itself as he looked around the small cabin, his strange, golden eyes curious.

“You a woodsman?”

Sevastian bit back a snort just as his wife kicked him not so delicately under the table.

“Of sorts”, he managed, biting back a grin.

Geralt’s gaze landed on the dagger, still lying openly on the table. “That’s fine craftsmanship for a woodsman’s blade.”

His eyes met Sevastian’s again, gold on silver. Neither one completely trusted the other.

As always, she knew what to do. Clearing away his bowl, she gestured to the two massive swords leaning against the wall. “Your blades are equally impressive, sir…..for a bard.”

He grunted, looking back towards Sevastian. The Winter Prince was watching him closely, still seated. His posture looked relaxed, almost lazy, but underneath tension coiled through him, ready to move the minute he sensed danger. Geralt stood up slowly, stepping away from the

table. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

Sevastian stood slowly as he walked to the door, watched as Geralt slipped his swords back into their scabbards strapped on his back. His wife came over as well, holding something small, wrapped in a piece of linen.

“Some bread and dried meat for your journey. May you find your way home, Geralt of Rivia. “

Geralt took the bundle gratefully. “Thank you Bunny.” His tone was serious, sincere. Sevastian hid his grin behind his hand, biting down hard on his lower lip.

With one strong push, Geralt opened the cabin door. The snowfall had ceased and the world was enwrapped in soft white snow and darkness. The light of the full moon found its way through the trees, the snow glittering wherever it touched.

The stranger pulled his black hood over his own white hair, the snow clinging to his boots as he made his way through the trees, walking away until he was eventually swallowed by the darkness.

Heading back inside, Sevastian met her gaze.

“I sensed no danger, despite his blades.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “Neither did I. He truly seemed….lost.”

Sevastian glowered for a moment as he looked over at the empty pot. “He did however finish what was to be my next helping of dinner.”

She scoffed, pushing the chairs back into the table. “We can catch another rabbit in the morning and make more. Or maybe visit Rosie and dine there –“ She trailed off as her husband slowly made his way towards her, gleam in his eyes, his hands settling on her hips, enjoying their softness.

“Yes?”, she asked, unable to keep from smiling.

“If I cannot have rabbit stew”, he said, his voice low and teasing, full of promise, “then perhaps I shall dine on some other Bunny.”

Her laughter filled the cabin, warmer than any fire, as he swept her off her feet and carried her the short distance to the bed, playfully nipping at her neck with every step.

“Sevastian!”

#lovestruck #fanfiction #reigning passions #sevastian of the winter #fanart

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jamiebluewind · 5 years ago

Text

A Flame In The Dark: Chapter 2

Fandom: Dimension 20, Fantasy High

Word Count: 3575

Perspective: Riz

Chapter 1 (sorry it wont format!): https://jamiebluewind.tumblr.com/post/189152152044/a-flame-in-the-dark-chapter-1

Notes: Hurt/Comfort. This chapter is much fluffier than the last, but still mind the tags! Special thanks to my beta readers @plutosfury and @winterpower98

Characters: Riz Gukgak, Fig Faeth, Adaine Abernant, Tracker O'Shaughnessey, Sandra Lynn Faeth, Cathilda Ceíli, Boggy the Froggy, and unnamed OC (implied Fabian, Kristen, Gorgug, and Ragh)

Chapter Warnings: cursing, violence mention, murder mention, abuse mention, healed injuries, child abuse mention, child neglect, recovering from starvation, dark themes, trauma, bugs as food (please message me if I missed any)

Summary: The group makes it back to camp, Riz still cradling their guest.

*****

Check out this awesome art inspired by Chapter 1!

https://jamiebluewind.tumblr.com/post/189168730249/winterpower98-drew-some-doodles-of-the-little

https://plutosfury.tumblr.com/post/189155204080/i-was-told-by-a-certain-someone-cough

*****

By the time they reached camp, Riz's arms were aching. He was never the strongest one in the group and the sleeping child in his arms had tested what little strength he did have. It wasn't a weight thing. She was actually very light (if he was honest, she probably weighed less than his briefcase). It was just a combination of things. Post battle fatigue. Hiking for a couple hours. Tired muscles holding something in an odd position. It was worth it though. She looked like she hadn't slept in a long time and needed a nap more than he needed arms that didn't hate him.

He had actually been planning on getting her some food out of his pack after she was healed. She would be hungry then and the food would be less likely to come back up. What he hadn't planned on was her dozing off in his arms. He wondered what had been going on in her little body that Fig's magic had targeted. Whatever it was, the relief she felt was enough to make her fall asleep so hard that she was dead to the world. It took both arms to carry her after that.

He shifted, leaning his body back so that more of her weight was on his chest, and held her awkwardly for a moment while he placed his now free hand on a nearby rock to help him sit down. Normally he would try to find something to sit on to keep from messing up his clothes, but he was tired and filthy and out of fucks. He let out a breath, his throbbing feet grateful for the relief. He shifted the child a bit to give his arms a break too. She didn't seem to mind... or even wiggle for that matter. Riz got a little chuckle out of it.

The others were off getting everything set up for the night. Tracker was preping the moon haven. The campfire crackled to life as they got out various supplies. Quiet chatter filled the air.

Adaine stood nearby, leaning against a tree. She was quiet, only occasionally adding to the chatter or shaking her head at their friends' antics. The spell she'd been working on for most of the hike was probably ready, but left uncast. Riz smiled. She was probably holding it until the child woke up. She had always been the braincell of the group. He wasn't sure why he was surprised.

Riz wasn't sure how long he had been lost in thought when the smell of food cooking hit him. He felt her twitch and looked down to see a little nose twitch, followed by sleepy eyes blinking open. There was a tiny jump as she took in her surroundings and her brain caught up with what was going on.

[Good morning], Riz said with a smile. She looked up at him with her eyes barely open and yawned. [You up for something to eat?]

Any hint that she was tired was gone in an instant. Her ears perked up and she looked at him with wide eyes. She looked so much like a puppy at meal time that Riz was surprised that she didn't start pawing at his shirt! [You can't have a lot at one time], he told her. Her brows lowered as she gave him an angry pout. [BUT, I'll make sure you get a lot of small meals to keep from overloading your stomach and you can have as much to drink as you want.] After a moment of deliberation, her faced relaxed. He supposed that was as close as he was gonna get to her agreeing with him.

Riz looked towards the campfire and the food cooking over it. It smelled good sure, but a little too heavy and vegetable filled for a goblin who's gone without food for a while. At least he knew how to get her what she needed.

"Hey Adaine," he called out. The elf looked away from the group and over towards Riz. "Could you come over here real quick?"

Adaine leaned up, wiping invisible dust off her legs before she made her way over towards the pair. She slowed as she approached, making eye contact with the child. Oops. He almost forgot. [This is 'Adaine'], Riz told the child. [I need her to come over here. Is that okay?]

The child looked at Adaine and then back at Riz. She watched Adaine as she carefully made her way over and sat down across from them. The child didn't seem to mind Adaine's presence. She looked more curious than anything. Riz wondered if it was a magical ability from Boggy or Adaine herself.

"I have a spell ready for her," Adaine said. She looked at the child as she spoke to Riz, her voice a steady calming tone. "I'll need to use it before I can do anything else. It will allow her to understand us, but only for an hour. I have to touch her for it to work."

Riz nodded and looked down. He rolled the words over in his brain, trying to figure out the best way to phrase it. ['Adaine' can... make you understand what everybody is saying for a little while if you let her touch you. It's kinda like what 'Fig' did, only 'Adaine' doesn't need music to make it work.]

The child was still a moment as she regarded Adaine. Then, she reached out a hand. Adaine slowly reached out, closing the distance. As she touched the small hand, her eyes shone with a blue light. It only lated a moment. The child examined her hand and looked back up at Adaine.

"Hello," Adaine said with a soft smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The child's eyes grew wide as she stared at Adaine. She blinked several times.

"My name is Adaine Abernant," she said to the child. Riz wanted to laugh at how formal she sounded. "I would like to be your friend, if you'll let me of course." The child only responded with more blinking.

"I want to try something," Adaine continued, "just to be sure that you can understand me. I don't want you to feel obligated to talk. You should feel comfortable around us. So all you have to do is nod," she said as she nodded, "or shake your head," she said, demonstrating. "A nod means yes. A head shake means no. Do you understand?" There was a pause followed by a single curt nod. There was a reason that Adaine was the braines of the party. "Fantastic," she said with a smile.

"Now," Adaine said, turning her attention towards Riz, "I understand that there was something you wanted to ask me?"

Riz had almost let it slip his mind. "We need to get some fluids in her," he said. "Some food too. Could you get her some of that electrolyte stuff for kids to start?"

Adaine nodded and reached in her pocket. She pulled out a plain water bottle filled with slightly thick liquid and handed it to the child. The child tilted her head and reached out, sticking her hand in Adaine's pocket only to jerk a bit and lean over farther, speading the pocket open to look inside. Adaine hid a laugh behind her hand.

"It's a magical jacket," Adaine told her. "I can pull things I want out of it... as long as they aren't too expensive." Adaine blinked and looked like she had an idea. "I'll pull out a few things for you if you let me get you cleaned up first."

The child considered for a moment and then nodded. Adaine cast prestidigatation. Riz was thankful that he was in range.

The child's hair seemed to expand as the weight of the mud was lifted. Her tangle of curls were redish-orange at the base, but transitioned into a pale orange at the end. It was like she was suddenly haloed by a mass of warm flame.

The color of her skin was also a surprise. Before, she had reminded him of a caramel latte, but underneath the dirt and grime was something closer to butterscotch. It was a warm yellow-orange that complemented her bright hair.

The child held up a hand to examine her clean skin. Riz cursed himself for being too perceptive. Without the dirt in the way, he could see scars litterered across her skin. Some were faded and small. Others looked like they must have been deep when they were fresh. He felt the rage trying to bubble up in him again as he silently wished that he had taken his time killing that bastard. Breathe in. And out. Just be grateful he's dead now. And in hell. Definitely in hell... where Bill Seacaster is. Huh. Maybe Fabian's dad would be willing to double murder him? The thought helped him relax a little.

"Much better," Adaine said with a nod. "I'll get you some better clothes after you've had something to eat. Oh Riz?" she asked.

"Hum?" Riz answered, still a bit lost in thought.

"What would be safe for her to eat?" Adaine asked. "I'm honestly unfamiliar with goblin dietary needs and you always seem willing to eat anything, so I'm at a bit of a loss."

Riz thought back to all the times he was sick as a kid. What food his mom would fix. What to avoid. "Probably meat with no salt and not a lot of fat," he said. "Chicken. Ham. That kind of thing. Maybe some rice... oh!" he said and then blushed. This was gonna be a little embarrassing to explain. "A lot of goblin moms make this dish when their kids get sick. It's... kinda like a rice ball?" He screwed his face. "No. Not exactly. But similar enough I guess. It is a ball of rice. Sometimes the rice is mixed with cricket flour, but not always. They also have this... bug filling. Like a puree of earthworms, crickets, meal worms... it's easy on our stomachs and has a lot of protein. Plants too, but they have already been broken down, so they wont bother us when we have a sick stomach. We... call them bug balls."

Riz stopped and looked up at Adaine. He expected to see her wrinkling her nose as most people do, but she looked more curious than anything. She thought for a moment before reaching her hand in her pocket and pulled out what looked to be three bug balls. She looked over at the child, about to say something when a little hand bolted out and grabbed one. It was gone in a flash. "I was going to say that maybe Riz should test these first," she said, covering up the remaining two to avoid them being snatched up as well, "but I guess you made that decision for me." She shook her head, unable to hide her smile. "Riz?" she asked, holding out one of the remaining balls, "Would you mind?"

Riz took the bug ball and bit down. It was hard not to inhale his food like he normally did, but he needed to make sure they were made right. "Not bad," he said as he ate the rest in a blink of an eye. "Maybe a little less salt? At least until she's feeling better." He looked down at the kid eyeing the remaining ball. "You can have the other one later," he told her. She pouted. "We gotta make sure your stomach handles the first one okay." He picked up the sports bottle and handed it to her, "For now, have some of this."

She looked at the bottle and tilted her head. Riz fought the urge to facepalm when he realized she wouldn't know what to do with it. "Like this," Riz said as he pulled a drink from the bottle and then handed it to her. She examined the bottle, took a drink,... and then made a terrible face, shaking her head at the bottle.

Adaine laughed. "I don't believe she's used to sweets," she said, pulling another water bottle out of her pocket. "This one," she said, pointing to the new bottle, "is just plain water. I'll refill it as much as you like, but I would also like you to finish the other bottle... if you can."

The child hesitantly took the new bottle and took a sip before nearly sucking it dry, squeezing the bottle to make the water come out faster. Adaine pulled a large container of water out of her pocket and refilled the bottle before handing it back to her.

"Could I share some tea with her later?" Adaine asked. Amber eyes looked at her, waiting on an explanation. "Oh! Hum..." she said, pausing to think. "Tea is like... well... you take hot water and mix special flowers or leaves with it to make it taste different." The child's brows furrowed at this. "It can also do stuff like... help you sleep or keep you awake. It depends on the flower or leaf." A nod followed.

"I don't see why not," Riz answered. "Just... maybe avoid the sugar."

A cheeky grin spread across Adaine's face. "I was planning on her actually drinking it, Riz," she said with a smirk.

The child handed Adaine the empty water bottle. She refilled it again and handed it back. The child put it back to her mouth and lazily sucked at the bottle, her desperation mostly gone.

Adaine looked at the child, studying something for a few moments before reaching into her coat. She pulled out a handfull of solid colored cloth and held it up for inspection. It was a simple sleeveless sundress. Instead of the fiery color Riz was expecting it to be, the dress was closer to a cornflower blue mixed with a splash of green. It looked soft, contrasting the rough burlap tunic she was currently wearing. The bottom hung losely, reminding Riz of a flower petal. There was a decent sized half moon pocket in the center of the chest, stitching dividing it into two smaller sections.

"Well?" Adaine asked, looking from the dress to the child. "What do you think?" Adaine was met with wide eyes and an enthusiastic nod. "Well then, let's get you out of those rags and into something fancy!"

The child stood up and took off her borrowed hat, placing it gently on Riz's lap. She grabbed the bottom of her tunic and Riz barely had time to look away before she pulled it off.

He realized then that the others had been watching the three of them as the group of teens made little sounds of surprise before turning their heads, save Fig who just said "huh." which he found a little weird. The adults mostly seemed to get a laugh out of it.

There was a beat of silence. "Oh..." Adaine said. "Hum, well. Oh Riz?" Adaine sounded nervous. "Do um... do goblins normally have tails?"

"Um... no?" Riz answered, a little confused. "I mean, it's a recessive trait. It CAN happen, but it's kinda rare. It's usually just a nub though. Why?" Riz asked. "Does she have one?"

"Yes..." Adaine answered, trailing off. "It's a very nice tail," she said sweetly, probably to the child. "Arms up please!"

"Dude," Fig said. She had moved closer and seemed to be staring at the child. "It aint a nub. It's long enough for her to wear it like a belt!" Riz's eyes went wide. I mean, sure it was possible. There were a few tribes scattered about that had them. He had just never seen one in person.

"Dude... you look so cool!" Fig said enthusiastically. "I hope if I ever grow a tail, it looks as cool as yours. You should leave it out. Show it off."

"Is it safe for me to look now?" Riz asked, still facing away.

"Oh!" Adaine answered. "Sorry Riz. Yes. You can look now."

Riz turned around and looked at the child. The dress fit her well, the bottom hanging lose and moving as she twisted softly side to side. Her hands were stuffed in pockets hidden in the folds of the dress, her shoulders hunched forward. The dress hung past her knees. A slinder tail hung down past the end of the dress, curling up to avoid the ground. The tail twitched slightly, maybe from anxiety over having it exposed, maybe just because of nerves in general. Riz tried not to imagine why she would feel the need to hide it under her clothes. He failed.

"You look great!" Riz said with a bit too much enthusiasm. "I like all the pockets. And it looks soft." She smiled just a crack and nodded as she continued to sway and watch the dress move.

"It cool," Fig said, tapping her chin, "but it could be cooler." She pulled out her bag and started digging for... something. Amber eyes watched her as she pulled out random jewelry, shaking her head and muttering to herself as she went. "Ah ha!" she said as she came up triumphant. She held up a necklace with a long dark chain. Hanging below it was an orange teardrop pendant, sparkling in the light. "Bought this back on Leviathan," she stated as she looked towards the child. "It was practically MADE for you. You want?"

The child paused before responding with an enthusiastic nod. Fig walked over and crouched down before handing over the necklace. The child held it up, examining the stone. Fig stayed crouched as she looked, waiting until amber eyes met hers. "You're supposed to wear it," Fig said pointing at the necklace. She was answered with a curious gaze as the child's head tilted to the side.

"Here," Fig said "I'll show you." She took the necklace from tiny hands and put it over the child's head. Despite the long chain, it couldn't get past her massive tangle of hair. It just sat there on top of her curls like a hair accessory. "Holy shit you have a lot of hair!" Fig said with a laugh. She reached out and tossled it a bit with her fingers. The child didn't seem to mind.

"Well," Fig said, patting her thigh, "that didn't work. Let me just..." Fig trailed off as she undid the clasp and put the chain around the child's neck before fastening it back together. "There we go!" she said, once again triumphant. "Looks great on ya kid."

Fig wasn't lying. The fiery stone suited her. She also seemed to love the way the light shined through it and the smooth texture.

While watching her, he caught Adaine fumbling for something out if the corner of his eye. He looked over just in time to see her pull out a large sunhat. "I noticed that the light seems to bother your eyes," she said. "Would this help?"

Tiny hands took the hat and examined it before nodding and placing it on her head. The hair inside the hat squished down to fit, making the hair outside the hat stick out. She adjusted the rim a bit and sighed happily. She nodded at Adaine again. Adaine smiled back.

"Would you like to meet Boggy?" Adaine asked. The child tilted her head. Adaine took out her frog and placed him in the child's lap. He let out a soft ribbit.

"No no no no no..." Riz yelped as he jumped up to place his hand between Boggy and the child's open mouth. "Boggy is not food," Riz clarified. He tried to ignore Adaine's eyes going wide over her pet nearly becoming someone's dinner. "He's a pet." She tilted her head. "Oh, um..." he took a moment to try and think of a way to explain. "A pet is... an animal that you... love? Love. Yeah. And um... they are like a friend. They help you out like... well Boggy helps Adaine not get upset and Baxter," he said, pointing to the griffin, "he can fly and stuff." God he was bad at this.

Somehow, she seemed to get the message. She put her hand on top of the frog. He croaked happily. She looked over at Riz and back at Boggy, the corners of her mouth tilted up slightly. She then started 'petting' the frog. At least, that's what Riz thought she was doing as she repeatedly slapped the frog's back. Boggy didn't seem to mind the rough treatment though, his body squishing and wiggling with the movement. Her eyes sparkled. A little sound escaped from her. It was rough and quiet, but it was without a doubt a giggle. Riz wondered if it was possible to die from cute.

The child stoped in the middle of a 'pet' and scrunched her face in concentration before going back to abusing Boggy. Sandra Lynn and Cathilda hummed in the background like they knew something the others didn't. "Did you remember to put her in pull ups?" Sandra Lynn asked.

"Um... no?" Adaine answered back, a bit confused. Riz however had already connected the dots.

"Well then," Cathilda said, "it's a good thing ya have prestidigatation dear because otherwise that would be a proper mess!"

They looked down at the muddy spot forming on the ground, quickly followed by a very distinct smell.

"Welcome to potty training kids!" Sandra Lynn yelled. She was enjoying this entirely too much.

*****

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idwalkthroughfireforharry · 5 years ago

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{Harry Styles} - What Makes You Beautiful - Blurb - Cartoonist!Y/n + Assistant!Harry

Hey guys! I am new to this whole thing and I hope you like this. I bet other people have done this but I am making Harry blurbs based on the 1d songs and I am trying to go in order. I feel like my writing is low key bad but lmao. Gotta plug my ig real quick --> follow @/harrywithhumans on ig!!! Also I might post these on wattpad too IDK. Anyways, if you read this I LOVE YOU

1.2k words

Warnings: angst, alcoholism, sadness, undercover fluff

Her cartoons were the finest in the San Fran area. People of all ages, all shapes, all colors, loved her cartoons. The whole situation was quite rare. In modern times, people tended to stray away from newspapers and physical copies and were hyper-focused on screens. But something about her work reeled people in.

The weekly installments were timelessly funny. Her style of art was surprising, yet memorable and her word choice was superb. She was critically acclaimed in the city for her work and she was proud to admit that, as a girl who used to doodle on every school notebook she ever had and on every wall of her parents’ home, she was earning a good amount of money.

She made quite a bit of money. Not just from the newspaper, but also from side projects she would do. She kept quite busy, but not busy enough.

She would often let her inner thoughts get to her. What if I stop having good ideas? My work isn’t good enough. People will have to hate me eventually, right? In her cramped office (small is how she liked it) she would allow herself to be drowned by alcohol and self-loathing. She was insecure in herself and her work and she didn’t know what to do to stop the madness in her head.

~You're insecure Don't know what for You're turning heads when you walk through the door Don't need make-up to cover up Being the way that you are is enough~

Days would go by and one after the next, she would draw a gorgeous, detailed drawing (not up to her standards of course), and seconds later she would crumple the piece of paper in a fit of rage and would expel her anger with a scream. She would take copious sips of alcohol (her personal favorite was whiskey) that she kept in her coffee mug.

Her assistant, Harry, didn’t like it when he heard her yelling and crying. He originally wanted to work with her because he knew how talented she was and he wanted to be able to grow from her work. Watching his mentor rip herself to shreds was extremely difficult.

One particular day, the yelling and anger were more intense than the ‘norm’. Usually, he just let it slide and kept typing away at his desk adjacent to her office door. One time he tried to come in during one of her episodes and she pushed him away, insisting he get back to work, so eventually, he stopped trying.

When he heard glass shatter, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He stood up from his desk and slowly knocked on the door.

“Y/n,” he said softly, “can I come in?”

As soon as he knocked, her loud shrieks dulled down to a broken sob.

“Mhm,” she croaked.

He walked in cautiously, fearful of the glass he had heard shatter. He found her eyes, stained with mascara and sorrow. She appeared truly and utterly defeated. He had never seen her like this. She tried to keep herself very polished so that no one would judge her work based on her actions, but she couldn’t handle it anymore and she broke. She broke like the vase that was shattered on the ground, leaving water, flowers, and glass scattered on the floor. But, Harry did not care about that. The minute he saw her, he walked over slowly and sat down on the floor near where she was slumped.

He was caught off guard when she snaked her arm around his shoulders and draping the other in front of his stomach, latching onto him as she sobbed. It broke his heart. He didn’t think that that was possible. He was a work-driven man and he allowed his personal life to go to the back burner. But when his boss was slumped over crying in his chest, he had no other emotion than empathy and sadness. He didn’t truly know the meaning behind her outburst, but it didn’t matter.

They sat in silence for what felt like timeless time. It was not fast and it was not slow. They just existed.

“I’m scared of being a failure,” she confessed through sniffles.

“Why’s that?” he questioned sweetly.

“People love me now, but there is always an end to ‘now’. I know that there will be a breaking point when my stories are not funny and my drawings are not pristine and every time I go to create something, I am paralyzed by the idea that my downfall might be around the corner,” she was slow and profound with her words. Her bottled up feelings came out without a hitch as if they had been there, fermenting for years. But he didn’t talk, he knew she wasn’t finished.

“And I am so hard on myself. I always have been. My insecurities get the best of me and I lash out. I drink alcohol to suppress my worries and I know I shouldn’t. I just can’t help but feel like everything I do is a complete failure.”

“I know this doesn’t help, but I like your work. In fact, I love it,” Harry exclaimed quite matter-of-factly, “And yeah maybe you’re right. Maybe the end of your success is right around the corner.”

She pulled her head away with confusion lacing her brows. She wasn’t expecting him to say something so curt. She giggled slightly.

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Motivational Speaker,” she chuckled sarcastically. Their laughs intermingled.

“Well, honestly none of us know when our success will end. But, you can’t give up now. Giving up now would be like getting to Disney World, but only staying in the parking lot. For all you know, the best is yet to come,” Harry mused.

“Thank you, Harry,” she smiled.

A calming silence fell over them.

“And besides you’re really beautiful,” he spoke it before his brain could even process it, “I m-mean, you’re, you’re work is really beaut-”

“Harry it’s okay. You’re beautiful too and I guess I never really noticed because I was so caught up in my head.”

She didn’t say that statement in a flirty way. She just said it because she wanted too. She didn’t blush and she didn’t make it a big deal.

~Baby, you light up my world like nobody else The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed But when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell You don't know, oh oh You don't know you're beautiful~

Yes, they thought each other were beautiful in the typical exterior way, but they also felt that each other’s minds and actions were beautiful.

“I need a friend Harry. I am so lonely. I go home to my dog and I go to sleep and then I wake up and go to work and do the whole thing over again. I need a friend and I think we could be friends. What do you say?”

He smiled and nodded, “Friends.”

They lifted their pinkies and pinkie swore.

They were so similar it was almost shocking. They had spent so much time in their heads. Harry caught up in work and letting personal things fall apart. y/n with her alcohol, loneliness, and overall feeling of failure. Yet when they looked into each other’s eyes on the floor of y/n’s office, it was as if they had seen each other for the first time. It was as if their souls reached out and touched each other.

And Harry would have never admitted it, but he felt something more. He felt a warm feeling that he had not felt in a long time. A feeling of commonality between the two people who had emotionally distanced themselves from everyone else. And he knew that the pair were bound to be more than friends because the feeling he had, wasn’t ordinary. From that moment he knew that Y/n would light up his world like nobody else.

AH if you like it follow and like and give me feedback hehe

#harry styles #harry #styles #hs #fineline #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #unexpected lovers #friends #cartoons #assistant #yay #harold styles #harry edward styles

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romioneflufffest · 6 years ago

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Practice Calls

Title: Practice Calls

Creator: @hillnerd

Rated: G/PG

Description: Ron and Hermione practice calling each other (missing moments set during POA through summer of GoF)

Easter Break was just around the corner, and it was not a minute too soon. Hermione was happy to have a time turner free week, as well as have her two best friends back in her life. She needed them now more than ever, as the pressures of her class schedule was starting to wear on her in little ways she had not even considered. She knew she hadn’t actually aged all that much, really, but somehow felt old and creaky anymore. Next to the Gryffindor fireplace she was longing for a nap, but something warmed her through far better than any fireplace could.

Ron had just walked into the Common Room and made a beeline for her, a lopsided grin gracing his freckled face.

“Mum sent Easter gifts. You got one too,” Ron said, handing her a wrapped package, the paper covered in little finely drawn quills.

“That was nice of her,” Hermione smiled, ripping into the paper much more delicately than Ron. Inside was a large chocolate egg with a hand-piped orange cat on it. She would have pointed out out the cute cat, but she had been avoiding mentioning Crookshanks in front of Ron the past few weeks. She was so happy for them to be on speaking terms again she was willing to never speak of her cat again.

“Well?” said Ron through a mouthful of chocolate. “You should eat some. You’ve had a tough week,”

It had indeed been a tough week. She’d slept through a Charms class, slapped Draco Malfoy, and even quit Divination. Ron had said he thought she was cracking up, and she wasn’t so sure he was wrong. He happily tucked in to his Easter egg before he took out a great deal of paperwork.

“What are you studying? Perhaps we can work on it together,” Hermione offered, breaking off a small piece of chocolate to nibble.

“It’s Buckbeak’s appeal. Wanted to send it off before the break,” he said, carefully writing something on it. She’d never seen his penmanship look more legible. Something about this made a tiny thrill rush through her.

“Yes. That’s a very good idea,” she said, feeling herself flush.

“You doing alright?” Ron asked, looking up from his neat papers.

“Oh yes! Yes I’m fine!” she said, leaning over to look through her book bag. Cheering charms. That’s what she needed to study. They spent the next twenty or so minutes in silence as each saw to their own tasks. She didn’t mind the quiet when it was her and Ron together. Harry was away at Defense lessons with Lupin, leaving just the two of them together. The companionship Ron provided was always welcome, though. Any time he was near her she felt just a little more capable, a little lighter, and a little more calm. It was no wonder she had been falling apart so much this year. She’d had to spend months out of his, and Harry’s, company. If it weren’t for that, she was certain her very busy schedule would not have made her so overwrought. Harry was nice to hang out with as well, but he just wasn’t quite the same as Ron.

“And… I think that’s done then,” Ron beamed looking down at his work. “Hermione, you mind looking this over?”

“Of course not,” she smiled back. She read page after page where Ron cited prior cases similar to Buckbeak’s, cited formal texts on Hippogriff behavior, and had many witness statements regarding Buckbeak’s behavior both before and after Malfoy’s run-in with the beast. It was more meticulously done than any paper of his she’d ever read.

“This is very good, Ron.”

“You think so?” he hopefully asked.

“I know so. If this doesn’t get Buckbeak cleared it’s due to pure malice on the part of the committee.”

“Good! I’ll ask Harry if I can borrow Hedwig after his lesson with Lupin,” said Ron, leaning back in his seat and putting his hands behind his head. “Don’t have any work due til after break! Mind you, my hand’s so cramped from writing the appeal, I don’t think I could do homework right now if I tried.”

“Would you mind showing me your notes from Charms?” Hermione asked. She’d missed Cheering Charms and knew they would show up on the exam. Ron quickly got them out, and she noticed they were a bit more detailed than usual. He’d done the same thing when she’d been in the hospital wing the prior year. His notes were inconsistent in quality until either she or Harry were absent- then suddenly his notes would look almost as detailed and neat as her own. They’d always had the odd doodle in them, so in some ways she preferred his notes. She found the funny little sketches to remind him of certain movements of the wand, and little notes Harry highly entertaining. She never told Ron this, of course, otherwise he’d never stay on task in class.

“Thank you.”

Ron took a large bite of his chocolate egg and seemed to be preoccupied.

“Y’know, this is the third Easter Harry’s been here, and that pissant ‘family’ or his never sends him so much as one letter,” he said, wadding up the wrapping paper from his egg and tossing it into the fire.

“Well… That’s not unusual for them, is it? They don’t give him real presents for birthdays or Christmas either.”

“Not even one bleeding letter! It’s ridiculous!” said Ron crossing his arms. “I wish I had an owl of my own so I could write him more often this summer.”

“Maybe we could try calling again?”

“After what happened last time on that fellytone thing? I flummoxed it up so badly, I think that fat uncle of his would have a coronary if I called. Worse, he might just put bars on Harry’s windows again.”

“Oh don’t!” Hermione cried out, not wanting to even think about how horrid Harry relatives were. “Those people are such monsters. It’s a miracle Harry turned out as well as he did.”

“Yeah…” Ron said looking down. “Well, I’m hoping to get Harry out of there early this summer, if I can.”

Hermione smiled. She loved how quick Ron was to find ways to help Harry out. Then a little thought began to form at the back of her mind.

“Ron… I was thinking. Maybe we can practice phone calls this summer,” said Hermione, eyes suddenly bright.

“Like I said, I don’t want to get Harry in trouble. That Uncle of his–”

“No no. Not You and Harry. You and me.” Before Ron could put forth any reservations, Hermione quickly went on. “It would be purely for getting better at calling people! Who knows, maybe Harry’s relatives will let him have a phone call. Either way, it would be good to practice. Who knows if you’ll need to call someone in the future.”

Yes. It was purely for practical reasons she wanted to practice phone call with Ron, and not at all because she would love to hear his voice over the summer.

“You don’t need to sell me on it,” Ron said with a laugh. “I can walk down to the village again. It’ll give me a chance to get out of the house without my whole family breathing down my neck.”

Hermione beamed, somehow looking forward to a phone call that was months away, even though Ron was right beside her.

____

Ron kicked a pebble along the dirt road as he made his way to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He’d been down the road hundreds of times at this point, but had never felt quite so nervous before. He wasn’t sure why he was so filled with nerves. It was just a phone call, and it was just to Hermione. He talked with her all the time at school, and wrote to her more often than he cared to admit to his family. When he’d told his mum he needed to go to the village to call Hermione his mum had insisted he bring a basket to pick up a few things from the farmer’s market around the corner. He was glad to have this as an excuse to give his siblings. He knew they would tease him for calling Hermione, just as they teased him for everything else.

Ron spotted the family pub just down the street and popped in, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“Excuse me,” Ron said, giving a small wave to the same bartender who had been there last summer. “Is your felltone- I mean— er— telephone available for a call?”

“We ‘ave the same phone booths as last time you was ‘ere,” the older heavyset man said, giving a nod to the set of phone booths at the far end of the pub. They each had old-timey phones in them, according to his father, making it a bit of a tourist attraction. And they were free, which made them a lot more attractive to Ron. Ron had been screaming into one of the phones last summer, so it was no surprise that the gruff man remembered him so sourly.

“They’s for payin’ customers only, though.”

“Right…” Ron said, sorting through the cash his mother had given him. “You have anything cold to drink? Butterbeer?”

Ron winced the moment it was out of his mouth. Butterbeer was a wizard drink! Why was he so bad at this? The barkeep’s red face scrunched up into a frown.

“Think you’re funny? I ain’t givin’ you no beer.”

“Er, whatever’s cheapest then,” Ron said with a shrug. The man rolled his eyes and took out a long snake-like tube and pressed a button, filling a glass with bubbly water the color of coffee. Ron thanked him and shakily doled out change. The man seemed impatient and Ron nearly dropped all the wonky coins he was so nervous. He managed alright, though, and finally made his way to the line of phones, fizzy drink in hand. He fumblingly got Hermione’s letter out of his jeans pocket and scanned it for her phone number. Dialing was an arduous process, and the phone’s dial tone was obnoxious to listen to as he turned the dial for each number. Her number had three nines in it, making it even worse to dial on the wheel of numbers. And then it was ringing. He took a nervous sip of the drink and nearly gagged at the overly sweet taste of it.

“Hello?” said a voice clear as a bell. Hermione!

“Pshlab,” Ron let out with a gagging noise.

“Hello?”

“Sorry!” Ron said rather loudly into the phone, before forcing himself to lower his voice. “Sorry. Had to buy one of those muggle drinks to get to use their phone. It tastes awful!”

“Ron! I’m so glad you called!”

He could practically hear her smile over the phone. Even with the bartender glaring at him, and the prospect of the twins teasing him about the phone call, he couldn’t help but smile back.

———————————————————————————————–

Hermione had been worried about their first phone call, as Ron’s previous experience with phones had gone so poorly, but it had gone very smoothly. She had given him fair warning not to yell into the set, and conversation seemed to flow just as easily over the phone as it had back at Hogwarts. He didn’t need to practice after the first call, but somehow Hermione didn’t want their phone calls to end. Ron didn’t seem to want their phone calls to stop either. A few times a week Ron would hoof it to the village to call Hermione, and tired of the teases from her parents as she tied up the downstairs line, she took the phone from the guest room to her own bedroom. Her mother caught her as she was carrying the phone, its long springy cord trailing behind her on the floor.

“Where are you taking the guest phone?”

Hermione blushed.

“I didn’t want to make my phone calls to Ron downstairs. There’s always noise of some sort, and it’s quieter up here, but more comfortable in my own room. I didn’t need a phone until now, and it’s not like any guests are using it, so I decided to borrow it for the summer. If that’s ok, of course. Sorry I didn’t ask,” Hermione babbled.

“You’re at the age where you’re having long calls with boys. Oh dear!” her mother teased, making Hermione blush harder.

“It’s not boys. It’s only Ron,” Hermione muttered.

“You write him so often, I didn’t think you’d keep up with the phone calls too,” her mother noted.

Hermione really could have stopped writing Ron, but there was something fun about doing both, then talking about the letter they received. She thought they might have nothing to talk about, but they actually had loads. Each phone call was getting longer and longer. That was why she wanted to do it in privacy as well. Her father would look at her, point at his watch, then continue to walk by.

“Well… It’s ok for me to take the phone, then?” Hermione hopefully asked.

“Of course. Just do it when your father’s out. We still only have one line, and he gets nervous when the line is tied up for too long.”

Hermione beamed, and ran the rest of the way to her room. She could have her phone calls with Ron and have them in private now.

Their next phone call was just as pleasant as ever, and Hermione found it so much more relaxing to lay on her bed as she talked to Ron. She could just imagine him there beside her as they talked, and a rush of girlish giggles making their way out of her mouth at the thought.

“You know what, at first I thought they’d be barmy, but I actually like telephone calls!” Ron said into the receiver. “I just wish I could see you, though. That makes Floo calling a bit better.”

Hermione beamed and wrapped the cord around her finger.

“Oh! We could see each other! Let’s practice Floo calls! I’ve never done one, and I don’t want to be the only witch at Hogwarts who doesn’t know how.”

Ron fell silent a moment.

“Well… The telephone calls are private…” he said, suddenly not sounding very enthusiastic. Was she that bad to look at? Or did he not want anyone to know they were talking?

“Oh… Well, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh I do! I really do,” Ron said fervently. “It’s just… They would be in the middle of our house, and I it’s so mad around here we’d barely be able to talk.”

“I understand,” Hermione said, unable to completely hide her disappointment.

“You know what? Let’s do it. But it’ll have to be after everyone goes to bed, otherwise it’ll be nothing but the twins and everyone else butting in. We can even do it tonight, if you like. You’re already connected to the Floo network for when you come here next week. I can send Pig with some powder and you can try your hand at it. Around eleven?”

“Ok then! It’s a date!” Hermione let out, excitement making her wiggle in place.

“Er yeah! It’s a— yeah see you at eleven!” Ron said back. With that their phone call ended, and Hermione, for the first time she could think of, started to worry about what she should wear and what she should do with hair. She hadn’t seen Ron in nearly two months, and didn’t want to look poorly for him… Perhaps she should plait her hair? Should she still be dressed in her normal clothes? Or as it would be so late at night would it be more natural to have her pajamas on?

———————————————————————————————

Ron had sent Pig to Hermione’s earlier that day, but Pig hadn’t gotten back yet. Perhaps Hermione had borrowed him to send something to Harry? He hoped Hermione had gotten the powder alright. It was only a few minutes to eleven, and Ron couldn’t stop himself from pacing the floor. He wasn’t sure if he should wear his normal clothes or not, given the late hour, but thought he looked more presentable in them than his tatty pajamas. Percy had given him a pair of rarely worn jeans that fit alright, so he decided to wear that and a t-shirt that almost fit right, even though it was a bit tighter through the shoulders than it had been earlier that year.

Right at eleven the fire grew and sparked a bit.

“Ron?” He heard Hermione’s voice say through the fire.

“Yeah, I’m here!” Ron said, sitting down on the ground with his legs crossed. “You can put your head through, if you like.”

“Are you… Are you sure it’s safe?” Hermione said, sounding nervous. Ron chuckled a bit at Hermione being nervous about something. She was always such a little firebrand about things, so it was almost cute to hear her fret about something so common place to him.

“I promise, it’s as safe as a phone call,” he said, trying to hold his laughter as bay. He did his best to not laugh or tease people brought up with Muggle things when it came to new experiences in the Wizard world. Merlin knew he was clueless enough at Muggle things, so he tried to be as patient and aware as he could. He’d felt awful guilty the times he’d overlooked informing Harry or Hermione about something they should know.

The flames danced brightly for a bit, then Hermione’s face came through the flames, her prominent top teeth biting her lip.

“Oh!” she let out nervously. “This is so strange! Can you see me?”

“Yeah, I can see you,” Ron said with a smile. “You can see me too, yeah?”

She nodded before letting out a laugh.

“It doesn’t even feel warm. It’s so odd! I can’t believe it. It feels the same temperature as the rest of my house! I was worried it’d burn my hair, but it hasn’t.”

He could see her wild hair was plaided down the side of her head. It looked different than usual. He preferred it when her hair was all over the place, but wasn’t about to tell her this. In fact, she looked a bit different all over her head. Her eyebrows were a little thinner, and her eyes somehow looked a bit bigger?

“Your eyelashes look different,” he noted.

“Oh!” It was hard to tell in the flames, but Hermione’s tan skin looked a touch darker on her cheeks. “Well… I tried to… My mum gave me some mascara…”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a sort of… A sort of makeup that girls put on their eyelashes.”

“Why?”

“To make the eyelashes longer and darker.”

“Oooh. Do they make that for guys? Half the time I think I look like I don’t have eyelashes at all,” Ron said with smile, fluttering his light lashes at her. Hermione laughed at this and whatever was making her nervous seemed to dissipate.

Their Floo call was going quite well, and they’d been talking for well over an hour when Ron heard a scream on the other end of the Floo and Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“Oh! Mum! It’s fine!” Hermione cried out, pulling her head out of the fire. Ron could hear her mother sobbing as Hermione comforted her.

“It’s fine! It’s just magic! Let me say goodnight to Ron so he doesn’t worry. Look, watch this!” Hermione said, and then her face was in the flames again. “Ron, I have to go. I just gave my mother a terrible fright.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no worries. Sorry about that Mrs Granger!” Ron called back into the fire. The flames went out after that, and Ron had a great deal of trouble falling asleep.

The next morning he woke up to Pig dancing about his bed, a roll of parchment in tow. It took a moment to grab the excited little blighter, but after a few jumps he grabbed the little owl and untied a letter from Hermione.

In her even hand it read:

Dear Ron,

I’m so sorry our call had to be ended so abruptly. Mum was very hysterical to find her only daughter’s body lying headfirst in the fire. It took quite a long time to calm her down. I really liked getting to call you like this, but perhaps we should stick to letters until I come next week? I’m ever so excited to see you (And Harry and everyone else.)

I hope Ginny won’t mind me being in her room. She’s always been so nice all the times we’ve talked before, but I hate to put her out!

Maybe we can have one more phone call before I come over? Get that last bit of practice in for the summer?

I would write more, but it’s well past midnight.

Love from,

Hermione

——————————————————————————————

It had taken almost an hour for Hermione to calm her mother down after she had walked in on the fire chat with Ron. She couldn’t blame her mother, of course. It must have been a ghastly sight to come across at almost half past midnight.

Neither of her parents had been exposed to much magic, despite Hermione having been at Hogwarts for three years. There was little chance for them to learn, really, given how Hermione wasn’t allowed to use magic, and they’d only been to Diagon Alley a few times. She wished she could show them all the different spells and potions she’d mastered, but frankly they always looked perplexed as she described the lessons to them.

They failed to see how turning a teapot into a tortoise was something that would translate into a job down the road. Hermione tried to keep to lessons that made more sense to them, but couldn’t fail to see the mild disappointment and confusion that would cross their faces as she described class. They could understand making great grades, though, so she tried best she could to emphasize that, and lessons that pertained to history, healing, or performing useful tasks even they could appreciate. She had to be careful to avoid all the political bits of school, such as the Blood purists, the corrupt government officials, and the school board.

She also had to avoid mentioning how in danger she was each year. They had no idea how close she had come to dying each year, and the school didn’t deign to contact her parents about much of anything when it came to her exploits. Their hands off approach was rather shocking to Hermione at first, but over the years she came to appreciate it, as she could almost fully control what information her parents were given about her goings on

Convincing them to let her travel to the Burrow by Floo took a good thirty minutes, but when they were assured over the phone by Ron that he and his father would escort her personally, they finally seemed ok with the choice. Her mother was not entirely happy with this, and let out a small scream when the fireplace broke out into tall emerald green flames, and a soot covered Ron had to crawl out of their low, by wizard standards, fire place.

“Hey Hermione,” he said with a smile. Ron’s father came up right after, and did a quick spell to clean them, as well as the carpet and hearth, of all the soot.

“Hi Ron!” Hermione smiled, and gave him a large hug after he was dust free. He returned her hug with gusto, his ears burning, probably since everyone’s eyes were one them. He seemed taller than he had been just a few months ago, and he was wearing a pair of jeans that fit him much better than most of his others.

Ron’s Dad was every bit as excited to see her parents as he ever was, so Hermione took the opportunity to give Ron a quick tour of her house. At first he seemed quite keen, but after the first few rooms his mood seemed to dip low.

“Are you alright?” she asked, seeing him frowning a bit.

“Yeah… It’s just… Well, you’re house is really nice,” Ron said with a forced smile.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah… Yeah…” Ron said starting to look worried.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Course I am. Just… Well, you’re coming to stay at our place, and I think I could fit three of the Burrow in your living room, and we have almost four times as many people who will be under one roof. It’ll be tight, and not as nice as this…”

“I’ll be with you,” Hermione said with a smile, before catching herself, “and everyone else. I’m sure I’m going to enjoy every single second there. Plus, I’ve never been in a magical home before. It will be amazing, I’m sure.”

“It’s just my home…” he trailed off, still looking uncertain.

“That’s why I’m sure I’ll love it,” she assured him. He seemed to get out of his funk as they entered her room.

“Oh wow,” Ron said, letting out a whistle.

“What?”

“It’s just, this room is a very Hermione-ish room, isn’t it?” he said with a laugh.

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked, uncertainly twisting a curl around her finger.

“Nothing bad,” he said with a lopsided grin that made her toes curl. “You just put your mark on it, didn’t you? Tons of books, the way the photos are all lined up just so, the wall calendar. It’s just very you.”

He gave an inhale.

“Yup. Smells like a Hermione room.”

“It smells like me?” she almost squeaked.

“Yeah, smells like books and that chapstick you always have around. The vanilla smelling one.”

“Oh… I… Oh…” Hermione didn’t know how to respond. Ron was commenting on how she smelled, but it seemed to be in a flattering way. She felt as nervous as she did before exams.

Ron let out a laugh and pointed at the far wall.

“Who in the world is that bloke?” he said, pointing to a poster of Einstein where the scientist had his tongue out.

“A famous Muggle scientist. He’s known for the theory of relativity.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Ron said with a shrug, “but he sure knows how to take a picture.”

“He did the Muggle equivalency of arithmancy, and figured out a lot about how the universe works, including gravity.”

Ron nodded at this and was about to say something when they heard her father call up the stairs, “Ron! Hermione! It’s about time to go!”

They went downstairs, and Hermione gave each of her parents a large hug. Her mother in particular didn’t seem to want to let go.

“You will write us often, won’t you?” she asked.

“Of course I will,” Hermione said, feeling a touch guilty knowing she wouldn’t see them for more than nine months.

“She can borrow my owl any time she needs to, Mr and Mrs Granger,” Ron supplied, and Hermione felt proud of how polite and courteous he was coming across. Ron then walked her, and her parents, through how they would Floo over. Apparently Mr Weasley had already explained the Floo Networks logistics, but they seemed to calm a bit more having a boy know how it works and treats the task as quite mundane. Ron threw the powder into the fire place, stood in the flames, and said ‘The Burrow’ very clearly.

Hermione received another firm hug from each parent before she followed Ron’s example and walked through the flames the same way, with Mr Weasley following behind with her trunk.

The Burrow smelled of freshly baked bread, and some other undefinable flowery scent she was almost certain she’d smelled at Hogwarts at one point or another. There was a brush magically scrubbing pots all on its own, a clock with pictures of the whole family pointing to different locations instead of times, and all the photos were moving. It was tight, but homey and Hermione felt immediately at peace as she walked further into the room. Ron bit his lip and looked a bit uncertain, until Hermione took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“This is the most amazing home I’ve ever been in!” she let out, and the beaming smile he gave her was so warming, she was certain she could power a Patronus with it, even though she’d never tried to do a Patronus Charm before.

“You know, I know it sounds barmy, but I think I’m going to miss our phone calls a bit,” Ron said as he pulled her towards the stairs.

“We can always do it again next summer.”

“I’d like that,” Ron grinned back at her.

She felt pleased down to her tows as he lead her for a tour around the house, her hand still in his.

#Romione #Ron and Hermione #Romione Fluff Fest #romioneflufffest #Fic #submission

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