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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

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Night Off

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Can I request something for my baby boi Angel? There is a fair/carnival in town so reader and Angel go to have some fun. Just some good, old fashioned fluff maybe even have Angel win her a big stuffy and a romantic kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel with a hint of what might happen once they get home

Warnings: language, Angel and the guys being cuties

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I only know what the county fairs are like in my home-town so that’s what I based this off of! I included the demolition derby because it has always been my fave part of the fair hands-down lol. Plus, the guys would totally be into doing something like that lmao

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Going to the fair had started off as a group event. Things had been quiet with the club and you suggested that they take advantage of the extra free time and do something fun. Who knew when things would be so quiet again? All of the guys had been quick to agree, and the fair being in town just made for a perfect opportunity to get out and unwind—to just be regular people instead of guys who ran drugs for a cartel. It was nice to see them all so happy and goofing around.

Throughout the evening, everyone sort of ended up separating. A few of the guys went off in their own little clusters to go and get food, or go find the rides. You had dragged Angel away to the petting zoo because you couldn’t remember the last time that you had been to one. He laughed as you crouched down and fed handful after handful of pellets to the goats that were crowding the fence in front of you.

“You look like a Disney princess,” he smiled and shook his head, “All these goats and animals following you around and shit.”

You laughed as you stood up, brushing your hands off on your jeans, “They only want me because they know I have snacks. Not quite a Disney princess yet.”

You leaned into him as the two of you continued to make your way through the fair grounds. It was nice to see everyone there having a good time. Kids were running around laughing, chasing each other with inflatable swords and mallets that they won from whatever carnival game they’d managed to win. You couldn’t help but to watch the controlled chaos unfold around you with a smile.

You turned to Angel and found that he was already looking at you, a soft smile on his face. You laughed as you nudged his side, “What?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. This is nice,” he was about to say something else when his phone went off. With a sigh he reached into his kutte to pull it out and answer it, “Yo, what’s up?” there was a pause and his eyes widened slightly, “Alright. Yea, I’ll ask her. Bye.”

You were looking expectantly up at him, “All good?”

“You know the demolition derby is tonight?”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea, last night of the fair usually,” you could see him practically vibrating with excitement, “You wanna go check it out?”

“Yes.”

You smiled as you gestured towards the arena where it was being held, “Well, let’s go!”

The derby used to be your favorite part of the fair as a child. You’d always wondered who came up with the idea of it in the first place, because it really was such a strange concept. Nonetheless, it was always fun to watch. And, as you sat down with Angel and a few of the guys in the bleachers, you knew that you weren’t the only one with that opinion.

Over the noise of the crowd, and of the cars racing around in front of you, you heard Angel talking to EZ and Coco, “We should do this shit next year! You know we got cars at the yard that we could use.”

“Yea, who’s gonna drive?” EZ asked with a chuckle, “You can’t afford anymore head injuries.”

Angel sucked his teeth, “Shut up. I’d be great.”

For the rest of the event you listened to the three of them strategize just how they would go about entering the derby next year. You wished that Bishop could have been with you so that he could hear the three of them scheming, because you knew that he would have some A+ commentary on the subject. You leaned against Angel’s side as you listened to them, shaking your head as all three of them went off on their tangents.

When the derby was over, and they had successfully plotted their plans for next year, you begged Angel to head back towards the carnival games. He had told you that the games were rigged, that it was no use. And part of you knew that he was right, but you still wanted to take a crack at a few.

“Go on,” Coco pushed Angel in your direction with a laugh, “You owe her a fuckin’ teddy bear or some shit. She just listened to that whole conversation and didn’t tell any of us to shut the fuck up.”

He threw his arm around your shoulder with a laugh, “Alright, alright. He’s right,” he pulled you close to him, “I’ll catch you guys later.”

“It better be one of the big teddy bears, Angel!” EZ called after him with a laugh.

For someone who was convinced that carnival games were impossible to win, Angel managed to win one. EZ had been the one who was always given praise for his baseball skills, but watching Angel pitch the ball at the milk bottle game made you rethink that stance entirely. He had a good arm, which wasn’t surprising in and of itself, but the fact that he had a good enough arm to beat a game that you weren’t supposed to be able to win was pretty impressive.

“Which one you want, querida?” Angel looked over at you when the man running the booth asked him what he wanted for his prize.

You beamed as you leaned against his side, “That one!” you pointed to the giant panda bear hanging off the top of the booth.

Angel nodded as he turned back to the man in front of him, “You hear her. One ridiculously oversized panda, please.”

You were hugging the panda to your chest, having to use both arms to do so. Angel couldn’t help but to keep looking over at you and laughing—the toy was almost the same size as you. He loved how content and excited you looked as the two of you continued to make your way around the fair. The bear was essentially the third person in your party as you carried it around. You sat it next to you when you stopped to grab some food, and you made Angel hold it when you decided to attempt a few of the carnival games yourself. The sight of him holding the bear was almost too much for you to handle, and you had to take a photo of it. He looked so tough in his kutte, with his serious facial expression, but the giant stuffed animal in his arms negated all of that.

“Alright,” he handed the stuffed animal back to you with a chuckle, “Anything else you wanna do before we go home?”

You looked at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, “Can we do the ferris wheel? Please?”

“That’s the ride you wanna go on?” he smiled.

“Why do you have to say it like that?” you laughed.

“I think it’s cute, quierda,” he leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

You made your way over to the ferris wheel, and Angel couldn’t contain his laughter as you situated your bear across from the two of you. You curled up against Angel’s side as you waited for it to start. He draped his arm around you as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. Both of you were quiet for a few minutes, just soaking up the whole night and everything that was happening around you.

‘Thank you for this, by the way,” Angel spoke up as the two of you began to make your way towards the top.

“Of course,” you reached and interlocked your fingers with his, “It’s been nice to see all you guys having such a good time.”

The ferris wheel came to a stop when you reached the highest point, and you felt a wave of excitement wash over you as you looked over the expanse of the fair. You’d spent all evening walking around it, but looking down on it from where you were, it made it seem so small.

“Hey,” Angel’s voice was soft but it still snapped you out of your thoughts.

You turned to him with a smile, “Yea?”

He reached and pulled you into a kiss. You smiled as you leaned into him, hands resting lightly on either side of his neck while his arms wrapped around your waist. A quiet moan slipped past his lips as you pulled him in closer to you.

You took your lips off of his, a smile on your face as you rested your foreheads against each other’s. He pressed a light kiss on the tip of your nose, “I love you.”

You hum quietly in approval, “I love you too.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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dirty-urie · 3 years ago

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Little Brendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Fluff(ish) Oneshot

PG-13? R?

3.6k Words

Warnings In Order of Appearance: real person fic, language throughout, arguably slight smut, minor dirty talk

Author's Notes:

1. I don't know how I got this idea or what possessed me to actually write it, to be honest, but I had fun, so I guess that's all that matters.

2. Posting this in honor of the anniversary of the show I went to on the first leg of the Wicked tour, which was technically yesterday, but this fic wasn’t done yesterday, so here it is now.

“Awww, little Brendon,” you gush at the computer screen.

“Please tell me you aren’t looking at pictures of my penis,” Brendon says, walking into the room.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Not that your ego couldn’t use a little bruising, but no, I’m not cooing at your nudes. Merch wants you to sign off on the final photos of the Beebo plush, and look how cute he is!” You shift the computer monitor so he can see what you’re looking at.

“Why are you going through my email?”

“You always ignore emails from Merch, and I like looking at all of the new Panic designs!”

“Babe, I work ten hours a day; I don’t want to do anything I don’t have to. Merch will use whatever designs they think will sell well. They don’t actually need my approval. Those sign-off emails are just a formality.”

You pout. “I know, I know. I won’t go through your email anymore.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. "I wouldn’t want you to discover all the messages from my mistresses.”

“You’re a jackass,” you call, flipping him off as he leaves the room with a smirk.

***

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pout, leaning against the door frame to your bedroom.

He kisses your forehead and puts another pair of sweatpants in a suitcase. “You can’t wait for me to leave. You get to have the girls over, watch all your shitty movies, and you won’t have to deal with my dirty underwear or noisy video games in your nice living room.”

You take the t-shirt he’s about to pack out of his hands and throw it on the bed, pulling him into a kiss. You slip your hands under the waistband of his pants to grope his ass. You pull away. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. I don’t ever have to deal with dirty underwear because you never wear any.”

“Hey! Don’t slut-shame me! You love having such easy access to this body.” He gestures to his body with a strange flailing arm motion.

“You know what? You’re right. I can’t wait for you to leave.”

He side-eyes you. “Well, in that case, you won’t want the present I got you.” He shrugs, refolding his shirt.

Your eyes light up, and you go kiss him again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because it’s a lot. Enough to justify a really nice present,” You say after he pulls away.

“That’s what I thought. I guess you’ll get your present after all. Close your eyes,” Brendon says.

You close your eyes, and he hands you something soft. You open your eyes, and it’s Brendon’s likeness in plush form. He’s wearing Brendon’s tour outfit with a gold jacket over a black tee and black leather pants.

“Little Brendon!” you exclaim, seeing the toy in your hands. “Aww, it’s even got your lips and little eyebrow scar! Thank you, babe.” You kiss him and then Little Brendon. “Now I have someone to keep me company while you’re off getting bitches on tour.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, “they’re not bitches, they’re groupies.”

You smack his arm affectionately and then push him onto the bed to crawl on top of him. “Maybe you should practice for the groupies. Wouldn’t want you to kill their rockstar fantasies because you’re out of experience.”

He flips you over and rolls on top of you, nipping at your neck. “Out of experience? What, pray tell, have we been doing every day for the past two weeks, if not building my experience?” he asks with disbelief, punctuating each point with a bite or kiss. “Remember when I made you come twelve times in one hour before I let myself come? Or when we fucked on the roof of my studio when the neighbors were out of town? Or when you fucked my ass with that new toy, the one that vibrates?”

“Shit, shit, point taken,” you moan, grinding up against him while he bears down on you.

His phone pings, and he slows his hips to grab it from the side table. “Fuck, Zack’s out front. I’ve gotta go.”

You grab the front of his shirt and yank him down for a deep, dirty kiss.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but his other love is calling. Tour, that is, not Zack.

“Okay, let me up, loverboy. I’ll help bring your stuff out to the car,” you tell him.

“Thank you. Most of my instruments and stuff are already with the guys, but I’ve still got two suitcases and a backpack.”

You both stand up, and he grabs the suitcases, leaving you with the backpack. “You’re not gonna readjust, rockstar?” You ask, eyeing his tented sweatpants.

He shrugs, “My hands are full, and it’s nothing Zack hasn’t seen before.”

“You just like showing off,” you accuse, and he smirks a little and winks because you’re not wrong.

You walk him to the car and give him a final goodbye kiss. “I love you to death. Knock their socks off, babe.”

***

Without fail, the one-week mark hits you like a truck. You’ve had your fun with girlfriends, and you’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, but your bed is empty, and it’s weighing on your chest. Even the puppies seem a little more glum without Brendon.

You feel silly, but finally, after two nights of crying yourself to sleep, you give in and grab little Brendon from your dresser and cuddle up with him.

***

Two weeks later and you and the real Brendon are half-asleep, snuggled up against each other in the nicest hotel room in Houston. You can only spend two nights with him, and you refuse to let him go for even a second more than you have to. Which he did not appreciate when he had to use the bathroom, but it’s his fault for leaving you for so long.

“Baby, I’ve got an interview, but I’ll bring back breakfast, and we’ll eat in bed, okay? I’m really sorry,” He whispers apologetically, peeling away from you.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what you have to do to pay the bills. Can you hand me Little B? He’s in my purse,” you ask, and Brendon obliges without comment, probably just happy you’re not crying.

You fall back asleep with the little guy in your arms.

Brendon knows it’s irrational when he comes back three hours later at 8 am, and he feels a tiny twinge of jealousy at the plush you’re cuddled up with. However, he feels it is not irrational that he’s upset when he climbs into bed with you, and instead of immediately clinging to him like always, you just clutch Little Brendon harder. Almost as if protecting the toy from Brendon.

“Y/N, I’m back,” he whispers in your ear, half-hoping you’ll throw the doll on the ground and roll over to make burning hot love to him for 12 hours straight. That’ll show Little Brendon. Well, no, it won’t, he has stuffing where his brain should be, but it’ll show him on principle.

You do roll over to throw an arm across him, but you still have little Brendon tucked under your other arm.

Brendon decides to call this one a draw.

“Did you bring food?” You mumble.

“Of course, darling. I’ll do anything to spoil you. That’s one of the perks of having a driver’s license and sentience.”

“…What?”

“Nothing. I’ll get your food.”

He insists on feeding you and rubbing your feet, and letting you watch whatever you want on the hotel TV. And it’s just because he wants to take care of you while you two are together. Definitely no other reason. He certainly feels no joy at the sight of Little Brendon lying discarded on the nightstand. Point Real Brendon.

After the day of pampering, it pains you when you check the clock, and it’s time to leave. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out, B. I can’t miss my flight,” you finally say, changing from Brendon’s T-shirt into real clothes.

Brendon thinks about protesting, but he knows better. You have your own life apart from him, and he respects that.

You cram your stuff in your overnight bag and give your goodbye hugs and kisses to Brendon. Then you kiss Little B before throwing him in your purse. You think you see Brendon scowl at your new companion, but you were probably just imagining it.

***

“Surprise!” Brendon shouts as he opens the door.

“Babe! Thank god I sent the strippers home early,” you joke as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Shit, I missed the strippers?”

“You fucking goof,” you laugh, playing with his hair. “What are you doing home early?”

“Nicole needed to come home for some emergency with her house, so I figured I’d charter the plane and zip down with her and Zack to spend the night with my beautiful wife.”

“God, that must’ve cost an arm and a leg, B.”

He shrugs, “Nah, we were only in Portland anyway, and it’s easier than finding a new bassist on short notice. This way, Nicole and I can be back for the San Jose show tomorrow night, and I get a whole twelve hours at home with my girl and my puppies.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it worked out for everyone. Especially me,” you say, shifting to sit in Brendon’s lap.

You two finish up the episode you were watching before you insist that he comes to bed because he’s overworked and jetlagged. He’s sleepy and doesn’t need that much convincing, but he tries to put up a fight anyway.

“I only get a little bit of time with you; I don’t want to spend it sleeping,” he complains.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to work to get you in my bed,” you respond, yanking him to his feet.

His eyes light up, and you shake your head. “No, sir. We’re not having sex. You’re getting at least seven hours of sleep in your own bed with the love of your life, and then you’re going to take a shower, make me breakfast, and give San Jose the show of their lives. You’ll literally see me again in two days when I come to the LA show.”

He bites his lip, still trying to lay the seduction on thick.

“No! Bed! Or I’m making you sleep in the guest room!”

He sighs, trudging along behind you to the bedroom.

“Um, babe, I think you forgot to kick out your mistress before I got home,” he says, gesturing to his side of the bed where little Brendon is tucked into the comforter.

You scowl playfully. “Oh, shush you. Where else should I put him while making the bed?”

“I don’t know, but letting my replacement sleep in my spot feels a little on the nose.”

“He’s not your replacement, baby.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, picking up Little Brendon and getting into bed, “because” he sniffs Little Brendon’s head, “I’m pretty sure Little Brendon is wearing my fifty dollar cologne.”

You blush, “Okay, well I take him everywhere, and I didn’t want him to smell, and it’s not like I could use any of my perfumes…” you taper off, realizing that you may have given yourself away with the ‘take him everywhere’ line.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else before clicking out the light.

“Hey, Brendon?” You ask quietly.

“Mm?”

“Um, what did you do with Little B?”

Brendon clicks on the light. “Ah-ha! J’accuse! You’ve replaced me!”

“I just don’t want the dogs to rip him up and then leave me to clean up stuffing all morning!” You defend yourself.

“Well then, you won’t mind me putting him up on the dresser.”

“Of course, I won’t mind.”

Brendon puts Little B on the dresser and goes back to bed, so imagine his surprise when instead of waking up tangled in your arms the next morning, he’s not even touching you on the king bed. Instead, you’re hugging Little Bastard with your nose buried in his fabric hair.

Little B’s smirk taunts Brendon as he storms out of bed to make his damn wife breakfast. His damn wife.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, rubbing your hips frantically.

“Come,” he commands. “Let me see that pretty mouth fall open as you come all over our bedsheets, pretty girl.”

The angle on your clit is perfect, and the image of him getting off on your phone right along with you pushes you into bliss, and your orgasm rocks through your core. You know you’ve affected him when you hear him grunt as come rolls down his fist.

“God, babe, you’re incredible, from a completely different country, fuck, a completely different continent, you still turn me on like crazy,” he admires.

“I could say the same about you. I came so hard just from getting to hear and see you.” You tell him before accidentally dropping your phone. “Shit, sorry, my fingers are a little wet.

Brendon would normally just be admiring the soaked panties he’s getting a glimpse of, but instead, his attention is drawn between your thighs for a different reason.

“Were you getting off by humping Little Brendon?!”

“It’s not what it looks like, okay?” You say, picking up the phone. “He’s the perfect firmness, and he’s way easier to manage than a clunky pillow! It’s purely physical!”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve bought you thousands of dollars in sex toys, and you turn to him? In our marital bed? I’m being cuckolded by polyester!”

“Brendon, it’s a stuffed animal, not the pool boy. You come back from England in three days, and you can fuck me however you want. Y’know, because of your functioning dick, tongue, and fingers?”

“Just as long as I don’t come back to find you rimming the stuffed tiger from Calvin and Hobbes,” he teases with a smile.

“Hm, is degrading Winnie the Pooh out of the question, too, then? because if that’s the case, then I’ll need to find different plans for tomorrow evening.”

He gives you a pointed look, feigning seriousness before cracking a grin. “Alright, alright, thank you for the orgasm. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before blowing you a kiss before hanging up.

“That plush better count his days,” Brendon mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

***

“Do you want me to go with you to the store?” He offers.

“No, baby, enjoy some of your time at home. I’ll just bring my other husband for emotional support.” You toss Little Brendon in your purse.

“I remember when I was your emotional support at the grocery store…” Brendon starts, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, me too, and you were terrible. You hated it. Rest assured, I’ll make you come back to the grocery store another time, but right now, I’m being nice because you just got back from tour. And you still have the dishes and the vacuuming to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you smooching Little Brendon while I’m at home doing your dirty work,” he calls as you leave.

“No promises! He’s very tempting!”

***

“You never snuggle with me anymore,” Brendon pouts after you reject his advances in bed.

“It’s August, and you’re hot,” you complain, and he gives you a suggestive look. “Not that kind of hot, Casanova. I mean two minutes in, and you’re sweating all over me. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You snuggled with Little Brendon when I was gone!” He accuses.

“Yes, because I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping with something in my arms, and Little Brendon doesn’t sweat, or snore, or wake me up in the morning with his cock pressing into my thigh, or bicker with me about how I choose to sleep,” you explain, annoyed. Brendon looks genuinely upset, so you soften your face. “When the temperature isn’t in the triple digits, and we don’t literally stick together when we touch, we can cuddle. Okay?”

“Fine.”

***

“Bogart, hey buddy, look at this toy for you to chew on. Bite, bite, bite, kill,” he says, throwing Little Brendon to Bogart.

Bogart sighs and rests his head on Little Brendon like a pillow.

“First my wife and now my dog,” Brendon shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” you tell him, alerting him to your presence in the doorframe. “Sit,” you order, pointing to the couch. “Brendon, you’re jealous of a toy,” you state bluntly.

He blushes and grabs his stuffed enemy. “It’s not about the toy,” he finally admits.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“It’s just,” he struggles to find the right words, “I love touring. I love seeing all the different cities on my days off, meeting fans, partying with different bands, and most of all playing shows.” He takes a deep breath. “But I also love you. I love waking up with you, going out to dinner, watching you get off on my thigh, and just getting to be near you. So when I have to be away from you to tour, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, and seeing you do the things I want to do with you with the stupid Beebo plush instead, kept bringing all of those feelings to the forefront” he confesses.

“Oh, B, of course, you made the right choice. I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone sometimes, but I love our life. I love getting my independence when you’re gone, visiting you on-tour, watching you do what you love, having super hot reunion sex. So yeah, sometimes I just wanna squeeze you and smell your cologne and kiss your little face, but I’d never want you to sacrifice your career for that,” you say. “You wanna know why I like Little B so much?”

“Because he’s so good for humping?”

“No,” you laugh, “well, yes, actually, he is. But it’s because he reminds me why I spend some nights alone and hop on dreadful red-eye flights every few weeks and have to hook up with my husband on a fucking bus. So you can put on this dumb gold jacket,” you fiddle with Little Brendon’s jacket, “and perform the songs you worked so hard on for hundreds of thousands of people, and then sell thousands of these dumb little dolls so we can live in a multi-million dollar house with a home studio and a heated pool.”

“So you’re not replacing me with the puppet doll?” He asks.

“Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you feel so intangible. Even when you’re here, I know you have other, more important obligations, so it’s nice to have something constant,” you laugh, “and I think Bogart feels the same way,” you say, pointing to the dog who is curled around his new friend protectively.

***

“You’ve created a monster!”

“Have not!”

“You were the one who gave him Little Brendon!”

Brendon’s eyes dart to the floor because you’re right.

Bogart grew attached to Little Brendon faster than you did and now gently carries the toy with him wherever he goes. If you try to reclaim Little Brendon, Bogart growls and snarls.

“It’s kind of cute, I guess. He’s protecting his daddy,” you say.

“Then it’s your fault for putting my cologne on him,” Brendon retorts.

“Ugh, fine,” you concede.

“Oh look, he’s dropped it,” Brendon points out.

At first, you think it’s a good thing, but you both recognize the look Bogart’s giving.

“Go, Bog! Get it!” Brendon cackles as the dog pounces.

“Oh no, you don’t, bad dog,” you scold, snatching the toy away. “If you wanna hump something, I think Zack’s coming over tonight, but we don’t do that to mommy’s things.”

Brendon’s still laughing his ass off, and you shoot him a dirty look. “C’mon, babe, you’ve blue-balled him,” Brendon says, pointing to the sad-looking dog.

“Bogart is fixed and doesn’t have balls, a characteristic you two will soon have in common if you don’t stop giggling like a ten-year-old,” you threaten, and he, wisely, shuts up. “That’s what I thought. And if anything, this is just vindication for me because I told you Little Brendon was good for humping, and you dismissed it,” you tell him.

“Okay, fine, there was a brief period of time when I was irrationally jealous of a toy,” he admits. “But I think you should get another taste of the real thing before you decide who’s the better lay once and for all,” Brendon says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Brendon!” You lightheartedly protest in his arms.

***

You’re lying on his chest contentedly as he strokes your arm. “You wanna know what I miss the most about getting to cuddle with you when you’re touring? Something Little Brendon doesn’t give me?”

“Hm?”

“Your heartbeat. Feeling it under my head or under my palm. Especially if we’re lying together for a while. I love how it slows and steadies the longer we’re with each other. So comforting.”

***

Little Brendon is sitting on your bed with a card that says, “Squeeze me!” on the front. You squeeze the plush, and you immediately recognize Brendon’s heartbeat coming softly from the chest of the toy. You smile and pick up the card.

Hey, baby! It reads, I’m no doubt missing you on the second leg of tour right now, but if you really need some comfort, I hope this’ll do. The recording lasts about an hour, and I made sure it got down to my resting heart rate before it stops. I’m sorry for being a jealous dick about a stuffed animal, but even my possessive lizard brain wants you to have something to make you feel better if you’re ever stressed or upset. (And now that the Beebo plushies are officially for sale, you can rest easy knowing yours is special)

xoxoxo,

Brendon

#why did i write this?#brendon urie fanfiction #Brendon x Reader #my own work #brendon urie #panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fluff

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serowotonin · 4 years ago

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˗ˏˋ 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 ˎˊ˗

✰ PAIRING ( terushima yuuji x fem!reader ) ✰ WORDCOUNT ( 1.9k ) ✰ GENRE ( ansgt, songfic ) ✰ WARNINGS ( um one swear word, angst, implications of de*th )

all the memories that we make will never change we'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain and I swear that I'll always paint you golden days ♫ panic! at the disco

✰✰ NOTE.. so uH i think this is the first angst thing i wrote that im actually happy with and i know terushima isn’t someone a lot of ppl write for so to the few ppl who see this</3 hope u guys enjoy:”)

“Ughh where is it,” Terushima grumbled to himself as he pulled open drawer after drawer. He had searched all the cabinets, all the tables, and just about every inch of his apartment but has yet to find his phone charger.

As he closed the second to last drawer on this shelf, which held no phone charger, he pulled out his phone and saw it had 1% battery remaining. Quickly, he unlocked it and went to his contacts. Before he could make a call though, the screen turned black and he was left staring at a faint reflection of himself.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “She’s gonna get upset again.”

He clutched the now dead phone in one hand and ran the other through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. Today had been tiring enough with work and now he had this to deal with.

There was still one more drawer he hadn’t checked though. So, he lifted his hand out of his hair and pulled it wide open.

In it sat a small box.

He knew of its contents the moment he laid eyes on it. He also knew opening it now would only make him feel worse, not to mention, it would definitely delay his plans.

But for some reason, a longing for nostalgia or maybe the person that brought such nostalgia, his arms unconsciously moved to take the box into his hands.

Your words echoed in the back of his mind as he traced his fingers along the edges of the box.

“It’ll be like our little time capsule. For us to open when we’re all old and wrinkly…”

A deep sigh escaped his lips.

Every rational thought that came into his head begged him not to open it, to put it back, to forget he even found it.

Instead, his fingers moved to lift the cover and lay it down on the floor beside him.

And there you were... a polaroid of you at least.

Your lips were curved in a sweet smile inviting him in and breaking his heart all over again. Up until now, he could barely recall what your face looked like when you were happy, truly happy. He could only remember the tears and regret you had on your face towards the end…

But seeing you like this again, the wideness of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes… you radiated a joy and happiness he had begun to forget in you.

He stared at the picture for a good minute before turning it around to see the familiar strokes of your handwriting.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!’ and under it ‘(first pic taken with the polaroid my baby Yuuji got for me<3)’

“My baby Yuuji,” he whispered.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” he sang softly into your ear as he held you from behind, swaying gently in tune.

“Happy birthday dear Y/n.. Happy birthday to you~”

You turned to kiss the blond and he pulled you even closer to him.

“I love you babe, happy birthday...”

The tiredness he had felt just moments ago seemed to have fluttered away when he found you again in the polaroids, and a longing burst from the depths as he put the picture down and picked up another one, his hands once again moving on their own will.

This one had the two of you standing together, backs facing the camera. It was taken at a beach when the sun was still high in the sky and the water glistened blue. But it wasn’t the scenery that appealed to him, nor was it the way the sun wrapped around you two in perfect golden light.

It was how close you were to him. The physical distance between you two was barely existent. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and his were draped over your shoulders.

‘Sea breeze, cute outfit, sand between my toes, and 1 Terushima Yuuji… Damn was today great.’

How he would give to be that close to you again.

“Ok 3, 2, 1…”

You clung on to him as tight as you could and he smiled, pulling you closer.

At the sound of the camera click and the hum of the photo being printed, you let go and quickly turned around to thank the woman for taking the picture.

When you did that he felt off; as if a part of his body was just yanked away. It wasn’t an extreme feeling, nor was it painful in any way. It was more just a lingering emptiness that was put to rest a few seconds later when you were back by his side again.

He put his arm back on your shoulder and peered down at the polaroid in your hand. You were staring at the photo patiently waiting for the colors to fade in. And when it finally did, you smiled satisfactorily at it before tucking it away and flashing another smile to the man right next to you.

Terushima closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind. It’s been years, he shouldn’t be dwelling on the past like this.

And yet, there was comfort in the pain the memories brought.

When he opened his eyes, they landed on yet another photo of you. And as he has been for a good part of his life, he was drawn to you. Reaching out a hand, he picked it up and let the memories wash over him once more.

After a while, he set it down and picked up another. And another. And another. Each capturing a moment with you he would never get back.

It’s been years since he’s had to learn to live without you. Truthfully though, he never did learn how. The sun became a little dimmer, the rain a little harder, the breeze a little less refreshing. The world lost its vibrancy when he lost you. He adapted, got used to the dullness, but he couldn’t learn to live the same anymore...

He picked up another polaroid.

This one didn’t have either of your faces on it. It just showed the two of you holding hands against a dark background.

The bottom held no words but instead an arrow pointing to the right. Terushima turned the polaroid and saw a small envelope attached to the back. Curious, he opened it up and pulled out the piece of paper snuggled inside.

‘This one’s a bit longer than any other note I’ve written for a polaroid but… I kinda just realized smth really important. He drove me out at 3AM in the morning to get food because I said I was hungry. Then we sat in his car listening to some old mixtapes he had. They were pretty crappy but it didn’t matter. I love Terushima Yuuji. I’ve said it a million times before but last night it really hit me, hard. I love him in a way I’d never be able to love anyone else.

I want to go on more dates with him. more stupid dates, more romantic ones, more 3AM dates, more cuddle dates. And even though it might be selfish of me, I want to spend my every breathing minute with him.

If I can’t have anything else in this then I just want these golden days of ours to last forever..’

And before he realized it, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Fuck it all. He missed you. He missed the days you had together, the nights spent in each others’ arms. He missed you so much it tore a hole in his heart and all he could see when he looked at the sunlight drifting through the window was just darkness.

It pained him to know that everything you wanted was all he ever needed. It pained him that he hadn’t realized this until it was too late. And it pained him most that you were never coming back.

Why’d you have to leave?

He tried so hard to stop asking this question, and for a while, he was successful. But the polaroids, your handwriting, the memories, you.. there was just so much pain in the happiness of the past.

But you were gone. He had accepted that long ago.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Terushima, you in here?” a familiar voice called from outside.

Right, he forgot about Misaki. Wiping any tears left on his face, he put all the polaroids back in the box, covered the lid, and left the room.

“DADDY!!” a little girl yelled, running at him full speed. He bent down and lifted her into his arms effortlessly.

“Oh you’ve gotten heavier. How much has Misaki been feeding you huh?” he teased.

The little girl pouted as she pointed to the floor signaling she wanted to be put down. Terushima chuckled and did so.

Walking over to a slightly annoyed-looking Misaki, he muttered an apology for not going to pick her up and a thanks for taking care of his daughter.

“Hey wait, you look like you’ve been crying… Are you ok Teru?” she asked, eyes showing her concern.

He let out a deep sigh.

“I uh- I found a box with some old pictures of Y/n and I just-”

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Look, I know you miss her and I know you know this, but don’t get too stuck in the past. Focus on what you have now,” she said looking in the direction of the young girl who had made her way over to the small pile of stuffed animals on the couch.

He rubbed his face and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you Misaki.”

“Ok,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be going then.”

Terushima nodded again and after she said bye to his daughter, he walked her to the door.

Turning back he leaned on the wall and looked affectionately at the girl playing on his couch. She was still so young, but it’s been almost 5 years now that he’s taken care of her.

Time seemed to fly by with her and yet it felt like so long ago he welcomed her to the world.

He understood now the past and its memories were something to be treasured. It was not something to cling on tightly though. The golden days of the past are gone, but the glittering rays that coated the floor and walls of his living room tell him it’s a new age.

It was an age he had to cherish well.

Deciding to do something he’s been putting off, he walked back into his room and brought out the box with all its polaroids and memories.

“Yui, come here. I want to show you something.”

She stared at him before taking one frayed teddy bear into her hands and walking over to her father. Taking his outreached hand, she looked at the box he held in his other.

Sitting at the top of the pile was a photo of a beautiful woman. The sun was shining bright in the background and the light swirled around her as if she was wrapped in a golden halo.

“Is she an angel?” Yui asked innocently, pointing to the picture.

“You got that right,” he replied with a sad smile. “She’s the most beautiful angel out there..”

He watched as the young girl picked up the photo, seemingly mesmerized.

“That angel is your mom.”

“My mom?” she echoed. “Mommy is an angel?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair, “She sure is, and you know what? She’s looking out for us from heaven, so you better be a good girl for her, okay?”

✰✰ NOTE.. pls lemme know if u guys thought this was angsty enough sdkjlsdg,,,, i dunno i can’t seem to tell whether angst is painful enough yet;-; also don’t mind the name yui dkglsd it was the first one i could think of T-T

✰✰✰ TAGLIST.. @lilikags @luna-in-luv @kureyama

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prouvaireafterdark · 4 years ago

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Petrichor

aka the long-awaited Sad Buffy Fic™️ 🐶 This got smuttier than I’d planned, but what else is new lmao

Also: Canon compliance? Don’t know her (I also don’t fully understand the schematics of Alex’s house, but let’s just pretend I do).

Also on AO3!

(Oh, and Happy Season Four Renewal!)

***

“Your dog’s a little weird, dude.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

Outside, his beagle Buffy has been frantically running around and barking at the air for the last thirty minutes. There’s not a squirrel or bird in sight.

“Is she always like this?” Kyle asks, turning away from the window that faces Alex’s backyard to look at him.

“No, usually she’s pretty mellow,” Alex says, passing him a cup of coffee. He takes a sip from his own mug to stall before he finally admits, “She only gets like this when it rains.”

“Huh,” Kyle says, considering it for a moment before he adds, “Layla always hated the rain. Remember when we used to have to bribe her with peanut butter to get her to go on walks if it was too cloudy?”

Alex remembers. Kyle’s childhood German shepherd was usually fearless, but put her near any liquid that wasn’t in her water dish and she’d run with her tail between her legs.

If only it were that simple with Buffy.

“It’s not the rain that’s making her do that,” he explains, looking down into his mug. “Well, I guess it is, but not—not like you’re probably thinking.”

Kyle processes that a moment before he speaks up.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or am I gonna have to guess?”

Alex sighs again. “She misses Michael.”

Kyle looks skeptical. “How do you know?”

Because I miss him too, is on the tip of his tongue, but Alex hesitates. As melancholic as the rain makes him, he’s not interested in spilling his guts over it.

“Because Michael smells like rain,” he says instead. “It’s an alien biology thing, apparently, but you probably would know more about that than I do.”

“Oh my god,” Kyle says, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Are you saying she’s looking for him out there right now?”

Alex nods. “She’ll give up in about an hour, but, yeah. She smells rain and she thinks he’s home.”

“That is so fucking sad.”

“I know,” he sighs, and turns around to go find a seat on the couch.

“Like, Sarah McLachlan in those ASPCA commercials level sad,” Kyle continues as he follows him, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. “Wait, did you guys adopt her together? Like, as a couple?”

Alex considers how to answer that. “No. We were together—I guess as much as we ever were—when I got her, and he went with me to pick her up from the shelter, but she’s not—he didn’t adopt her with me. He was just around a lot when I first brought her home.”

“Mmm, I see,” Kyle says, understanding. “Maybe you should call him.”

“What?” Alex asks.

“You know, invite him over,” Kyle says, like it’s obvious. “Ask if he wants to come play with her a little.”

“What?” Alex asks again, looking at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Look, I may not be a veterinarian, but you don’t need years of specialized training to see that your dog misses her dad,” Kyle says.

Alex raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“Well, her other dad,” he amends a moment later.

Alex shakes his head. “He’s not—That’s ridiculous.“

“Is it? He was here when she was a puppy, man,” Kyle counters. “They’ve clearly got a strong bond if she’s missing him that bad.”

Alex knows he’s right, but… he can’t just call Michael and ask if he wants to come play with Buffy.

Sure, he and Michael have been on good terms lately—great, even, now that they have a common goal and have learned how to actually communicate without having two totally different conversations.

But, months ago now, Michael asked him to stay away. He told Alex he didn’t want to be with him anymore, that it hurt too much, and Alex understands that, really he does, and he’s been trying so hard to maintain the boundaries Michael wants while still being there for him any way he can.

And if he invites Michael over right now, it won’t be because it’s something Michael needs from him. It’ll be because it’s a miserable, rainy day, and Alex and his adorably stupid dog miss him.

And if Alex is being honest with himself… he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he calls Michael and Michael says no. Not right now, not when Michael’s absence in his life, in his home, feels like an ugly, gaping wound.

“Just think about it,” Kyle says. “You never know, maybe he’s been missing her too.”

When Kyle leaves an hour later, Alex registers the quiet and realizes Buffy’s stopped barking. Finally, he thinks, until he goes to the back door and sees her slumped up against the glass, looking absolutely fucking miserable.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

He opens the door and scoops her up off the ground. She’s a little wet from the start of the drizzle, but once she rests her head on his shoulder and huffs despondently he can’t bear to put her back down. He takes her over to the couch and draws the blanket around the both of them, hoping he can cheer her up with enough kisses and pats.

With the smell of Michael so thick in the air, he’s not surprised it doesn’t work.

He stays there with her until hunger beckons him toward the kitchen to make both of them dinner. When Buffy won’t touch her kibble, Alex scoops some leftover grilled chicken, rice, and veggies from his own plate into her bowl. It works, thankfully, but when she’s done she curls up on the floor with a sigh and Alex’s heart breaks just looking at her.

He ends up lying down on the floor next to her, his head cushioned by a pillow he dragged off the couch. The rain really starts coming down outside then, and Buffy starts to whine.

“I know, baby girl,” he says, curling more tightly around her. “I miss him too.”

He’s not sure how long he stays there before his phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out to see a text from Kyle.

Did you call him yet?

Alex sighs and rolls onto his back, his hip aching with the movement. He stares at the ceiling for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons, until Buffy huffs a huge, sad sigh again and he just can’t fucking stand it anymore.

“Fuck it,” he says to himself and takes out his phone again.

He doesn’t end up calling Michael. Instead, he texts him a picture of Buffy without a caption.

His phone vibrates a minute later.

Aww, why’s my girl look so sad?

Alex isn’t proud of the noise he makes when he reads that. He types his response, then deletes it, and then types it again. Nerves coil tight in his stomach when he sends it.

Kyle seems to think she misses her other dad. Wanna come over?

Alex drops his phone on his chest so he doesn’t stare at it. It’s another long, long minute before his phone buzzes again. He takes a breath before he reaches for it.

Michael’s reply is just three words.

On my way

Buffy barely lifts her head up off the floor when there’s a knock at the front door. Alex walks down the hall to answer it, massaging the tight muscles in his right thigh as he goes. He straightens up when he reaches the door and opens it to find Michael standing there, looking gorgeous as ever in a dark green flannel that’s unbuttoned practically to the middle of his chest, his curls a little damp from the rain.

“Hey,” Alex smiles, stepping aside to let Michael in. “Thanks for coming.”

“How could I say no to that cute face?” he replies, but the way Michael looks him over as he says it makes Alex wonder whether he’s actually talking about Buffy.

He doesn’t have long to ponder that particular nugget of information, though, because once Michael’s voice carries into the house, Alex hears the frantic sound of Buffy’s nails scraping his hardwood floors. Michael gasps a little theatrically when Buffy rounds the corner, barking as she barrels toward him at full speed down the hallway.

“Hi, baby girl,” he coos, crouching down to her level.

When she’s finally in front of him, she spins in excited circles at his feet, barking and panting while Michael pets her everywhere he can reach. It takes her a minute, but eventually she stops moving long enough to prop herself up on Michael’s knee so she can alternate between licking his chin and staring up at him with abject love and affection, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

It’s the happiest Alex has seen her in—God, he can’t even remember. He’d feel a little put out about it if he didn’t understand it on a deeply visceral level. When she looks up at Alex as if to say Look! He’s back! Alex can’t help but bend down to pet her too.

For his part, Michael seems similarly affected. “Oh, I know, baby, I missed you too, I missed you too,” he’s saying with a wide smile. His eyes are wet when he looks at Alex and Alex’s throat grows tight with feeling.

Did Michael need this as much as Buffy did? Alex wonders when Michael breaks eye contact.

“Oh god, uh, Alex?” Michael says suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “I think she had an accident.”

Alex spots the small puddle beneath her when Michael gets his hands under her arms and lifts her up onto her back legs.

“Shit, I’m sorry, hang on,” Alex says, making for the kitchen. “Make sure she doesn’t step in it!” he calls back on the way. He grabs the paper towels and some cleaner from the cabinet under the sink and heads back into the living room. “Sorry, she’s just excited,” he explains when he gets there.

“So I gathered,” Michael says, but there’s no hint of annoyance in his voice or on his face.

Alex cleans the mess quickly, and by the time he’s thrown out the used paper towels and washed his hands thoroughly Michael’s found himself on the couch in Alex’s living room. He’s lying back against the couch with Buffy on his chest, scratching right behind her hears as he talks to her.

Seeing them like that reminds him of the first week they brought her home. He has a photo of the two of them sleeping on the couch together, her tiny head stuffed under his chin, and Alex’s heart aches remembering it. He wishes he’d been strong enough to tell Michael what he wanted. Maybe if he had, Michael wouldn’t be rebounding from his short-lived relationship with Maria and Alex and Buffy wouldn’t both be missing him so fucking bad all the time.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, realizing he’s been standing there in silence for a few minutes.

“You okay?” Michael asks as he gives him an assessing look, his hand paused on Buffy’s back.

Alex realizes this is the first time in a long time that anyone’s asked him that.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lies, on instinct more than anything else. “You want something to drink?”

“I’d love a beer,” he says, and Alex welcomes the opportunity for a tactical retreat.

“You got it.”

He collects himself in the kitchen while he grabs two beers from the fridge, uncapping them before he walks back into the living room. Alex hands Michael his beer on his way to sit down on the other end of the couch.

“Thanks,” Michael smiles as he takes the bottle Alex offers. Buffy sniffs the bottle when he goes to take a sip, but Michael holds it out of reach and explains, “No, this isn’t for puppies.”

Alex can’t help but laugh as he props his left elbow on the back of the couch to watch them.

Michael takes a long pull from the bottle and then sets it down on the end table next to him so he can keep petting Buffy uninterrupted.

“She really did miss me, huh?” Michael wonders aloud, as if the very idea that someone would is novel or unbelievable.

“Of course she did,” Alex says, placing his beer on the coffee table and scooting closer so he can pet her with his right hand. He doesn’t quite realize until it’s too late that he’s put himself right next to Michael, his right bicep almost brushing Alex’s chest. He studiously keeps his eyes on Buffy as he adds, “She loves you.”

Out of the corner of Alex’s eye, he sees Michael’s mouth turn up in a soft smile. “I love her too.”

They chat idly while Buffy soaks up Michael’s attention—Michael tells Alex all about a new experiment he’s working on with Liz that has exciting implications for something Alex would need at least two astrophysics degrees to understand, and Alex shares that he’s been keeping himself busy with music again, much to Michael’s delight.

After years of going back and forth between fucking Michael and fighting with him, it’s nice to just talk to him for a change.

The conversation makes its way back around to Buffy when she shuffles her way up Michael’s chest to fit her nose right under his chin, her eyes drifting shut for a nap. When Michael laughs and drops a kiss on the soft patch of fur between her eyes, Alex’s finds the strength to take Kyle’s advice.

“Look, I, um,” Alex starts, shifting on the couch, “I was actually thinking maybe you could… come around sometimes. To play with her.”

“What, like visitation?” Michael asks with an eyebrow raised. “I get joint custody on the weekends?”

Alex can’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like she’s our kid.”

And, wow, he should not have vocalized that thought because as soon as the words are out of his mouth Alex is hit by a whole fucking wave of feelings he does not have the time nor the ability to unpack right now, and by the look of it so is Michael.

“Hey, you’re the one who called me her dad,” Michael points out, a second too late for it to sound completely casual.

“Technically, Kyle did,” Alex flushes, but gestures to where Buffy is snuggled into his neck, finally at peace. “But look at her. She misses you.”

“Just her, huh?” Michael asks, so quietly that for a second Alex thinks he’s imagined it, but then Michael’s hand slides down from the back of Buffy’s neck to cover Alex’s own where it’s resting on her back.

Alex’s mouth goes dry. He chances a look at Michael, and what a fucking mistake that is because Michael’s honey-gold eyes are staring right at him and Alex forgets how to breathe.

“You miss me, too, Alex?” Michael asks, something that sounds a little like hope in his voice.

Alex looks at Michael for a moment, his head and heart at war the way they always are when it comes to him.

“Yeah,” Alex finally admits, a bone-deep exhaustion hitting him as the confession crosses his lips. “I do.”

Michael nods, processing that. “I miss you too,” he says after a long minute, his thumb stroking over the back of Alex’s hand, and Alex fights against the urge to pull his hand away because this doesn’t just feel important, it feels fucking monumental, but how can he even think with Michael touching him like that?

“Stop,” Alex begs softly. “Please. If you don’t mean it, or if you’re not ready, I need you to stop.”

When Michael doesn’t say anything, Alex closes his eyes, the inside of his bottom lip caught tight between his teeth to keep from losing it. He’s felt like he’s on the edge of something all day and Michael sitting here, teasing him with the offer of more, it’s just too much.

Alex feels Michael let go of his hand, feels Buffy disappear from under his palm, hears his leather couch squeak under Michael’s shifting weight and fuck how has he fucked this up already, he’s barely even said anything—

Alex flinches when he feels the warmth of Michael’s palm against his cheek.

“Alex,” he whispers. “Open your eyes.”

Alex does, swallowing hard as he meets Michael’s gaze, his eyes shining with tears.

“I mean it,” Michael tells him, his expression sincere.

“You do?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course, I do,” Michael says, leaning in to gently knock their foreheads together. Alex’s heart aches at Michael’s closeness, the familiarity with which Michael touches him. He never thought he’d get to experience it again. “God, Alex, I miss you so much I can’t breathe sometimes, I—”

Alex closes the distance between them without a second thought, finding Michael’s lips as warm and soft as he remembers. He pulls back a second later to apologize for cutting Michael off, for moving too quickly when he’s not even sure what exactly Michael wants, but Michael just makes a hurt noise low in his throat and follows after him for another taste, and then another.

Michael presses further and further into his space until Alex’s back hits the couch cushions with a soft thud, the top of his head brushing the armrest. Alex pulls away from Michael’s mouth with a slick sound, and as he gasps for air, Michael attaches his lips to a tender spot beneath his jaw and sucks, igniting a fire low in Alex’s belly that threatens to consume him.

He can feel himself getting hard as Michael worms his way even closer. He guides Alex’s left leg to rest against the back of the couch as he settles his solid weight between his thighs, continuing to pepper his throat with wet, sucking kisses all the while. It’s not until Michael dips his tongue into the hollow of his throat that Alex’s hips lurch upward of their own accord, seeking the kind of relief only Michael can give him.

“Michael,” Alex moans, eyes slipping closed as his restless fingers weave into Michael’s curls.

Michael hums his response and slips his hands under Alex’s ass, encouraging him to grind their cocks together through the fabric of their jeans. It’s rough and hot, too much and not nearly enough, and along with his spiking pleasure comes the daunting thought that they’re moving too fast—that they’re about to make the same mistake they always do.

“Fuck, wait, we should—“ he begins to protest, but Michael interrupts him, groaning unhappily against the neckline of his t-shirt before he lifts his head to look at him. Alex’s eyes skip down to Michael’s mouth automatically, that tempting shade of pink making it very hard to remember what he was thinking two seconds ago.

“Don’t tell me what we should do,” Michael begs him, drawing Alex’s attention back up his face, to where his eyes are wide and more than a little desperate. “What do you want?”

Alex stares at him as that question hits his ears, a “What I want doesn’t matter” already on the tip of his tongue before his brain even catches up with him. He’s spent so long carrying those words in his head and in his heart that he barely notices their weight anymore—not until it’s Michael staring back at him and offering him everything he’s ever dreamed of.

This time’s no different, and Michael must see it on his face because the look in his eyes softens along with his voice as he asks again, “What do you want, Alex?” He reaches up to cup the side of his face, his thumb brushing featherlight across his cheekbone. “I’ll give you anything.”

Alex swallows roughly, his eyes burning with tears he can barely hold back.

“You,” he answers, perhaps more honest than he’s ever been. His voice trembles as he adds, “I just want you.”

A brittle smile breaks out on Michael’s face, his eyes shining in the lamplight before they flutter closed as he leans back down to kiss him again, slow and deep and wet.

Heat starts to simmer between between them once again, the soft press of Michael’s mouth and the tease of his tongue driving all other thought from Alex’s mind. Michael works his hands slowly under his t-shirt and Alex hardly notices it happening until Michael rolls his thumb over one of his nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin.

Alex groans and shivers at the sensation, using his prosthetic—planted firmly on the floor now—for any traction he can get to press his hips up into Michael’s lap.

Michael smirks against his mouth, and Alex can’t help but catch Michael’s full bottom lip between his teeth in retaliation, making Michael whimper so sweetly that Alex lets him go and soothes the bite with his tongue almost immediately.

Michael gives him one last kiss before he pushes Alex’s shirt as far up his chest as it can go and dips down to latch his mouth over his right nipple. Alex sighs and drops his head back against the cushions, his cock thickening even further as Michael teases it into a hard bud with his lips and teeth and tongue, playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger. He tugs it between his teeth and Alex gasps, arching his back and pressing his chest more firmly against Michael’s mouth.

After a few more minutes of teasing, Michael starts a slow slide downward, trailing wet kisses along the way as he charts a path down Alex’s belly toward the wiry hair peeking out above his belt.

“You want my mouth, ‘Lex?” Michael asks before dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

Alex’s stomach clenches as he pictures it—Michael going down on him with singleminded focus, looking up at him beneath his lashes as he sucks on the head before taking him deeper, sinking down until the tip of his cock is snug inside his throat. He’s always looked so good with his head between Alex’s thighs.

His cock throbs painfully at the thought, desperate for Michael’s attention, but there’s something else on Alex’s mind right now, something he wants with a ferocity he can’t quite put into words.

“I do,” he says, softly tugging Michael’s hair to get his attention. “Up here.”

Michael stares at him a moment before he gets it, confusion fading as a fond smile takes its place. He slithers up Alex’s body until he can hover over his face.

“You want me to kiss you when I make you come?” Michael asks him, rubbing his nose along Alex’s cheek.

Alex nods, not trusting his voice.

Michael presses a soft, almost reverent kiss to his cheek.

“I can work with that,” he says, moving closer to his mouth. He kisses him again, not more than a peck, before he sits up and leans back, resting his weight on his knees between Alex’s spread thighs.

Alex mourns the loss of warmth, but he soon forgets it as Michael strips his flannel off his back and tosses it haphazardly behind him, revealing his toned chest and stomach. His mouth runs dry just looking at him and he quickly follows suit, yanking his bunched up t-shirt over his head and letting it fall gracelessly to the floor.

He starts on his jeans next, but Michael’s hands bat his out of the way, one cupping his cock through the denim while the other undoes his belt with practiced efficiency. He teases his crown with the tip of his finger for a torturous moment before Alex groans and he gets with the program, tugging Alex’s jeans and underwear down his hips just far enough to free his cock.

The relief Alex feels at no longer being so constricted is instantaneous, and Michael takes full advantage of the situation, curling his fingers around his shaft and thumbing through the moisture glistening at the tip. He spreads it down the length of him as he starts to jerk him off, not firm or quick enough to make him come, but enough to make the pleasure that’s been building inside him since they started this flare hot and insistent.

Alex catches his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from crying out as his hips twitch upward, fucking his cock into Michael’s grip. When he tears his gaze away from where Michael is playing with him, he sees honey-brown eyes staring back at him.

“What?” Alex asks, flushing under Michael’s attention.

“Nothing,” Michael smiles, shaking his head. “You’re just really fucking pretty like this.”

Alex scoffs at that, but it only makes Michael more insistent.

“You are,” he says defiantly, squeezing his cock a little on the upstroke. Alex tries to bite back the moan building in his throat, but it’s easier said than done. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I’ve got my hands on you? Shit, ‘Lex. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Oh yeah?” he shoots back, eyes drifting south toward the dark spot slowly bleeding through the front of Michael’s jeans. “Why don’t you show me?”

Michael rises to the challenge, letting go of Alex’s cock and getting to work on his ridiculous belt buckle. He shoves his own jeans and underwear down his thighs as quick as he can and seconds later Alex feels Michael caging him in as he covers his body with his own, pressing up into his space to kiss him just like Alex had asked him to.

He feels Michael’s cock poking into his belly, smearing precome against his skin, and Alex hooks his leg around him to bring him closer until their cocks are trapped between them. Alex breaks the kiss for just a moment, just long enough to lick his palm before he slips his hand down his belly to wrap his fingers around them both, making a tight, wet channel for them to fuck into. The sticky mix of spit and precome isn’t nearly as smooth as lube, but it’ll do.

“Uh, fuck,” Michael groans against his mouth as he begins to rock his hips forward in a slow, steady grind. “Been a while since we did it like this, huh?”

Alex hums in agreement as memories of the two of them in the back of Michael’s truck, rutting together on a makeshift mattress that smelled faintly of weed, flash through his mind. A lot’s changed since then, but the drag of Michael’s cock against his still feels just as good.

Michael starts to thrust in earnest then, and Alex’s burns with every slide of his cock against him, with every eager kiss Michael presses to his mouth. His heart is pounding against his ribs and blood is rushing in his ears, nearly but not quite loud enough to drown out all the perfect little sounds Michael keeps making in the back of his throat.

It’s not long before it all overwhelms him and Alex shudders as he comes, his balls drawing up tight and cock pulsing hot and wet between them. He gasps into Michael’s mouth, too far gone to remember how to kiss properly as his pleasure washes over him, inexorable as the ebb and flow of the rising tide and strong enough to pull him under.

Michael follows him a moment later, moaning sharply against Alex’s cheek as he spills over his fist, adding to the mess Alex made. Alex jerks him through it, milking him for all he’s worth until he hides his face in Alex’s neck and starts to whimper, overstimulated. Alex lets him go then and focuses on catching his breath as the last of his pleasure fades.

Michael’s the first to move, bumping his way back toward Alex’s mouth to kiss him again, lips raw and slick where they brush against his mouth. Alex cradles his cheek with his clean palm to hold him there as they trade kisses, neither one of them quite ready to break the spell that drew them back together. Alex loses himself to it, so much so that he barely registers the quiet patter of claws against wood drawing nearer until Buffy hops her front paws up onto the edge of the couch and starts to lick his cheek.

Alex makes a rather undignified noise at the sensation of Buffy’s tongue on his face—not to mention the smell of her breath—and Michael laughs against his mouth before he pulls away to look at her.

“I’m sorry, princess, were we ignoring you?” Michael coos, and Alex isn’t proud of the way Michael’s low, rasping voice makes his spent cock twitch.

Michael reaches over the edge of the couch, feeling around on the floor for a moment, until Alex hears a sharp squeak. Buffy barks happily, lowering down on her front legs and wagging her tail, and Michael throws one of her brightly colored toys as far as he can across the room.

“That ought to buy us 30 seconds,” Michael says, leaning up between Alex’s spread thighs. Michael’s bare chest shines as he reaches over for the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table, sticky with sweat and come. He grabs a few for himself and then offers Alex the box.

Once they’re as clean as they’re going to get, Michael zips up his jeans and gathers their dirty tissues to throw them out. Alex likewise tucks himself away and sits up on the couch, nervously awaiting Michael’s return.

He’s just reaching for his shirt on the floor when Michael comes back, his head cocked to the side as he looks at him curiously.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, the corner of his lips pulling up into a lopsided smile. Alex gives him a questioning look, but Michael only steps closer and plants his hand on Alex’s chest, pushing him gently to lie back down. “I’m not done with you yet,” Michael explains.

Alex raises an eyebrow, but Michael just settles on his chest once more, tucked between Alex’s body and the back of the couch. He throws one leg over Alex’s thigh and his arm wraps around his waist, his chaotic mop of curls tickling Alex’s nose as he shifts to get comfortable.

The silence between them as they lie there is nice, simple in a way things rarely are for them.

That is, until Alex’s mind starts running away from him, age-old doubts and fears plaguing his thoughts. He loves Michael more than anything, but was falling back into bed so soon a mistake? Can they really make it work this time?

“Stop thinking,” Michael mumbles against his collarbone.

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes with a sigh, dropping a kiss into his curls. “I just…”

“Hm?” Michael prompts him when he doesn’t continue.

Alex takes a breath before he says, “I just can’t believe we just had sex on my couch without actually talking things out first.”

“Really?” Michael asks, leaning up to look at him incredulously. “You can’t believe that?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Alex concedes with a laugh. “I just meant—I don’t know. I thought the next time we did this, we would be a real couple.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Michael’s face falls a little, his eyes sliding down to stare intently at Alex’s collarbone. He doesn’t pull away from him though, not yet, which Alex hopes means he hasn’t completely fucked this up.

“Who says we’re not?” Michael asks slowly, chancing a look back up at Alex’s face. Alex isn’t sure what he finds there, but it reassures him enough to joke, “I mean, we have shared custody of a fur baby remember? That sounds pretty serious to me.”

Alex laughs at that, his eyes warm and fond and maybe just a little misty.

“I love you,” he says, the words spilling out of him before he can contain them.

His heart seizes in his chest a little at the unexpected admission, but it’s worth it to see the joy on Michael’s face as he presses in close and whispers those words right back at him.

The next time it rains in Roswell, Alex wakes slowly to the sounds of soft laughter, rustling sheets, and raindrops tapping away at the roof overhead. He drifts in that space between sleeping and waking for a few moments, warm and content.

Buffy barks suddenly, pulling Alex firmly into the land of the living. He cracks open an eyelid to see Michael sitting up in bed and a very happy beagle demanding belly scratches on the comforter in front of him.

“Shh, daddy’s sleeping,” Michael scolds gently, and Alex’s heart feels so fucking full.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up, the movement drawing Michael’s attention.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Michael says, casting a rueful smile over his shoulder.

Alex smiles and shakes his head, shifting closer so he can rest his head on Michael’s shoulder and pull him back against his chest. He rests his right palm over Michael’s heart, his fingertips dragging lightly through his chest hair.

“Never apologize for being here when I wake up,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Michael ducks his head and smiles, his hand coming to rest over Alex’s on his chest.

Alex closes his eyes and breathes deep, the heady scent of petrichor filling his lungs.

Maybe rainy days aren’t so bad.

#malex #malex fic #rnm fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #been working on and off (mostly off) on this bad boy since before season 2 lmao #I hope you like it!

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 28

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - Immortal

In some remote mountainous areas in the south, Miao women used clay pots and menstrual blood to raise hundreds of insects. They sealed them, placed them in a damp place and cast curses on them. Once the day was done, the poisonous insects will have killed each other and the last one was embodied with Gu poison*. The curse made with Gu poison could make someone's love interest fall helplessly in love with them for the rest of his life, and it could also plague one's enemy with nightmares, madness, and even death. The women who concocted Gu poison were typically loners, often muttering to no one, avoided by the general public.

*(T/N: 蛊 - Gu poison was believed to be the combination of all the venoms from the insects that died and would be used for black magic in southern regions of China)

In Nanyang Black Magic, they would use the body of a baby that died recently, boiled out the toyol*, poured it on a puppet doused in human blood and placed it in the home. The imprisoned baby ghost would protect the house but the curse-caster will be punished. They would also carve birthdates into wood, causing the other to die.

*(T/N: 尸油 - literally 'corpse oil.' I'll spare you the graphic details but basically taking a dead body's chin and boiling it until oil drains out of it)

This black magic flourished in the Ming Dynasty. The Eastern Depot eunuchs* were in turmoil. Everyone was reporting each other, no one would speak to each other, eyes darting between each other daily. These curses were developed as a branch of Daoism to oppose political rivals. A-Yan said that the Daoist practices used to drive out ghosts and save people were declining, but this black magic has stuck around. It was one of the biggest spots in Daoist history.

*(T/N: 东厂 - a secret police & spy agency run by eunuchs meant to suppress political opposition towards the emperor)

Saturday morning was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but not to the point of being unbearably hot. The distant mountains stood silently under the blue sky. A black Audi passed quickly through the country’s tree-lined roads, raising a cloud of grit and dust. A white goose with its head held high on the roadside was startled by the car, flapping its wings and stretching its neck to hide behind a fence.

The car stopped at a small farmhouse in the northwest corner of the village.

In the courtyard, a tall Shuzi tree stretched out dense branches, looking extraordinarily vibrant. In contrast, the entire courtyard was strangely decrepit. A well was covered by a millstone and the stone-paced path was full of weeds. The doors of the three mud-brick houses were closed, with straw curtains covering the doors and windows covered with dust.

Everything was very different from a month ago. Lin Yan remembered that the last time he came here, there were hens and rabbits. The old lady in blue embroidered clothing was kneeling on the futon with her eyes closed. The small courtyard was filled with the mysterious atmosphere of the countryside. The current yard would give people the impression that the homeowner hadn't been home for years when, in fact, a fresh grave in the back of the mountain had only been built a month ago. Rural people were convinced that the houses inhabited by the living were blessed by the gods and sheltered from the elements for decades. Once the owner of the house dies, the gods will follow, so the empty house often collapsed and was destroyed in less than six months.

"When Second Immortal Gu was in the village, she would help children that fell sick with fever, and the adults that were dealing with evil spirits. Young men would ask her when they'd get married and, for the right price, she'd tell them." The village chief said with a cigarette in his mouth.

The village leader knew Yin Zhou’s mother well. He heard that Yin Zhou wanted to bring someone to pay tribute to Second Immortal Gu and waited at the entrance of the village to welcome them. It took ten minutes to drive from the village leader's house to Second Immortal Gu’s house. The village head smoked four cigarettes in a row. Yin Zhou squeezed his eyes shut while Lin Yan and the little Daoist priest twisted their heads out of the window every 30 seconds to gasp for a breath of fresh air. The village chief was the only one of them chatting in the smoky car. Lin Yan saw how the complaints of three people and a ghost just flew over his head.

If a ghost could complain.

Lin Yan found a roll of incense from the little Daoist's bag and lit it. He put the incense burner at the door of the mud-brick house and offered his respects.

"Last time, we left just before Second Immortal Gu had her accident. I should have come to offer some incense sooner, it's just things with school got busy and I haven't been able to make it until now." Lin Yan brushed the straw curtain and the accumulated dust fell on his face. "Cough, cough. Does - Does anyone take care of this place?"

"Of course not. You big city kids wouldn't know. Doing this line of work is only good for putting food on the table. Immortal Gu came out here in her twenties. In less than ten years, her husband and two sons had died and she was the only one left. She couldn't even save herself." The village leader stuffed his yellow striped shirt into his pants. "Don't feel bad. No immortal in this village could escape that fate."

"Come on, let's go, you guys are here to see her grave. We don't put up any gravestones here. We just build a stone platform, but the villagers will remember who it's for. I'll take you up there."

The sun was growing hotter. Several of them used broken branches to smack the grass in case of snakes while they hiked up the rugged mountain trail. A rural cemetery wasn't as neat as an urban cemetery. Each family claimed a spot, with every newly deceased buried next to the rest of their family. The grave was a prominent mound of dirt with a large stone on top. Some of the graves were too old to even make out the mound, the ground studded with small light blue flowers. A date palm tree grew wildly, and they needed to watch their step when walking so they wouldn't disturb the resting dead.

Second Immortal Gu's grave was off on its own. The mound was freshly dug. Other than a crooked wreath lying on it, it was indistinguishable from the older graves that had been abandoned for years.

The scene made Lin Yan feel incredibly guilty. He burned a large stack of paper dollars in front of the grave, playing with his branch while saying silently in his mind: Auntie, if you're still here, please come back and tell us who harmed you. We'll avenge your death.

The village chief took the cigarettes Lin Yan had bought him and squatted off in the distance to smoke. Lin Yan winked at the little Daoist priest and said softly, "Let's start?"

A-Yan nodded and took out a crumpled photo from his pocket that he had found in a frame in Immortal Gu's house. The immortal in the photo was still very young, wearing a floral cotton jacket and staring vacantly ahead.

"Now isn't a good time. The s-sun is too high. The mountains are filled with Yang energy, and the ghosts may not be able to be reached." A-Yan said. He jumped up and grabbed a twig from the date tree above his head. He hung a spirit summoning flag on it and patted the dust off his shoulders. "Here's a picture, here are the bones. Um, Lin Yan, I'm going to borrow your birthdate for this."

Before Lin Yan had time to ask, the little Daoist priest handed him a dagger. Unlike his usual mahogany sword, this one was actually made of metal. The handle seemed to be a few years old, and the tip of the blade gleaming a bright white in the sunlight.

"H-Hold this for a minute. You might feel a little uncomfortable, but don't let it go." A-Yan instructed: "I-I'll read one sentence and you read the next."

Yin Zhou chuckled but he felt that it probably wasn't the time to laugh so he quickly turned his laughter into a string of coughs.

Surprisingly, A-Yan never stuttered whenever he talked about Taoism and charms, Lin Yan muttered.

Time passed by and it was almost noon. The date trees in the mountains couldn't block the hot sun. After standing there for a long time, most of them were covered in a layer of sweat. The village leader couldn't bear the heat and left to join some nearby people to drink some tea. Lin Yan stood in front of the grave with the dagger in his hand. He rubbed the sweat on his cheeks off with his shoulder, hoping that this time it would be over quickly.

The little Daoist started reciting. His voice didn't sound like proper speech, but the slow rate of speech wasn't too difficult to follow. Lin Yan held the hilt of the dagger and along with the chant. Not even halfway through the incantation, Lin Yan already began to feel that something was wrong. The temperature around him began to drop, and the hot sweat condensed on his back. He kept shivering like he was suffering from heatstroke. A chill came from the handle of the dagger. First, the temperature seeped into his palm, and then his whole arm, up to his shoulders, through the bones in his spine to the back of his head in a numb wave. It was as if he wasn't holding a dagger but a frozen fish that had been left in the bottom tray of the freezer for a year.

The spirit summoning flag above his head began to move.

"It's cold." Lin Yan took a breath and scanned the silent mountains around him. "Have you reached the soul?"

"I t-think I found her." The little Daoist hesitated. "Huh. . . that's weird. . ."

After reciting two more incantations, the bone-chilling cold air had spread to his calves. Lin Yan's teeth chattered and he shivered out: "A-. . . A-Yan, are you sure this is okay. . . it's too. . . cold. . ."

The chanting continued, the little Daoist priest shot him a sideways glance, his eyes cold. Lin Yan can only brace himself to keep follow the mantra incantations, a heavy cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hold on for a little longer. The soul is bound to something, I want to break it free." A-Yan gritted his teeth, and a piece of talisman paper was slapped against the blade. All of a sudden, the cold washed over him like a tsunami. Lin Yan's whole body felt like it was being stabbed by needles, veins popping on his forehead from the pain.

"A-Yan, what are you doing?!" Yin Zhou knew something wasn't right when he saw Lin Yan's lips turn blue. "If you can't do it now, someone's going to get hurt. Lin Yan, use the ghost that's following you!"

"Almost there. Don't let go!" The little Daoist was flushed a sickly pale colour and he rapidly chanted the mantra. The spirit summoning flag above his head was being whipped by the wind. There was a ripping sound and the whole piece of cloth was torn in half and fluttered down onto the old grave in the distance.

"I-It's okay. . . A-Yan, go faster. . ." Lin Yan was so cold that he could barely get his tongue to work. He tried to move the hand with the dagger to it but he found that his skin was stuck to the metal and he couldn't budge it. He was shivering from his arms all the way down to his legs. Lin Yan staggered back and stepped on the bag they'd brought, almost falling backwards.

A force of strength supported his back. Xiao Yu's voice sounded right when he needed him, but his low voice didn't let him retort: "Let go."

Xiao Yu's hand covered the back of Lin Yan's hand. Compared to the temperature of the dagger, his palm was actually warm. It was just right to block the cold air that kept pouring into Lin Yan's arm. A-Yan's expression changed in an instant and he shouted loudly: "Back off, beast!"

"I'll fucking finish this. . ." Lin Yan abruptly closed his eyes and pressed his palm to the blade. All at once, the bone-chilling cold air felt like ten thousand needles running through his palm up to his arm. At the same time, there was a cold that grew behind him. He quickly opened his eyes but Second Immortal Gu hadn't appeared. On the contrary, Xiao Yu snapped Lin Yan's wrist with completely overwhelming strength, forcing the sharp weapon out of his hand.

The moment the dagger was taken out of Lin Yan's hand, he felt like he was immediately torn out of an ice block and thrown into a fire. The ritual was broken, the hot sunlight licked his back, making his whole body numbly feel like it was going to dissolve. However, he couldn't care less about his body's reaction. What happened next made Lin Yan and Yin Zhou - who was freaking out off to the side - shocked. They saw Xiao Yu holding the dagger inching towards A-Yan, frigid eyes filled with killing intent. When the palm of his hand touched the hilt of the knife, it sounded like searing flesh. But he didn't care. He grabbed A-Yan's collar with one hand, and violently plunged the dagger toward his left eye with the other!

Lin Yan's mind kicked into action. He subconsciously rushed over to hold Xiao Yu's waist, using all his strength to drag him back. However, something was wrong with the little Daoist priest, too. His usual cowardice was gone and his eyes burned with rage. He rolled away and broke free, rapidly taking out a handful of cinnabar and tossing it towards Xiao Yu. His voice changed because of the trembling: "An evil beast is an evil beast. You can't stay!"

"What the fuck is going on!" Yin Zhou couldn't see Xiao Yu. He could only see the little Daoist tumbling on the ground alone trying to avoid a shimmering dagger. Lin Yan's nerves were fried. While dragging Xiao Yu back, he roared towards Yin Zhou: "How the hell should I know? You grab A-Yan!"

He had never seen Xiao Yu so angry. The midday sun was burning and blinding. The ghost's whole body was emitting a faint greenish-black aura. The knuckles of both hands snapped open, sharp claw-like nails grabbing the back of the Daoist priest's head. Lin Yan thought he was seeing things and closed his eyes, but the scene stayed the same. The place where the ghost stood glowed a greenish-black and the place where the human stood was a dancing orange fire, intertwining with each other, but the orangish-yellow flames were gradually dying out. . .

Later, he would learn that people have yang energy and ghosts have yin energy. When the energy was extremely concentrated, he could directly perceive the yin and yang without his eyes confusing it in his mind. This was the foundation of excellent Taoism. He had inadvertently opened a long-closed door to the mystical arts.

However, the current situation was extremely dangerous. Xiao Yu held A-Yan’s neck with one hand and the dagger cut inch by inch into the little Daoist priest's arm blocking it. The hand holding the knife was searing black from the contact with the blade of the evil spirit's. A Yan's face grew purple, his eyes bulging. Lin Yan didn't dare to hesitate for a moment and scrambled over to protect A-Yan from behind. There was a clanging sound and the dagger rolled to the ground.

The little Daoist broke free from the evil spirit's hands, clutching his bleeding wound and groaning intermittently: "Lin Yan. . . Immortal Gu. . . Immortal Gu's spirit is trapped. . . I couldn't get her. . ."

Lin Yan supported the little Daoist's shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and the soft deer-like eyes were different from those when he had when he cast the spell. "The curse. . . Be careful." A-Yan whispered. Lin Yan hadn't gotten the chance to ask what was going on before his thin body couldn't support his own weight. His eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, shocked by the outcome, unable to utter a word.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi #bl novel

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yatorihell · 4 years ago

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In The Darkness Chapter 72 - Obliviate, Relocate

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 4,653

Summary: Yato, Hiyori and Yukine leave home to begin their quest.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Hiyori took one last look around her room.

Her suitcase was packed with the few possessions she didn’t want to lose. The stuffed bears from her childhood were arranged neatly on her bed, and the posters on her wall were beginning to peel from age. She wondered what would become of them and her childhood bedroom when she was gone.

This is necessary, Hiyori told herself, but it still didn’t stop the tear from slipping down her face.

Hiyori quietly made her way downstairs, her suitcase heavy in her hand as she stopped by the front door. Just around the corner, she could see her parents sat in the dining room. Her father was obscured by a newspaper, and her mother had her back to her.

She wanted to do this the right way: to say goodbye, to say that she loved them and that she would be back one day, but she couldn’t.

This was the right way.

Hiyori raised her wand. In a ghost of a whisper, she spoke. “Obliviate.”

The framed pictures in the hallway and stairs faded, erasing her from the family holidays, school picture days, and her fifth birthday where she wore that silly party hat. Her prom photo, the picture of her brother Masaomi holding her for the first time as a baby, and the Hogwarts uniform that her parents told their friends was a Halloween costume, all faded to blank backgrounds.

Her parents never turned to her or wondered why the front door clicked shut, but Hiyori knew it was because they no longer had reason to believe they had a daughter. Hiyori knew that she was nothing but a phantom.

Hiyori Iki never existed. Not in this house.

Yato was waiting for her in the underpass where they had been attacked by Dementors only a few years ago. The white paint was now covered in a multitude of graffiti and tags, and a few of the neon lights had been busted. He turned his head when he heard footsteps accompanied by the roll of wheels on concrete. Hiyori emerged at the end of the tunnel and Yato turned to face her, face solemn.

“Is it done?” Yato asked softly. He pretended not to notice the redness of her eyes when she avoided his gaze, coming to a stop only a few feet away.

Hiyori nodded and wiped her eyes. “They won’t remember anything about me. I put an enchantment on the door handle so my brother will forget me too once he comes home. Hopefully the idea of moving away will sink in by tonight.”

There was a ripple of silence between them. She had done this to protect her family, to get them as far away from her and the Sorcerer, but Yato still felt at fault. If she never met him, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

“You can always reverse it,” Yato said slowly. “You can go home-.”

Hiyori shook her head vigorously and sniffed again. Yato quietened, giving her the space to think.

She let out a deep, shuddering breath and finally met Yato’s eyes. “We told you, ‘together, or not at…'”

Hiyori’s resolve fell apart and she buried her face in her hands. Yato closed the distance between them in two strides, pulling her into his arms. She choked out apologies, but the tears wouldn’t stop, and the crack in her voice only made him hug her tighter. His body enveloped hers in a supportive embrace, dwarfing her as she shrunk into him and secured her arms around his back. He knew he wouldn’t be the first to let go.

Footsteps came from the tunnel entrance behind Hiyori. Yato dropped a hand to the suitcase and held Hiyori closer. The world disappeared in a blur as they apparated away from the life she had traded for him.

Yato took one final look around his bedroom at Yukine’s, which he’d called home for five years now, and sighed. Downstairs he could hear the first arrivals coming and the clatter of a trunk being heaved downstairs. The Order of the Phoenix was here to escort them out of the house, and Yato couldn’t help but feel he was losing the life he built piece by piece.

His eyes fell on his bedside table. The only objects on it now were Sakura’s wand, enclosed in its case for safekeeping, and the two-way mirror. He picked up the mirror and ran his finger along the silver gilded edge. He’d hoped that somehow Sakura still had the other piece and that she would talk to him from the afterlife, but it never happened. He’d spent too long staring into that mirror imagining her face and willing her to tell him how to defeat the Sorcerer. It had become his own personal Mirror of Erised.

Yato wrapped the mirror in a t-shirt and stowed it away in his suitcase along with Sakura’s wand and clicked it shut. He dragged his suitcase down the stairs and walked through to the dining room. Yukine was stood with a trunk half his size, Hiyori’s suitcase, and Madame Kofuku. Madame Kofuku smiled as Yato entered.

“Hello, Yato,” Madame Kofuku said. Her eyes darted from the suitcase and back to his face. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Yato grunted and swung his arm, landing the suitcase within inches of Yukine’s foot.

They stepped back and Madame Kofuku waved her wand with a silent incantation. In a blink the suitcases had vanished, leaving an empty spot on the carpet. Madame Kofuku turned and put her wand back in her pocket.

“They’ll be waiting for you at the Burrow,” Madame Kofuku smiled at them.

Yato had puzzled over what ‘the Burrow’ meant, as he was under the impression that they were going to Madame Kofuku’s and Daikoku’s house a few days early for the wedding. It didn’t seem to faze anyone but himself as Yukine led them across the hall and into the front room.

They hadn’t seen so many people packed inside the house since… since ever.

Hiyori stood with Daikoku, Kazuma, Bishamon, and an assorted mix of the remaining Order which made up their entourage. Madame Kofuku had told them that she had been recruiting new members since Professor Tenjin’s death, but they didn’t expect so many of them to be their teachers; Professor Tsuyu, Professor Takemikazuchi, even groundskeeper Kuraha, were among the new faces stood in the living room.

Madame Kofuku took her place beside Daikoku, and the squeeze she gave his hand seemed to be his cue. Daikoku cleared his throat and the room quietened, all eyes on him and Madame Kofuku at the head of the room.

“We don’t have much time, so listen carefully. We expect the Sorcerer will be coming to Yato’s known addresses, so we’ll be getting out of here and to the Burrow before that happens.”

Yato shifted at the mention of his name. He knew he was the reason they had come here, but to have all eyes of the Order on him now was uncomfortable when they knew he was the one who could defeat the Sorcerer.

“We will have to use transport like brooms, Thestrals, and the like,” Daikoku continued. “We’ll go in pairs, so if anyone is out there waiting for us, they won’t know which of us is the real Yato.”

The real Yato? Yato thought. His eyes caught on Madame Kofuku as she pulled a large vial of green liquid out of her pocket. He knew instantly it was Polyjuice Potion.

“No,” Yato stated, shaking his head. “I won’t let you risk your lives for me.”

“Never done that before, have we?” Daikoku replied dryly.

Yato struggled, feeling the eyes of the room on him, before giving an exasperated sigh. “This is different.”

“Everyone is of age here. They’ve agreed to this.” Madame Kofuku said shortly.

Daikoku gave a nod and, on cue, Yukine tugged on Yato’s hair. Yato yelped and swore, seeing a few strands in Yukine’s hand as he crossed the room. Madame Kofuku popped the cork and Yukine dropped them into the vial. The potion fizzed gently.

Madame Kofuku took a sip of the potion and grimaced before passing it to Hiyori, who passed it to Kazuma, who passed it to the remaining few who had agreed to this.

It seemed there was no room for arguments now.

Bodies stretched and shrank. Hair grew longer and shorter and changed shades. Voices deepened and a mixture of his own voice ricocheted back at him.

All around him were different versions of himself, dressed in oversized robes – Professors Tsuyu and Takemikazuchi – and feminine clothing – Madame Kofuku and Hiyori. Yato looked on, agape, as a bag of clothes was dropped to the floor and the Yatos began sifting through them and left to get changed. One Yato plucked his glasses off his face and squinted, realising that he could see clearly without them for the first time in his life.

When they came back, he couldn’t tell who was who unless he looked at their body language. The awkward Yato who avoided his gaze and wrapped his arms around himself must have been Hiyori, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty that she agreed to this.

“We’ll be pairing off,” Daikoku said. “Each Yato will have a protector.”

Daikoku paired off the Order members first, unfamiliar faces that left two by two until he reached the teachers. He gestured to a Yato and Kuraha. "Tsuyu and Kuraha, brooms.”

Professor Takemikazuchi and a Yato, who Daikoku hesitated to kiss on the forehead, were next to leave. He directed the next Yato – who was clearly Kazuma as his glasses were tucked in his pocket – to pair with Bishamon. “Thestral.”

“Yukine, Hiyori, brooms,” Daikoku said. His eyes fell on the real Yato. “And you’re with me.”

Yato blinked at Daikoku. He looked over at Hiyori, his mirror image, and began to argue. “No, I’m going with Hiyori -.”

“There’s two of you. You will fly separately.” Daikoku interrupted, silencing Yato’s protest.

Yato looked away, feeling a burn creeping to his cheeks as his friends watched him get scolded. After a moment Daikoku spoke again, in a calmer voice.

“If anyone followed us, they would assume you would be with Hiyori, which is why she agreed to take the potion. Your Father knows you two have an…” He paused, looking for a platonic phrase. “Attachment to one another.”

Yato’s eyes flickered to Hiyori, who looked at him in a somewhat defeated way. He had a point.

Hiyori and Yukine gave him half-smiles as they too filtered out of the living room and outside. Yato made to follow but Daikoku clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him.

“Your job is to get there in one piece. If any of us fall, you cannot stop.”

Yato looked at Daikoku, his normally strict eyes showing a more caring nature, one that understood his worry. If anything, he was acting the way a parent would console their child. Yato gave him a determined nod.

They joined the others outside. Kazuma and Bishamon were already atop a Thestral and the rest of the Order summoned their brooms into their hands. Daikoku’s broom was old but solid and big enough for two people.

Yato swung his leg over and sat behind Daikoku, his hands digging into his shoulders. He hadn’t flown like this before – except for the time he took Hiyori up to the Astronomy – but he was the one in control then. Now he could see how precarious this position was – no stirrups, no handgrip, just a seat and a body to hold onto.

“We’ll meet at the Burrow in about an hour!” Daikoku called, looking around the worried and determined faces around him. He pulled a pair of aviator goggles from his coat and snapped them on his head. He shifted his grip on the broom. “On the count of three. One… two… three!”

They were rising in the air far too quickly than Yato would’ve liked. His eyes watered in the wind and his hair whipped around his face. Beside them he could feel the strong beat of the Thestrals wings soaring higher and higher. Only now did Yato look down on Yukine’s house, watching it disappear in the twinkling lights of the village below, and the next and the next until they were above the clouds.

And then, out of nothing, they were surrounded. Hooded figures, too many to count in the night sky, hung in the air, encircling the Order as they rose through the clouds.

“Avarda Kedavra!”

The sky lit up with a blaze of green. Daikoku dove to the left and Yato found himself clinging for dear life, his feet dangling uselessly as they scrabbled for a footing as the sky rolled and his stomach roiled. Screams came from all sides, all direction lost as they spiralled around and around through a trail of blue and green and red sparks that whizzed past their ears.

The broom uprighted itself and before Yato could breathe, Daikoku had darted out of the mass and soared downwards. Yato whipped his head back to the battle, seeing the sparks of green and distant shapes of brooms and Thestrals diving in the other direction.

“We’ve got to go back!” Yato yelled. His throat dried instantly in the chilled air, but he could just about hear Daikoku above the roaring in his ears.

“My job is to get you away,” Daikoku shouted. “This was the agreement!”

“No!” Yato shouted. “We have to help them!”

Daikoku ignored Yato’s pleas and levelled out the broom, going faster than Yato had ever dared on the Quidditch field until the city lights died beneath them and they were left with the roar of the wind in their ears.

Yato felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and his eyes instinctively darted to the right. Four figures were careening at them, their wands spitting deadly spells.

Daikoku swerved and soared upwards once again. The clouds broke around them and the black figures followed suit, tight on their tail.

Yato clenched his fist in Daikoku’s shirt and wriggled his hand into his pocket, begging that he wouldn’t drop his wand and he pulled it from his pocket and aimed.

“Stupefy!”

Somehow – a miracle or pure luck – the spell hit its mark and left a hole in the Deatheater's offense. Yato aimed again and missed, the red sparks disintegrating into the blackness as the three remaining shadows gained on them.

Sparks flew past Yato’s face and he realised Daikoku was trying to shoot and fly at the same time. Yato doubled his efforts, and a combination of their spells hit a second Deatheater in the chest. He fell from his broom, plummeting to the ground with a shriek. One Deatheaters slowed to save him, but the other was still hot on their trail.

“Expelliarmus!” Yato shouted, his voice snatched by the wind as the sparks shot through his wand.

The spell missed, but a call rose from the Deatheater in response.

“It’s him! it’s the real one!”

Yato felt his heart hammer in his chest, but then the Deatheater peeled away and disappeared from view. Daikoku turned his head, wand still in hand though he had a vice grip on the broom.

“Where’d they go?” Daikoku shouted.

“I don’t know!” Yato shouted back.

His hair whipped around his face as he looked around the blank starless sky. Fear crept into his chest. How could the Deatheater have known he was the real Yato? And why would he suddenly stop giving chase if he knew that?

Maybe they were gathering more Deatheaters, or relaying who he was with – surely there would be more on the way?

“We’re nearly there!” Daikoku shouted over his shoulder.

Yato felt the broom drop a little, each judder making his stomach lurch. Then his head split open in an ear-splitting screech of static. Yato drooped forward against Daikoku’s back, vision swimming as two Killing Curses narrowly missed them, sent from –.

Yato saw him.

The Sorcerer flew alongside them like a leaf on water with no broom nor Thestral to carry him, his black robes billowing around him. His eyes gleamed like a snake with a mouse, his hair tousled in the wind and a poisonous smile crept onto his face. His hand rose a wand, twisted and malformed oak with a cracked tip.

“Yaboku…”

Daikoku let out a roar and the broom nosedived to the ground. Whatever curse that had been uttered missed them by millimeters, and a shriek came from above them. Daikoku fought to keep the broom from spiralling out of control, sparks of green and red showering them as curses and stunning spells rose up from Deatheater and Order alike. There was a distant scream and a wail that faded into silence as Daikoku fled towards the safety of the dark fields below.

The distant lights of the village grew from the size of fireflies to orbs of light that guided the way home. It was peacefully silent compared to the raging battle above the clouds, eerie and foreboding as they glided across the meadows to the outskirts of civilisation.

Yato’s legs turned to jelly as the broom disappeared from underneath him. he fell to his knees, the static fading from his head but leaving a thumping headache that pounded his temples and sickness in his stomach.

Daikoku took Yato by the elbow, urging him to stand walk. Daikoku kept looking over his shoulder at the sky, wand in hand as if he expected the Sorcerer himself to descend from the night and finish the job.

Yato lifted his gaze from the muddy earth that squelched beneath his feet. Ahead of him was a house, towering in mismatched panels and chimneys that could barely be seen in the nighttime. There were few lights on inside, but as they approached the door of the house flew open.

A Yato stood with their wand raised, but on seeing Daikoku and Yato they lowered it and threw themselves into Daikoku’s arms. In the window Yato could see Professor Takemikazuchi watching, arms crossed across his chest.

By the time his eyes had slid back to Daikoku and the Yato, the Polyjuice Potion had worn off and revealed a distressed Madame Kofuku. Daikoku kept her encircled in his arms, whispering something into the top of her pink curls as his hand stroked her back.

“They got a few of us, but I don’t know who,” Madame Kofuku was saying. “We’re the only ones here.”

Yato looked away, feeling the guilt grow inside his chest. They were the only ones here.

Madame Kofuku finally tore her eyes from Daikoku and found Yato. She unfolded herself from the embrace and took in Yato, looking up at his face cupped in her hands.

“They’ll be here soon, don’t you worry,” Madame Kofuku said.

Yato could tell from her tone that she didn’t believe her own words, and it only made him feel worse as she led him inside.

Yato couldn’t help but be taken aback at the sheer size of the house. Stairs led up to one of the multiple floors of the house, and the inside was just as messy as a Potions classroom. The front room on the right-hand side was a mismatch of armchairs and tables and trinkets that filled every surface. Rugs and pillows had been strewn around in a homely yet cluttered manner, so different from Madame Kofuku’s office at Hogwarts.

The Burrow was not an underground fortress, nor a secret network of tunnels dug by those seeking refuge from the predators that walked overhead. It was a home.

Yato was led into the left room – the kitchen – which looked as if a bomb had exploded recently. A stack of dishes was being washed by a brush that had seen better days and the table was filled with all manner of paperwork and vials and teacups.

“Don’t go outside again,” Madame Kofuku warned. “If they see you when the potions have worn off then there’s no hiding you.”

She turned and made her way to the stove and began to fill the kettle, busying herself with making tea for their guests rather than worry if they had survived the trip. Somewhere in the house he could hear Daikoku moving about, coupled with the kitchen's wooden clock. It loudly ticked every second until Yato could feel the hammering of his heart as the minutes passed, tenser and tenser.

The silence was short-lived as an ethereal screech came outside. Madame Kofuku dropped the teacup she was holding, shattering on the floor.

“HELP ME!”

Yato’s heart flipped, recognising the voice. They sprinted outside, looking through the darkness for the source, wands drawn and spinning to find where the cry had come from. Yato saw a Thestral bolt across the field in a blind panic, riderless as its wings spread and took flight.

From the tall reeds behind the Burrow Bishamon appeared, weighed down by her partner who had taken Yato’s appearance. Although the Polyjuice Potion effects had only begun to fade, Yato knew who it was even without the glasses. Kazuma.

Kazuma’s brown hair was slick with blood, running down his neck and seeping underneath his torn collar. He was barely conscious as Bishamon wrapped her arm around his side and slung his arm over her shoulder, urging him to stay awake.

Yato rushed forwards, catching Kazuma as he stumbled over a rock and nearly took Bishamon to the ground. Something that sounded like a sob escaped Bishamon’s lips as Yato slapped Kazuma’s cheeks, shouting at him to focus on him.

“H-he got h-hit,” Bishamon stammered. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the blood pool around Kazuma’s ears and drip steadily onto her arm and caught in her tangled hair.

“Inside,” Madame Kofuku demanded. “Now!”

Yato put his arm around Kazuma’s back, supporting him as Daikoku arrived and took the weight off Bishamon. Half-carrying, half-dragging, they pulled Kazuma inside the house and set him down on the living room couch. Bishamon clung to his hand and placed a hand on the good side of his face, calling his name over and over.

Madame Kofuku had grabbed a towel from the kitchen and pressed it to Kazuma’s head, trying to staunch the bleeding before rushing to get clean water and bandages. Yato leaned over them worriedly, watching Kazuma fight for consciousness.

A bang and a flash of light came from outside again and Daikoku was already up in arms, storming towards to door to see if friend or foe had tracked them down. A moment later a few nameless Order members emerged into the house, some injured, others not, directed upstairs to tend to their injuries. It seemed, so far, Kazuma was the most serious casualty of the night.

Madame Kofuku ran back into the room with bandages draped over her arm, a punch clenched in her teeth, and a bowl of hot water in her hands. She knelt down and brushed Kazuma’s hair from his eyes and they fluttered lucidly.

“Stay with us there, Kazuma,” Madame Kofuku soothed. “You’re going to be fine.”

Madame Kofuku dropped the pouch into Bishamon’s hands and instructed her to feed him the contents, a remedy to ease his pain whilst they worked. Yato tore his eyes away from the deepening crimson colour the water was taking as they worked on Kazuma, and stood by the window. He could see Daikoku outside, wand by his side as he scanned the moving clouds for life.

Yato felt his nerves jitter. Hiyori and Yukine were not here. They were the last ones, and a coiling knot of worry had already gnawed a hole in his stomach. He tried not to think about the ambush, the curses, and the green sparks that showed that the Deatheater’s intended to kill all of them, decoy or not. He tried not to think about the Sorcerer, appearing to him for the first time since that night in the graveyard, and the familiarity in those eyes…

There was a shout from outside and Yato’s mind snapped back to the present. He could see Daikoku jogging across the field, and in the distance two shapes hobbling towards him. The Polyjuice potion effects had completely worn off now, and he could see Hiyori and Yukine. Daikoku seemed to be helping Yukine hobble back towards the Burrow.

Yato rushed out of the living room and out the front door against his better judgement and the warning he’d been given. He drew his wand as a compromise as he darted across the short distance to the three of them as they made their way back. Daikoku had Yukine by the arm, his foot seemingly injured but not too badly, and Hiyori was trotting beside him with her wand drawn.

“Yato, get back inside -,” Daikoku started, but the instruction fell on deaf ears.

Yato closed the gap and pulled Hiyori and Yukine into a suffocating hug. He held them tight, eyes closed, and thanked Merlin that they were alive. They stood like that for the briefest of moments before Yato found his voice again.

“What happened?” Yato asked.

“Crash landing,” Hiyori said against his shoulder. “Broom split in two and we got thrown off.”

“Well, you had a soft landing at least,” Yukine grumbled, shifting his weight between his feet. Hiyori's laugh was stifled against Yato’s jacket, but she apologised for her landing skills.

Daikoku cleared his throat and Yato let go. Their faces were pinched red but awash with relief, and Yato felt his heart rate begin to slow. They were here. They were alive.

The four of them made their way back to the Burrow, casting looks back at the sky as the clouds darkened in the distance.

Yato lay awake staring at the ceiling. He, Hiyori and Yukine had taken a room for themselves, but there was only a bunk bed. Yukine took the top bunk and Hiyori the bottom, leaving Yato to lie on the floor, hands folded over his stomach and thin sheet.

He’d told them everything that had happened: the Deatheater knowing who he was, the Sorcerer attempting to kill him, Kazuma’s injury which, according to Madame Kofuku, would heal with a salve and potion.

The thought of what had happened and how close they had come to death kept Yato awake for hours. He knew sleep wouldn’t come, not tonight.

Yato gently pushed the sheets away and stood, wincing at every creak in the floorboards as he slipped out of the room and walked down the stairs. Some of the Order had left, but they would be back for the wedding in a few days, but Yato could hear gentle snores coming from the living room.

Yato quietly paced to the living room door to check on Kazuma’s condition. He made a mental note to apologise for allowing him to take such a stupid, dangerous risk. One that nearly cost his life. The door cracked open slightly but Yato paused.

Still asleep, Kazuma was lying on the couch with his head turned to the side, showing the bandages covering his injury. His glasses were nowhere in sight, leaving his face looking more boyish rather than the older Prefect look he had always sported. However, the thing that stopped Yato in his tracks was Bishamon asleep beside him.

She was still sitting on the floor, but her body slumped over so her head lay on his lap, her hand brought up to entwine their fingers together. Her hair was mussed up slightly, both from the night’s events and sleep. She had obviously been claimed by exhaustion too as the creak of door hinges didn’t stir her attention, nor did she move from Kazuma’s side.

Yato smiled slightly, and gently closed the door.

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #hiyori #yatori #yukine #kofuku #daikoku #daifuku #bishamon #kazuma #kazubisha #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness

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starkerhowlter · 5 years ago

Text

Daddy Stark’s Surprise

Ship: starker Rating: Explicit Contains: DD/LB, Feminization, biting, Consensual Power play, light Choking, slut-naming, namecalling, degradation, begging, praise-kink, Mirror Sex, Daddy Kink, dom/sub... probably more. Words: 2953 Summary: What Should Peter do to make this Valentine's Day better and different than others? How can he make this one unique?

Read it on AO3

A/N: Oh, my Gods! I'm posting my first smut fic.... By far, this is not my first smut fic I have ever written. Instead, this is the first time I have posted it!!! Woohoo!!! I hope you love it as much as I do! Also, this is sort of a companion fic to this fic, but it can be read alone!

Thank you so so soooooo much to my beta, @plueschpop! Be sure to go and give her ALL the love for her help in bringing this fic to life.

Peter looks at the outfit laying on the bed, excitedly. He checks his phone again, waiting for the text from Tony that says he's home. Instead, he gets a notification from J.A.R.V.I.S. that Tony wants to see him in the living area.

"There he is!" Peter smiles at the man, waiting to see what's in store. "Happy Valentine's day, princess."

Peter's face brightens when he sees the Spider-bear holding a bouquet of roses on the couch. He picks the stuffed toy up and hugs it to his chest, and then hugs Tony, "Thank you, Tony, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!" The billionaire laughs and kisses his boyfriend's forehead,

"I'm not done with you yet, Peter. I have some other surprises for you."

The boy tilts his head, curiously, innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I have a few other surprises for you tonight, baby." Tony purrs, "Starting with this." He pulls a box out of his jacket pocket, slipping it into the 21-year-old's hands.

"Wha--" Peter opens the box, accidentally dropping the lid in surprise, "How did you--"

Tony smiles as the boy removes the necklace from the box, and looks at the charm. The little heart gem, brown like his eyes, sits with a tiny golden crown over it. The heart around the little gem meets at the crown reads "Peter" on one side and "Tony" on the other. It's perfect. He smiles as he shows Nat, Wanda, and Carol. All three coo and giggle with him. Thor wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders, commenting on how the gift was a magnificent choice.

Peter drops the necklace into Tony's hand, smiling shyly. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, I just want you to help me put it on." Peter smiles and turns around.

Tony smiles at the boy's face and places the charm just beneath his collar bone and connects the clasp behind his head. The boy shivers at the feeling of his nails brushing his spine, and squeaks at the kiss pressed to the base of his head.

"I'm gonna go see what Bucky's doing up there..." He murmurs, "Meet you upstairs soon, princess?"

"U-Uhm... No!" His voice cracks, as it does when he panics, "I'll come and get you!"

Tony laughs, somewhere deep in his throat, and releases the boy, "Alright..." he draws out the 'i' sound, and then walks in the opposite direction of the team and his young boyfriend.

___

Once inside of their shared apartment, Peter looks at the lingerie he has laying on the bed. It all feels like too much, but he knows that his daddy will love it. The idea that Tony may tear the boyshorts sends tingles up his spine. With a deep breath, Peter begins stripping. First his T-shirt, then his jeans, and then his boxers. Carefully, he folds his clothes and places them in the hamper. "Mr Stark is going to love this."

He starts with the Miniskirt-boyshorts combo. Carefully sliding the lacey material up his thighs, making sure everything is covered enough to be teasing. Next, he rolls the little white fishnets up his legs, settling the band at his midthigh. It looks perfect. The bralette comes next. Tony hasn't ever seen him in one before, but he had tested the theory with photos from lingerie magazines left around their house. He always makes sure to leave them open on the men in the outfits, being sure that there is an emphasis on which one Peter likes. He has also varied the choices. From more masculine picks, like boxers and a tight tee, to more feminine picks like the outfit he's wearing now. Peter always notices that Tony lingers more when they're feminine selections than he does when they are masculine.

Silently, he hopes that Tony wouldn't realize the fact that the outfit doesn't fit right. His thighs have grown since he started working out for Spiderman. His hips have widened naturally, causing the rest of his body to change shape too. Clearly, this piece was meant for a female user, but he vows to keep it on, no matter the fact that the band at the base of the bralette touches his abs slightly higher than it does on the model. He will be okay. "Tony's gonna love it," he tells his reflection, making sure everything is perfect.

"Hey, Fri?" "Yes, Peter?"

"Can you turn on the reference photos I had you save earlier?"

"Sure, Peter." She lights up his mirror with all of the files that Peter had saved. Every photo of the pink eyeshadows, brown eyeliners and lipglosses lay against the mirror. He sighs, trying to mimic the photos of the models and coverboys. He fusses over it until his eyes look perfect. Pink eyeshadow, a little brown eyeliner and just enough lipgloss to make his lips look soft. Before leaving the room, he grabs a sheer black robe.

"Do I look too feminine?" he asks his reflection before walking out of the apartment. It was risky, sure. He could get caught, he could get kicked out, a lot of things could happen...

----

"Sir, everything is ready for you~" Peter calls, leaning against the wall, thin fingers playing with his new necklace.

Upon noticing that Bucky is sitting there as well, he yelps and wraps the black robe around his midriff, "Oh, sorry, Mr Barnes, sir! I didn't realize you were here!"

"It's okay, Peter. Also, remember how I told you to call me Bucky?" Bucky smiles, trying hard to look away.

"Right, sorry" Peter smiles at Tony's laugh, waiting for him to reason with him.

After what feels like forever Tony rises, patting Bucky's knee, "Right, I've gotta go take care of... that... Ahem... Don't stay up here pouting for too long, okay?" Bucky shrugs, causing Peter to smile sympathetically at him. He turns though when Tony begins heading towards him.

'Finally,' Peter thinks as Tony presses his thin body to the wall.

The inventor kisses him, "Did you see how hard of a time you were giving Barnes? He couldn't take his eyes off you. For a reason." Peter blushes, his cheeks dark pink as he hides his face in Tony's neck. "Aww, baby's shy~"

"Shush!!" He tries to sink inside the sheer material wrapped around his body. "Can we... Can we go upstairs, please?"

Tony laughs darkly, "Why, worried he'll hear your pretty noises, princess?" No matter how much Tony expected it, the nod Peter replies with catches him off guard, "What if he wants to?"

"Will you two go away!" Bucky laughs.

Tony laughs, chasing the young scientist down the hall, "Go. Go Go!" In the elevator, Tony nearly dies laughing, pushing the button repeatedly. "I swear, both of our lives flashed before my eyes right then."

"Oh yeah?" Peter smirks, "Are you scared, sir?"

"Of what? Do you think I'm scared of Barnes? No. Not anymore. I have no reason to be. He's dating one of my best friends!" Tony smiles sliding his arm around the younger's waist before leading him out of the elevator and into their apartment.

The moment that Peter's back hits the closed door, he knows the answer to his earlier suspicions. Tony won't stop staring at him, as though trying to decide just how he wants to take the boy apart. "So," Peter finally breaks the silence, "I'm guessing you like your surprise?"

Tony laughs breathlessly, "What gave you that impression?"

"Oh, I don't know, could it be the fact that you are looking at me like you want to eat me? Maybe the way you can't stop eye-fucking me? Or maybe it's the fact that you're --" Peter grabs Tony through his skinny jeans, "hard for me right now, Mr Stark." The younger takes his glossy bottom lip between his teeth, chewing the side seductively. "Fuck..." He whispers, hoping the other doesn't catch it. Tony's cock always felt so good in his hand. Heavy, hard, perfect.

"What was that, Petey?" He presses the spiderboy's body harder against the door, causing his grip to release, and his head to fall back. "I forget how fucking needy you get for me. So wanton just from touching my hardon through my jeans? That's a new level of easy." Peter shivers, a fruitless attempt at getting some sort of friction.

"Daddy..." He whines, trying to get his attention, but failing.

"You know, I could tell you were nervous to show me this, Princess. Were you worried I wouldn't like it?" He runs his hand down the young scientist's chest, teasing his nipples through the thin bralette, "Worried that I would think you look bad?" His hand continues its journey downwards, to the band of the micromini, "Were you worried that I would cast you out?" Peter nods silently, feeling called out. "Well, I wouldn't dream of it, Peter. You look amazing! I can't get past how delectable you look right now. This skirt looks perfect on you."

"Show me?" Peter asks, offhandedly. At that moment, Tony has never been more thankful for the wall of mirrors in their room. The inventor takes Peter's hand, pulling him down the hallway. "Where are we going?"

"You asked me to show you, baby." He replies when they enter the bedroom. "And I plan to stick to my word." Tony intertwines their fingers, pressing his hand to the back of Peter's. He takes his now open palms and places them on the mirror's glass surface. Afterwards, he taps the toe of his shoe against Peter's ankle softly, causing him to spread his feet. Streaks-be-damned, because nothing looks better than Peter does right now. The young Queens boy looks amazing, head down, hands spread on the mirror, and legs far enough apart that it causes him to stick his ass out to keep his balance, the small charm that marks Tony's ownership dangles between himself and his reflection. "Now, little spider," Tony growls in his ear, "look at yourself."

Peter raises his head and catches sight of their reflection. The whimper that tears from his throat sounds wrecked, needy. "W-woah." His flushed cheeks tint pink as his chest rises and falls, clearly turned on. Peter casts his glance down to his microskirt and catches sight of the precum already smearing across his lower stomach.

"Look how fucking needy you are, baby. Already desperate for my hands on your body?"

"Yes, Mr Stark."

"Where would you like them?" He asks, "Here?" Tony places his hands on the boy's waist as he begins kissing his neck from behind, licking the chain lightly.

"Yes, Mr Stark," Peter repeats, knowing what it does to the other man. He doesn't know when, but his eyes slip shut. About the same time, his breathing speeds up, causing his heart to pound.

"A-a-ah, Peter. I want you to keep eye contact with yourself. Watch your face as I take you apart."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Such a good boy, aren't you?" Tony asks as he sinks his teeth into the side of Peter's neck, leaving a perfectly angry ring of teeth divots behind. A shiver wracks Peter's body. "Oh, you liked that? You like when daddy sinks his teeth into your neck, marking you as his?" The boy nods, pushing his ass back into Tony's crotch. "Fuck, Peter, don't."

"Don't what, sir?" Peter feigns innocence, "Do this?" he presses back again, grinding his ass harder. "Does that turn you on?" his voice sounds mocking, as though he's trying to feel bad for him, but it's more fun to laugh, "Pity, you look so pretty like that."

"Where's that confidence coming from, Peter?" Tony asks as his fingers trace over the younger's throat, touching the bite mark he'd previously made. His other hand continues its venture down Peter's body, pressing in some places and scratching in others. At his mid-thigh, Tony stops. "These are the best part of this whole look, baby boy." He snaps the band of the fishnets against Peter's thigh, causing him to gasp.

"Mr Stark, please!" He begs, pressing again, trying to get the dom to crack. "I just need you to... Please!" His voice cracks as he begs, the comments coming out ragged.

"God, Princess, I haven't even gotten you undressed and you're already whimpering for me. May I take this off, baby?" He asks, snapping the back band of the bralette. Peter squeaks, arching towards the mirror, nodding. Tony smiles, satisfied with the response, "Off." With the single statement, Peter's scrambling to get the fabric off of his body. "Skirt too." Peter follows orders, stripping in front of the mirror, maintaining eye contact with Tony's reflection. "Fuck, baby. We may have to do the mirror thing another day."

"What's wrong, daddy? Struggling to keep your cool just because your baby stripped?" Peter smirks, grinding back. Tony's nails drag across his abdomen, leaving thin red tracks in their place. "Please, daddy."

"Please. Please what?" Tony struggles out, "What do you want? Wanna show off for me? Or do you want daddy to get you off while you watch yourself? Hm? Because after we do that, I plan to fucking rail you into the bed," He growls.

"All of it, please daddy! Whatever you want, just wanna cum for you!" He whines, all of his snarkiness melting away. "Please, I wanna be good for you! Please, please, please!"

"How's this?" Tony walks the two backwards, before sinking to the floor. "C'mon, little boy, sit down with me." Peter nods, sitting with his back to Tony's chest, leaning against him. Tony leans back against the bed, sliding his hand back between the other's legs.

"C-can you take your shirt off, daddy?" Peter murmurs, already beyond wrecked.

"What?" He asks, leaning his head over the boy's shoulder.

"C-can you take off your shirt, daddy, please?" He asks again, trying to raise his voice.

Tony chuckles, "Sure, little one." the inventor strips off the AC/DC Tee he'd been working in, smiling at how quickly Peter leans back against him.

"Like feeling you everywhere." He murmurs, nestling back against Tony's scarred chest. Tony smiles, kissing his neck and shoulder. His mechanic's fingers creep along Peter's inner thigh, appreciating how he shivers, how his hips jump when Tony's fingers finally touch his dick. "Pretty baby boy. Look at yourself." Peter picks his head up off of Tony's shoulder, opening his eyes, staring at himself in the mirror just a few meters from them. "God, baby."

Tony slides his hand down the other's shaft, playing with the vein, and the underside of the tip. "Play with my nipples, daddy, please!" Peter begs, arching up when his other hand slides up to pinch at his little pink nubs. The younger whimpers helplessly, watching his cock twitch and his chest wrack with each little shiver. "Please, more!" Tony drops the boy's dick, moving his fingers down past his balls ghosting them just underneath, pressing on his perineum. He gasps, moaning.

"Can you get the lube for me, baby? Out of the drawer right there?" Peter nods wordlessly, reaching up to the drawer, whimpering at the loss of Tony's warmth. "Thank you." He murmurs, taking the bottle. "Come sit back against me, Peter. It's time I give you your rightful attention."

After a bit of scuffling and whining, Peter's got fingers back on his nipple and thighs. "Please, just... I need your fingers, daddy."

"You have them. Just not where you want them. Isn't that right, baby?" Peter nods, trying to move his hips. He attempts to work his hands downwards, hoping that at least one will end up on his hole.

"What's the jerking for, baby? Is there something you want?"

"Y-your fingers."

"Clearly but where?" Tony growls, popping open the lube and squirting some on his fingers.

"Here!" Peter grabs his wrist, dragging his lubed fingers down to his core, trying to get the point across.

"Aw, are you wanting daddy to finger you?"

"Yes, please, Mr Stark!" He begs, trying to push the fingers inside of himself.

"Alright. First things first, this" He grabs Peter's hip and pulls him back against him, "has got to stop. You may be a slut, but you /are not/ a whore. Quit. Fucking. Acting. Like. It." Tony pushes his forefinger into his asshole, causing Peter to melt against him. "What's your safeword, baby?" Tony asks, working the finger in.

"I-it's red." He gasps, pressing down onto Tony's finger, "M-More!" Tony presses a second finger to his hole, pushing it into the fluttering ring carefully. "Such a good boy for me." Peter whimpers at the praise, silently begging for a third finger. Tony grants the wish, pushing a third finger alongside the other two. "I--'m close, sir!" Peter begs, "Please, let me cum!"

"Why should I? You look so good like this."

"Please! I can't wait any longer!" he whimpers, little broken mewls slip from his mouth as precum pools at the head of his cock. "Daddy!" he gasps, trying to plead with Tony's reflection.

"Look at yourself, Baby. Watch daddy's little slut in the mirror. Watch how he falls apart, crying my name. I wanna watch you beg, princess."

"Please, daddy?" He tries, knowing good and well that it's not enough, "I'll be so good for you!"

"More."

"Please, daddy! Please! Please! Please!" Peter whimpers, jutting his hips up into the air, hoping for some sort of release. "Please, Mr Stark, it feels so good!"

"Fuck, Peter," Tony growls, biting at his neck. "Cum for me. But do not break eye contact. "

With a final broken whimper, Peter releases. "Thank you, daddy!" He presses against the man's hands, whining at the overstimulation, "Thank you, daddy."

"Don't thank me yet, princess. Now, it's time for your real present."

#starker #tony x peter #Nika Writes

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years ago

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Life

*Not my Gif*

Request: Hii! Love your writing. I saw your post about Harry Potter requests. Could I request one about Sirius Black x reader fluff with their daughter? If you don't write Marauders, can it be Oliver Wood?

Requested By: @fk12b

Post Date: 9-15-19

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

~Master Lists~

You were fast asleep before a weight over your chest jolted you awake, trying to gasp for air before meeting a pair of tiny confused Y/E/C eyes staring down at you. Realizing that you weren’t in danger you calmed down and tried blinking to see better in the middle of the night.

“Mommy I can’t sleep!” A small voice whispered as she placed her hands on both of your cheeks, making you look at her right in the face. You giggled, seeing her try to widen her eyes and squeeze your cheeks until your lips were pursed.

“What’s wrong Lily?” You said and grabbed her hands, moving to sit up against the headboard. She landed in your lap, resting against you and played with your fingers. Nights like these weren’t normal where Lily would come crashing your sleep time so you knew it had to be something really bad. She just shrugged before a loud snore filled the room and you both burst out in laughter. “How about we wake up daddy before he makes the house shake again?” You joked as Lily smiled and shook her head, standing up and repeating her earlier actions with you on him.

“Huh? Wha- what’s happening?” Sirius mumbled as he wrapped his arms around your daughter, bringing her into her chest in a bear hug while you listened to her small giggles. “What’s wrong Darling?” He whispered into her hair before pressing a kiss to her head. You looked at the clock on the wall, seeing it was a little after 3 in the morning before laying back down on the bed. Sirius’ eyes darted to you, not having noticed you were already awake before his smile doubled. “Morning, Love.”

“Morning Pads.” You whispered as you leaned in to give him a kiss.

“Eww!” Lily said as you stuck your tongue out at her, scrunching your nose up.

“Let me guess. You can’t sleep again?” Sirius asked your little one causing you to furrow your brow.

Again?

This had happened before and you didn’t know? How come Sirius hadn’t told you about this, why are you just finding out now that your baby can’t sleep properly.

“Now what did I say about waking up your mum?” Sirius faked scowled causing Lily’s head to drop as she mumbled a quiet ‘don’t tell her.’ Sirius put his hand to her chin, picking up her head before standing up, holding her in his arms.

“Where are you going?” You asked when he started to head out of the room, leaving you alone after this apparently normal situation happened. Sirius gave you a wink before bringing Lily into the living room and dumping her on the couch. You followed them, standing back a ways as they fell into their rhythm. Sirius grabbed a leather book off the shelf before catching your eye, walking you over to join them on the couch. Lily climbed into your lap, wrapping your arms around her and leaning her head onto your chest. Sirius smiled when he saw the love on your face and Lily’s, knowing that this was everything he could’ve ever wanted.

You hadn’t seen the book he grabbed before he flipped it open, causing you to gasp as your saw the moving faces of your life. He grabbed the photo album you’d kept from your time in Hogwarts. You hadn’t opened them much since Lily and James died but by the look on your daughters and husbands face told you that they would see it so often it would surprise you. There were pictures you’d taken and some your friends had taken but each one was special.

“Daddy! It’s you and Mum!” Lily shouted as she pointed to a picture of you and Sirius at the Leaky Cauldron where Sirius’ arm was thrown over your shoulder and he was whispering something into your ear. James was the one who took your picture, capturing the perfect moments of you listening to Sirius then meeting his eyes, the same glint in them Sirius saw as you looked down at Lily earlier. You tightened your hold on Lily as you thought about that moment, it was the first time Sirius told you he loved you. It seemed Sirius had the same thoughts running through his head because he would not stop smiling at you, but it’s not like you wanted him to. You scooted over until you were wrapped under Sirius’ arm, letting Lily be the one to flip through the pages as you all laughed and watched the faces move through the pages. It was nearing 4 when Lily fell asleep in your lap, gripping tight to your arm and sucking on her thumb. You ran a hand through her long black hair, marveling in all the ways your baby was growing up and how much she looked like Sirius and you.

“We should get her back to bed.” Sirius whispered as he placed the photo album onto the couch and leaned over to gracefully pick up Lily. You helped him get her into his arms without waking her before he was down the hall and tucking her into bed. His footsteps told you he was going to join you back out into the living room before you even saw him. He sat down next to you and you moved so you could rest your head in his lap, laying down on the length of the couch.

“So how often does this happen?” You asked as Sirius laughed, making you smile as he glanced down the hallway into the dimly lit child’s room.

“Almost every night.” He admitted resting his hand into your waist, giving you the perfect position to wrap his fingers with yours. You were shocked to be honest, they did this every night and you were none the wiser? Before you could even ask, he began explaining himself. “You used to have trouble sleeping, always waking up in the middle of the night and pretending it’s ok to wake up at 3 in the morning. I knew how to get you to go to bed and I can damn well do the same to get our daughter there as well! I told her not to wake you because I knew how much you needed-“ you stopped his ramblings by kissing him and he sighed into the kiss, adjusting you a bit so he could hold you in his arms. You remember Sirius helping you sleep. It was after your fifth year and all the stress from your family wanting you to get the perfect grades had messed you up all year. You, Lily and the Marauders had all spent the summer at James house, enjoying the final days before you had to go back. It was the 2nd week there before Sirius had realized his girlfriend would disappear in the middle of the night from their bed. Of course he began to worry but the next night he followed you, watching as you laid down in the grass by the back of house and stared up in the night sky, Sirius grabbed your camera from your room, leaning out the window but not to much that you could see and snapped a picture before running back down. He scared you at first when he just jumped onto the grass next to you but you didn’t mind the company of your lovely boyfriend. He learnt that you couldn’t sleep most nights and he was determined to help. He would read you these poems James had stored in a book, making sure to get through as many as he could before you were both fast asleep, smiling and holding onto each other for dear life.

You pulled out of the kiss, wiping a stray tear out of your eye as Sirius stood you up. “Come on, Love. Let’s go to bed.” You nodded as grabbed his hand, pausing for only a minute to look at the opened leather bound book.

“You go ahead. I’ll be in there soon.” You assured Sirius and he kissed your head, moving back to your room as you picked up the photo album and flipped to the last page. It was your favorite, it was the only picture you put in the album after James and Lily passed and Peter was sent to Azkaban. You were lying in a hospital bed, Sirius next to you as you both stared down at the bundle of blankets in your hands, tears streaming down both of your faces. Remus was the one who captured your first moments of holding your baby, having your entire life on that hospital bed. You let out a happy sob and closed the book to put it back onto the shelf. You walked slowly back to your room, stopping by Lily’s door to peer in and see her fast asleep holding a stuffed dog you got her for her 3rd birthday last year. Sirius was already snoozing when you crawled into the bed, lifting the covers as he snored himself awake and pulled you flush against his chest, not letting go until the sun came up and Lily made another surprise appearance to wake you up for real.

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matildainmotion · 4 years ago

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Extreme Times, Transitions and Your Extreme Powers for 2021

This time last year I wrote a piece entitled ‘An Encouraging Blog about Despair’ – this was in early January, before the pandemic. My son loves that moment in a story when someone says, “Well, at least things can’t get any worse,” and then, right on cue, a whole lot of worse-ness happens. This year I am not going to attempt to be encouraging – I think we need something else, to match the gravity and uncertainty of the times, that recognises all the worse-ness that has happened. But what? Right now I am not sure. Let me see if I can write my way to find it.

The thing that has saved my sanity through the year has been the working on and writing of a novel. It has kept me sane but also driven me mad, but at least it has been my madness, of my own making as opposed to the world’s. It has been astonishingly difficult. Often, I have felt more articulate about the toughness of the process, than about the story I am trying to tell. The images I have used to describe it have included marathon running, mountaineering, white-water rafting and tightrope walking. I am struck by the extremity of these metaphors. I have done none of these things in real life, and yet I have had a visceral sense of their accuracy. Most of my writing has taken place where I am now, crouched on the children’s bedroom floor. I do not look like I am engaged in anything wild or dangerous, but I like the idea that both my making and my mothering – activities that are often seen as domestic, docile – are in fact extreme sports.

Photo credit: Viola Depcik, as part of the online exhibition: Portraits in Motherhood and Making during lockdown.

For now, I have come off the mountain of the book. Come January I will set about editing it – an attempt to turn the manuscript into something someone might actually want to read. This morning, I am in a moment of transition. What to write in the dark bedroom, before the children wake? Christmas wish lists and new year’s resolutions are the traditional seasonal texts, but I notice I have two counter impulses to these – two very different lists I want to write.

The first is not a wish list, but a list of the unwished-for. A backwards-looking list of some of the worse-ness of the year, not as a plea for sympathy, empathy, not out of a need to confess, or because I am looking for advice, but because it feels important to name it. In these last months, on those precious trips out of the house, I have had many two-metres-apart exchanges of the “How are you doing?” kind. “Okay. We’re surviving,” I reply, and then come away, with my groceries in hand, my mask hanging round my neck, feeling desolate, surprised that I should feel it so deeply, when I was not expecting any more from the exchange. I think it is because I want to lay bare the utter ugliness of the year, like when you pull the fridge out and expose the amazing accumulation of dirt underneath. I know that we have been lucky, so when I list some of our un-wished for times, I do it in full recognition that others have had it worse, much worse.

Here is a selection of my unwished-for list:

Easter – everyone in the house either shouting or crying or both. Still ill. My husband and son red in the face. My mother and daughter, white.

Then the times – more than one -when my son, who is on the autistic spectrum, needed a play fight, to channel the aggression he displays when he feels threatened (and a threat may be as slight as a joke he did not understand, a small change of plan). I offer to fight him, and as I face him, hold his wrists, the energy in his body, but also in mine, is far from playful.

A recent one - a double meltdown – my daughter screaming whilst we are Xmas shopping because she and I cannot remember something I said three days ago about her and a bauble she was hanging on the tree. Meanwhile it is raining. She is refusing to wear a coat. She runs away from me, up the pavement, beside a busy road, whilst my son, who cannot bear loud noise, lays down on the concrete and puts his hands over his ears. I am caught between the two of them – one on the run, the other on the ground. Masked people watching me, the rain coming down, the dark coming on.

Three in the morning and no one is screaming or sobbing but me – the children are sleeping peacefully, and I am not.

There is an edge to this – it is allowed to be hard, but it feels dangerous to expose the difficult details. It has not all been like this, but I do not want to sweep these times aside and hurry on. So I set them down, one by one, on the page. Then I can begin list number two.

This is a list not of changes I resolve to make in the new year, but ones that came on their own, and are ongoing, unresolved. A list of the transitions already underway. Because these arrive unbidden, this is a list of the moments when I understood that change is happening:

When I find I cannot read the instructions on the side of the ‘stuffing mix’ and I realise I need reading glasses.

When my period is two weeks late one month, and two weeks early the next. The skin on my eyelids grows dry. I read this too can be a symptom of the perimenopause.

When my daughter is at last weening (shhhh, don’t tell her, or she will object) and her favourite game is to play at being a ‘dumb baby’ who cannot remember where its mummy’s boobies are. She runs about the room, looking behind bookshelves and under covers, until eventually the baby realises that the boobies and the milk are on its mother’s chest. She does not want the milk now, she wants to play at being the silly baby, because she is turning into such a competent ‘medium big girl’ (her current definition of her size).

When my mother (granny) no longer wants to cook meals for us, but would rather that I cook for her.

When my son starts to grow a greater awareness of his separateness to me and I find him in tears one night because earlier in the day he heard The Beatles song “She’s Leaving Home” and grew afraid that this might happen to him – that he would leave one day, leaving only a note behind.

When my husband and I realise we are going to need to move again, find somewhere we both want to be, to settle, where we can grow older.

When the children wait for snow, go out keen to find the ice on top of puddles to crack and splinter, but the winter stays mild, wet.

And then there is the ‘transition period’ the whole of the UK is supposed to be undergoing, moving out of the EU, whether we like it or not. Lorries, stationary, but in long lines of transit, waiting to cross the border. And then there are the transitions- endless- from one tier to another to try to control the virus.

I think of others’ transitions too, of friends, and friends of friends: people waiting for a baby to be born; waiting for a loved one to recover, or die; transitions of age, gender, status.

What to do in response to these unchosen changes? I almost admire my daughter’s wish to fight them. Her maxim is not ‘to keep calm and carry on,’ but rather to keep screaming, whilst being carried. I am impressed by the volume of rage in her four-year-old frame as she attempts to stop things:

“You have to stop the car now,” she cries from the back seat, when we are in the middle of the road, “Right now. You have to do it. You have to, you have to, you have to…Mummy stop! Now! You have to stop!” It is a work-out of the will that can go on for hours and which leaves us both exhausted. It is extreme, and it makes me think back to the extreme metaphors for which I found myself reaching in trying to describe my writing process with the novel.

I counsel her in acceptance, but I recognise my own desire to scream against the times, to stop the world. Perhaps I need to flip things round - to harness the power of the scream, even as I accept the ways things are. Often I think of acceptance as passive, equanimity as cool and quiet. But I am not sure balance, as figured in this way, is the right metaphor for our times. The feat of balancing required now is that done by the tightrope walker, cliff face climber, white-water rafter – an athletic equanimity, a muscular form of acceptance that takes all our might, all our will.

Maybe it is time to reclaim the male image of the superhero. I like the way in the film of The Incredibles, the superheroic is recognised as a form of divergence from the norm, a daring difference, how the super ability can become a disability if the surrounding culture judges it as such. The image helps me to see my differences as potential superpowers.

A third and final list then comes to mind, a forwards-looking one, that might support me through the transitions of this time, and on into 2021 – a list of my extreme powers. If it comes to needing to grow food, hunt, light fires – wilderness survival skills – I will be useless, but I can do the following:

I can survive on little sleep.

I can hold onto the thread of a creative project or conversation through multiple interupptions and across many days.

I can imagine disaster, very fast, in almost any situation.

I can mother two intense children, both often awake till midnight.

I can name the elephant in any room.

I can write a novel in the hour per day when my children are watching TV (this is a slight exaggeration - when school was happening I had a little more time, but on a list like this you are allowed to exaggerate).

That’s it for now. I do not think we need to know or understand how our superpowers, our athletic abilities, can be put to good use. I do not think it is our job to calculate this, but rather only to keep in training. Ready. Skills honed. And also to notice, name and honour one another’s skills. I think I should write a list of my children’s superpowers too. As I write this, the children have woken and my husband is now showing my daughter the trailer for the latest Wonder Woman movie. My daughter likes her outfits, especially the golden bracelets. A glittering dress sense will be on my daughter’s list of wondrous powers.

The other day my husband shared with me a quote, from a Hopi leader in the year 2000, which seems relevant to my three lists as 2021 begins:

“There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore…..The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate.”

Writing a novel has felt like white water rafting, but actually being alive right now feels like that too. This year I offer, not encouragement amidst despair, but something more extreme - a call to arms, to your arms, my arms, arms that can carry children, stir soups, make stories - superhero arms strong enough, not to grip, but to let go of the shore. Mid river as we are, I want to celebrate each other’s extreme, extraordinary abilities. So, tell me your lists: the list of things you did not wish for, the list of changes underway, unresolved, and then the list of the superpowers you are hiding, honing, as we are swept along. What powers, however ordinary, bizarre, or seemingly superfluous, do you have to offer?

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t0ngue-tech · 5 years ago

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Deadline | Five

“Jungkook laughed, turning around to follow your movements towards the Keurig, eyes still not leaving your frame. ‘I apologize. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s cute.’

Don’t turn around. Don’t look at him.”

↠ fluff, fake relationship au, high school au ↞

word count: 5.8k

↠ series: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | ↞

A/N: hi guise! just casually dropping deadline onto your dashboard huhu. if you’re not streaming MOTS 7 then baby what is you doinnnnn???? have a lovely day my loves ^-^

Why were you so nervous? You had absolutely no reason to be as nervous as you were at the moment. Afterall, you were the one who invited Jungkook to come over after school to work on the history project. You had multiple chances to cancel on him, but you sounded confident when you asked so you didn’t want to turn back.

Before leaving your house that morning, you made sure to let your mother know that Jungkook was going to be coming over for academic reasons. She didn’t miss a beat and teased you about it because she was going to be coming home an hour later than usual. Nothing was going to happen, you were one-hundred percent about that, but of course your mother didn’t know that.

You were going to be alone in your house with Jungkook for a few hours.

Completely normal.

No biggie.

I need to fucking calm down.

You were now sitting in the passenger seat of his car trying to focus on the story Jungkook was telling you. His words were entering through your left ear and straight out the other because all you could think about was did I tidy up the magazines on the coffee table or I swept the floor, put away the dishes, and changed out the towels in the bathroom, but I swear I’m missing something.

Obviously you were overthinking everything. You cleaned up your house before Jungkook picked you up in the morning and you made sure that everything was in order twice. Nothing was out of place, but you were so sure something was going to go wrong.

“Y/n.”

“H-Huh?” You blinked.

Jungkook chuckled and ruffled your hair. “We’re here.”

Oh, great.

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s go.” You scrambled for your bag and fumbled around the front pocket for your keys.

At your front door, you were untangling your keys from your lanyard trying to keep yourself level headed, but the timing of your keys slipping in between your fingers was impeccable. You heard Jungkook snickering behind you as you reached down to get your keys and get your act together at the same time.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asked whilst snickering.

“Just peachy.” You muttered and pushed your door open. “Come in.”

The house was kept just as you left this morning and as much as you didn’t want to admit to yourself, everything was spotless. Jungkook took off his bag and settled himself down on the large rug beneath the coffee table. He looked around the living room, only making you feel more tense because of your constant overthinking of some sort of “mess” you probably left around.

“Oh yeah, you said your mom is going to be back later?” You nodded. “I have her tupperwares in my car. I already transferred the rest of the food you made me into my own containers.”

“Okay. You can just leave them in the kitchen.” Jungkook stood up from the floor. “I’m going to change really quick, okay?” He nodded and escaped outside while you retreated to your room.

Out of all places, you were not ready to showcase your room. It wasn’t because it was messy but because it was your sanctuary, you held precious parts of you in your room that you weren’t ready to present to Jungkook; pictures, figurines, stuffed animals, it was all too personal in your eyes. Plus, on a less serious note, he had no reason to be in your room right?

You left your room wearing a cropped t-shirt you cut up yourself and maroon sweats, much more comfortable than your skinny jeans and knit sweater. Jungkook was in the kitchen taking the tupperwares out of a reusable bag and you joined him.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked whilst opening your fridge. “I have water, juice, and coffee creamer.”

“I’ll just have water, thank you.”

You took out the pitcher of water and the bottle of french vanilla creamer. As you glided around the kitchen, you couldn’t help but get the feeling that Jungkook kept his eyes on you the whole time; you pulled out your coffee mug and a tall glass from the cupboard above the sink, loaded the keurig with your favorite pod, and returned to Jungkook’s side with his glass.

“Yes?” You laughed and poured him his beverage.

“No-Nothing.” Jungkook cleared his throat. “You just look tinier in those sweats for some reason.”

You scoffed and looked at him with a shocked expression. “I’m appalled, Jeon. I let you into my home, provide something to quench your thirst, and in return, I receive slander? You wound me.”

Jungkook laughed, turning around to follow your movements towards the Keurig, eyes still not leaving your frame. “I apologize. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s cute.”

Don’t turn around. Don’t look at him.

You gave in and peeked over your shoulder to find Jungkook walking back into the living room while asking for a coaster. How could he just casually spew out the word “cute” like it was no big deal? And more importantly, why did it matter to you? He was just joking around. It didn’t mean anything.

↠↞

The entire time you spent working on the project with Jungkook was surprisingly enjoyable. He helped you create a rough draft of how you both wanted the poster board to look like, took the liberty to search up photos to print out on your laptop, and even proposed a few of his own ideas. What surprised you the most was when he pulled out his notebook that was filled with notes about the Renaissance era and offered to do half of the book report. He wasn’t keen on writing up reports, but he was simply doing what he said he would from the beginning: doing his best on the history project.

You swore you were working hard, but it felt as if you two were taking more breaks than what you originally planned. The coffee table was pushed forward giving both you and Jungkook room to lie around on the rug.

Jungkook laid on his back with his arms up in the air supporting his phone so you can look at his screen. You were sprawled out beside him, leaving a good distance between your body and his but your head still close enough to his so you can look at his music playlist.

“You only have hip hop and r&b on your phone?” You questioned.

“Pretty much. I also have a few 90s boy band music because those are classics.” Jungkook swiped his finger along his screen and played you a song. “This is my parents’ favorite song to slow dance to. They played this a lot in our house so it grew on me.”

You closed your eyes, listening to the slow rhythm and romantic lyrics. You were familiar with this song. It was one of your favorites so you hummed along subconsciously.

“Oh shit, you know this song?”

“Yeah. My mom is all about 90s boy bands and love songs.” You pulled out your phone to reveal the music you stored. “My dad liked 50s, jazz, and swing music, so my phone is pretty much a mixture of all of those genres.”

Jungkook adjusted his body to lie on his side, inching a bit closer to you. “You remember that about him?”

“Kind of? I recall a few memories back in first or second grade where he’d put on music and dance with me and my mom. And of course my mom told me about his music tastes.” You smiled to yourself reminiscing about the innocent memories of your younger self dancing around with your father; spinning, dipping, and occasionally stepping on his feet without a care in the world.

“Can..Can you recommend a few?” Jungkook carefully asked. You only ever mentioned your father a few times since you started a new friendship with him, so he was probably gently treading your waters.

Your face lit up. “Of course.”

For the next hour, your positions on the rug changed from on your backs, to your stomachs, cross legged, and even with an inch or two of space between your bodies. You played a few songs for him, mainly your favorites. You even let him listen to noir jazz which was your personal favorite branch of the jazz family. After each song he listened to, he wrote it down on a piece of paper so he could download it later.

Loving music that was considered old school made you feel outdated and to top it all off, you also loved old school romance; making mixtapes for each other, handwritten letters, picnics. This was a guilty pleasure of yours, something only a few people knew about you.

“Listening to these makes me feel like I’m in a romance movie from the 70s.” Jungkook quipped.

“Yeah and the noir jazz makes me feel like I’m a private-I in a black and white film.” You played a song from your noir jazz playlist and began your monologue. “It was a stormy night, just as it always has been the past few days. I sat in my chair, desperately craving a shot of whiskey.” To add to your drama, you emerged from the floor and sat down on your sofa with your coffee mug in hand. “It was no use. How was I supposed to solve this case without a lick of new information? Feeling defeated, I picked up the manila folder on my desk so I could toss it across the room, but someone knocked on my office door.”

You raised your eyebrows at Jungkook who seemed to be enjoying your little play. He blew out a breath, “do I have to?”

“I mean,” You swirled your coffee around in your mug, being extra careful to not spill any. “You don’t have to.”

Jungkook laughed to himself and slapped his own cheeks before standing. “Okay, okay, but bear with me and try not to laugh.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to not laugh at the way Jungkook paced back and forth. He walked towards your dinner table and stuffed his hands in his pockets. A broken snicker slipped past his lips and he cleared his throat to collect himself.

“I didn’t know why I was here. I could’ve stayed at the bar to give everything more thought, but no, I hailed a taxi and now here I was, knocking on her door.” Jungkook stared you down and stuck his hand out for you to speak.

“Oh! Come—Come in.” You stifled your laughter.

Jungkook pursed his lips together, shoulders shaking from trying to hold in his own laughter. “I strode… I strode inside her office. Sauve, confident, dripping with devilishly good looks after being soaked in rain.” He slicked his hair back. “‘I think I have something for you, Ms. y/n.’ I said cooly and she looked at me with hungry eyes—”

“Hungry?!” You snorted, finally releasing your caged laughter. “This is a mystery film, Jungkook.”

Jungkook broke down in a fit of laughter, sinking to his knees and clutching his stomach. “Sor—Sorry! I couldn’t help it, it seemed to fit the moment. Let’s start again, come on,” he cleared his throat. “I think I have something for you, Ms. y/n.”

You wiped a tear from your eye and took a few deep breaths. “No, no, no. Come on, we have to reorganize the timeline.” You crawled back onto the floor to turn down the music.

“Aw, it was getting good.” Jungkook pouted.

Honestly, it really was. You didn’t expect Jungkook to actually follow through with your improv performance. He understood the dynamic, albeit he was turning it into something else, but it was still fun.

The rough draft was beginning to look alive. It took a lot of excessive research and a small disagreement, but it was starting to look near perfect. You were now staring blankly at the photos you needed to print out while Jungkook scrolled through his phone. He quietly sang along to a power ballad you played from your playlist and it was, in a way, comforting to listen to. Both you and Jungkook were immersed in whatever you two were doing, that neither of you noticed the sound of the front door opening.

“Hi honey, hello Jungkook.”

Jungkook flinched and flailed around almost dropping his phone. He stood up from the floor and straightened himself out to look presentable in front of your mother.

“Hello, Mrs—uh, um. Hello, auntie.” Jungkook smiled.

“Pffft.” You spurted and arose to give your mom a kiss on the cheek. “Hi mom.”

Your mother had a few grocery bags in hand and Jungkook rushed to assist her in carrying her things.

“Here are your tupperwares, auntie. Thank you for letting me use them.” Jungkook said politely.

“It’s no problem. Thank you for returning them. Your mother unloaded her grocery bags. “Do you want to stay for dinner, Jungkook?”

You snapped your head in their direction. In a way, you had a feeling your mother was going to offer him to stay over, but you were in denial about it. The last thing you wanted was to have your mother tell embarrassing stories from your childhood.

“Uh, um,” Jungkook looked at you in search for an answer and you just smiled. “Sure, auntie. I’d love to.”

“Perfect. It’s nothing special, I’m just whipping up a beef stir-fry.” Your mother tied on her apron. “Why don’t you two take a break from your project. Just wait in y/n’s room and I’ll let you two know when dinner is ready.”

“Mo-Mom!” Panic rose to your face and it was obvious Jungkook’s cheeks were just as pink as yours. Your mother raised an eyebrow and you sighed in defeat. “Okay..okay, this way, Jungkook.”

Great. Just great, This was going exactly the way you wanted it to.

↠↞

“Wow.” Jungkook trailed behind you with his hands in his pockets.

Your walls were splashed with a pastel lavender color and a few framed photos. A cluster of stuffed animals guarded your bed that was pushed at the corner of your room next to a window. There were fairy lights strung along your bed frame and around the window sill.

Your work desk was cluttered with papers, textbooks, and containers for all of your stationery needs. Just above your desk was a white board and a cork board with multiple polaroids and developed photos tacked to it. Beside your desk was a small bookshelf that carried books, some with cracked spines and withering edges. On top were framed photos, a snow globe, and a self-painted vase with a few fake flowers in them.

Even if you didn’t use much makeup, you still had a vanity that was setup near your closet. Jennie took the liberty to recommend a few makeup products that would suit your taste such as lip gloss, eyeliner, and a few eyebrow products; she purposely left some of her own makeup there for her benefit and yours too. You barely left the house with makeup, but there were rare occasions where you made the effort to do so.

“Sorry for the mess.” You rushed towards your desk to quickly tidy up. “Take any seat.”

Jungkook waited for you to settle yourself down at the head of your bed while he sat down on your desk chair. “I like your room. It feels almost nostalgic in a way.” He scanned the photos on your cork board and even on your bookshelf. “Is this your dad?”

He rolled over to the shelf and picked up a bright pink picture frame that had scuffs around the corners. The frame held a photo of you and your father from one of your birthdays. There was icing smeared all over both of your faces and you were smiling from ear to ear.

“Yeah. That was from my sixth birthday.” Even if the photo was far from you, you knew every single detail of it.

Jungkook held the frame and examined it in silence. You leaned over and watched as he cradled the frame in his fingertips. He grazed over the photo and settled it back on the shelf.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you and your mom.”

You smiled at the back of his head. “Lighten up, Jeon. Sure, we miss him like crazy but we’re doing fine. I’m sure my dad is sitting on a reclining chair in heaven with a cup of coffee in one hand smiling down on me and my mom.”

Jungkook chuckled, still not looking in your direction. He kept his attention to the pictures on your cork board.

“Wow, you and Jennie have been friends forever, huh?” He stood up from the chair to take a better look at the photos.

“Yup! We’ve been sisters since kindergarten.” You beamed with pride. “Do you have anyone like that in your life?”

Jungkook hummed and stared at your photos a little longer. “Not exactly a friend, but my brother and I are really close. I would consider him my best friend.”

It occurred to you that you knew very little about Jungkook. You knew he had a brother who was two years older than Jungkook and you also knew his parents worked in the same office building but with different positions. This prompted you to ask a few questions about himself, nothing too personal, just enough to come off as friendly rather than an interrogator.

You learned that, just like you, Jungkook lived in the same house all his life. He and his brother played soccer together in elementary school, but Jungkook quit in the eighth grade while his brother continued thus granting him a soccer scholarship. His parents never forced college onto either of them, but still encouraged them to do their best in whatever studies or work field they decided to do.

The Jungkook sitting across from you was a completely different person. He wore a content facial expression and carried gentleness in his eyes. From what you observed, he was a social butterfly. Jungkook never hesitated to talk to people, be playful with them, and always made friends with everyone. The Jungkook in front of you was calm and collected, maybe because he was in an unfamiliar setting, but you enjoyed this version of him.

“You seem to cherish a lot of things.” He spun in your chair to take another glance around your room.

“Mhm. Having all of the good memories surrounding me makes me feel comfortable. It’s difficult for me to get out of my comfort zone, so my room is my safe haven.” You explained.

Jungkook turned his back to you again. “I see.”

“Hey,” your mother stood at your door frame. “Dinner’s ready.”

↠↞

Please. Please. Please.

You sat in your chair desperately hoping that your mother wasn’t going to do anything to embarrass you. Even if Jungkook wasn’t really your boyfriend, being embarrassed in front of a friend was already bad enough.

“Just eat up, okay Jungkook?” Your mother placed a large bowl of the beef stir-fry in the middle of the table. “I usually make it spicy, but I wasn’t sure if you like spicy food or not.”

Jungkook laughed while pouring a heaping amount of the stir-fry over his plate of rice. “I actually can’t handle spicy food that well, auntie. Thank you.”

Your mother returned to the table with a small bowl of sauce specifically for you to pour over your food. As you dressed up your meal with a dark red sauce that easily tickled your nose, Jungkook stared at your plate with wide eyes.

“Want to try a piece?” You asked.

“No...thank you.”

“Scared?” You teased with a smirk.

Jungkook squinted at you with lasers in his eyes. You held up a sliver of beef and a slice of a green bell pepper that was slathered in the spicy sauce with your fork. He leaned in about half way, clearly hesitating, but you heard him say shit under his breath and closed his lips around your utensil.

“Y/n.” Your mother sighed.

“What? He’ll be fine, mom.” You chuckled.

He chewed slowly, nodding his head as he let the flavors settle onto his taste buds. He glanced at your mother with a small smile and then turned to you with the same lasers in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fi—” Before finishing his sentence, Jungkook put his head down and coughed harshly into his t-shirt. He then scrambled to reach for his glass of water to guzzle it down with streaks of water rolling down his chin.

“See, mom. He’s just fine.” You retreated into the kitchen only to return with a small spoonful of sugar. “Here, Jungkook. This helps better than water.”

First, you fed him a piece of your dinner and now you were feeding him sugar. You never fed him anything since you’ve known him and it all had to happen in front of your mother. It was such a coupley gesture and it genuinely shocked you.

“Honey…” your mother sighed.

“No, it's okay, auntie.” Jungkook coughed. “I’m fine, really.”

The two of you shared a quiet moment of eye contact before breaking out into a broken fit of laughter. It was weird. This was a situation that could easily make you uncomfortable, but you felt at ease. It was banter between friends and you had to admit, you enjoyed every second of it.

Dinner went a lot better than you expected however, your mother did bring up a few stories about how you cried easily as a child and that until now, you can’t watch The Titanic without bursting in tears. You facepalmed a few times wishing you could hide underneath the table, but Jungkook continued to smile at you, assuring you that he was having a grand time.

Jungkook complimented your mother’s tiny garden out front and mentioned that his own mother grows her own herbs; this was something you didn’t know. He even promised to bring a couple of herb seeds for your mother to plant some time.

You tried to avoid the thought, but Jungkook was doing a great job at being your fake boyfriend. It kind of terrified you because of how well he was getting along with your mother. This was dangerous because he wasn’t your real boyfriend and from your past experience with Sehun, you didn’t want your mother to get attached to Jungkook.

You looked over at Jungkook who was aiding your mother in putting the dishes in the sink. They were having a mild conversation about school and if you were a good tutor. It was a lovely sight to see; the way Jungkook smiled politely and chuckled nervously.

“Ah, mom, Auntie Eunbin is calling.” You walked into the kitchen with her cellphone in one hand and the rest of the dishes in the other.

“Oh, okay. Sorry you two, I’m going to have to take this call.” Your mother swapped her phone in your hand with the dish sponge and fled into the backyard; you assumed your auntie was calling to ask about your mother’s potted plants.

“My mom is probably gonna ask you to stay to have some ice cream, so be prepared.” You snickered and hovered over the sink.

“Can I stay?” Jungkook questioned.

“Yeah it’s fine. I hope you like fudge brownie ice cream, Jeon.” You poured dish soap onto the sponge and squeezed it a few times to get it nice and lathered. Just before you could even start scrubbing, Jungkook stole the sponge out of your hand and gently nudged you to the side with his hip.

“I’ll take this, thank you very much.” Jungkook said smugly.

“No, no, no, no. I don’t think so.” You tried to reach for the sponge, but Jungkook was at an advantage with his larger built body frame. “Jungkook, you’re a guest!”

“Exactly! So let me show my gratitude by doing the dishes.” He flug some of the soap suds at you and this triggered you to scoff and wipe the left over soap residue on his cheek.

For a good minute, you and Jungkook were attacking each other with soap and water, completely forgetting about the true objective: washing the damn dishes.

“Ahh! Jungk—”

In the blink of an eye, Jungkook encircled your wrist in his hand and had you caged against the kitchen counter. He leaned it and your breath was caught in your throat. Streaks of the soapy water were still visible on his face and you couldn’t help but look right into his eyes.

“Uh—umm…” you stammered.

“Y/n.” He breathed. “I got this.”

The bass of his voice shook you and you had to fight the blush that was rising to your cheeks.

“Oh...kay…” your voice came out as a whisper and you could feel your chest tighten.

Jungkook let go of your wrist and reeled himself away from you. The hand that was once around your wrist was now on top of your head and there was a beaming smile plastered on his face. “Perfect! It worked!”

You blinked a few times as you allowed yourself to get pushed off to the side. Jungkook casually began to wash the dishes and smiled at you one more time.

“It worked? It—?! Jeon, you asshole!” You laughed and grabbed onto his shirt, shaking him side to side.

It was weird.

You never imagined a day in your life where you’d be standing in your kitchen smiling and joking around with Jeon Jungkook. It didn’t feel strange or unfamiliar, it was like you two had been friends for a while.

So weird.

↠↞

“You know what sounds great right now? Watching The Titanic.” Jungkook quipped.

You nudged your knee against Jungkook’s and ate a spoonful of ice cream.

Just as you predicted, your mother invited Jungkook to stay a little longer to enjoy a scoop or two of ice cream. He eagerly agreed which led the two of you to sit side by side on the sofa watching a true crime series on the television.

Instead of a scoop or two, Jungkook had two mugfuls of ice cream and as tempting as it was to eat more, he refused. You ended up feeding him some of your share because why the fuck not, you’ve been hand feeding him the entire night might as well keep the ball rolling.

“I can’t believe my mom mentioned that.” You groaned and held a spoonful of ice cream to Jungkook’s mouth.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” He swallowed. “Hell, I still cry watching A Walk to Remember—”

Jungkook froze and tilted his gaze towards you, hoping to not make eye contact but you were already gawking at him.

“I mean—”

“You cry when you watch A Wal—”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You let out a teasing chuckle. “Well, well, I know what we’re going to watch next time.”

Jungkook swiftly grabbed the mug out of your hands and sulked into the couch cushions.

“If we’re watching A Walk to Remember, then we’re also watching The Titanic.” Now it was his turn to offer you a scoop of your own ice cream. It was a risky deal, but you agreed regardless. As much as you didn’t want to show him your crying face, the desire to see what he looked like when he cried was stronger.

You probably said okay, let’s get back to work after this episode about three times. All of your papers were still sprawled across the table and the true crime series was still playing. At this point, the project was already long forgotten.

At the next commercial, Jungkook stretched out his limbs and let out a strangled whine.

“Whew, I haven’t been this full with good food in a while.” He leaned over to the side and rested a hand on his stomach.

“Oh yeah, I forgot! I hope this didn’t ruin your diet.” You collected the mugs to leave them soaking in the sink.

“It’s alright. I’ve been juggling between the meals and snacks you gave me with other smaller meals, so a dinner like this won’t hurt me too bad.” He explained. “The lettuce wraps and roasted sweet potatoes are my favorite by the way.”

You joined him back on the couch and crossed your legs. “I’ll make you more next time.”

“No, y/n. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled. “I had a lot of fun making it. I don’t cook much anyway, so I felt like a chef.”

Jungkook smiled at you and inched a bit closer to you. “Okay, well let’s both go to the supermarket together next time so I can pay for the ingredients at least. I don’t want you to spend your money.”

You definitely judged Jungkook too quickly.

He was a sweet and courteous guy. You probably just didn’t trust handsome faces, especially ones who were as social as Jungkook. He also became easy to talk to and someone you could joke around with. Besides getting a good grade on the history project, a friendship with him was another positive outcome from this fake relationship deal.

“Deal.” You replied.

The true crime episode came back on and both of your attention immediately went back to the television. Your eyes danced along the screen, then down to the cable box.

9:31

Holy shit. It’s already this late?!

“Hey, Jungkook.” He turned to you. “What time do you have to be home?”

He then looked over at the cable box and then back at his phone.

“Oh shit. I didn’t even realize it was this late already.” He chuckled. “Uh, I should be heading home.”

Huh?

For a second, you felt… disappointed?

“I’ll help you clean up first. We did quite the number to your living room.” Jungkook laughed again.

You both began to tidy up the living room in silence, probably because the two of you were still trying to watch the true crime episode.

“I’ll walk you out.” You smiled at him.

After letting your mother know that Jungkook was going to leave, they said their goodbyes, and Jungkook followed you out your front door.

“It’s cold as fuck out here.” Jungkook shivered. “You should’ve just stayed inside, y/n.”

You shook your head. “No can do. I have to make sure I see my guests out.”

Jungkook nodded his head and unlocked his car, tossing his back in the passenger seat.

No matter what the weather or situation was, you always made sure to walk your guests out to be sure that they made it into their cars safely.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask,” you began. “Do you always open the car doors for people? Cuz’ I always have to walk my guests out. Is it the same thing?”

Jungkook closed the door and leaned on his car. He crossed his arms and gave it some thought. “Yeah, I guess it’s sort of like that. When I was a kid, my dad used to always tell me and my brother to open the car door for our mom because it was something ‘a man should do.’” He explained and you smiled a little imagining the sixth grade version of Jungkook opening the car door for his mother. “As I grew up, I guess it just stuck with me. I only do it with girls though, my guy friends know how to get in a car.”

You laughed. “I guess it’s kind of like me then.”

A gust of cold wind blew and you rubbed your arms.

“Well, thanks for coming over, Jeon. Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” He smiled.

Jungkook stood there for a moment and honestly, you were hoping he was going to get inside his car soon because he was right, it was cold as fuck outside. He lifted an arm and tugged you by your forearm to have you flush against his body. He enveloped you in a hug and it caught you completely off guard. Your hands were pressed against his car, hesitating to return the gesture, but eventually you circled your arms around his torso.

“You know, y/n, you mentioned in your room that you find it hard to leave your comfort zone and I really can’t thank you enough for being my fake girlfriend.” He said softly. “We both got out of serious relationships and getting to know you a little better, I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for you to go from holding hands with Sehun to me all of a sudden.”

You blinked a few times.

Now this was out of the blue.

“It—It was probably harder for you. You dated Chaeyoung for like three years.” You explained into his chest.

“Heh… I guess you’re right.” He gently rubbed your back. “But, really, thank you for doing this for me. It was selfish of me to ask and I hope you’re not going to hate me after it’s all over.”

You laughed thinking about how you gained a new friendship with Jungkook. “I won’t. You’re a good guy, Jungkook.”

Silence filled the air once again and you were thankful that your face was buried in Jungkook’s chest. You didn’t dare look into his eyes.

“S’warm….” you hummed.

It didn’t occur to you that you said that out loud until Jungkook chuckled and hugged you tighter.

“I told you to stay inside.” He let you go and gently nudged you to walk back up your driveway.

“I’ll be fine.” You laughed, watching him get into his car. “Drive safe!”

Jungkook waved at you, gesturing you to go inside but you countered, waving him off so he can drive off first. This went on for a while until he finally gave in, starting his car. You stood in your driveway just until his car disappeared from your line of sight. Just as fast as he left, you sprinted into your house and pressed your back against the front door.

The noise of the television filled the room but you paid it no mind. If you had to be honest with yourself, at the beginning, you thought of just discarding Jungkook as an acquaintance overall once this whole facade was over. You imagined your life going back to the way it used to be: undisturbed, going at one pace, and staying focused on yourself and school. This was the plan. You thought you had it set in stone.

Now, you weren’t sure if you were ready to leave this temporary chaotic lifestyle anytime soon. But just because Jungkook wasn’t going to be your fake boyfriend anymore didn’t mean anything else had to change. You still had a new bond with him and once it was all over, that new friendship was going to remain.

You dipped your head and blankly stared at the wooden floor.

“I guess leaving my comfort zone once in a while isn’t always a bad thing.”

♡ rae jagi

#bangtan boys #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #fake relationship au #deadline #20200221 #babykookie #rae writes

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redemptionbaby · 5 years ago

Text

Hydrangea | Arthur/Reader

Pairing: Arthur/?Reader

Word Count: 1469

Summary: Arthur has a summer tradition.

Notes: Hello naughty children its surprise fic no one asked for time. Lmao. This was inspired by an episode from my favorite anime. And contains lines inspired by Mary’s Letter and that one gay line between Plyades and Orestes. I almost teared up while writing this bc I am a loser. Also, this is a very loose not-rdr-AU.

“Y’ain’t gonna pretend to ignore me if I call you for dinner if I let you go out there Arthur?”

“With Simon giving you a hand in the kitchen? Never, Hosea.”

Arthur had a ritual in the summers. When he had time away from school, the right weather outside, and family visits that kept his parents plenty busy. Every afternoon he snuck past his back yard, through the hole in the tattered fence, and into the overgrown yard of a house that had been abandoned through his entire memory.

He asked about it a lot when he was younger. He worried that some family would move in and interrupt his secret getaway. Dutch had said nobody would buy that house, not with the history it had. Hosea would elbow him as a reminder that Arthur would still crawl into their bed if he was too scared to sleep alone. So Dutch would shut up after that.

After he forced his way through the fence gap, which was becoming more and more snug as he got older, he’d make his way to the gigantic hydrangea bush on the edge of the property. He’d crawl underneath, and promptly fall asleep.

Arthur told Dutch and Hosea that he’d go exploring. That because the land was untamed there, you could find cooler bugs. He’d bring them home in jars sometimes, as proof, knowing that they wouldn’t want him to fall asleep in strange places.

Then he would open his eyes, but not at all. He was surrounded by a blank space, and the occasional rush of ominous wind that always seemed to come from behind him no matter where he turned.

The only thing there besides him and the wind, was you.

He couldn’t say that he understood you. All he knew for certain was that you weren’t him, and you were his friend. And you were a lot nicer than the girls at school, for sure. You always wore the same clothes, but then again, he supposed that dreams didn’t need to change clothes.

“You came back!”

That’s what you always said.

“I always do.”

And that’s how he always responded.

__________________________________

“Why don’t you come back with me?”

Your eyes widened, but you continued to stare at the ground while he paused in his sketching.

“And what ever gave you the idea that I could?”

“I can take back my memories of you. Y’gotta be real. So why not?”

“I can’t. I’ve tried before.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth. Arthur could tell, because it was the same voice he used when telling Dutch and Hosea about his adventures in the yard. You had tried. You just hadn’t had anyone around to help you before.

________________________________________

Arthur had matured enough that he could hop over the fence instead of climbing under it. Not that he had much of a choice. He was way too big to squeeze through anymore.

The hydrangea remained pristine, without anyone looking after it. He supposed that plants like that could just take care of themselves, they had to survive in the wild somehow.

He’d still visit. Whenever he had the time. Even when Sean would say he had a basement fridge full of beer and his parents were gone for the weekend. Arthur had never really developed a taste for partying. But he hadn’t ignored all of the joys of being a teenager.

When you’ve known someone for as long as Arthur had known you, it’s hard not to see the beauty in them. You were no exception, and Arthur was in the throes of his first and only love. He knew, desperately, that you loved him too. Even when you pushed him away.

He told you he was going away to college soon, without even really thinking of it. Without thinking of how that meant he would leave you behind. And it hurt how happy you were for him, at first.

“You should forget about me.”

“What? Sweetheart, I couldn’t. Not you.”

“But you should! You have a life outside of here. There’s so much for you to do. You’ll never be happy if you’re tied down to this place because of me.”

The silence was unbearable. You couldn’t face Arthur, and you didn’t sob, but he could still feel the warm tears rolling down your cheeks and onto your clenched fists like venom in his veins. And the dam broke for him.

“Damnnit, why won’t you just come with me?!”

He woke up.

_______________________________

Arthur went to college. And he met new people. He met new girls. And he was beginning to follow your advice.

In fact, he had convinced himself that you weren’t real. Just an imaginary friend. It was about time he parted ways with you. He was too grown for that kinda shit nowadays.

Arthur went through every walk of life when it came to love. He was the playboy. Then, the tamed bad boy, whipped into a serious relationship. Then, he just had sex for comfort, which lead to more problems than it solved. Finally, he was a lone wolf.

He was tired of the disappointment. The guilt. Was he being untrue by thinking of you, or was he betraying you by being with other people? He had to laugh. The fucking loser who couldn’t let go of his imaginary girlfriend.

A lot of his friends knew all about you. He told groups of people for laughs, laughing at his younger self for being so silly as to believe you were real. That you were his friend. That he even had some stupid crush on you. How fucking ridiculous was that? Thinking a girl like you could ever be real. That someone could have known his snotty, stupid kid self and continue to love him. That someone could see his facial hair grow in and his voice drop and continue to love him. That someone could know his raw, unfiltered soul and continue to love him.

Yeah. Fucking hilarious.

________________________________

Arthur was sick, and he knew it. Everyone knew it. The doctor said that he could go home for a while. He knew it wasn’t because he was getting better. It was because it was probably his last chance. But even home was painful.

A lot of the time, Dutch couldn’t look at Arthur’s pallid face and bloodshot for long before he started tearing up. His little boy, all grown up. His baby.

His baby boy was dying.

Still, they tried to enjoy what they had left. Hosea dug out all of Arthur’s old stuffed toys and photo albums. All of his school projects and terrible crayon drawings which morphed into cartoon characters made with #2 pencils gripped way too hard, into thoughtful sketches. Every sticker-covered elementary school report card, to high school honor roll. Pajamas covered in teddy bear print and worn with holes.

Arthur wasn’t strong enough to climb over the fence anymore. He doubted it could support him anyways. So he kicked it in a few weak spots and squeezed his thinning body through, stopping part way through to submit to a coughing fit. The hydrangeas were alive. Not at colorful as he remembered, but alive. So he went underneath, and sleep came easier than it had in years.

“You came back.”

The weakness in your voice was palpable.

“I always do.”

He sat next to you with a wince. Even you looked pained at the sight of him. But you looked the same as when he’d left.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He placed his hand, palm up, into your lap, pleadingly. And even after all these years, seeing you cry broke his heart.

“You won’t like me when I’m up there. I’ve been down here for so long.”

“You know that don’t matter to me. Hell, I reckon I ain’t in any better shape.”

“But it will. I’m so dirty. I’m ugly now. You’ll hate me, I know it.”

“I think you know that ain’t true, love.”

When you cried, he could almost hear the voice you had when the two of you first met. You peaked up from under your lashes, eyes almost as bloodshot as his, puffy with tears.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise. I ain’t ever loved somebody the way I love you. You couldn’t ever be ugly. Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Arthur woke up.

He blearily blinked and winced at the rain dripping through the leaves of the hydrangea and onto his face. The next thing he felt was your grip. So weak, and dry. When he looked to his side, he saw your little hand, and the wrist that trailed beneath the soil. But you were more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Because you were you. And you were real.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #drabble #writing

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winterromanov · 5 years ago

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we will grow taller together - bucky x reader

PART TWO - NO KID HATES CUPCAKES

parts: zero | one

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

extract: Before you accept his request, you hand him the box of cupcakes. He looks at you with surprise and uncertainty, mouth dropping open a little. You snort a laugh. “They’re cupcakes. Steve told me about Clover and I saw them on the way here. Couldn’t resist.”

genre: nanny x single father!au

taglist:@blindedbyyourgrace17 @verygraphicink @chubby-dumplin @igotkatiepowers @welcome-to-my-studylife (still open, reply/message to be added)

“This is so weird.”

As soon as work had finished a text had appeared in your notifications from Steve, detailing an address of a small apartment block in Brooklyn, and to meet him there. There didn’t seem an option in Steve’s world to decline the invitation. You were going to meet James Barnes and you were going to do it now. Well—within the hour, because despite having lived in New York for the last few years you were still heavily reliant on Google maps and sheer hope that you’d turn a corner and randomly appear at your destination. You’d ended up passing the same indie bakery so many times that it felt rude not to go in and buy some of the cupcakes displayed beautifully in the window. Now, you clutch a white paper box in your hand filled with a strawberry cheesecake, two Oreo and one that is peanut butter and jelly, because even if whatever is about to happen goes horribly, you figure no kid hates cupcakes.

Steve shakes his head, leaning across to press the buzzer. The apartment block is, admittedly, much nicer than your own. There is a lot of exposed brickwork in an edgy, retro way rather than a neglected way, and no drunks loiter in the stairwells. James lives in one of two apartments on the fifth (and top) floor of the complex and when you clambered into the elevator no-one was peeing in it.

It’s practically five-star luxury.

“What did you say to him about why I’m here?” you ask. You fight the urge to slap him when he looks back at you in faux-innocence. “For fuck’s sake, Steve! Have you not even told him—“

Your sentence is cut short when the lock on the door clicks and a man appears in the doorway, rubbing his left eye tiredly like he’s just woken up. His hair is a little too long, dark and dipping into his eye-line, and he’s wearing a scruffy Columbia hoodie and sweats. James Barnes. You do recognise him. Maybe not this exact version of him, but you do recognise him all the same.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets, a bit too brightly. James blinks, as if he’s going to reply, but the action causes him to do a double-take when he sees you standing there.

“Hey…” he says, eyebrows knitting together. You offer him an awkward smile. “Sorry—I, uh, I wasn’t expecting visitors. I thought Steve was just dropping by.”

“Yeah,” you reply, glaring pointedly at Steve. “I thought he was going to mention that I’d be tagging along.”

Steve shrugs simply, like this was his plan all along. He claps Bucky on the shoulder, but his eyes remain on you, sussing you out. “Sorry, man, completely slipped my mind. This is (Y/N), by the way.”

You offer a wave which, in hindsight, is super dorky, but Bucky’s look of suspicion softens to elusive recognition. “Yeah, yeah, of course. You knew Natasha from college.”

You’re so surprised he remembers a detail like that at all and it must show on your face, but James doesn’t react either way. “Yeah. We were roommates in freshman year.”

“Right.” Bucky nods once, before ushering off to the side. “Please come in. It’s a bit of a mess, but I didn’t—I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep for.”

You walk awkwardly into a fairly large living space, the flooring a light wood laminate other than a bright striped rug in the centre. The walls are plain but spotted with photographs and prints, the sofas a dark red fabric and positioned round a glass coffee table. A television is positioned on a cabinet on the central wall and while much bigger than yours, it’s not that catches your eye—there are books everywhere. Books stacked haphazardly on shelves along all the walls; an antique mahogany bookcase full to brimming in an alcove; books spilling off the coffee table and onto the floor. There are standard paperbacks you’d find in every single Barnes and Noble, fat black Penguin classics, leather-bound first editions that may have fallen out of Belle’s library in Beauty and the Beast. You are that blown away by the sheer volume of literature you almost forget why you’re here in the first place.

That’s when you notice a set of illustrated Harry Potter hardbacks on an armchair and tiny mismatched socks drying on a clothes horse, a stuffed Paddington Bear and Peter Rabbit chilling on top of a chest that matches the bookcase. You also notice the absence of a certain child.

“No Clover?” Steve asks, sitting down on the sofa in a naturally comfortable way that suggests he’s a consistent visitor to the Barnes household. He pulls out a cuddly kitten that must have fallen between the sofa cushions and places it gently beside him.

Bucky shakes his head. He rubs his eyes again. “No—Becca takes her on Thursdays. She’ll be back in a couple of hours or so. Gives me the chance to mark papers or, uh. Nap. Apparently.”

A laptop is also open on the coffee table, and a copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. “Are you a teacher?”

“No—well, kind of. I lecture in literature at Columbia.” Well, that explains the sweater, then. And the books. He gestures towards the couch. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Before you accept his request, you hand him the box of cupcakes. He looks at you with surprise and uncertainty, mouth dropping open a little. You snort a laugh. “They’re cupcakes. Steve told me about Clover and I saw them on the way here. Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh.” James says simply, looking down at the box. It’s like he doesn’t receive kindnesses from strangers very often and makes you wonder just how much he distrusts the world. You mean—from what you’ve heard, he’s got a right to be unsure. “Thank you. She’ll love these.”

“No problem. The lady in the shop said the peanut butter and jelly ones are unlike anything you’ve ever tasted. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but she was wearing a hat shaped like a red velvet cupcake so obviously I trusted her opinion.”

His mouth cracks into a glimmer of a smile. Muted, subtle, almost reluctant. He may be one of the saddest people you’ve ever met. It burns off him like a bonfire. The ashes gather in piles round your feet.

(Gosh, you thought empathy was Steve’s thing.)

Steve suggests making coffee and James doesn’t disagree, considering he’s still got about thirty quizzes to grade by tomorrow. As they both disappear off into the kitchen, Steve gives you a pointed look and closes the door behind him. It feels all kinds of wrong to corner this hurting, confused man into whatever arrangement Steve has in his head; an arrangement you’re not even sure of yourself. But you find yourself wanting to help him anyway. James is sad. But he’s gentle, and clever, and trying to make the best of a situation nobody wishes on anybody.

As you try not to eavesdrop on the muffled voices in the kitchen, you walk the outline of the living room, pausing in front of items that catch your eye. Each of James’ photos sits in beautiful, ornate frames, winding wood engraved with flowers and leaves that you assume must be gifts. You recognise Clover immediately—most of his pictures include a tiny girl with frizzy blonde hair, varying in age from new-born to recent. One sat in front of a grey screen, showing off the gap in her front teeth. One in a swimming pool wearing flashy pink sunglasses. One where James is clutching a small white bundle, his cheeks flushed red, looking down at the baby like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. There’s a couple with either Steve or Natasha, another with a tall, dark-skinned guy you’ve seen on Steve’s Facebook, a few others with two unnamed brunettes—one, you think, must be his sister or at least a close relative, the same bright blue eyes and dark hair.

The other—well, it must be Connie. Petite and elegant and totally gorgeous, with a small upturned nose and big eyes like an animal in an old Disney cartoon. She grips Clover tightly and the girl is frozen in a giggle, a kiss pressed to her cheek. You can almost see James on the other side of the camera, totally unknowing that it’s one of the last times he’ll see the two of them together in the present.

You deliberately force yourself away before spiralling. Real loss stories. The last thing you need is for your heart to completely spill over. Instead, you drag yourself over to his beautiful bookcase, running your hand over the faultless dark wood. The glass inside is dusty and probably needs a once over with a cloth but you can see inside anyway, eyes skimming over titles. You see some Ford Madox Ford, Woolf, Joyce, Plath, a massive collection of Keats offset by Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. There’s no consistency to his interests. Instead, there’s a bit of everything (in the English speaking canon at least) and to your delight, even some philosophy.

(Admittedly your philosophy major hasn’t come in that useful, but at least it’s fucking interesting.)

A few minutes pass before the kitchen door opens again. Both men look flustered like they’ve just had a fraught, whispered argument, which doesn’t bode well for you—but instead of addressing it, they sit down on opposite sofas in silence. Steve’s arms are crossed, mug loudly placed on The Chamber of Secrets. James’ eyebrows are arched in a scowl. No-one has made you a drink, clearly forgotten in the process.

Well. This is fucking awkward. You don’t know whether it would more weird to sit down or to just leave. You quietly start to make your way to the couch next to Steve but he abruptly rises, muttering something about going to the bathroom. Suddenly, you’re left alone with James, the tension sitting uncomfortably in the air like storm clouds. You fold your legs over each other, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“I—“ James begins, before locking his jaw closed. He’s pensive. Choosing the right words. “I don’t know what Steve has said to you, exactly, but I’m fine. I don’t need anybody. And it wasn’t his place…”

“Oh my God, I know,” you interrupt hastily, not wanting him to think you’ve forced your way into his home with intent you had no right to have. “Trust me, James, I’m only here as a favour to Steve. He always thinks he knows what’s best and, like, I know his intentions are good but his best isn’t always everyone else’s.”

Not for the first time since you arrived, James looks surprised. The tension seems to dissipate slightly, the atmosphere less fraught. His shoulders relax. “It’s not that you don’t…I’m sure Clover would like you, but I’m still getting used to…”

“You really don’t need to explain. Like you said. It isn’t anyone’s place but yours to decide what you need.”

James’ smile is soft and tired. “Thank you for caring enough to turn up, though. That’s more than I can say for some people I actually know well.”

Ouch. His bitterness singes on his tongue, still raw and swollen. You can allow Steve to be right about one thing—maybe you could be a good friend to him, or at least someone you could get to know better. You have a distinct lack of any real relationships in your life and his ridiculous collection of books is enough to convince you he’s someone worth befriending. You reach out for a wad of neon post-it notes and a biro, scribbling down your phone number, slapping it unceremoniously onto his knee. He rips it off with bemusement, curling it into his palm.

“If you want to complain about students or laundry or how life is sometimes incredibly shitty,” you grin, “Call me. Unless it’s eight-to-six most days, because my boss is a tight-ass and won’t hire anyone else so I can have more than one day off every year. Other than that I’m totally free.”

“Wow. You have even less free time than me. At least Clover wakes up past eight on weekends.” He blinks slowly, clutching your number tightly. “And thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

Steve has been in the bathroom for an awfully long time and you’ve known him long enough to realise he’s doing it on purpose. Instead of hanging about while Steve and James chat uneasily in your presence, you take it as your cue to leave. Bucky tries to explain that you don’t need to leave so soon, but you’re genuinely worried Steve will sit on the toilet playing iPhone games for literal hours in order to leave you two to ‘talk’ if you don’t walk out the door.

“I hope Clover enjoys the cupcakes,” you say, once you’re stood back in the hall. “You should have one too. The endorphin rush you get while eating cake is unparalleled.”

James laughs, like actually laughs, his hand curled round the doorframe. “Maybe I will. See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

The door eases shut and you shiver now you’re out of the warmth of James’ apartment, but you can’t help but think this whole weird thing didn’t go as badly as you thought it would.

#mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #we will grow taller together

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szopenhauer · 4 years ago

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Think of a movie and now give me that movie title: random Elvira: Mistress of the Dark

Quote a line from that movie:

Name a song: random MARUV & Boosin — I Want You

What’s a line from that song? Baby turn me, turn me on All night long What’s the last word spelled backwords of that line? GNOL XD Whats the relationship between you and the last person you texted? my fiancee What would your name be if you replaced T’s with S’s & A’s with E’s? Zuzenne Would you ever legally change you name to that? nah Your boyfriend/girlfriend say they can’t hang out & it’s been two weeks. You? ok How often do you think about death? all the time Where were you when you had your first sleepover? Your house or a friends’? friend’s - P.W.

Are you hungry?: thirsty

What did you buy last time you went to the store?: food? bread not food? trinkets - for example - two books and a tiny stuffed dog

Do you think stained glass windows are pretty?: I don’t know tbh

Are you a chocoholic?: not at all

Have you ever been carded when buying something? : not even when I was buying cigarettes

Do you have a favorite highlighter color?: yellow

Do you have a flashlight?: I do

Do you like watermelon?: nah

Has anyone ever walked in on you while you were on the toilet?: obvi, many times but usually just family members

Do you like a lot of ice in your drinks?: noooo

Have you ever painted a room?: bathroom Have you ever petted a donkey? from what I remember

Out of all 24 hours, which one is your favourite? hmm... Have you ever been in a lighthouse? nope

What time are you planning on going to bed tonight? no idea Have you ever been bit by an animal? yeah Did it rain today? kinda What was the name of the last dog you pet? it was my dog - Łasuch Do you find that you have a certain meal you eat every time you go to certain restaurants? sure Are you constantly judging people? could say so Have you ever had anything stolen from you? sorta Which would you rather, a snowy day, sunny day, rainy day or cloudy day?: cloudy or sunny maybe rainy but definitely not snowy How long have you ever spent away from home? month? Has your luggage ever been lost at the airport? Did you get it back? - About how many times during the night do you wake up from your sleep? few Are there any air fresheners in your house? What kinds? no What scent of candle do you burn the most? we don’t For what reason did you last cry? ugh... What kind of surveys do you wish there were more of? deep

Last time you were attacked by an animal? this summer? Are you paranoid all the time or just during the night? more often during the day actually Have you ever dated someone without knowing their name? last name, not first, I was a stupid kid and was dating a guy online once and several boys at camp just to show off somebody likes me that way even tho I wasn’t really interested nor knew anything about those matters

If you go to an all-you-can-eat buffet, how much do you really eat? a tiny bit If you need to ask a question in class do you raise your hand? of course How many times have you been engaged (if any at all)? once, currently Do you have to see something to really believe it? jak niewierny Tomasz - często Have you ever gotten so dehydrated that you passed out? I’m surprised that I didn’t :x If your friend was being cheated on, would you tell them? absolutely Do you always assume the worst? that me indeed Are you sick and tired of life? sadly Have you ever been busted for under age drinking? I wasn’t drinking underage, I still don’t drink Do you have a picture of you and your lover kissing? 1 and a tik tok Have you witnessed a fight at school? bunch

What is your favorite time of day to run? when I’m late for the bus lmfao

When was the last time you talked to your mom? recently Do your parents crush your dreams? sometimes Did you sleep in today? I didn’t Do you hate sleeping in? I love sleeping in How late do you consider too late to sleep in? noon, 11am is already late How long have you had a smartphone? less than 5 years Do you keep lists of names that you like? even tho I don’t want kids :P Have you ever butt-dialed someone? it happened

First letter of the names of everyone you have kissed, like *that*; M.

Do you like going to school sports games? eww, boring Have you ever worn your boyfriend’s clothes? guy from camp gave me his cap for a day Have you ever stolen your sibling’s clothes? I had to wear them when she was growing up, gross Have you ever loved someone and HATED it? later? Do you like Starbucks or would you rather just have water or something? just water lol Have you ever walked into a door before? po maturze zapomniałam, że woźny zamknął drzwi, które się same otwierały i walnęłam w nie, raz przytrzepałam sie w futrynę bo za szybko skręciłam w nocy do pokoju, mama uderzyła mnie drzwiami jak byłam mała i stałam za blisko wejścia dzwoniąc do domu więc spadłam ze schodów, a ojciec stuknął mnie tymi dworcowymi przy wiadukcie i wylałam na siebie sok - to chyba wszystkie przypadki Do you know anyone who’s like, psycho-religious? fanatic? my uncle is one of those Have you ever been stuck on a ski lift? luckily never been there to begin with Do you know who Nancy Sinatra is? ain’t this the gal who sings “those boots were made for walking” or smth like that? Have you ever bought anything from an airport? I wasn’t there so... If I asked you who you were gonna marry a year ago, you would say; omg Do you snore, talk, sleepwalk, or drool? drool at times, sorry also roll/kick around and fart ^^” When you woke up this morning, what was your first thought? I was wondering why Nat fronted If you could start completely over knowing what you do now, would you? possibly

If you drink coffee, do you have a favorite flavor & brand? If so, what? not applicable Have you ever personally known a pair of Conjoined twins? woah What is your first thought when you see people kissing in public? "get a room” Would you ever consider being a professional stunt-person? I have no abilities/skills/health etc for that kind of job and it’s really sad actors get prizes for stunt-ppl’s work

How about a Mailman? my father was and that ruined his body so I doubt it (Besides Hello kitty) Do you have a favorite Sanrio character? If so, Who? Hello Kitty is evil Do you flinch when strangers touch you? don’t touch me! Can you remember the first time you went to a movie theater? I believe Is there something in particular you like to look at photos of? What is it? I have strange interests... Do you actually like the taste of Diet Soda? didn’t try and don’t plan to What brand of toliet paper do you normally use? I don’t give a shit ;) Do the Charmin bears make you feel uncomfortable? xD fact that they’re red makes me uneasy On average, how many cans of soda would you say you drink daily? zero Did/do you ever stick your chewed -up gum under tables? I spat it on grass when I was younger and had stuck it in my hair years before as well but every other gum I trashed properly Can you remember the last thing you watched on the news that upset you? that’s why I avoid news How do you feel about red lipstick, is it whorish? it’s my fav but I no longer use makeup What is your definition of feminism? fighting for equal rights between women and men like pay in workplaces Are you comfortable in shorts? am not So, have you watched that Bob’s Burgers show? Do you like it? fragments

Do you ever get the feeling you dont belong? always Do you believe actions speak louder than words? good actors will use both ways to lie

If your friend tried to commit suicide infront of you how would you react? how, why, who, when etc. Ever had a rumour spread about you? plenty Have you ever tried to impress someone before? majority of my life and I hate myself for that If someone jumped on your back what would you do? die? If you had a child and they turned out just like you would you be happy? poor kid... If you could choose the gender of your child what gender would you choose? not that I want kids but girl

Name three people you want to meet in Heaven. from those who died or are alive rn?

What could be the theme song of your life? I was taking a quiz today and they gave me Kero Kero Bonito - I'd Rather Sleep

Do you have any embarrassing health issues? :( Who do you wish you could talk to? grandma and/or brother Do you lose or misplace things a lot? very rarely lose, misplace more often but still usually same item like my scissors What was the name of the street you grew up on (if you don’t live there now) I live here! Does it still feel like summer where you live? it’s too cold for that Do you have a Paypal account? I wish Have you ever had a brand or company reach out to you on Instagram? polyvore What is the last thing you purchased from Etsy? I have no bank account to be able to buy stuff there Do you sell on Etsy? I’d like to someday Do you have a favorite aunt, and if so, who is it? aunt Alice Who is your favorite cousin? no one Have you bought next year’s calendar yet? yup What year did/will you turn 30? 2022 What’s a food that you like, but it makes you feel sick? no comment Do you like the name Addison? sounds like a shoe Is there anything that you regret getting rid of? ... Have you ever stood up to a bully? couple of times Do you own striped tights? nude and transparent Have you ever made your own Halloween costume out of clothes from ur closet? yep When was the last time you received a hug? this day Do you have anyone who hugs you regularly? dad? Would you rather have the bottom bunk or top bunk? bottom Window seat or aisle seat? window, aisle if in church Have you ever thrown up on an airplane? that’s one of the reasons I won’t fly Have you ever seen anyone else throw up on an airplane? that’s another... Have you ever gotten sick in the car? almost Do you still wear clothes from the children’s section? whoops you got me What color is your watch? I need to buy watch for Nat... What color was the last pair of flip-flops you wore? last time I was wearing flip flops was before middle school and they were pink I suppose Were you born in your favorite season? in the worst! Have you eaten oatmeal lately? regularly... Do you enjoy editing photos? if not a snapchat filter selfie then I prefer them “natural” What is your favorite app on your phone? Choices forever! lately I begun playing The arcana and it’s pretty good, Lisa downloaded Addams family mystery mansion or smth but it’s not that cool and I used to play the detective story which was awesome <3 Do you answer your phone every time it rings? hell no Do you like to decoupage things? scrapbooks/collages are way better How many tabs are open on your browser right now? 9 with this one but I forgot to close the background music

How many times have you had sex within the past two years? Guesstimate? personal How many times in a month do you go to the movies? How much do you spend? not at all

When was the last time you heard thunder? Where were you at anyway? this month? home When was the last time you were in trouble with your parents? If so. it’s complicated Do you know anyone who claims to have the ability to see the future? I have dreams that come true and my parents do, also my gf When you go to the movies, do you actually watch the movies or not? ... what else would I do in the cinema? oh, you mean kiss and such? waste of money Do you love or loathe the Eurovision? I don’t mind it Have you ever wielded a sword? wanna try :D If you were famous would you want a statue or a building names after you? what for Can you erect a tent? hope I didn’t forgot How tall is the tallest person you know? didn’t ask Have you ever ridden a camel? might try What’s your opinion on rats? cute

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